#vincent sinclair answers

[ask-the-sinclars]

"Mwah."

Vincent blushes under his mask until it starts to melt.

[im-his-druidess]

Do u think Vincent could get comfortable enough to be openly horny with someone? Like sleepy sex or something because he knows s/o is ok with it?

Oh absolutely!

You definitely have a "free use" situation going on with him. Allowing him to touch and use you whenever the mood strikes him.

I honestly think he's sexually repressed enough that he would immediately do stuff like somno as soon as he thinks of you as "his". (Which is pretty soon after he kidnaps you tbh)

Would have the mood strike him and he would crawl onto the floor where he keeps you chained by his bed, sliding into the nest of blankets you created, and gingerly get underneath your clothes to slip inside you. Cuddling as close as humanly possible while banning his arms tight around you so you can't wiggle away if you wake up.

Or gingerly roll you over in the early hours of the morning when he's done with his sculptures and fuck you slow and deep and hard. Getting out any frustrations or pent up lust out of his system before he goes to sleep practically still on top of you.

[livindeadgirlgrav]

can you plz write headcannons or a story about female reader picking up nubbins sawyer while he’s hitchhiking, one thing leads to another, and she’s riding him to death (not literally teehee) in the back of her van🖤? maybe a bit of dom reader too? thank you so much🖤🖤

Yessss! Of course! Thank you so much for the request! I can totally write a headcanon also if you like! I love my little stories lol

Pairing: Nubbins Sawyer x Dom fem reader

Warning: NSFW!! Very nsfw, mention of drugs, violence, etc

Ps: Not 100% proof read it’s 3am lol it’s possible I overlooked something

You were a lost soul according to your parents, but in your mind all you wanted was to be free. A lot of things gave you that feeling of freedom- music, the open road, and a couple psychedelic drugs here and there. Having all three at your disposal you felt pretty free today. Driving your 72' Ford van you jammed all the way down the road. You hummed at the silk like feeling of the wind running through your fingers as you held your hand out the window. You smiled to yourself when you saw a hitchhiker on the side of the road. Of course you pulled over for them. First off it was way to hot to be walking I mean you were practically naked in your mothers eyes. And secondly he was pretty cute and you didn't have anything to do all day besides seeking that sweet freedom.

Once you came to a stop the strange looking man quickly got in the car. "Hey man? You alright? Its super hot out today. Suppose to be the hottest day of the year." You stated trying to make small talk. The man now in your passenger seat smiled. "Where you heading too hm?" You smiled at him as you started to drive away occasionally looking at him. "South" You nodded. "Same!" You giggled. "So how did you get out here?" You asked softly. "I was at the slaughter house, my brother work there. My grandfather too! My family always been in meat." He chuckled a little liking the attention he was getting from you. "Oh cool, my daddy was in it for a bit too but got a better job as I grew up. I never liked it, it made me sad seeing the poor babies." The man chuckled. "Its good food though, see they make head cheese. T-they take the head and boil it expect for the tongue and they scrap all the flesh away from the bone. They use everything, they don't throw nothin away!" Hearing the man ramble on you thought it was a bit gross but also kinda cute, he was so excited as if he hadn't had anyone to talk to in years. Like a little lost puppy. You giggled a bit, "Well I didn't know that." You smiled at him then looked back at the road. "Oh I love this song" You said turning up the radio, the wind blew into your window perfectly swaying your hair from side to side. Your attention was captured when you saw a flash coming from the man. Looking over you saw the man grinning as he looked at you then his camera. “Hey you took my picture!” You giggled. “You can drive to my house! It’s just down this road! A-and you can have dinner with me and my..” before he could finish you cut him off “Are you asking me out on a date?” You asked as you pulled over. The man looked at you confused. “Let me see.” You said as you scooted closer to him and took the photo out of his hand. “It’s not bad. You wanna take some more?” You smirked at the man.

Before you knew it the two of you were in the back of you 72' Ford van. You made the first move which wasn't unusual for you. At first you whispered sweet nothing into the nameless man's ear, then started nipping at his ear and the skin on his neck, earning soft moans from him. You noted at how edger the man was, noting how he trembled at your touch. Seeing how he wanted to touch you just not sure how. "You can touch me if you want, I don't bite..hard." You giggled then moaned softly as the man place his hand on your exposed thigh. "We can be slow if you like?" The man starred at you in awe and shook his head no. "Good boy." You quickly straddled his lap and began to kiss the man, kissing you back the man placed his hands on your waist. Grinding you kept kissing him till he pulled back a little to let a moan escape his lips. "It feels good doesn't it?" The man nodded as he laid back watching you grind against his lap. Smirking you kept going as you removed your shirt then your bra watching the mans face as he grinned ear to ear. You grabbed the mans chin softly and pulled him to you. Looking down at him you felt very dominate and free. The mans breath hence at the sudden touch, looking up at you he went to kiss you but you moved back slightly. "Tsk tsk so you wanna touch me?" You asked. "Y-yes." The man stuttered. "What do you say?" "Please?.." The man was very impatient as he was so needy, wanting a release. Grinning you placed the mans hands on your chest and he bucked his hips uncontrollably, making you chuckle. You grinned against the man making him shutter and moan. "You are so big." In a matter of seconds you both went after the same thing, his belt. You pushed his hands away and he grunted frustrated. Grinning you undid his belt and then his pants, going to undo yours he stopped you, pushing your hands away lightly. The man quickly unbuttoned your daisy dukes. Lifting yourself up the man pulled your shorts down. Before you even realized he was inside you and you rode him like a bull rider. Hearing his moans, grunts and whimpers. It was music to your ears and he was so unaware.

You both stayed in that metal tin till the sun went down, changing positions and occasionally fighting for dominance (when you won more than once) you moaned as the now naked man trusted into you and kissed on your neck. Grabbing his hair you moaned out, grinding as best you could against. The man moaned as while almost in perfect harmony with you. Before you knew it you both were finishing at the same time, it was something you never experienced before! A feeling washed over you that you swear was familiar but it definitely wasn’t.

Laying in the floor of the van you snuggled up with the man you come to learn to be Nubbins. Finding a old blanket under one of the seats you both snuggled underneath . Surrounded by polaroids of your naked body and of his you both fell asleep on the biggest high you could only imagine.

———————————————————————

Hey! I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so so so much from the request and thank you tons for reading!

[small-sinclair]

From the hurt/comfort prompts, perhaps 13 "Are you sure you’re alright?" With the additional note that if you want to include it one of my favorite hurt/comfort tropes is hiding pain/injuries for the sake of not feeling like a burden. Maybe for Vincent? He's my sweet boy and I just ♡♡♡

Of course! Sorry it took awhile to answer!

Pairing: Vincent/Bo/Brahms with a gen!reader.

Tw: mention of blood, knife, falling

Vincent Sinclair

There was a group of tourists that got a bit too courageous in the House of Wax, and he hated them so much.

They disrespected his art, his mother's art, but, most importantly, they made you feel small.

He was quick to take care of the first two people, but the three others ran throughout the house.

You went after a girl that was going up the spiral stair case. You don't kill or nothing; just trap them until one of the brothers come to finish the job.

When you got up there, she kicks you in the stomach, pushing you down the stairs.

There are 32 waxed steps, btw. It's going to be a fall.

You landed on your back hard and hit your head, seeing black spots and stars.

Bo was the one that found you and ran up the steps. Though he just sees you as Vincent's lover, he also sees you as a good friend, good company. And you can cook.

You are important.

Vincent comes into view and he panics.

He's so careful to lift you up in his arms and checked you over. He knows you're not okay, so don't ever try to tell him not to tell him otherwise. You can't fool him.

"I promise, Vincent, I'm okay," you'll murmur, tugging his sweatshirt. "I'm good."

That glare. The side eye.

He'll take care of your concussion and sprained arm.

Vincent would kiss you every other hour until you feel better. That night, he'll hold you close and watch over you, not sleeping until you're better.

Next time, don't chase someone up the stairs. Let him or Bo handle that. Stay on the ground or get out of the way (he'll tell you that in the nicest way possible).

He's in love with you until his last breath.

Bo Sinclair

He was fighting a victim with his pocket knife when you came into the garage with a snack (apple slices with peanut butter).

You didn't know there would be guests today. Normally, you hear them or someone tells you, but no one seemed to inform you.

Bo hates it when you're around the killings. He would rather protect you from it all then have you part of it.

You placed the tray down the counter, rushing into the garage.

The man's on top of Bo, the knife too close to Bo's throat.

You pulled them off and he turned around, cutting you black sweatshirt, and you felt the cold blade cut your arms.

Before they could do more, Bo comes up from behind and yanks them away from you. He takes their knife and finishes the job.

You're siting on you the hard floor, holding your arm. Everything hurts. You're hurt. but you don't want Bo to know.

He comes to you with blood spatter over his face, little red dots on his skin. He kneels in front of you and looked at you up and down.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his blue eyes still glowing in anger. "Somethin' happen?"

"I'm okay," you lied, holding your arm close. "I'm okay."

He looks at your arm then at you. "It's bad t'lie, darlin'. Wanna try 'at again?" His hand reaches up and takes your hurt arm. He rolls up and sleeve and shook his head. "Wish I didn't kill 'em righ' away. Was gonna make 'em pay."

Bo fixes you up silently, but he's cussing himself out in his head. How could he let you save him? How could he let you get hurt? You're y/n! The one he wants to love forever.

He could've lost you today, and that's his greatest fear.

Next time, don't hide that your hurt? Don't hide it.

Both of you would be snacking on the apple slices.

He'll have you sitting on his lap as he feeds you some of the slices, kissing your lips every now and then.

Bo loves you so much that it hurts.

Brahms Heelshire

He's the one that hurt in this situation.

Brahms rounded the corner too fast while running away from you.

This little nugget took your favorite fuzzy socks.

The rug under his foot slides and he goes with it.

Brahms lost his footing and falls on his arm, hurting his wrist.

His mask shatters on the floor.

He lets out a cry as you rounded the corner, pausing to see him holding his hand, glass shattered on the floor.

Brahms looked at you and doesn't even try to hide it.

"Brahms, sweetie? What happened?"

"I-I was run-running an-and I fell!" He cries in his child voice. "I didn't-didn't mean too!" He started sobbing as you came to his side. "I'm sorry! I'll be-be good next time! I promise!"

You sit next to him and pull him into a hug, and he falls into you like a house of cards, crying in your shoulder.

"This is why we don't run in the house, Brahms." You sigh ad kissed his head. "But I'm happy that you're not hurt too bad. Come on, darling. Let's wrap your wrist."

You take him to your shared room and wrapped his wrist, kissing the wrappings.

He apologizes over and over until falls asleep in your arms while you play with his curls.

You promised that you'll fix his mask once he wakes up.

Over time, you fall asleep with him and cuddled into his chest, holding him tighter.

[slasherscrybaby]

Slashers with an s/o who crystal alot

Of they're hurt or fall they cry, ALOT

Bo, Michael, Vincent, and Thomas

Thank yewww

Slashers with an s/o who cry’s a lot

Just before I start I just wanna say thank you for the ask and I hope you have a good day/ night sending love 💜

Parring with Bo, Michael, Vincent, Thomas

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Bo

Depending this can go, he’ll probably laugh and help you or help you then laugh.

Bo was working on a car. When you decide to visit him, you end up tripping over the damn tools he had lying around and falling and hitting your knee. And Bo slid out from underneath the car to ensure you were okay. He got up, saying, “It okay, Darlin, it's okay, its only uh little scratch” “Don't worry, Bo got ya” then when you were okay, he’ll laugh, “How did ya trip?” “Ya, such a crybaby, but my crybaby.”

Vincent

You gave this poor man a heart attack when he heard you cry.

You was helping Vinny in the basement with the wax he was currently doing a scorcher when he heard you cry. He almost dropped everything in his hands to see what had happened. You got hot wax on your hand, and Vincent almost went weak in the knees, and not the good kind. He pushed you up the stairs, brought you to the kitchen sink, and ran cold water on your hand while holding you and petting your hair. Telling you it was okay. I got you place; stop crying it okay. Yeah no more basement.

(I don’t know why i thought of this but Vincent would be the type to do that ground scraping like in that one episode in komi can't communicate it’s just the pool and more💀)

Michael

I feel like Michael would stand there like 🧍‍♂️ then awkward pat your head like, there, please stop crying. You were following Michael, trying to be sneaky, but Michael knew how? He could hear you giggling as you hid behind each tree. Michael thought it was cute but would never tell you that to your face. He doesn’t mind you following him as long you don’t get hurt or in his way. But when you fell and started to cry, he almost gave himself whiplash from turning so fast he saw you on your knees and crying. Michael speed walking towards you and put his knife in his pocket, and picked you up like:

Then put you over his shoulder and took you home, and made you sit down. You were stressing this man out.

Thomas

You almost gave this poor man a heart attack when he heard you cry.

It was like any other day, everyone doing their own thing. Thomas was down in the basement chopping away while you were helping Luda May out in the kitchen when he heard you crying. Never in this man's life had he run so fast. It was like Thomas teleported. He was looking around; maybe a tourist was here that he maybe missed? He looked in the kitchen to see Luda May rubbing your back, telling you it was okay. You weren’t paying attention and cut your finger. Thomas had to sit down like one of these:

Yeah, he and Luda May both scolded you for not paying attention.

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🏷️ list:

@lilitharts @rottent33th @kalid-raven @iloveslasher @bluecoolr @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood

[roadkillerx]

I wanna chew on ur arm but id have to scrape off so much gunk to actually get to your skin it wouldn’t be worth the trouble

‘EXCUSE ME! I AIN’T GOT NO GUNK ON NONE OF MY ARMS!

(Gif from crumb)

[hrefna-the-raven]

Would you ever write for Vincent Sinclair?

Not sure yet but I finally managed to watch House of Wax and Vincent is so precious 🥰

If I have the right idea for the character it'll definitely happen 😇

[letssimptogether]

I saw how you were willing to write fluff for a pregnant reader, so could you do something where the reader gets super emotional, and gets super dependent on Vincent. Like Bo makes her cry, and either Vincent gets annoyed, or she thinks Vincent is annoyed at her and starts becoming distant?

Feel free to make it angsty to, and congrats on your pregnancy!

ooo absolutely! i love writing for the sinclair’s😭🫶🏻

and thank you so much!💞💞💞

[g0thic-ghost]

Would you ever write for Vincent Sinclair, Charles lee ray or hannible (tv or movie )?

Replying to : Stygianoir

Note: Sorry if I responded sort of late, I don’t tend to log Into my blog that often! As im pretty busy handling other things. But here is my response.

Response Date: 5/28/24

Would I write for Vincent Sinclair ?

I would make the effort to, as I’m not a big enthusiast for the movie “House of Wax”. I tend write about characters which are in shows/movies I have a heavy interest in ; I do so because I feel like I could pin-point the character’s personality perfectly, or have a general liking to the character. So writing about Vincent would be quite hard to so, but I’m always up for a challenge! And I think that I can make the effort on writing about him someday.

Would I write for Charles Lee Ray ?

Most definitely ! I’m a big fan of the whole Chucky Campaign, weither it comes to movies, writings, art and merchandise. I’m a big enthusiast; Writing about Charles Lee Ray would be something that is in my bucket list, as I do plan on writing about him. And I would be happy to take any requests that suggest writing about him..

Would I write for Hannibal ?

I’d make the effort, I have watched short segments of the show and I’d like to say that I could make a good effort at it. The whole series and especially Hannibal’s character makes me interested ; I plan on finishing the show and soon after making a writing on him!

[ask-the-sinclair-brothers]

I have a very specific question for you all! What are your opinions of cryptids? Such as moth man or slenderman? Or things such as werewolves? Maybe even other cryptic beings? We’re there any story’s like that around ambrose?

-G

I'm just gonna open this with the fact that I, Vinny will not be talking about MM. Thankyou very much.

Second of all hell yeah! I'm in for all this criptic shit. Slender man lets go, Werewolves WOOP WOOP.

However I can remember Mom told me about a urban Legend called Le Fe Follet.

This myth originated in the swamps of Louisiana. Known as a ghostly light or flame, the Feu Follet entrances its visitors into following this light leading them deeper and deeper into the swamp. The subdued follow the light until they are hopelessly lost, never to leave the swamp again. Some say the ball of light is the spirit of a lost child who left its nursery and others relate it to the spirits of those who lost their lives to protect the buried treasures of such famous pirates as Jean Lafitte. Either way, if you for some reason find yourself in the Louisiana swamp at night…don’t follow the light. 

Yeah about that, Vinny is scared of Moths. LMAO.

So thats why he won't talk about the moth man. But yeah there are plenty of others, Let me see if I can ask Lester becuse he was OBSESSED with them growing up.

[slasherstories123]

Could you do slashers reacting to their s/o (who never laughs no matter what) laughing for the first time, like a full in laughing fit because they saw the slashers trip or do something stupid while chasing a victim

Slashers reaction to their S/O laughing at them falling

Pairing: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Brahms Heelshire x gn! reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Michael Myers

It was finally time for a movie night. You nearly begged for Michael to have one with you as a way to spend time together. He’s declined or have no signals and it left you frustrated. One day he finally agreed. So as a celebration, you bought him certain pajamas. It took a while to find regular plain blue ones that would be the same color of his coveralls.

Even then he approved the pajamas. Going upstairs to change after you begging him one again, even getting matching ones with him. You had everything set up on the table. A box of pizza, popcorn, and two bowls of different candy and chocolates. A large jug of water sat at the very front. Rubbing your hands together, you nearly had everything set.

Now you just needed Michael to join…

As you were about to call out for him, slow creaks came from upstairs. Maybe he was coming down. Slow steps began to come downstairs, before a loud thud at the bitten. You flinched at the loud impact. Slowly turning your head to see Michael on the ground.

He laid there. It didn’t even look like he was breathing either. His mask was pushed to the side with his arms and legs spread out. A snickered left your lips.

Michael sat up. Adjusting his mask so the dark circles could stare at you. You hid your face in the couch, hiding so you could giggle louder. When you looked back up Michael hovered above you. Making you burst out in laughter.

The sight of him on the floor never left your head, the image was stuck in your brain. Making you laugh even harder. Michael’s hands touched a pillow. Gripping it and hitting you in the face.

“Ow! It ain’t my fault you fell!” you exclaimed as he walked back upstairs…without falling this time.

You had to convince him for the next hour to have the movie night.

Jason Voorhees

He’ll only ever fall if he’s too focused to where he won’t see his surroundings.

You had to hide since trespassers were at the camp, yet you watched Jason as he followed screaming woman. What he didn’t notice was a backpack in front of him that the girl jumped over. He was focused. Too focused.

You didn’t want to shout or it would blow your cover and would get him distracted. You watched him trip over it. Landing straight on his face. Covering your mouth, you hid further behind the tree. Even then, when he fell his machete cut the fork in her back. Making her fall.

It led him to finish the job. Coming back to find you laughing on the ground. He tilted his head at your laughter. It took him a while to realize you were laughing at him.

Jason’s shoulders sulked slightly, turning his back on you.

“As come on it was funny I’m sorry!”

You walked to him. Calling down your laughter to make him look down at you. You reached your tippy toes just to place a kiss to his masked faces “There, you happy now?”

Him picking you up answered your question. Now taking you back to your shared cabin.

Brahms Heelshire

Sometimes Brahms left his toys out and never put them back. Eventually you got tired of cleaning up his mess and told him to do it himself, to which he declined too no matter what you did he still left toys around.

So, you gave up. There was no point in trying to make him do it. He’ll just have to learn the consequences a different way.

You waited for him on the couch to try and comb his hair. It might need a trim as well. After a while of waiting, you called out for him so he could hurry.

“Brahms! Come on so we can brush your hair, I’ll let you get ice cream after.”

“Ice cream?” a child voice filled your ears.

His footsteps became louder. And louder, they got eager at the mention of ice cream as a reward. Once his figure came into view, you adjusted your poster so he could sit on the ground. Brahms nearly made his way to you, his foot tripped over one of his cars. Falling on his back with a loud thud.

You were surprised that his mask didn’t fall off, but began to burst out in laughter. Pointing at him while holding onto your stomach.

“It’s not funny!” he exclaimed and sat up with a hand on his head.

You kept laughing. Curling up in a ball before flaking off the couch. Making Brahms laugh at you as payback. You would be mad, but you still couldn’t get over how Brahms fell.

Now you both laughed at each other falling. Your laughs echoing the empty manor.

[ask-the-sinclars]

I already know the right answer bc im also from Louisiana but real question is seafood gumbo or chicken and sausage gumbo

“Personally, seafood is the best,” Bo answers. “Love making it.”

Vincent snaps his head. ‘No. Chicken and sausage!’

Bo looks offended. “Seafood!”

Vincent stands. ‘Chick and sausage!’

As they argue back and forth, Lester boils a pot of crawfish. “It’s a house divided, friend.”

[im-his-druidess]

🕯️🔪🎭⛽🔥

These are my loves. Vincent and Bo Sinclair 😌

"If you can't learn to share then I'll just sleep somewhere else," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest in an act of defiance, and was rewarded by sharp teeth digging into your shoulder.

Bo mumbled something against your skin while you felt Vincent's warm fingers caress your thighs. Both urging you to stay in their own unique way. Bo was laying at your side, one arm thrown over your crossed arms, and his face buried near your neck once he was satisfied with the teeth indents on your shoulder. Vincent was laying between your legs with his unmasked face pressed against your stomach. Their combined body heat making sweat dot your brow and it made you even more grumpy.

"I was here first. Remember that," Bo eventually said, a sneer directed towards his twin, and you bit back a laugh when Vincent replied with a simple raised middle finger.

His face never left it's spot pressed against your abdomen.

"You both are hopeless...now let me get some sleep or so help me you'll both sleep outside."

[loveandmurders]

love your writing! how do you think the menagerie of murderers would react if their current crush/victim/hostage refers to them exclusivelly as "Mister [lastname]" even after they know their first name? would some prefer it that way? get off to the power synamic implied? would some insist on being called by their first name? would they not gaf? asking for Tommy Vincent and Brahms specifically but if you can do more i'd love that~

Hello there! I don't take request anymore but my mind instantly knew how each character you mentionned would react, so here a quick answer for you! (I added Bo and Lester)

I hope you'll enjoy <3

Warning: absolutely no proof reading, mentions of murders and violence, mentions of sexual desire, nothing else I think

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy would be confused as hell at first. Why would you call him "Mister Hewitt"? The man has never been called that way in his entire existence.

Of course, he understands you're trying to be polite, and it's better than being insulted... But he has a secret little crush on you (he thinks it's a secret but the whole family can tell) so it hurts him quite a lot that you are not calling him by his name. For him, it is as if you were putting barriers between the two of you. He wants you to be more intimate with him. He needs it actually or he is going to lose his mind.

He definitively asks his Mama (he is too shy to ask you directly) to tell you to stop calling him that, and to start calling him "Thomas" (which makes him feel so hot when you do) or "Tommy" (which makes him melt with pure love for you).

Bo Sinclair

Bo has tied you up on his chair and he is ready to toy with you in the nastiest way possible.

But he stops dead in his track when he hears you call him "Mister Sinclair" as you plead with him to not hurt you. He can't recall the last time he has been called that way and for an instant he doesn't know what to think about it. He asks you to repeat your words, which you instantly do, hopeful you might have found a cheatcode.

As he repeats the words inside his head over and over again, he moves his tongue over his dry lips and starts to understand he actually likes it a lot. It sounds even hotter coming out from your pretty mouth. Ok, you win, he won't hurt you as long as you keep calling him that way. God forbid he is getting hard from such a simple way. Also, he is losing it if you start calling him "Sir" as well.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent instantly liked you among your little tourist group and this is why you're still alive, currently wandering around in the house. In your point of view, you're some sort of hostage, without really knowing what the brothers want from you.

But Vinny doesn't see it that way. You're his muse.

At first you don't know you are alive thanks to him; you even feel like he seems to avoid you as much as possible. Actually he is just watching you from far away. When he finally gathers the courage to be around you, he is so surprised to hear you call him "Mister Sinclair". He definitively enjoys the politeness of it. It also reminds him that he isn't his "mama's boy" anymore. He is a man. It makes him want to take care of you like a "man" would take care of you. But after a little while, he really needs you to call him by his name or even better by a nickname to show him you like him (even just a little).

Lester Sinclair

Lester is very happy you aren't calling him a "freak" or insulting him, despite the current situation (all your friends are dead and you're alive because Lester pleaded with his big brothers).

He is even astonished you are still so polite to him, like the first time you met on the dusty road of Louisiana. He isn't used of people being polite to him, and he is a little bit worried you are actually just scared of him. He really doesn't want that.

In addition, he HATES with burning passion you calling him "Mister Sinclair". Mister Sinclair was his father and fuck he hated that man and all the awful things he did to him and his brothers. So no, please, call him Lester, call him Les, call him anything you want, but not Mister. Even "Freak" would hurt less in fact. He doesn't really like "Sir" either because he doesn't feel like that. He is just "Lester".

Brahms Heelshire

For Brahms, it is normal and even expected that you call him "Mister" and that you are all polite and nice around him.

Your are his new nanny, you are stuck with him now and you better respect the rules and respect him.

But he can't deny that the way you pronounce those words instantly does things to him. If you are gently greeting him in the morning, he is promising himself he's going to be a good boy to you today. If you are scolding him because there is mud eveywhere in the living room, he gets sad and helps you clean up instantly. If you say this in between kisses, he is absolutely going feral for you.

"Mister Heelshire" used to be a way to show him some respect, now it is some sort of spell that wraps him up all around your little finger.

[small-sinclair]

Hii!!

I get another ideas

Can you write Sinclair brothers with a S/O who is a picky eater?

Thank you and hope you have a wonderful day🥰❤️

Hewos!

Picky Eater Reader

Bo: Veggies

“Honestly? Me too.”

Bo doesn’t like certain foods and drinks.

Hates a lot of fruit the most, but vegetables? He’ll eat that shit like candy.

Please don’t tell him you hate vegetables. Just kindly say you don’t like them.

“More for me.” *vacuums that shit up like soup*.

Deep fry that shit is his mind mindset

Vincent: Fruit

Vincent is just like Bo, but he loves fruit!

Hates vegetables.

He and Bo would trade when they were kids. Vincent’ll trade mashed potatoes for Bo’s strawberries.

If you don’t like fruit, he’ll eat it if you trade him.

You want his green beans? He’ll trade you them for your watermelon.

Because of his lips, it’s hard for him to chew some foods, but he’ll still try it.

You’ll find him munching on grapes while he does art.

Lester: Tries Everything

What do you mean you don’t like gumbo and Cajun food?????

You’re in the south! You have to like that! It’s the law!!!!!!

Lester is the type to eat everything and anything.

He doesn’t understand how you don’t like certain foods and drinks. He’ll try something once.

He’ll encourage you to try new food with him, and, if you don’t like it, that’s okay. He’ll eat it if he likes it.

Don’t like his Roadkill Stew? More for him. But he’ll make you something you like, don’t worry.

Your happiness and food taste is important.

[not-neverland06]

Bad Day

part two

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) A/N: I don’t usually think about slashers until Halloween, but I’ve just had House of Wax brainrot for the past two weeks, so I wanted to get this out Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence (barely) Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with shitty friends, you’re forced to visit Ambrose, home of the infamous House Of Wax. Unfortunately for you, you manage to catch the attention of not one, but two of the Sinclair brothers.

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

Sarah looks over her shoulder at you and shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”

You roll your eyes and tap Dean on the shoulder, he grunts, the best answer you’ll get from him. “Pull over, I think something’s wrong with the car.” He gives you a questioning glance over his shoulder but shrugs and pulls onto the side of the desolate road. 

You could hear the rest of your friends pulling up behind you in their truck as you hopped out. You walk to the front of the car, popping open the hood and immediately regretting it as a cloud of smoke blasts you in the face. “Shit,” you hiss, backing up and fanning the air in front of your face. 

“Oh, fuck,” the angriest you’d ever heard your stoic friend Dean, and his voice was still barely above a whisper. Alison, Owen, Gwen, and Damien hopped out of their truck and came rushing over to the three of you. 

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Y/N’s piece of shit car.” You rolled your eyes at Sarah’s bitchy attitude, you don’t know why you agreed to this trip. You barely like any of them, they were horrible people and worse friends. You’re pretty sure the only reason they invited you was because Owen’s truck couldn’t fit all of them and you were the only one they knew with a big enough car for the rest. 

“I saw a sign, some place called Ambrose, we could try there. Might have someone who could help.”

You all glanced at each other, each of you trying to come up with a solution, but nothing was better than Owen’s suggestion. What's the worst that could happen?

Your car had managed to make it long enough to get to some campground, you really hadn’t been willing to just abandon it on the side of the road to be stolen. Now, you all sat in the grass, debating who should head into town. 

“Y/N should go. It’s her car.”

“Thank you, Allison,” you glared at her, “but I’m not willing to go into some strange town all on my own.”

Owen let out a loud sigh before he reluctantly said, ��I’ll go with you.” You were overwhelmed by his kindness. Not. 

There was a high pitched scoff and you glanced over to see Allison glaring at her boyfriend. “You volunteered real quick.”

“Ally-”

She held up a hand and walked off, struggling slightly over the damp ground with her heels. Owen trailed after her, offering you a barely there apology as he left you with everyone else. You were acutely aware of how none of them would meet your eye. 

Up ahead, Ally was laying into Owen, probably another fight because she always thought he was trying to sleep with someone else. It didn’t take you long to realize you were on your own. You really hated these people. 

You stood up, shooting dirty looks over your shoulder as you started towards the woods Owen had determined would take you to Ambrose. “Thanks babe!”

You flipped Gwen off and kept walking. You grumbled to yourself as you tripped down the steep hill and cussed each of them out every time your foot sank into mud. The further down the hill you got the worse it was starting to smell. 

At first it was just musky and you assumed the stifling atmosphere was from the humidity. Then it started to really stink, putrid, rotting flesh stink. You gagged slightly the closer you got to the source of the smell. Your stomach was twisting and turning and you thought the skin inside your nose was burning as you tried to breath through your mouth. That only seemed to make it worse. Now you could taste the rot, feel it spilling down your throat.

“Y/N, wait!”

You jumped, looking over your shoulder at Owen approaching you, the rest of your friends behind him. The distraction cost you, though, your foot got twisted in a root and you let out a loud yelp as you went flying headfirst down the hill.  

“Oh, shit!” You could hear them laughing behind you as you rolled down the hill, your ribs and elbows busting against random rocks and roots. You hissed in pain when you finally came to a stop, already feeling a dozen different scrapes all along your body. 

You went to sit up but your hand sank into something soft and gooey, and oh god you were going to lose your lunch. 

You actually did throw up in your mouth, swallowing it with a burn as you scrambled desperately to get out of whatever putrid pit you were stuck in. You glanced around, finally coming across the source of the smell, dozens of carcasses surrounded you. Some of them so rotted you couldn’t even tell what animal it was anymore. 

You screamed as your hand finally found purchase on something. You glanced down at the hand wrapped around your own and shot up, your feet slipping and sliding against the gore. Two hands wrapped around your biceps and helped you, finally. 

You grasped onto the arms of whoever had you and practically leapt onto them in your attempt to escape. They pulled you away from the pit and you let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

You glanced up, finally getting to see the face of your savior. He had yellowed teeth, a sweat stained tank top on, and a very adorable smile as he patted your shoulder and backed off. “You alright?”

You let out a strained, “mhm,” as you attempted to catch your breath and not vomit on his feet. “There-“ you covered your mouth as bile rose up. You pointed towards the pit, taking in a deep breath, “Hand. Human hand.”

The man titled his head in confusion before walking over to the pit and digging around where you just were. You winced at the sound of squelching before he managed to reveal the hand once more. You jumped as he grabbed onto it, he laughed as he tugged at it until there was a loud pop and the hand came loose. 

“Anyone need a hand?”

Your friends, who had been standing at the top of the pit watching you struggle, stared at him with varying expressions of disgust. You let out an awkward laugh, relieved it had only been a mannequin and nothing worse. 

He turned around at the sound of your laughter and gave you another goofy smile. “Thank god,” you breathed. 

He came back towards you, completely unbothered by the death around him. “Sorry ‘bout your clothes.”

You glanced down at your shirt and grimaced, it was completely covered in brown blood and old bits of roadkill. “Not your fault.” You glanced towards the back of his truck, seeing old blood in the bed of it and realizing this is where he dumped the animals people hit on the highway. 

“Hey!” You both jumped at the booming voice and looked over to see Owen hopping awkwardly down the hill, skirting the dead bodies, and coming to stand next to you. The others hovered further behind. “You know where Ambrose is?”

The man ignored him, glancing at you. “That where you were heading?” You nodded and he scoffed, “Woulda been walking a long way. ‘Bout fifteen miles up the road.”

You elbowed Owen in the side and glared at him, “You said it was close!”

He rubbed his side and shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the walk was longer than I thought.” He evaded making any eye contact and stared at his shoes. You rolled your eyes, what an asshole. 

“I could give you a ride.”

You blanched at the man's suggestion, he seemed nice enough, but you really weren’t eager to get into a stranger’s truck. “No need, we’ll just take Owen’s truck.”

He shrugged, “Alright. But good luck getting in, there’s only one way to town and it’s not on any map.”

You let out a deep sigh, this day is just getting better and better. “We won’t be bothering you?” He shook his head and walked towards his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. 

You gave him a tense smile before digging your fingers into Owen’s arm and dragging him behind you. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother arguing.”

“Owen?” Allison shouted after him. 

The man answered before Owen could, “I’ll come back for y’all. Don’t you worry!” Something about the smile he shot at them, it was different than the one he’d directed towards you, there was something swimming between his yellowed teeth and honeyed smile. His eyes glittered with malicious intent and you shivered when he looked back at you. 

You didn’t really have another choice, you’d have to follow him. He, apparently, was the only one who could get you into town. You forced a kind smile on your face and thanked him as he helped you up in the truck. “I hope I don’t stink up your seats too bad,” you added as he rounded the front. 

You’d realized you’d spoken too soon when you actually got a chance to smell the interior of his truck. You clutched the seat as your eyes bulged out. Somehow, the inside was worse than the pit outside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he hopped in the truck. You heard Owen groan under his breath beside you as he slammed the truck door close. 

“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his stomach and trying not to make a big deal about how fucking awful the truck smelled and felt. 

“I’m Lester,” the man told you, offering a hand for you to shake. You paused on holding your breath to tell him your and Owen’s names. “You’ll want to find Bo when we get into town. He’s the mechanic, he’ll be able to fix you up.”

You clutched the edge of the seat for the rest of the ride, trying to remain polite as you made small talk with Lester, but you could only hold your breath for so long. He seemed to pick up on your discomfort and rolled the windows down, “AC don’t work no more.”

“Maybe Bo could fix it.”

He glanced up at you, eyes lighting up like he’d never thought of that before. “Yeah! Maybe he could!” He let out a goofy laugh, slapping his thigh and smiling at you. “I ain’t never thought of that before.”

You let out a weak chuckle, the reaction was pretty extreme for something as simple as suggesting you got to a mechanic for car problems. Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Fuckin’ Christ.” He muttered, glancing at Lester out of the corner of his eye and shaking his head. 

You elbowed him again, ignoring his noise of pain and silently threatening him to shut up. You understood that Lester might stink and have strange reactions, but Christ, he was giving you both a ride fifteen miles out of his way. He could be a little more appreciative. 

“Alright,” the truck slowly rumbled to a stop. “We’re here.”

You glanced at Lester and then the clear lack of town through the windshield. “Um, what?”

He chuckled slightly, “It’s around the bend. Truck can’t go over that, though.” You followed the direction of his gaze and lifted yourself from the seat to see a little creek and a broken bridge. “Go ahead and I’ll go back for your friends.”

Owen opened the door, practically flying out of the truck. He took in deep and dramatic inhales as the stifling Louisiana air hit him in the face. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back towards Lester, “Thank you so much for the help.”

He gave you a strange look, not quite mean but not very friendly, “Don’t thank me yet.” You had barely closed the door before he was peeling off. 

You turned towards Owen but he just shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

You nodded, turning towards the creek, “Agreed.”

You were thankful you’d chosen a black tank top, the sun was beating directly down on you and you were pretty sure you had already sweat through every layer you had on. You were desperate for a hair clip or rubber band or literally anything to get your hair off your neck. Another minute sweating like this and you were just going to chop it all off. 

“Hey, up there.”

“Finally!” You and Owen both sped up, rushing towards the auto shop, eager to get somewhere with air conditioning. But when Owen tried the door it wouldn’t budge, he pulled and pushed, wiggled it way too many times and you snapped. “It’s locked, dipshit!”

“Think I don’t know that?” He snapped back. 

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “Then let it go and give up.” He let out a pissy sigh and whirled around, canvassing the rest of town. His eyes landed on the small chapel and he nudged you, pointing at it.

“Maybe there’s someone in there.”

You followed hesitantly after him as he walked towards it. The closer you got the louder the voices inside were. “Wait, Owen, I think there’s a service going on. We shouldn’t just barge in.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored you, throwing the door open without care and glaring inside. You shriveled up in embarrassment when you saw a man kneeling at the front of the chapel. You dared a step closer and winced, he was kneeling in front of a coffin. 

God, you guys looked like such assholes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, grabbing Owen by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back outside. You shoved him down the steps and he stumbled, glaring at you. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“It was a funeral service you jackass!” You hissed back at him, unwilling to raise your voice and further disrupt those poor people’s mourning. You were halfway across the street when you heard the door behind you open. 

You tensed up, mentally preparing yourself to face whoever had decided to scold you both. “Can I help you folks?” You turned at the sound of a smooth southern accent and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Well, more heat, you were about as hot as you could get right now. 

But the man in front of you seemed perfectly comfortable in his all black suit, glaring down at you both from the top of the stairs. You were a little ashamed how attracted to him you were. He was mourning, attending the funeral of someone who was probably close to him and you were drooling over how good he looked in a suit. 

To be fair, he did look very nice in a suit. 

“I am so sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”

Owen nudged you slightly, “Shut up, Y/N.” You glared at him but he just crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the man in front of you. “We’re looking for Bo. You seen him?”

The man’s voice was full of anger as he sneered at Owen, “You’re talkin’ to him.”

Owen glanced back at you, a mean look on his face. “Her car broke down, can you fix it?”

Bo scoffed, staring down at Owen with a disgusted expression. You knew what he was thinking, how demanding and dickish Owen was. Especially when he knew what Bo had been doing only moments before. You intervened before Owen could dig a deeper hole. 

“Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m really sorry we interrupted you.”

“Y/N-”

“Shut up before I make you,” you leveled Owen with a glare. You let the group get away with a lot, talking shit to you and about you constantly. You didn’t really care enough to stop them, but you weren’t about to let him continue to disrespect the only person who could actually help you out of this hellhole. 

Owen seemed to get the message and scoffed, walking off with an attitude. Though, he didn’t have anywhere to go considering pretty much every business was closed. So he stood in the street, kicking at gravel like a toddler. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Bo, a little surprised to find him already staring down at you. 

You couldn’t decipher the look he was giving you, but it didn’t make you feel very comfortable. Though, that could just be the anxiety from your rude companion. “Sorry, again.”

You turned around, ready to walk back to the others, when he stopped you. “I’ll help you!” 

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, “Give me a little while to finish up here and I’ll meet you at the shop.”

You nodded, a smile slowly rising on your lips. Maybe this day wasn’t completely lost. “Of course, take your time, thank you so much, seriously.”

He nodded, still looking unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Uh, you could check out the House of Wax, might make the time pass quicker.”

You nodded again but he didn’t bother waiting for a response, already heading back inside the church. He left just in time for the rest of the group to come walking up the street. Owen ran towards them, leaving you behind. You noticed a clear lack of Gwen or Damien and figured they’d stayed behind with the cars or something. 

You caught up with them just as Owen finished filling them in on what was going on. “So we have to wait?” Sarah whined, practically stomping her feet. 

“Yes, because he’s currently burying someone,” you deadpanned. You glanced towards the building towering over the town on top of a hill. “But we can always check out the House of Wax.”

”Yippee,” Allison mumbled sarcastically. 

You broke off quickly from the rest of the group, immediately embarrassed by how they behaved in the museum. Owen had started off strong, catcalling one of the wax women and groping her. You wandered towards the back of the building, a figure of a dog catching your attention. You hadn’t seen any other animals in here. 

Wow, its fur looked so realistic. 

You knelt down, getting closer, and shot back in fear as it barked at you. You let out a loud yelp as you landed on your ass, watching the very real dog growl at you. 

“Holy shit, did not think you were real.” You held up your hands in surrender, “Good girl, it’s okay.” After a minute she stopped growling and slowly moved towards you. You smiled as you pet her, running your fingers through her fur and laughing when she licked your hands. ”Aren’t you sweet?”

You heard a creak in the doorway behind her and your head shot up. A man loomed over you, a wax mask over his face and long black locks hanging over his shoulders. “Hi,” you whispered, completely thrown off by his appearance. 

“Do you work here?”

Nothing. 

He had to, if the mask was anything to go by, maybe it was like some outfit they made the employees wear. You glanced down at his hands, you could see wax covering them and sculpting tools in the belt slung around his hip. “Oh, are you an artist?” You asked, tone a little more excited. 

He tilted his head, and you felt your heart speed up when he stepped closer. The dog left you, walking over to him with her tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. He reached down, not breaking his stare with you, and pet her lightly. 

You got to your feet, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was making you. Finally, he nodded. 

“Well,” you stuttered slightly over your words, tongue tied with anxiety. “They’re all amazing. I accidentally bumped into one and apologized because I thought it was real,” your words trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “I even thought your dog was real, she scared me half to death when she moved.”

God, kill me now, this had to be the most awkward one sided interaction you’ve ever had with someone. “D-,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your voice to stop cracking. “Did you do this?” You pointed to the scene behind you, a family eating dinner at a dusty wooden table.

He shook his head, slowly lumbering past you and lifting the woman’s hair. You took a hesitant step forward and peered at the back of her neck where he was pointing. 

TS was carved into the wax. “TS?” Your eyes narrowed before it finally clicked in your head. “Trudy Sinclair?” He nodded and you smiled. “Oh, yeah, I saw an article about her up front. She’s the woman that runs the museum, right?” Another nod. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he wasn’t some freaky serial killer that was about to use that scalpel in his belt to slit your throat. 

Please just be extremely socially awkward. 

“Whole place is wax,” you dumbly pointed out, because clearly he knew that. “Pretty impressive.” He straightened up, moving the woman’s hair back in place and carefully brushing it out with his fingers. The care in which he treated the mannequin was a little off putting, he was acting like she was living and breathing, something to be coddled. “Um,” you stopped staring at his hands, focusing once again on his waxed face. “What’s your name?”

He took a step forward, then another and another until he was standing right in front of you, sharing the air you breathed. You couldn’t help but gulp, feet glued to the floor as the dark holes in his mask burned into you. In your peripheral you watched as his arm stretched out and winced slightly, prepared for a hit or stab or something. 

But it just hovered in the air, after a moment you realized he was pointing at something. You turned around and found a signature scrawled into another wax figure. 

Vincent

“Vincent,” you let out a sigh of relief and held out a hand, giving him your own name. After a moment he took your hand, grip tight to the point that it hurt. But he didn’t shake it like you’d expected, instead he moved his hand up your arm, digging his fingers into your forearm and dragging you back to the front door. You whimpered when he opened the door and threw you outside. 

You clutched your forearm to your chest, rubbing the forming bruises as the door slammed in your face. “Well, fuck you too then,” you muttered under your breath. You turned around glancing down the street and seeing Allison and Owen already walking towards the auto shop. You bound down the steps and run after them, panting when you finally catch up. 

“Where’s Sarah and Dean?”

Allison snorted, “Said they found a bed upstairs.” She glanced at you, “I think you can put two and two together.”

Your nose wrinkled and you groaned, “That’s disgusting. The guy that runs the place is literally in there.”

“Don’t be a prude,” Owen admonished. “They’re just screwing around.”

You glanced back at the House of Wax, seeing a figure moving in the window of the upper floor and shook your head. Jackasses. 

Bo was waiting for you all at the door of the auto shop. He was still in his black suit, except this time he had an easygoing grin on his face. A complete 180 from the man who looked ready to rip Owen’s dick off for interrupting a funeral. 

He gave you a particularly large smile as you approached, holding the door open for you as you entered the shop. You didn’t get the relief you were hoping for, the air in here almost as stifling as it was outside. It was maybe two degrees cooler. Whatever, you’d take what you could get on such a shitty day. 

“You know what the problem is with your car, sweetheart?” 

It took an awkward moment of silence to realize he was talking to you. When you looked up from the floor you saw his gaze drilling into yours, not missing the way his eyes flitted down to your low cut top and then back up. You couldn’t really blame him, you’d been eyeing him since he introduced himself. 

“Um,” you glanced towards Owen. “What did Dean say it was?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure look on his face. “Something about a hose.”

Bo nodded, sucking on his teeth before he went to the back of his shop. You rocked back and forth on your heels, ignoring the other two who were wandering around his shop and whispering to themselves. “Hey, honey, you mind comin’ back here a minute?”

You peered around the doorway and saw Bo bent over rummaging around in some boxes. “Me?”

He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “Who else?”

You were about to step forward when you heard Allison hiss your name. You turned around and she pulled her top down mouthing ‘maybe he’ll give you a discount,’ pointing to your own shirt and laughing. You crossed your arms reflexively, covering your breasts from her view and tugging your shirt higher up to be petty. She rolled her eyes, clearly called you a prude, and turned back around. 

You really needed new friends. 

You walked into the back of Bo’s shop, taking in the different tools and boxes along the walls. “What’s up?”

“Any of these look right?”

You glanced down at the hoses he had laid out, the blood draining from your face when you realized you did not know anything about your car. You really hadn’t even known a hose was a thing until today. “Um, I’m not sure.”

“Well,” he started, losing some patience as his tone took a curt edge. Your stomach toiled with anxiety, not liking the idea of him getting pissed at you. “You know what size ya need?” 

You cleared your throat, “Owen!” You called out the door, you heard a grumbled what in response. “You know what size I need?”

“Two and a half!”

You missed Bo sliding a hose under his work table as you turned back around, scanning the tags and frowning when you saw he didn’t have the right size. “There’s a two, would that work?” You asked, picking the hose up and holding it out to him. 

His tongue poked into his cheek and he shook his head, “‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you placed the hose back down and rubbed your face, wincing as you remembered you were still covered in innards. “Ugh, gross,” you pulled your hands away from your face and could already feel streaks of blood on your cheeks. 

Bo chuckled and reached for a clean rag off his work table. He gave you a charming smile and wiped the blood off your face. You tried not to let yourself be too affected by how close he was, but it was hard, really, really, hard. So, as you always do in situations you don’t know how to handle, you blabber. 

“House of Wax was really cool,” you mumble.

“Hm,” he hums, not interested at all as his gaze darts down to your lips. 

“Yeah, the guy, Vincent, I don’t think he liked me very much,” you let out a barely audible laugh, remembering his harsh treatment as he tossed you out. 

Bo froze, his eyelids dropping slightly as the tender look on his face melted away, replaced by something you didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand. The hair on the back of your neck was standing up as goosebumps traveled along your arms. You weren’t cold, not in the slightest, this felt like something else. Like an instinctual response to a predator. 

You backed away a step, no longer feeling comfortable being so close to him. “What’d you say?” His voice was low, so low you could almost mistake it for a growl. 

“Um,” you swallowed harshly, throat parched and lips completely dried by the humidity. “Vincent,” you didn’t like how small your voice was. Didn’t like how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from something charged to something dangerous. “He- he showed me some wax sculptures and then he tossed me out.”

“You saw Vincent?” You nodded, backing a step further when he approached you. He noticed and let out a low laugh, the grin returning, but there were entirely too many teeth. “You say anything? ‘Bout his mask? How quiet he was?” He probed, his tone almost teasing like he wanted you to say Yeah, called him a freak and laughed at him. Like he wanted to use your response as an excuse for something. 

You shook your head quickly, “No. No, of course not,” you were quick to defend yourself, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You didn’t want him to think you were as rude as your traveling companions. “I thought maybe all the museum workers had to wear those. Like a theme or something. And,” you stumbled slightly over your words as he moved towards you again. You stepped back towards the doorway, trying to get back in the view of the others. “And I can be pretty quiet myself, I didn’t think it would be kind to pry.”

He finally stopped, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You still could feel your heart pounding against your chest, going so fast you felt a little dizzy. You weren’t an idiot, you knew how risky it was approaching so many strange men in one day. But you had been trapped, like a mouse dropped in a maze, constantly searching for a way out. 

You’d had no choice but to accept help from all the people you’d interacted with in this town, but you didn’t forget how much danger they could pose to you and your friends. You were all too aware of how stupid it was to be in a room with this stranger. 

This stranger who switched between masks so fast you got whiplash. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was back, still just as handsome, but no longer disarming. He shrugged, “Vincent doesn’t show himself to anyone, really. Just a little curious, that’s all. And that mask is all him, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you forced a smile, moving out of the way so he could walk back into the main part of the shop. 

He clapped his hands together, getting the attention of the others. “Sorry folks but I don’t got the parts you need here.”

Allison and Owen both let out loud groans, their voices blending together in anger as they harassed Bo for not having the one car part they needed. You winced as they yelled at him, demanding to know how he even called himself a mechanic if he didn’t have one simple part. You could see Bo’s patience leaving him again, jaw clenching and teeth grinding together. 

“Shut up!” You shouted, glaring at them from behind Bo. “Jesus, act your fucking ages,” you muttered, storming past Bo and going to stand near them. You didn’t bother looking at any of them, despite the stares you could feel boring into you. 

“Thank you,” Bo mumbled before his voice rose again. “As I was sayin’ I got some parts up at my house. Only about a ten minute walk, you could use the bathroom, clean up, I’ll see if I have what you need.”

Allison and Owen shared a look before turning towards you, the both of them huddling around you. “I don’t want to go anywhere near that freak’s house. He’s probably got some redneck sex dungeon.”

“Allison,” you admonished, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bo hadn’t heard. He seemed preoccupied with something under his desk. “Shut up, he’s being nice and putting up with our shit. I mean, he just buried someone guys, and he’s still trying to help. Least you could do is be respectful.”

Allison huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes before finally nodding, “Fine. But I’m using you as a human shield if shit goes south.”

“Fine by me,” you muttered, pushing away from them both and smiling at Bo. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to go.”

He nodded, smiling at you before walking to the door. He opened it but he didn’t leave until he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I was taking anyone to my dungeon it’d be this one.” You squeaked as he pinched your waist and walked out. 

Allison scoffed, like she was offended, and followed after him. 

“So,” Bo started, slowing down so you could catch up to him. You sped up slightly, matching his stride and giving him a small smile as he stared at you. “What’re you doin’ with these jackasses?”

You couldn’t stop a snort from slipping out at his blunt language. You glanced behind you, watching Allison and Owen bicker about something and turned back towards him, shrugging. “I don’t know, they needed my car and I wanted to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Well, how long you been friends?”

“Not long, I met Allison a year ago and I guess I just started hanging around them.”

“You don’t seem to get along real well.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a fact in his eyes that you didn’t belong with them. And he was probably right, you hated them, they hated you. 

“Only reason I’ve stuck around this long is ‘cause I don’t have anyone else.”

You didn’t notice how he perked up, how quickly he tuned into the loneliness in your words and pounced. You should have, for someone so perceptive and paranoid, but you were too busy grimacing at a chunk of dead something in your shorts pocket. 

“No one? No family? No other friends? No one to notice-” He cut himself off, once again sending you a smile, though this one seemed more sympathetic than anything. Like he knew your pain and could relate to it. 

“Yeah, no one.”

“Hm,” he offered nothing else. Just another hum and a nod as you approached the house at the top of the incline. He walked up to the front door, unlocking it, and turning around to survey you all. “Anyone need the can?”

Owen stepped forward, Allison clinging to his arm with a paranoid look on her face, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the house. Bo glanced behind them at you, “Sweetheart?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He might be charming but there was no way in hell you were just gonna wander in blind to his house. 

“You sure? I could give you a change of clothes.”

Before you could figure out a polite way to decline again, Allison had grabbed onto the strap of your tank top and was dragging you up the porch. “Please, fuck, I can’t stand the smell anymore.”

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, jumping as the door slammed closed behind you. For a moment the house stayed dark, no light and no noise other than the sound of your breathing. Then you heard a click and light shone down on a cluttered living room and outdated kitchen. 

“Sorry, haven’t had time for the maid,” Bo muttered sarcastically. He turned towards you, motioning you forward and, reluctantly, you followed. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.” Owen nodded, heading down the hallway while Allison stayed planted by the door. 

“I’ll show you my room and you can get changed.”

”Thanks,” you followed him wearily up the stairs, jumping every time the old wood creaked. “I really appreciate this, I know we’ve bugged you a lot today.”

”Yeah, you have.” You frowned, taken aback by how honest he sounded. In your defense, he had offered up his house to you guys. He turned around and must’ve seen the disgruntled look on your face because another grin broke out and he laughed, “I’m messin’ with ya. Relax, it’s no trouble at all for such a pretty lady.”

He opened up the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. You heard him moving around, drawers opening and slamming shut before he emerged again a pile of unfolded clothes in his hand. “Here, you can use the room to change.”

You nodded and stepped inside, quick to lock the door behind you. You waited until you heard his footsteps going back down the stairs to strip out of your clothes and change. You moved as quickly as you possibly could, a little paranoid that he had cameras in his room or something, watching you. 

You weren’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was Allison’s insistence that he actually had a sex dungeon, or that you were in a stranger’s room, but you felt scared. You felt watched and uncomfortable and like you wanted to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, put Ambrose in your rear view and never look back. 

You held up the shirt Bo had left you and frowned. It was big, much bigger than he was. This didn’t seem like something he would own, the fitting all wrong, this seemed like something that belonged somewhere else. To someone else. 

You stared at it a moment longer before shaking the thought away and pulling the button up over your arms. As you worked on the last button you realized he hadn’t left you with any pants. Hopefully just a simple oversight on his part. It went down to your thighs, so it’s not like you were completely exposed. You’d just pretend you were wearing a dress. 

Your eyes scanned the room, you would go through his drawers and look for some pants but it didn’t feel right to dig around in his stuff. The room itself was a clusterfuck of boxes of clothes and sprawled sheets. You jumped around a box full of men’s clothing and frowned at the labels on the box. Each box had different sizes and different dates. 

Your heart beat just a little bit faster when you spotted women’s clothes shoved under his bed.

There could be plenty of explanations. 

He swung every which way and this was all clothing from his conquests. 

He liked to dabble in drag. 

He was collecting clothes for the homeless. 

You went with the last one, despite the fact that it didn’t make you feel any better. You walked into his bathroom, smiling when you saw a hair clip on the sink. You picked it up, hoping it wasn’t someone’s favorite and that they wouldn’t mind you borrowing it for a bit. 

Just as you were about to clip up your hair you noticed a smudge of red on the corner. The claw itself was completely white, the red was pretty hard to miss. You frowned, bringing it closer to your face and running your fingers over the color. 

It flaked off under your thumb, the copper falling into the sink. 

There were only so many things you could ignore. 

A blood covered claw was not one of them. 

You rinsed it off in the sink, shoving your hair up and running towards the bedroom door. You didn’t bother collecting your clothes, there was no saving them and you had bigger things to fuss about. Mainly the fact that Allison was right. 

This dude definitely had a fucking sex dungeon. 

You forced yourself to slow down when you reached the top of the stairs. You peered over the railing, listening for any noises or creeping shadows. It was almost worse when you didn’t hear anything. Allison should be at the door, bitching about how long it takes Owen to pee. Bo should be walking around somewhere. 

Instead, the house was still, you barely even heard your own breath over your racing heart. You were careful as you made your way down the stairs, avoiding the boards you know creaked and lightly making your way towards the front door. 

“Allison?” You whispered, looking around the den or kitchen for her. 

Nothing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should look for her or make a run for it. You heard footsteps getting closer to the door and made your choice, grabbing the keys off the tray nearby and racing through the doorway. 

“Y/N?”

You turned around as you reached Bo’s red truck, looking just in time to see a knife split through Allison’s jaw. You couldn’t even scream, the noise locked away in the deepest part of yourself as you struggled to process what was happening. 

The blade stuck out grotesquely between her teeth, her eyes remained blinking, that was the worst part. They blinked, tears pouring down her cheek before the man behind her was shoving her forward and her body was toppling to the ground limply. You jumped at the thud, eyes wide and burning with your own tears as you looked into the dark holes of Vincent’s mask. 

“Vincent?” You whispered, the only thing you could actually manage to get out. His head tilted and he stepped over Allison’s body like she wasn’t even there. Your hands shook, the keys slipping out and landing in the dirt under your shoes. He was about ten feet away before your flight instincts finally kicked in 

“Fuck,” you whispered, abandoning the truck and taking off just as the knife he’d thrown landed in the dirt where you’d been standing only a second earlier. 

You used to run, it had been an easy form of therapy. A way to get out unresolved and pent up emotions that left you feeling stunted. You’d loved it, reveled in the burn in your thighs, the buzz that thrummed through your blood as you pushed yourself to your limits and then further. 

But you’d stopped, got caught up in a group of shitty friends and stopped taking care of yourself. Now, the once thrilling buzz was slowing you down. The muscles in your thighs unprepared and unused as you forced them to go faster. You felt like you were trying to run in a dream, your muscles working as hard as possible but you were stuck in a limbo, never moving fast enough. 

You could hear heavy boots pounding behind you and you tried to push through that limit that you felt locked around your legs. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move faster and you already felt yourself slowing down. Your lungs heaving as your throat burned, struggling to take in any air. 

“AH!” You let out a strange sounding scream as something heavy and hard rammed into your back. It sent you flying, knees scraping against pavement as you were pancaked to the road. 

“There ya are, darlin’! You don’t know how bad my feelings were hurt when I saw you’d run off.” You whimpered as Bo pinned your arms behind your back, his knees digging into your spine until you both heard it crack and you cried out in pain. 

“Bo, please,” you begged. “Please.”

He chuckled, leaning down until his mouth was next to your ear. “Please, what, darlin?”

”Please fuck off,” you growled throwing your head back and listening to Bo’s nose snap. You used the distraction to wrestle your way out from under him, rolling onto him, legs straddling his waist as you grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down.

His hand shot up and gripped your wrist, squeezing until you couldn’t feel your fingers and were forced to let go of the rock. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You slapped at him as he tried to sit up and pin you down. You didn’t care how rabid or unorganized you were. You clawed, screamed and kicked until you’d gained the upper hand and were jumping away from him. “Fuck you,” you hissed, glaring at him as you clutched at your hurt wrist. 

His nose was no longer pouring blood, instead it was a slow steady drip as he glared at you with what could only be described as an animalistic snarl. “Bitch,” he spat back. 

“That the best you got?” You taunted, “You’re the backwoods freak who's killing off college kids. Lemme guess, Vincent’s your brother, he wears that mask because mommy and daddy were actually Uncle-Dad and Aunt-mom? Your weird little incest freak didn’t want to let mommy’s dream die? I bet one of you fuckin’ killed her, too.”

”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted, lunging for you. You darted off to the side, leaping over a wooden picket fence and through the yards of the silent neighborhood. The sky was turning pink, your favorite time of day, right before night finally fell. 

But you didn’t have time to enjoy it, crying as you ran away from the feral man behind you. You could hear him breathing, stomping his way behind you, it was like being chased by a wild animal, not a man. Maybe that’s what was terrifying you so bad, humans were predictable. You knew what type of torture to expect from them, the cruelties they were capable of. But a man like this, a beast like this, you had no idea what he would do to you. 

Tear you apart right here in the street?

Take you back to his home and keep you until better prey came along?

You didn’t want to find out. And you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of your death. 

You had been screaming as he attacked you, shouting as you ran from him. Not once did a light click on or off as you ran through the neighborhood. No curtains drew back or faces pressed against the window pane in curiosity. 

You knew you were alone, the rest of your friends were most likely dead. 

You gasped, losing your breath, as you slammed into something hard. “Y/N? What the fuck?” You whined in pain, looking up to see Owen standing over you. He kneeled down, like he was going to help you up, until you heard the sound of laughter behind you. 

“Got you,” Bo taunted. And you knew he was talking about you, he didn’t give a shit about Owen, he just wanted you. 

“Owen, please,” you whispered, begging him to, just this once, help you. Be a decent guy, make the right choice. You should have known better. Just as you’d gotten to your feet, two strong hands had gripped your shoulders and sent you flying. 

A different set of hands found their way around your waist, coiling around you like a python until their grip was so tight your face was turning purple from loss of air. “Told you, jackasses,” Bo whispered, the last thing you heard before you were blacking out. 

Nine Inch Nails. 

That’s what you could process when you woke up.

The next thing you felt as your eyelids slowly peeled open, a near painful process, was the jostling around your legs. You whined, your throat completely raw and glanced down. Bo was standing at the end of some sort of chair, similar to a gurney, and duct taping your legs down. He glanced up, hair plastered with sweat and grinned at you. He had changed, you hadn’t noticed before but he’d ditched the suit for his coveralls. 

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and glancing towards the ceiling as you blinked back tears. 

You were going to die and the last thing you were going to hear was the blasting of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. 

Fuck my life

Bo moved up, holding your wrists down on the metal armrests and duct taping those too. You looked to the side, and saw strange circular markings on his wrist. You assumed, whenever they disposed of your body and took the tape off, you would have matching scars. 

You heard footsteps clomping above you and the sound of Damien and Gwen’s voices. “Where did they all go?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the auto shop.”

Gwen sounded unsure, “Maybe, it is the only place that’s open.”

Bo ran behind you, his warm hand clamping over your mouth and keeping it shut as they passed the grate above you. You hadn’t even tried to open your mouth to scream for help, you knew you couldn’t, your throat was destroyed already. 

“I’m gonna take my hand off and you’re gonna be quiet. Yeah?” You nodded your head, feeling the salty warmth of your tears trailing down his hand and building up on your cheeks. “Yeah,” he whispered, the tone too intimate as he slowly released you. 

He remained beside you, poised and ready to strike but you didn’t make a move to call out. “Good girl,” he chuckled and placed a hand over yours. “I’m gonna go up, deal with those assholes, and you’re gonna behave. Right?”

You nodded again and he dug blunt fingernails into tender skin. You whimpered out, “Yes, Bo.”

He laughed again and walked towards the door, keys clinking as he locked it behind himself. “Fucking sicko,” you spat the second the door was closed. You moved your legs, wincing as the tape picked at your bare skin. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you were sweaty enough, the moisture on your skin providing enough glide for you to wiggle one leg out of the tape. Arrogant bastard had given you too much freedom, he probably didn’t even think you were going to run. 

Now, your wrists. 

Your arms were sweaty, sure, but these were tight. You tried to use a jerking motion you’d once seen in a stupid action movie, bringing your wrists to your chest. But your muscles were fatigued and you didn’t have enough strength to rip the tape off. 

You flopped against the flattened cushion of the chair, trying not to sob incoherently as Bo’s rock music blared in the garage above. You could hear voices speaking. You didn't know how much time you had left until Bo just got rid of them and came back down for you. 

You’d been pointedly ignoring the wall of Polaroids since you’d woken up, not wanting to see what they were. Afraid you already knew. 

You ignored the unnatural bend of your shoulder, how much it screamed out in pain as you contorted your body over your right wrist, teeth picking at the duct tape until you felt like they were coming loose. But you didn’t stop, you kept going until you felt the slightest tear under your lips. 

You had to stop yourself from crying out in victory as you used whatever remained of your strength to jerk at the tape again and again, your muscles crying as you finally ripped yourself free. You stuffed down your cries, using your free hand to unwrap the other. 

You allowed yourself a moment to roll out your wrists and shake off your legs before you were shooting off the gurney and stumbling towards a corner of the room. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew that wasn’t good, but you pushed past the fear as footsteps stomped down the stairs. 

Your heart rate picked up and your throat clenched as you pushed sweat-matted hair out of your face. You took in a deep breath and then held it as the door slammed open. You winced, grateful you hadn’t chosen to hide behind that. Bo stepped into the room, there was a blind spot of about five seconds before he would see you were out of your chair. 

You needed to use that to slip behind him and out the door. 

You heard one boot enter. Then the next. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline making your muscles tingle back to life. 

Another step, you inched forward, another, you slid against the wall. Bo finally made it all the way in. “What the fuck!”

You shot behind him, racing up the steps and bursting through the door of the garage. You didn’t give yourself time to celebrate or look to see if he was following you. You darted down the street, suddenly grateful Bo had only given you a shirt to wear. 

You were sure it was for his own pleasure, but right now all it meant was that your legs weren’t constricted by tight denim and you could run as fast as your body would allow. You turned to the right, bursting through the doors of the chapel. 

You froze at the entrance, taking in a deep heaving breath as you tried to find a hiding spot. The pews were too noticeable, the casket probably wouldn’t fit you. You nearly cried as you tried to figure it out. 

Outside you heard Bo stomping, his voice calling out your name. Fuck it, you dove for the priest, using his large robes and throwing yourself under them. You had just managed to clamp a sweaty palm over your mouth as the doors of the church opened, deceptively quiet. 

Bo’s footsteps were soft as he walked through. You feel dizzy sitting under this preserved priest, the air stifling and you felt like you were running out of oxygen. Sweat beaded at your hairline, dripping down into your eyes as you tried to blink it away. 

You jumped, nails digging into your palm, at the sound of wood crashing against the wall. “Get out here!” He roared, and you knew he was slowly making his way through the pews. He tossed each of them around, checking under and around them for you. 

You ducked down, lifting the robe a centimeter off the floor. If you closed your eyes, put your hand over your ears, you were a little girl again, hiding under the table as your mother counted down. She’d find you soon, you’d giggle and she’d pretend she didn’t hear it before popping under the table cloth and catching you. 

Her fingers digging into your sides, searching for that ticklish spot. No, she’s poking too hard, that hurts. 

Shit, that hurts. 

You kick out, your shoe catching Bo’s jaw as you make a run for it, darting out from the priest and back through the chapel doors. The only thing you can focus on are the bright lights, blinding against the night sky- when did it get dark?

You stumbled over your feet, legs not moving the way you wanted them to. Shit, you don’t feel good. Did he drug you? Is it the heat? You haven’t eaten all day, or drank anything. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. 

Through blurry eyes you ran towards the movie theater, the brightest beacon you can actually make out. You trip through the doors, slamming them closed behind you. You spot one of those metal poles, the old one with red cloth they used to keep people in line. With limp arms and struggling steps you lift it up and slam it through the handles, just as Bo starts to shake them on the other side. 

You back away from them slowly, eyes scanning the lobby for anything you could use. Behind the concession desk you manage to spot something. 

BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

You’d say this constituted an emergency. You kicked through the glass, ignoring how it dragged along your legs, and pulled the ax out of its case. There had to be a back door out of here. 

Your eyes widened and you cursed, there had to be a back way out of here, and Bo would know it. You threw the ax on the ground, ripping the pole out of the handles before scooping the ax back up and running back into the dark.

Apparently you’d made the right choice because Bo was no longer where you left him. He was probably sneaking through some secret exit waiting to grab you. You looked towards the end of the street, up the hill, and back at Bo’s front door.

There was still light shining through, but you were sure Allison’s body was long gone. You glanced behind you before taking in a deep centering breath and shooting off again. 

You held your breath, hiding underneath the table as Bo came stumbling into his home. You could see him clutching a wound on his arm and Vincent materialized behind him. He reached for his brother but Bo jerked back, “Get, get, back!” He spoke like he was talking to some dog, “Fuckin’ freak.”

You winced as you watched them interact, Bo tossing shit at his brother and his brother ducking like he was used to it. Vincent walked over to a candle, heating a spoon over the flame and picking up a toaster. He used the metallic reflection to smooth over a dent in his mask and Bo came up, appearing on his shoulder like the worst kind of devil. 

“Momma would be proud of you.” Vincent’s movements paused at his suddenly tender brother’s voice. “I told you this would look better. The last two are gonna look great,” he assured, kindly, and you grimace in disgust. Should’ve known this was his idea. Your knuckles creaked around the handle of the ax and you debated just ending this now. 

Vincent turns towards his brother, spoon discarded, and signs something. You know enough about the language to recognize the hand movements when you see it, but you can’t understand it from your angle. 

“What girl?” Bo snarled, Vincent winced and signed something else. Bo snorted, “Her? What you gotta crush or somethin’?” Vincent shook his head quickly and Bo rolled his eyes, voice cruel. “What, one girl’s nice to you and you wanna break our rules? She’s dead when I’m done with her. That’s it.” Bo buried his finger in Vincent’s shoulder, shoving harshly. “Understood?” Vincent didn’t respond immediately and Bo shoved again. “Understood!” He shouted and Vincent finally nodded. 

You watched them move out of sight, followed their shoes out of the house and finally slinked out of your hiding spot. You’d seen where Vincent had emerged from earlier and retraced the steps, finding a hidden basement in their father’s office. You glanced behind you once before jumping down into the hole.

“Damien? Gwen? Fucking anybody?” You kept glancing behind you, ax ready as you creeped your way through Vincent’s tunnels. Finally, you started to see the warm glow of candles at the very end of the section you were in. 

Caution thrown to the wind, you made a run for it and burst into what looked like Vincent’s workshop. You looked around, not seeing anything of interest besides one torture chair. You’d slit your throat before they got you in that. 

You found his desk, sketches scattered around the edges. You took a peek and were surprised to find a partially done profile of your face. You glanced around, making sure you were safe, before picking the sketch up. 

You looked pretty, even half done, he might have been a little to generous with you. Made you too elegant, noble, untouchable. Flattering if he wasn’t going to try and kill you. You saw something scrawled at the very bottom and your heart clenched, She was nice.

Perhaps you were too tender-hearted, to feel any pity for these monsters. But you’d seen the news articles in their father’s office, what had happened to their family, the chair Bo was once strapped in. What they were was their mother’s final project, the legacy she left behind, one of pain and hatred. Each of them hating themselves for different reasons because of her. 

But you weren’t an idiot, you saw the was in the title of your drawing. You might have been kind, but he wasn’t planning on letting you live. Something rattled in the room to your right and you threw the drawing down, turning towards the door and carefully opening it. 

“Y/N!” Owen cried out, relief making itself clear on his face as he saw you. “Get me out of here.” You rushed forward, kneeling down and trying to undo the straps around his ankles. But your fingers weren’t working properly, they felt like they were swelling and burning and useless. You whined in frustration as you tried to get the metal through the hole. 

“Fuck!” Owen kicked out as much as he could and you jumped back. “Can you do anything right? Just get me out of here!” He screeched. 

You went momentarily blind with rage, anger boiling in your gut so quickly you nearly keeled over. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dick! You left me behind to that psycho earlier and I’m still trying to help you!” You screamed at him, not paying attention to the raw feeling of your throat or the footsteps behind you. “Why don’t you ever just shut up!”

You weren’t aware the ax was still in your hands, or maybe you were, as you brought your arms down in frustration. It landed in his thigh, barely missing the femoral artery, and he screamed. That type of scream you only hear from squealing pigs right before their butchered. 

You didn’t think you enjoyed it.

Didn't want to enjoy it. 

But you dug the blade in. 

He’d made your life a living hell, he’d tried to get you killed earlier, and even when you’d ignored it and tried to save him he still yelled at you. Granted, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever said to you, but it was the worst thing he could say at that moment. You pressed on the handle, not realizing you were smiling as he squealed some more. 

You got a headache after a second, struggling to rip the blade back out before you were lifting it once more and bringing it down over his neck, the blood splattering your face, bleeding into your open eyes as you watch his head topple to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” you turned around and looked at Bo, the fight draining from your body. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He glanced at the ax in your hands and smiled, this one looked real, the realest he could manage. “Gonna kill me too?”

You shrugged, tossing the ax at his feet. “You gonna kill me?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, standing there covered in your ‘friend’s’ blood and unknowingly smiling at the carnage. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered. 

Part two

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.