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slasherhaven · 1 year

Note

bo sinclair being touch adverse at first because he's not used to being touched unless it's to be punished? then him slowly melting to reader's touch because he eventually trusts them?

Bo Sinclair Accepting a Tender Touch:

Bo didn't like being touched. That was something you realised relatively quickly. Admittedly, you thought it was a little strange considering how he seemed to have no problem with touching other people, including you.

He never said anything about disliking being touches, of course, nor did he lash out. He didn't even flinch. But he would tense up, like he was preparing himself for something. How somebody might instinctively tense up when anticipating a strike.

You never mentioned it despite how often the subtle reactions played on your mind. You knew Bo wouldn't take it well, he'd snap to defend himself. You didn't need him to tell you the root of the reaction though, you knew just enough about the brothers' childhood to know it likely stemmed from that. You also knew that was a sensitive subject for Bo, even more of a reason to not ask him about it. Even if you wanted him to open up to you so you could provide help and comfort.

So, you become more tactical about your touches.

Firstly, you always make sure he can see the touch coming. You never place a hand on him from behind, only ever doing so when he is looking at you and can predict your movements. You also tried to avoid touching him quickly. You would move slowly enough that he would be able to see what you were going to do without being obvious that you were being careful around him, you knew he would hate 'being coddled'.

It happens over time but you see it happen and it compares to nothing else.

The way he stops tensing, a little less every time you touch him. Eventually you don't have to think about it so hard. You can lay a gentle hand on him casually without him going tense. He had grown used to the casual touches and that was a great achievement.

Tender touches where a different story, something he was nearly completely unfamiliar with experiencing. The first time you brush your finger tips over his cheek, he scowls, like he doesn't quite understand what you're doing or why you're doing it.

Even when he touches you, there's something about it that makes you feel like its purposeful. Like he just can't touch tenderly and instinctively.

It's another thing that changed over time. Something that you adored watching bloom.

It's the early hours of the morning when Bo comes down the stairs, dressed in a tee shirt and sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower.

"Why are you still up?" you ask from your place on the couch.

"Could ask you the same thing," Bo mumbled, only glancing at you. You still caught the dark circles under his eyes.

"...I was worried about you," you confessed. Bo just scoffed, continuing through into the kitchen. You stood and followed him. "Seriously Bo, you've spent all day and night working on your truck. You must be exhausted, you should get some sleep."

"We need a truck. Last lot of bastards fucked it up," he shrugged, pulling the fridge door open to grab a beer. You frowned to yourself as he opened the can and shut the fridge door.

"You could have taken breaks though," you knew you shouldn't probe, you knew it only frustrated the man in front of you, but here you were and you cared, goddamn it.

"I'm a grown man, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. You want to baby someone, go find Lester or Vincent," Bo huffed, leaning back against the kitchen counter and bringing the beer can to his lips.

"Bo..." you sighed, crossing the kitchen in a few strides until you were standing right before him.

Gently you took the can from his hand. "What th-" Bo began to complain but you just shushed him and placed the can down on the counter behind him.

"I'm not asking you to spill your guts or anything but clearly something is wrong, even if it is just anger about what those lot did to your truck. You worked hard all day and you're tired. Just go to bed," your voice was just firm enough for him to listen, but soft enough for him to know you cared, even if he wanted to protest about it.

"Everything is fixed," you slowly brought your hand up to his face, making sure he saw it coming, before cupping his cheek. "Rest for a bit."

Maybe it was just because he was tired and his body ached from toiling with machinery under the hot sun, but when you thumb brushed over his cheekbone he let out a soft sigh. You saw the moment he realised he had turned into your touch, saw the conflict in his eyes as he tensed up just like he used too.

You knew it this was going to be a big moment, almost a deciding moment in your efforts. Either Bo would push you away, grab his beet and tell you to mind your own business, or he would accept the soft touch.

You remained still as he assessed you, gaze darting around your face, looking like he was trying to figure something out. He must have seen your sincerity, seen all the times you chose to stay, seen all the time you had been there, because you felt him slowly relaxing under your touch again.

Bo dropped his head forward and you met him halfway, letting him rest his forehead against yours. You felt his body deflate, shoulders dropped, hands unclenching.

"Fine," Bo mumbled, "I'm tired."

You smiled a little, both fond and infuriated by the man.

You ran your fingers through his damp hair, feeling him tense again when you reached the back of his head, a texture of his scalp changing under your fingertips. You quickly moved your touch higher up on his head, feeling him relax again. You wanted to apologise but didn't verbally, knowing better than to address it.

There was so much you wanted to do. You wanted to corral him to his bed to get him to sleep already, you wanted to reassure him about anything you could think of, maybe even give him a gentle kiss. But you did none of that, not daring to break the moment.

Here Bo was, allowing himself gentleness, melting into your touch and letting his eyes flutter shut. It was a small miracle in your world, and you wouldn't want to disturb it for anything.

Standing in the artificial light of the kitchen, foreheads pressed together and a hand in his hair being the only places you were connected, may not seem like much. But it meant so much for the future in Ambrose and the future of you and Bo.

#bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #my wiritng

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kiss-theggoat · 10 months

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could you please please please do a part 3 for ‘think i’ll keep you’ with bo? maybe the reader gets in trouble making bo jealous talking to vincent or something and goes back to the basement ?

A/N: Sorry for the wait!! I decided to change it a little and have the reader talk w a visitor instead, I hope that’s okay. I hope you like this!! (Picture unrelated but wowowowow he’s hot)

Think I’ll Keep You Pt.3

Bo Sinclair x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: When a new group comes into town and you decide to flirt it up with one of the guys, Bo decides he needs to remind you who you belong to.

TW: Violence, Smut, Oral (M receiving), Spitting, Bo hits reader, Use of slut, whore, bitch, etc.

With a sigh, you flipped through the page of the same magazine you’d read four times today. Bo said he’d get you some books the next time he made it to a different town, but until then, you had a very limited amount of media to consume. Bored out of your mind, you decided to go pester Bo. You sauntered to the garage, seeing his legs stick out from under Lester’s truck.

You grabbed his boots, trying with the shoelaces. Music played in the background, not really loud enough to keep him from hearing your entrance, but he still didn’t react to you coming in. “Bo.” You said softly. No response. You slid your hands beneath the fabric of his coveralls, touching his calves with whisper-soft finger tips. “Bo…” you said again, twisting some of his leg hair.

He hissed in pain, yanking his leg away from you. “Hell do ya want?!” He yelled, frustration very clear in his voice.

“I’m bored.” You tugged at his coveralls again.

He slid out from beneath the truck, looking at you with an annoyed expression. “And what do you want me to do about it, darlin’?”

You shrugged, smiling at him, hands running up his calves and to the inside of his knees. “I dunno…” you said softly, but he knew exactly what you were up to.

“Believe me, honey, I’d love to give ya what you want. But Lester saw some kids near Ambrose this mornin’ and I gotta get the truck up an’ runnin’ again before they get into town.”

You perked up at the idea of another group coming to Ambrose. This would be your second time dealing with outsiders, and you’d already been in Ambrose about three months. You guessed that Bo didn’t have to deal with them too often, but it was exciting. A change of pace. You nodded quickly. “I’ll go tidy up the station!”

Bo smiled a little bit. You’d slowly started to develop a slight southern drawl, which he thought was cute, but he’d never say it out loud.

Not even twenty minutes later, whilst you had taken your place back at the counter, rereading the same magazine again, Bo leaning against the counter to wipe his hands, you heard the bell above the door jingle, making you turn. You saw a group of four guys and two girls. A bigger group than usual, which honestly did make you pretty nervous. You knew that Bo could handle his own, and he had the help of his brothers, but the thought of him getting hurt was not one that you welcomed.

You listened carefully as Bo went through his usual spiel. ‘No fan belt, come back to the house’ yada yada yada. You remembered back to months ago when it was you standing in front of the predator, not knowing that you’d be his prey. As you looked over, you saw one of the girls giving Bo that same look you’d given him months ago. The look of admiration, attraction. Lust. Even though she was on the arm of another man, she stared up at him, batting her stringy, mascara covered lashes.

A fire started in your belly. Bo was yours. Ambrose was your home now, and there was no way she was going to take him away from you. You worried that, if Bo chose her over you, he’d have no choice but to get rid of you. You hoped that you’d grown close enough that he would never do that, but with Bo, anything was possible.

“Just gimme a second to clean up and we’ll head down to the house.” Bo said, smiling at the group and turning around to grab another blue paper towel to clean more oil from his grimy hands.

The group began to scatter, looking around leisurely at everything in the station. The look on their faces gave away the fact that they did not like being in Ambrose, one of the girls wiping some dust off a shelf with her finger. You’d worked hard to clean up the buildings around town, make it seem more inviting, but there’s only so much you can do with a town that’s constantly getting caked in dust and baked in the sun.

You stared daggers at the girl who’d flirted with Bo, even though she was facing away from you, staring out the adjacent window. Her boyfriend, however, turned and made his way towards you. Jackpot.

You put on a smile and folded the magazine shut, giving him your full attention. “What can I do for ya folks?” You asked, exaggerating that developing drawl. You needed to fit in here as much as possible when a group was in town. He smiled and put his hands on the counter, “Well would you look at that? Finally something nice to look at here.”

Bold. “Thank you.” You said softly as you put your chin in your palm, staring up at him through your lashes. If she flirts with your man, it's only fair that you flirt with hers, right? “What brings y’all to town?”

“Just a regular road-trip. We decided to take a different route. Genius back there thought it’d be a shortcut, but now because of the car troubles…it’s gonna be an extra day.”

“That’s terrible!” You frowned, placing your hands on one of his, holding it in sympathy. “I’m sorry you’re havin’ trouble.”

Bo walked out, rag in hand. His eyes immediately shot to your hands, rage turning his face red and the muscles of his jaw pulsing as he clenched it. You stared back at him. For a second, you were terrified, but then, you were angry. When that girl flirted with him, he didn’t discourage her. You turned back to the man. “My boss Bo will take great care of y’all.”

If Bo was a cartoon, steam would’ve come out of his ears. His hat would’ve blown off. He would’ve turned as red as a tomato. Anger bubbled to his chest and it took everything in him to stop himself from getting over to you. He slapped a hand on the shoulder of the man whose hands you held tight, causing you both to jump a little. “Let’s head up to the house.” He said. As you inspected his face, you knew you were in for it. The man smiled at you and then walked away. When Bo knew you were out of his sight, he grabbed your arm and yanked you forward. “Get your ass downstairs and don’t move. If I catch ya up here when I get back, you won’t leave the basement again. You hear me?” He hissed, lips pulled back in an angry snarl.

Your blood went cold. You nodded quickly, looking down. You heard his boots thud as he walked away, and as you walked to the basement, you could only hope that he’d take his anger out on the kids in town, and not you.

It’d been hours. You had chewed all your fingernails off, paced around the room probably a hundred times, hummed every song you could remember, and psyched yourself into almost having a panic attack. Your heart was pumping, and finally, you heard the door of the gas station open above you. You were sitting crisscrossed in the basement chair, curled up and imagining the worst.

The door slammed open, hitting the wall behind it as Bo stormed towards you. You jumped, backing up further into the chair, hoping it would absorb you completely. He was covered in blood, some of it his. His nose was bleeding, lip bloody, and a cut on his cheek. You couldn’t focus much on his injuries as you got one of your own, his hand tight enough around your arm to bruise you as he yanked you off the chair and onto the floor.

You knelt before him, feeling puny as he stared down at you with disgust. He tangled his hand in your hair, yanking your head closer to his crotch.

“You think you can be a little whore in public and get away with it?” His free hand went to the zipper of his bloody coveralls, quickly peeling them off to reveal a pretty sizable wound on his side, also leaking blood into his white undershirt. “Embarrassin’ me with that filthy mouth.”

The hand that was in your hair trailed down your face and to your lips, shoving his thumb between them. As you sucked his skin, you cringed at the taste of oil, dirt, and blood, the grimy copper sitting heavy on your tongue and teasing your gag reflex. Bo shoved his coveralls down his thighs, barely far enough to get to his underwear.

“A slut like you just talk to any guy she sees…maybe you deserve to stay down here.” He spat, the vein in the side of his neck bulging with anger. You had no idea that flirting with someone for a couple minutes would get you in this much trouble.

He slid his underwear down far enough for his cock to spring free, standing at attention directly in front of your face. You reached out and wrapped a hand around the base, but that earned you a harsh slap to the side of the head. Your ears rang, but not loud enough for you to miss what he said. “Did I fuckin’ say you could touch me, whore?”

You shook your head quickly, hands at your sides and tears welling in your eyes. He shoved his thumb into your mouth once more and pushed your jaw down, forcing your mouth open wide. “Hands on your thighs. You don’t move unless I say.”

You nodded quickly, not breaking eye contact, eager to please him. He wrapped both hands up in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you forward onto his cock. He stared down at you and watched as he disappeared into your mouth, but you weren’t enjoying this as he was. Your jaw already ached, lips stinging from the stretch and as he shoved himself down your throat, you gagged, throat constricting around him. He groaned at the feeling, and you knew you were in trouble.

There was no warning. He pulled your head back, and just when you thought he may give you a break, he started to thrust into your mouth, just as he usually would, hitting the back of your throat each time. Your hands gripped the fabric of your shorts for dear life as you gagged around him, struggling to take a complete breath without being cut off by his cock.

Tears flowed down your cheeks, face turning red and drool dripping down the bottom of your chin onto your chest. Bo was transfixed. He thought you’d never looked hotter, choking and gagging on him, face a mess and eyes looking up at him like they were pleading. He leaned his head back and moaned, hands clenching around your hair. You let out a whine at the pain, your scalp burning.

His cock slammed against the back of your throat, you scrunched your eyes shut in focus, trying hard to take deep breaths through your nose and try not to gag. The gagging hurt your throat and made your stomach turn, but it was unavoidable.

“Holy shit…” Bo groaned, “Maybe I should keep ya down here…tied up for when I want ya… sluts like you are better sucking dick than anything else…” he struggled to speak, voice breathy and interrupted by moans. You were relieved to hear that his moans were getting higher in pitch. You knew he was close.

Bo held onto your hair like a lifeline, and with a final thrust, he yanked your face as far down as it’d go, your nose squished against his stomach. He came down your throat with a moan, the feeling made you gag around him, struggling to breathe and swallow around him. Without thinking, you moved your hands to his thighs to brace yourself, tapping one quickly. You needed air desperately, feeling a little lightheaded. He slowly pulled you off of him, and you started to cough, drooling down your chin and chest, nose running and mixing with your tears. You panted and coughed on all fours, eyes closed and throat aching.

Bo grabbed your hair again, gentler this time, making you face him. “You belong to me.” He said quietly. Something about his tone was different. It was sexual. It wasn’t even that possessive. He sounded scared. And he was. He would never tell you, but the thought of you leaving him just like his mom and dad did killed him. So much so that he’d do anything to keep you in Ambrose.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfiction

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charliedawn · 1 year

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request for all 3 Sinclair brothers (only dating the reader obv) Where like when taking care of a decent group of victims, they notice reader isn’t anywhere to be found? They look everywhere and can’t find any signs. Turns out she is asleep on the roof of the house, chilling. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense.

This is my first time trying 'fluff' I guess ?

Enjoy !

It was a lovely night and—instead of following the rest of the brothers who had decided to spare their victims and actually help them—you climbed up one of the empty houses of the ghost town Ambrose had become. You looked up at the stars and realized it might be one of the only places in the country where the stars showed so clearly. You just wanted to have a moment away from the other survivors and thought it would be a good idea to come here without warning the Sinclair brothers—unaware of the worry you would cause them. They started searching for you frantically in every house, afraid you might have escaped. They split and decided to cover more ground in hopes of finding you.

But, it was Bo who found you first.

He looked at you from afar, frowning as he saw you smile...smile at the stars. He had never seen you smile like that. His fists clenched as he realized you were smiling for something so stupid...while you had never smiled at him for anything—certainly not like that anyway. But, he relaxed when he saw your tears. He thought you were hurt and immediately got out of his hiding place to sit down next to you.

"What the hell are ya doin' here, sweetheart ?", he asked and you seemed stunned for a second at his presence. You didn't think he would be the first one to find you, but you should have known. He was always a good tracker. A hunter in the bones. You weren't sure as to whether or not you should be talking to him first, but you answered nonetheless.

"I was...watching the stars.", you confessed and Bo frowned a little before leaning forward to look at your wet cheeks and empty expression. It seemed you weren't even seeing him. He wanted to shake you awake.

"Why in the bloody carnation would ya go and do sumthin' like that ?", Bo asked—clearly not understanding the reason behind your behavior. Had they done something wrong ?

"...I just needed time to think."

The survivors had asked if you wanted to follow them, but you weren't sure. You had hence decided to go up here and think—even catch some sleep maybe...But, sleep didn't seem to come. You loved the Sinclair brothers, but you could feel that something wasn't right. You weren't right.

"Yar seriously worryin' me, sweet thing. What's the matter ?" Your bottom lip trembled and your eyes watered once more. It wasn't right...The feelings you had for him and his brothers. They were killers, and even though they were trying to change for you, it wouldn't erase everything. You knew that. And yet...you had still managed to fall for them. Hard. It was more than a little crush. More than a fling. You were in love, and the sole notion was crushing you from the inside, because how were you supposed to love them and protect them when you weren't even a slasher ?

"I'm just...happy we've met. And I was thanking the stars we did.", you smiled weakly. It felt fake.

A half-truth.

But, he seemed to buy it.

"Aww...Sweet thing.", he kissed your forehead lovingly and somehow, his kiss burned you. "We sure glad we met ya too."

Your breath hitched and you wished the kiss didn't feel so sinful. You wished Bo was a man. You wished you weren't one of their victims. You wished your heart hadn't grown attached to the three serial killers. You weren't delusional, just in love. And it hurt.

Lester found your hiding spot next and stopped as he saw the both of you intertwined. His jaw twitched and he marched to you before getting Bo away from you.

"Hey ! Paws off, Bo !" Bo seemed annoyed at being interrupted, but only shrugged before licking his lips and smirked.

"What's wrong, little bro ? Jealous or sumthin' ?" Lester rolled his eyes before sitting down between the both of you and ignoring Bo. He looked at you instead and frowned worriedly as he saw your thoughtful face.

"...Are ya alright ?" He seemed genuinely concerned, but before you could answer—Bo did it for you.

"Of course they alright ! I ain't done anythin' !" Lester eyed Bo suspiciously before shaking his head. He would deal with Bo later...

"It would be the first time...", he mumbled and Bo's eyes widened.

"HEY ! What's that supposed to mean ?!"

Alerted by Bo's protesting, Vincent found the three of you and silently approached you while studying your expression carefully. He knew that look. It was the same he had when Ma and Pa had decided to separate him from Bo. He was afraid it might have snapped whatever connection they had—but he was sure glad when it didn't.

Vince stayed silent and sat down at the empty spot next to you while the other two started bickering. He looked up and let out a soft sigh. It was a beautiful night indeed, and he wasn't about to ruin it. Bo and Lester seemed to understand it wasn't the time to fight and eventually calmed down. Vince scooted closer to you and the other two brothers soon followed. You were shoulder to shoulder and the brothers decided to respect your wish for peace.

You stayed in perfect silence for a few minutes before you smiled to yourself and laid down on the roof—still looking up.

"I wonder if there are people up there ? Watching us like we are ?", you asked—a clumsy way to change the subject. Bo let out a small skeptical snort before shaking his head.

"Nah. If anything, they'd be laughing at us."

Lester sent him a warning glance before looking at you with a smile.

"I'm sure they are, darls'. And they' jealous. Because they don't got ya'."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before smiling—feeling safe with the three brothers surrounding you. It felt like home. But then, the feeling came rushing back—threatening to burst out of your chest.

"...I wonder if you’ll still like me if I told you what I felt for you...for you all."

You hadn't actually meant for them to hear that. It was supposed to be a question for the stars—but of course Bo would decide otherwise.

"And what exactly are ya feelin' ?", he asked with a small playful smile and you sighed. It was no secret the brothers had been fighting over you. Lester and Bo kept shouting at each other for no reason whenever in your presence. Vince had closed himself off in his work and barely showed his face anymore. Bo had decided to do the same at the garage. At the end, it felt like you were alone in the house. A mindless ghost going from door to door. It was almost like you missed the days when you were their victim, at least they were together and you knew that no matter what—they'd be a pack. But, now ? The pack seemed rather split and especially with he decision not to kill all the victims. Bo was against it. Of course. Vince was was rather sad to have lost his life models—but had stayed silent as always. And Lester...even though Lester was very talkative—he hadn't spoken up on his opinion.

At the end, you had had no choice but disappear to finally gather them all in the same place.

"I love you." None of the brothers spoke or reacted for a few seconds and you decided to share what had been tearing you apart. "And I see that it's driving you against each other that I don't want you to kill anyone. And I don't want that. And I don't want to choose either. And it's driving me insane."

Vince couldn't take it anymore and pulled you into his arms. He had been shy to actually do it for weeks and felt guilty at making you feel in such a way without noticing.

"Hey hey. Look at me. We love ya too, sweetie. We always have. And if you don't want us to kill ? Then, we'll stop. Gladly. It's okay.", Lester tried to comfort you and smiled reassuringly at you while stroking your arm lovingly.

"And who said anythin' about choosin' ?!", Bo asked with a small frown of incomprehension. "Ya think we kids or sumthin' ? We men. We take our goddamn decisions. Who ever said you had to choose for us ?! Or, that it had anythin' to do with ya ?!"

"You all became so aggressive between each other since I arrived, so I assumed...", you started and Bo tsskd.

"We brothers. We rednecks. We basically made for fightin'.", he explained and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He wasn't good with all that complicated feelings' stuff...

Fuck. He needed a damn smoke !

He let out a small sigh and cracked his neck to the side. When he reopened his eyes, both of his brothers were holding you and he then realized that you had stopped crying. You were now looking at him with a small sheepish smile and held out your hand to him. He shook his head and raised himself on his feet to leave.

"Oh hell no. Nope. Ain't gonna be all mushy and stuff !"

But he was pulled back down by Lester who gave him an annoyed look.

"Come on, Bo ! Stop bitchin' and get over here !"

Bo seemed surprised. He was usually the only one cursing, but Lester seemed determined to get him to show some love.

"Fine ! Jeez ! I swear y'all make me wanna barf with all this emotional bullshit !", he grumbled before finally indulging and wrapping his arms around the three of you.

You closed your eyes and smiled. You felt...safe.

"Would you...stay with me a little longer ?", you asked with a small shiver and waited as the brothers reluctantly released you to answer.

"Of course, sweetie. Anythin' ya want.", Lester said with a reassuring smile.

"Whatever...", Bo added and Vince nodded suit. You all looked up at the stars and weren't aware of the same wish you all made at that very moment. It wasn't much, but but you all wished to stay together forever.

You knew it would be difficult, but you were certain everything would be alright—unaware of the worried glances the brothers exchanged behind your back. Truth was, they had no clue where everything was going and preferred to lie and reassure you than confessing it.

The bloodthirst was still there, lurking in the dark.

Being slashers meant more than just wanting blood. It was need. Pure instinct. Even now, the sparks of murderous intents could be felt at the back of their heads. You didn't notice as their shadows enveloped you. One way or another, you would never leave them. They would try to change for you, but either way...It'd be at your risk, not theirs.

You didn't notice the way Vince's grip on you turned possessive, or how Bo's eyes darkened as he kissed the back of your hand. Lester saw it, but didn't say anything.

Afterall, he was a Sinclair too.

He smiled.

Goodnight, sweet rabbit...

#bo sinclair x y/n #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x y/n #house of wax #fandoms #imagine #fanfic

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poketnife69 · 2 years

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Yooo, if you're still taking requests, can i aks for a headcanon with Vincent, Brahms, Hannibal and Thomas, where their fem S/O is like Morticia Addams, a lil sadistic, independent, gothic woman who obviously emanates Girlboss energy!

Thanks for your attention and....drink water!!!!

Slashers x fem!reader who's like Morticia Addams

Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire, Hannibal Lecter and Thomas Hewitt

WARNINGS : Mentions of murder(?), mentions of turning people into wax firgures.

NOTE : Sorry if this doesn't seem good, my brain couldn't function properly due to the lack of sleep I'm getting 💀 so I'm gonna make a new rule which is that I will not be making fanfics or taking requests during the weekends, so that I can freshen up a bit and get some rest.

Also, I MIGHT add the grabber to my list of characters and make fanfics for male readers as well, who knows?

------------------------------------

Vincent Sinclair

- Vincent didn't know if it was love at first sight, but all he knew is that the moment he walked into the house of wax and had this dark aura he somehow stopped breathing.

- The only thing that was on his mind was how beautiful you were.

- He tries to convince Bo not to kill you

- You and Lester get along so well, whenever he would stop by and visit Ambrose he would show you some of the raindeers and other animals he's killed

- He might have given you a raindeers head as a gift of appreciation too

- Though when it comes to Bo, you two aren't really on the best of terms, only because he doesn't trust you and that you intimidate him a lot. But despite being an ass to you he does see how happy you make vincent.

- Not like he'd admit it

- Whenever some unlucky tourists come by in the empty town of Ambrose they would often comment on your style choice.

- Of course, Vincent wouldn't have allowed this but when you spoke back at that person, he couldve sworn that they almost pissed their pants. He thinks your a badass and hot

- He still kills them afterward, but instead of making them into wax, he gives them to Lester so that he could dump their bodies in the road pit. He thinks their undeserving of becoming one of their wax sculptures.

- You would often hang with Vincent down in the basement admiring him from afar while he turns his victims into wax sculptures

- He would paint something very dark or sculpt a small wax creature and give them to you

Brahms Heelshire

- The Heelshires had hired you to become a doll's nanny, now if it were anyone they would have freaked out and autopilot to the front door of their mansion.

- But not you though, you didn't see any reason to be creeped out by it. In fact, you were delighted to watch over the porcelain doll.

- Brahms had been watching you through the walls the entire time, and he instantly went head over heels for you.

- Eventually, he showed himself to you while you were reading a book to the doll. He was quite surprised when you patted the space next to you telling him to sit right beside you, like all the other nannies he expected you to fear him, and feel disgusted just by the mere look of him.

- But you welcomed him with open arms.

- But be warned, he's gonna be VERY clingy to the point where you can't get any space or alone time. Not like you had any privacy from the start

- Plus we all know the man reaks, and he's gonna demand cuddles.

- Please dress him up in something dark and gothic! He just loves your unique style so much that he wants to dress up just like you ( maybe even impress you 😏 )

- He honestly thinks you're so pretty! He also admired how independent you are, he knows that you can't depend on him most of the time, especially in his state ( him being a full-grown man and having the mind of a child due to him being kept in the walls by his parents for so long )

Hannibal Lecter

- Let's just pretend that you met Hannibal at a grocery store-

- You seemed to catch his attention very easily, a woman in all dark and gothic style, and looks that could kill, in the middle of a cereal aisle was one of the highlights of his day.

- Everyone else seems to be avoiding you as if you were some sort of different entity, it was sort of amusing yet quite rude of people for thinking you differently. Hannibal approached you and introduced himself to you.

- After a little bit of chit chat he asked if you could join him for dinner, which was weird because you both had just met each other, but then again that was the purpose of having dinner.. To get to know each other better.

- You arrived a few minutes earlier which pleased him, he guided you to the dining room and pushed your chair for you. He enjoyed your company as well as conversing with you, eventually, you two finished your meals.

- And if your gonna ask if he fed you human meat that's for you to decide-🗿

- You didn't know how it happened but things sort of got... heated, which led you to wake up with him next to you. It's safe to say that after the whole encounter he would invite you for dinner every day and eventually you two ended up together.

- Now when you two are already in a relationship expect to receive a TON of gifts from this man.

- Like cmon he's rich what else did you expect, gift giving is probably his love language too.

- He'd buy the finest clothing that matches your style, some old and dark antique that would fit the vibe at your home, maybe even bring you to an opera that you like.

- Now when it comes to his 'habits' he won't let you know nor does he plan to, but if you do find out and join him in his activities then he'd just be over the moon.

- He is going to protect you with all his life no matter the cause, yes he knows you are independent and capable of managing yourself but honey please let him care for you- ❤️

- Overall it's a 10/10 when it comes to Hannibal

Thomas Hewitt

- The first time he met you was at Luda Mae's shop

- He found you... Quite odd... But not in a rude way!

- It's just the fact that you're wearing so much black under this heat it concerns him.

- Though that didn't stop him from falling for you. And in the end, you two ended up together.

- At first, he was against the idea of you being in the basement, he didn't want you to witness all the things Thomas does to their victims thinking that it'll drive you further away from him.

- But you somehow find enjoyment in it-??

- He just lets you watch from the sidelines instead, you smile the entire time as one of the victims started crying and screaming.

- He's so shy and nervous around you! Even when you're both already a thing he still finds it hard to be affectionate with you! You tease him about it making him blush even more.

- But oh boy... If anyone dared to insult you..

- This man had lived his whole life being judged by others because of his looks, but if anyone peeped a word that may seem disrespectful, or spared a judgment look your way?..

- Let's just say that dinner will be served a little earlier.

- Though he wouldn't have any problem with that, you seem to manage the situation very well judging by the way people looked away whenever you'd pass by.

- No one would dare mess with you

- They all knew that including Hoyt, and that's what Thomas likes.

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TAGLIST :

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #leatherface #leatherface x reader

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Part of the Family

Poly!Sinclairs x Hinge!GN!Reader

5.2k words

Canon-typical violence perpetrated by the reader including murder and wax sculpting, brief mention of hunting, reader is traumatized, brief mention of nausea, downright excessive kissing of reader's forehead by everyone

You've decided you want to be an active participant in the creation of Ambrose, Town of Wax. You very quickly come to regret that decision, and each of the brothers help you through the aftermath. Sort of slice of life in a murder town, angst/so much comfort.

It was autumn in Ambrose the first time you killed a human being.

You volunteered for it before they ever stepped foot in town. Lester had called in a group of three, a perfect fit. You wanted to be useful, wanted to be a part of the operation. You had been an observer long enough.

“You sure, darlin’?” The look Bo gave you was skeptical, almost amused.

“I’m sure,” you said. “I want to help.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Vincent signed, frowning.

“You can post up by the library, cover that back road,” Bo said. “Hardly anyone runs that way, you probably won’t even see anythin’.”

“Bo,” Vincent signed sharply.

“What, Vin? They want to help.”

You nodded. “I’m tired of sitting back and watching. I want to be a part of it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Vin signed. “I’m not going to let you do it.”

“You ain’t the boss,” Bo snapped.

“And you are?”

“Hey, hey.” You cut in before they could start a real argument. “I’ll be fine, Vin,” you said. “I want to pull my own weight.”

“You do,” he signed. “You do plenty around here.”

“But not like this.”

“This is different. Killing is…different.”

“Don’t baby ‘em, Vin,” Bo said, walking away. “They can handle it.”

Vincent shot you a desperate look. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I know that. I can handle it.” You gave Vincent a reassuring smile. You could handle it. If it helped your boys, helped keep them safe, you could handle it.

That afternoon, Bo walked you out to the place he wanted you to stand. Lester had taught you how to shoot out in the woods and you were a decent shot for someone who hadn’t grown up around guns. The rifle was heavy, but you were comfortable with it in your hands.

“Now your job is to make sure no one sneaks out through this west side.” Bo gestured along the road. “If they head down the road, Les’ll catch ‘em. If they move up towards the house, I got ‘em. And even if they make it up there, Vince’s ready for ‘em. Understand?”

You nodded.

“No heroics,” he said. “I know you worry. We done this before, darlin’, a whole bunch. Just cover your side, we’ll be fine.” He put his hand on your shoulder, commanded your gaze. “Clean as y’can. Couple shots to the chest. Leave the head, you know how Vin is.”

You nodded again.

“I’ll be right there. You’ll do fine.” He strode away in the sun, adjusting his collar, assuming a persona before your eyes.

Your adrenaline spiked from his pep talk and then waned quickly. You waited an awful long time as Lester and Bo went through the motions with this new group, spent the afternoon leaning against a wall in the shade of the library.

The sun was setting by the time things really got underway. The gun was slick in your sweaty palms. You rubbed them dry on your pants, stood up straight, peered around the corner of the building.

You watched as Bo directed the group towards the house and then fell into step behind them. Abruptly he grabbed one around the waist and slit their throat. The other two stared in bewilderment before they took off running in opposite directions.

Bo lunged after one, caught them easily, buried his knife to the hilt in their chest. The other was sprinting in your direction. In a flash, the adrenaline was back.

You steeled yourself, flipped off the safety, eyes locked on the man running blindly down the street. You braced the butt of the rifle against your shoulder, planted your feet, lined up just like Lester taught you. Took a breath. Squeezed.

The sound was deafening as it echoed in the alleyway. The bullet hit the man in his shoulder, flung him off balance. You pulled the bolt to reload, braced yourself, shot him again. This time it was harder to line up the shot, he was moving so erratically. But you saw the impact, watched the blood begin to spurt, and as he swung to his knees, he saw you.

You couldn’t look away. Neither could he. The man crumbled slowly to the asphalt, struggling to keep himself up on his hands, finally collapsing facedown with a horrible choking sound.

You approached him warily, ready to fire again if you had to, but no. He was dead.

Bo scuffed the pavement behind you a little too loudly to be accidental. It was a good thing, too; you nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching the rifle, Lester’s admonition loud in your head to “keep it down, always down, nowhere else but down unless you’re aimin’ to kill.”

Bo sidled up beside you, touched your shoulder. “Nice shot.”

You said nothing, watched as he knelt and rolled the man over. Blood was everywhere. His eyes were empty, staring at the sky. You couldn’t feel your extremities.

“Real nice, darlin’. Y’did good.” Bo looked up at you, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’m proud of you. That’s a hard thing you just did.”

You knew the value of those words. Knew it was rare and special for Bo Sinclair to express pride, praise. Your heart swelled even as your chest threatened to cave in.

You managed a timid smile back. “Thank you.”

He rose to his feet, fished his phone from his pocket and called Lester to bring the truck around. The whole time you stared at the victim. Your victim. You didn’t want to; you couldn’t help it.

When Lester pulled up, his eyes were on you and only you. “How’d it go, sweet pea? You remember what I taught you?”

You nodded. “Bo says it was a real nice shot.”

“It was,” Bo said as he dragged the man to the back of the truck.

“You remembered to brace with that back foot? Didn’t kick y’back too much?”

“No, no…I was okay.”

Lester gave you a smile, a soft, sad smile. “Why don’t you ride back up with me, honey? Walk that gun back to the station, Bo ‘n I can load the truck.”

You did as you were told, shuffled to the station, hung the gun on a peg in the basement. Alone in the air conditioning and fluorescent lights you waited for the tidal wave to hit. For tears, a panic attack, something. But it didn’t come. You didn’t feel hollow, you just felt…limp. Loose. Numb. Your hands were spotless. For some reason, this surprised you.

Lester and Bo were hefting the last of the bodies into the back of the truck when you rejoined them. You climbed into the passenger’s seat and waited for Lester. He sighed when he got in, started the engine, pulled away with a wave at Bo.

Neither of you spoke at first. You wanted to say something, hated the silence, but couldn’t remember any words.

Finally Lester, always with words to spare, said, “‘S okay if you’re not okay, sweet pea.” You looked over at him. “Takin’ a life’s no small thing. I ‘member the first time I shot a squirrel. I was six. Cried for days. Thought I was over it when I went on my first buck hunt. Cried then too. So then I knew what to expect the first time I…the first time I had to step in.”

You had heard that story before. Lester had saved Vincent’s life, back in the day before they had a set pattern of operation. “Bo ‘n Vince never wanted me to have to do that,” he said. “Y’know, stupid big brother shit. They’re a bit much sometimes.” He shrugged. “The way I see it, death is a part of life. Comes to us all one way or another. You ‘member what I told you ‘bout huntin’?”

He had told you a lot of things. You couldn’t pick one out that was particularly applicable right now. Quietly you shook your head.

“‘S okay,” he said patiently, his tone kind, “I’ll just tell y’again. My daddy was never much for huntin’ or fishin’. But our neighbor, Mr. Addison, he made sure us boys knew our way around a gun. And he told me, over and over, if you’re gonna take so much away from a creature, you best be sure you use every bit of it.

“And that’s what we’ll do, sweet pea. You know we will. That doesn’t hardly make it easier, but maybe it’ll keep you from feelin’ so bad. You’re just a link in the chain. We all are.”

He reached over and squeezed your knee. “Y’know you never have to do that again if y’don’t want to. I won’t think any less o’ you for it. Neither will Vince. Neither will Bo. This ain’t your game, honey.”

“I know, Les. But I...want to be part of it.” You lay your hand on top of his and he turns his over, weaves his fingers through yours. “Thank you. Thank you for teaching me how to shoot, and…and thank you for…talking with me.”

He parked the truck around the back of the House of Wax. “Y’know it’s…it’s okay to cry, too, if y’feel like it. It’s good, even. And if you wanna talk about it some more, or not talk about it and just sit…you lemme know.”

You nodded. His face was full of concern, of genuine affection for you. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your fingers. “That was a damn good shot, sweet pea. I gotta give you that.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I had a damn good teacher.”

A shape loomed outside the cab of the truck, sent your heart racing. It was only Vincent. You and Lester hopped out of the truck at the same time.

“How did it go?” Vincent signed in the headlights.

“Fine,” Lester said carefully. “This one’s got some beginner’s luck goin’.”

Vincent’s piercing gaze settled on you. “You shot someone?”

You nodded. “Twice. I killed him.” The words were a pinch on your tongue.

Vincent’s hands hung at his sides. He regarded you for a long time before turning to Lester. “Where’s Bo?”

“He was walkin’ up behind us.”

“You talkin’ about me?” Bo called, materializing from the dusk like a specter. “Speak o’ the devil and he will appear.”

You tried to ignore the look Vincent shot at Bo and the one he threw back. You did not want to be caught in the middle of one of their spats. “Let’s pull them out and check for phones and ID,” Vincent signed. “Will you get the door open?” he directed at you.

You moved to the far end of the pool of illumination cast by Lester’s headlights and hauled open the cellar door set in the ground. You squinted in the light when you looked back toward the truck, could barely make out the shape of the boys pulling corpses from the bed.

You could go help them, but you knew Lester and Vincent were trying to keep you from having to see or touch any more tonight, and frankly, you were grateful. You hung back, waited to be told what to do.

Vincent cast a massive shadow as he strode over to you a minute later. In his big hands he held three cell phones, two wallets, and one loose ID card. You took everything from him so he could talk, juggling it in your much smaller grip.

“Lester’s gonna take you back up to the house while Bo and I move them downstairs. Come meet me in the workshop.”

In the dark, with the mask, it was impossible to parse his expression. His words were sharp but not unkind. You could feel the tension radiating off of him.

“Do you want me to take these things to the warehouse?”

“No. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“I’m okay, Vin. Really.”

“Just meet me in the workshop, please? We need to talk about this.”

That sounded terrible. It was the last thing you wanted to do. “Can I…go to bed, actually? I don’t…really want to talk about it tonight.”

He looked at you for a long time. In the dark, the holes in his mask were deep black pits, but you could envision the distress in his gaze.

“Okay,” he signed at last. You bit back your sigh of relief. “But I could use your help in the workshop tomorrow. Would that be alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah that would be fine.”

Vincent snaked one arm around you, pulled you into his chest and held you there for several heartbeats. You felt your throat tighten, but no tears came to your eyes. He smelled like wax, like wood shavings, like the warmth of home, and you took a few precious deep breaths before he let you go.

“I have to get them all waxed tonight,” he signed apologetically. “But Les or Bo could stay with you.”

“It’s okay. I just want to go to sleep. I’ll be out like a light so fast.”

His chest expanded in a sigh. “If you need anything,” he signed emphatically, “you know I won’t be sleeping.”

This drew out a crooked smile from you. “I know. Thanks, Vinny.” You handed him back the victims’ personal belongings.

The headlights felt like a spotlight as you walked back to the truck. You felt all eyes on you, gritted your teeth, walked so normally to the passenger’s side.

Bo stood there, an inscrutable expression on his face. Those baby blues were steely in the darkness. You flashed him a grin, the only one you had left in you.

“I think I’m off to bed. Pulling that trigger wore me out.”

“It’ll do that.” He kissed your cheek. “Sleep well, darlin’. You know where I am if you need me.”

You climbed in beside Lester, couldn’t keep from glancing in the side view mirror as the truck bumped away. The three bodies on the ground were indistinct in the darkness.

The house was bright and warm, familiar, alien. Vincent had left all the lights on. Jonesy stalked out from wherever she had been sleeping to greet you, bleary-eyed. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. As you pulled off your shoes on the well-worn carpet, exhaustion hit you like a freight train.

“Lemme lay with you a while, sweet pea,” Lester said. “I know you want your space. Just until you fall asleep.”

“I’m fine, Les, really, you don’t have to do that.”

“You ain’t talkin’ me out of it. Pretend it ain’t for you.”

You scoffed, but knew you couldn’t argue with him, and didn’t have the fight for it even if you could. You stripped off your clothes, brushed your teeth, collapsed into bed like a tree without roots. You wore a t-shirt, a man’s shirt, someone’s shirt. It had probably belonged to all three of them at some point. It was faded and had holes in it. It smelled like the house, simultaneously clean and musty. It felt like having all three of them with you.

They could handle it. You could handle it.

Lester rapped on the door and walked in at the same time. He always did that. It was like he didn’t understand the purpose of the gesture, or maybe he didn’t care. He slipped beneath the sheets and turned off the light, sought you out in the dark, wrapped you in his arms.

You were so worried he was going to ask you again if you were alright. But he didn’t. He kissed your brow and murmured, “Goodnight, love. If you wake up and I ain’t here, I’m right down the hall.”

“I know. Goodnight, Les.”

You settled in, closed your eyes, immediately saw the blood, saw his face, his hands on the asphalt, and your eyes snapped back open.

You laid in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, modulating your breathing, in and out. When Lester shifted carefully to peer at your face, you closed your eyes and did your best to feign sleep. It must’ve worked, because he extricated himself and slipped silently out of the room.

You did not sleep a wink. You marked time in visits from your boys. At midnight, your door eased open and Bo peeked in. He stood there for a long time before retreating into the hall and closing the door softly. At three in the morning, Vincent checked on you. You knew he knew you weren’t sleeping. But he said nothing, did nothing, and left after a minute or two.

When Lester rose bright and early for work, he came in to give you his customary kiss goodbye. At this point you weren’t even trying to pretend, sitting back against your pillows, scrolling your phone.

“Y’get any rest at all, sweet pea?”

“Not really.”

He thumbed your chin. “Take it easy today. I’ll be home this evenin’.”

You wandered downstairs earlier than usual, sick of your bed. Your shoulder was sore from the recoil of the rifle and you rubbed it, relishing the ache.

To your surprise, Bo was up and making breakfast. “Mornin’, sunshine, you look like hell,” he said.

“...thanks.”

“Eat somethin’, you’ll feel better.” He made you a plate. “Take some down to Vin when you’re done.”

You nodded. Bo sat in the chair across the table from you, ducked his head to catch your gaze. “Hey. Look at me. Y’okay?”

Your smile was thin. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“You’re a shit liar.”

You laughed weakly. “I just…didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded you coolly. “That’s all, huh?”

You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders. “That’s all.”

“You sure you’re not just playactin’ for my benefit?”

You chewed your lip. You so wanted him to be proud of you. You cared about them all so much, wanted to contribute to the vision of Ambrose not because it was your vision, but because it meant the world to them.

“I’m fine, Bo. Promise. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

He cocked a brow. “If you say so, darlin’.” He rose from the table and took his coffee mug with him. “I’ll be movin’ vehicles this mornin’. Come find me if you need anythin’.” He kissed the crown of your head on his way out of the kitchen.

You were dreading facing Vincent. You had little appetite but ate every last bite, chewing and swallowing with care, because it wasn’t stalling if you were eating.

Finally you couldn’t stall any longer. You descended into the basement one step at a time, rehearsing what you were going to say. He had music playing – it was one of your favorite songs. Something tightened in your chest.

“Hey Vince,” you said as brightly as possible as you rounded the corner, “I brought you breakfast. Bo made it, so…you’ve been warned.”

Vincent got up from his stool and came over to take the plate from you. He was maskless now that the likelihood of being seen by strangers had passed. He had woven his hair into a loose braid, tendrils falling out around his jaw.

“Have a seat,” he signed, gesturing to his cot.

You obeyed, your eyes locked on the human figure seated in the chair. “…is that him?”

Vincent nodded.

He was almost unrecognizable beneath the many layers of wax. Vincent had posed him with his ankles crossed and one hand raised and open in front of him. “Is he…reading a book?” Vincent nodded again. You wanted to get up and take a closer look. You also wanted to run out of the basement. The compromise was staying exactly where you were.

Vincent sat next to you, put down the plate. “You’re going to help me work on him today,” he signed.

Breakfast had been a terrible idea. Your gut was suddenly full of writhing snakes. “I…okay, um…I don’t want to do that.”

“You wanted to help, right?”

“Yeah, but….”

“Killing is the easy part,” he signed. “Takes seconds. Preserving them, honoring them, that’s the hard thing. The important thing.”

You felt like throwing up. You stared at the uneven wax melded to itself and the victim’s skin. You couldn’t bring yourself to touch it, there was no way.

Vincent turned your head toward him with his fingertips delicate beneath your chin. “Listen, beloved. You need to do this. It will be hard, but I’m going to help you.”

You were breathing hard, almost hyperventilating, but not crying. Why weren’t you crying? “Vincent, I don’t think I can do it.”

“You can.”

“…do I have to?”

He nodded. “This isn’t a punishment, my love, but it is penance. It will make you feel better.”

You laughed in disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

“It will.” He squeezed your hand, stood up and pulled you with him. “Come on. Let’s gather our tools.”

You followed him numbly around the workshop as he selected various well-worn ribbon tools, sponges, and other instruments. He picked up two of each. He handed you a pottery apron that was his size but not yours, helped you tie it in the back.

“Vincent…what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t.”

“What if I do?”

“I’ll fix it.”

He dragged a second stool over, had you sit while he disengaged the various splints and supports that kept the victim in place while the wax set. At last he sat down, handed you a large ribbon tool.

“First, we’ll trim the excess wax,” he signed around the tool in his hand. “We want an even layer head to toe to start with. We’ll go back in with smaller tools to bring out the details on the face and hands, but for now, just focus on evening out the surface. Watch me.”

He used the tool to shave off the outermost layer of wax on a shoulder, working in strokes of only a few inches at a time. “It’s better to take off too little rather than too much. If you go too deep, we can patch it.” He looked at you. “Your turn.”

Your hands were shaking. They hadn’t shaken this much when you were holding the gun. Somehow the little tool in your hand was so much heavier. You stared at Vincent, didn’t move.

The expression on his face was gentle, but firm. He wrapped his long fingers around your hand, lifted it to the victim’s upper arm. Reluctantly you made your first stroke. The wax was dry, crumbled off in large flakes that settled on your thighs. You brushed them off absently.

“Good,” Vincent signed. “Now do it again.”

He watched you for a few minutes, made some adjustments to your technique, and then started on the right side. You were hesitant to touch the victim with your bare hand, but it was much easier to work when you could brace yourself. The wax was simultaneously smooth and bumpy, became soft under the heat of your fingers. Vincent showed you how to move your grip around to keep from softening the wax too much in one place.

It was horrible at first, but every stroke became easier in such a quiet, subtle way that you didn’t even realize you had fallen into a rhythm until you reached the man’s wrist. “Vin,” you said, “what do I do now?”

He got up and came around to inspect your efforts. His fingers ran over your clumsy first attempts, uneven in depth and length, and then trailed down to the forearm where your quality of work had improved.

“Great job,” he signed. A cool, gentle relief washed over you, eased the snakes just a little bit. “Knew you’d get the hang of it. For the hand, I use a smaller tool. Let me show you.”

He coached you through the entire hand, each finger, all the bumps and grooves. Your appreciation for his skill, his eye for detail, grew by leaps and bounds. Your apprehension transformed into determination to copy his technique to the letter. Your reluctant touch became a careful, sturdy grip. The incredible proximity felt like a sort of intimacy, forced you to engage with the reality that you were part of the reason this man was here now. You faced your guilt and transmuted it into dedication, veneration, appreciation for the mortal remains of this stranger.

Naturally, Vincent worked much faster than you, and in a few hours’ time you had completed this first step of the process. Together you stood back and appraised your work.

“Well done, my love.” Vincent put his arm around you, hugged you to his side. “How do you feel?”

You let out a deep sigh. The numbness was gone. So were the snakes. “Better, I think.”

“This is all for today. Tomorrow we’ll smooth out the surface and make some more adjustments.” He looked down at you, treated you to a rare smile. “Proud of you.”

You felt your heart soar. “Really? You’re not…mad at me?”

His smile softened and he shook his head, kissed your brow. “Why would I be mad? You wanted to help. You’re helping.”

“Are you mad at Bo?”

Vincent sighed. “I’m always mad at Bo.” You laughed. He took your hand and squeezed it. “I don’t think you were ready for this. Bo disagrees. But that’s between me and him.”

You regarded the victim, slightly more recognizable now. His expression was peaceful. You weren’t sure how Vincent had managed that. “I don’t think I was ready either.”

Together you cleaned up the tools, hung up your aprons, tried to scrub the wax from the lines in your palms. You wandered up to the kitchen together for a snack. When Vincent returned downstairs, you took a mug of tea to the front steps and sat with Jonesy, surveying the structures of Ambrose.

November in Louisiana was cool, but not cold. The sky today was cloudless, a casual breeze ruffling the trees. It was beautiful. Jonesy grunted as she rolled onto her side, her back pressed against your hip. You flopped her ears, turned back to the view, and your gaze settled on the library.

You remembered the bang of the rifle. The way you could almost hear the bullet piercing skin and muscle. The way he collapsed. The way he looked at you. The way he would look now, forever, at a book he couldn’t see.

It was like the sky fell upon you all at once. The tears welled up and spilled over so fast it left you breathless. You gripped the mug hard in both trembling hands. Ambrose became a wet, colorful blur. The air hiked in your lungs, wouldn’t settle, left you gasping.

A dark shape sauntered out of the blur. You furiously rubbed the heel of your hand across your eyes, blinked up at Bo.

“Scootch,” he said. You did. He sat next to you, put his arm around you, pulled you into his chest. “You ain’t fine,” he said.

You unraveled into sobs. He took the mug from your hand and you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. He held you close, set his chin on your head, rocked you ever so slightly back and forth. “‘S okay, darlin’. It’ll be okay.”

When you forgot how to breathe, choking on your tears, he splayed his hand on your sternum and pushed firmly, bracing your back against his arm. The pressure pulled you back to earth, reminded your lungs to contract.

He held you there until your breathing evened out, then he turned to recline against the wall and guided you into his chest again. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat.

“I…I’m sorry,” you stammered.

“What d’you got to be sorry for?”

You swallowed hard. “F-For disappointing you.”

You’d never seen his expression shatter like that. “You could never,” he said in a low voice. His grip on your arm was tight, too tight. “Never, darlin’, you could never disappoint me.”

“I-I wasn’t ready. I thought I was ready. I wasn’t.”

“That ain’t your fault, it’s mine.” He pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I shouldn’t’ve let you do it. It’s on me.”

The last thing you wanted was for him to blame himself. He did plenty of that already. “No, Bo, I asked for it. I wanted to do it.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know what you were askin’ for. I knew it all too well. I was bein’ selfish.” You looked up at him, brow furrowed. He gave you a tired, joyless smile. “You wanted to get involved in things. I liked the thought of that. Felt like it’d make you part of the family all the way.” He looked out at Ambrose. “Sometimes I forget this ain’t a family anyone should be a part of.”

You pressed your cheek into the fabric of his shirt, damp with your tears. “That’s not true.”

He rubbed your arm with a calloused hand. “It is. But it’s alright. You belong with us either way. Shouldn’t have to spill blood for that to be the case.”

You curled your hands beneath your chin and pressed into him. You were quiet for a while, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It was the most wonderful, painful thing you’d ever heard.

“You know I’m not one for apologies…but I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry if I…pushed you into it.”

“Bo.”

“I know what I’m like.”

“Stop.”

“Y’don’t ever have to worry what I think of you, angel. I think the world of you.”

“I’ll be ready next time,” you said.

Bo scoffed. “There ain’t gonna be a next time.”

“Yes there will. I said I wanted to help and I meant it.”

He looked at you, his brow lowered. “There are other ways to help. You can help Vin in the workshop, or take care of the cars ‘n such.”

“I want to help you. I want to hunt.”

“Why?”

“Because it sucks. And it’s dangerous. And I don’t want you to have to do it alone.”

He shook his head. “We ain’t all pure like you, darlin’. Some of us don’t mind the killin’.”

“That’s fine. You shouldn’t have to do it by yourself.”

His arms tightened around you and he said nothing. Together you gazed out over the town you called home, the empty streets and faded siding.

Bo murmured against your temple, “How’d a thing like you end up in this little corner of hell?”

You sniffled. “Some jackass took my spark plugs.”

That earned you a real laugh, and you smiled a real smile. “Luckiest spark plugs I ever stole.”

“Nicest jackass I’ve ever met.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.”

“I think the world of you too, you know.”

He took your chin in his hand, turned your face up to him. “If you ever lie to me again, tellin’ me you’re fine when you ain’t, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Understood.”

Bo laid a kiss between your eyes. “Get off me. I gotta go tell Vin I made nice with you so he doesn’t hamstring me.”

“Is he gonna believe you?”

“Nope.”

You climbed to your feet, took his hands and pulled him up. “I’ll vouch for you.”

He smiled, laid an arm across your shoulders and walked you inside. “Knew I could count on you, darlin’.”

#house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #poly sinclairs #slasher x reader #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair

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ghostly-clown · 2 years

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Living with slashers (sfw, head-cannons)

:will include:

Jason Voorhees, Sinclair brothers (as a group since they all live together anyway), Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Michael Myers, gohst face (Billy and Stu)

I'm writing this thinking about a platonic friendship in mind so yeah, also idk if I have to specify say this or not but request are open :)

Jason Voorhees

- you would probably have your own cabin at Camp Crystal Lake but Jason would always hang around it

- he wants to be room-mates with you 👉👈

- you will have to do chores otherwise the place is gonna go to (more) ruins

- one of those chores will be making sure Jason is looking after himself

-otherwise he will go days without any proper hygiene :(

- other than that it would be like living at a school camp but instead of classmates you have a murdering zombie friend

- plenty of stuff to do, but Jason would be upset if u do stuff without him (mans just wants to be included)

The Sinclair's

- the house is surprisingly clean

- Lester is mostly doing his own thing (basicly living in his truck)

- Vincent is either working on sculptures, sleeping, or just standing around watching cause I don't think he can social well 😞

- Bo is the only one who uses the house and I can imagine he's abit of a neat freak

- family game nights will happen at random so be ready (they would also be happy that theres a 4th person so teams can be even)

- you and Bo are gonna have to cook all the meals

- would be a fun experience as all the brothers would be happy to have another person to hang out with

- and they would get upset if you spend more time with a specific brother, they all want attention but they don't wanna ask

Thomas Hewitt

- I'm sorry I can't see this being a good house to live in

- Thomas would try and make it as comforting as he can but he can only do so much

- you will have to work around the farm no matter the weather or heat

- they will continue to eat people so I hope you can stomach it

- Thomas will spend alot of time in ur room, especially if he's upset

- actuly when he's not working he will hang out with you (alot of these slashers just want some genuine positive attention)

- I mean u can't leave even if u wanted too so get comfortable

Brahms Heelshire

- u know how this goes, ur a nanny

- cooking, cleaning, tending to everything Brahms needs

- it would be a simple life and you would still have time to do ur own thing, but ur basically living for Brahms

- and he knows this, he knows he's the boss and yet the one night you forget to tuck him in he cried for the rest of the day thinking you hated him

- he tries to be all tough but in truth he won't survive without you

- and please for all that is good make sure he showers everyday

- despite the house work and looking after a grown man, it's a nice large house on the country side so like... totally worth it 👌

Michael Myers

- he would be the roomate you didn't realise you had until you woke up one night and saw him in the living room and you can't just ask him to leave so you just have to say "cool new room mate"

- he won't do any chores unless you ask him to and even then if he doesn't want to do it. He won't

- he will scare you just by always standing in the most unexpected places, be on guard

- he won't admit it but he likes having you around as a room mate

- he will stand in your room while you sleep, he like Vincent dosnt know how to social very well

- he's either gonna be doing his own thing somewhere else or he's gonna be stuck to your side

- he would be an uncomfortable room mate at first but he'll grow on u as u will him

Ghost face (Billy + Stu)

- there won't be a moment of peace if they are your roomates

- Billy is always gonna be out or in his own room, but he will go to you when he just needs a breather but dosnt want to be alone

- Stu will hunt you down to hang out with you, his own thing is you, you are now what he does

- luckily Billy knows some good places Stu dosnt know about

- movie nights, game nights, trivia nights, any kind of hang out night there is there will be

- if you are extroverted this will be the perfect set up for you, cause they (mainly Stu) will always want to be around you

- they would also try to convince you to help them kill, they would even get a mask for you

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sprite-real · 1 year

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What it’s like cuddling slashers!//Headcanons.

Characters featured… Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Lester Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Michael Myers (OG) and Jason Voorhees.

Do not repost, steal or claim this, thank you.

Requested by @sketchbook-of-shadows <3

Requests are open!!

Warnings(?): Some suggestive parts, mentions of blood.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy enjoys a good cuddle session when he’s done with his chores.

He’s more of a private guy so any kind of cuddles in front of the family is a big no no.

He likes being the big spoon but he’ll try any kind of cuddle position you want to try!

Him being a little spoon? He loves it just as much as being big spoon!

If it’s just the two of you he likes to hold you from behind while you cook dinner.

Bubba Sawyer

Lives for your affection so cuddles are a must!

Really embarrassed when his brothers catch you and him cuddling but at the same time he likes it.

When his brothers are watching he also feels a sense of pride that you don’t feel any shame to show them you’re his.

Like Tommy, will be any type of cuddler you want, he just wants to feel your body against his.

Has grown a habit of spooning you from behind and resting his hands on your chest.

Lester Sinclair

He doesn’t get to cuddle as much as he likes since he’s got work to do.

But that doesn’t stop him from trying, he’ll bring you out with him and have his arm wrapped around your shoulder or your waist, keeping you close while he drives.

Jonesy joins in 98% of the time, and it just helps when it’s cold out.

He likes to watch a movie with you and have you at his side and Jonesy sprawled in your laps.

Usually pretty stinky so you have to force him to take a shower before he can cuddle you.

Bo Sinclair

Man isn’t much of a cuddler, doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it.

He likes to cuddle in bed, it helps him settle in for the night and relax.

He doesn’t like being snuggled on when he’s working on his car or in front of tourists much so I wouldn’t really bother, he’s trying to work.

He DOES like to be cuddled in front of Vincent though, the smug ass look he shoots at Vincent is kinda hilarious.

Overall I suggest cuddling him when it’s appropriate, he will yell if it’s done at an inappropriate time lol.

Vincent Sinclair

He goes into shock when you first nestled into him, like holy shit someone is hugging onto him and isn’t repulsed.

He loves being held from behind please do it.

When you see him without his mask he prefers cuddling you in bed, both facing each other because it means so much to him that you excepted him.

A lot of body worshipping as well, his hands caress your body while you two are snuggling.

Sometimes it can get a little heated… 😏

Michael Myers

Michael is not a cuddler at all. He’s like a cat who hates being touched.

But you do get lucky occasionally! There are time when you’re sad he just awkwardly scoops you up and sits you on his lap.

He’s a good body pillow too so when you get him into bed you can lay all over him if you so please.

For your sake force him to shower, he will get blood all over your sheets and your couch.

Michael may not be the most cuddley but he tries only for you if he loves you enough.

Jason Voorhees

Jason loves to cuddle so much, he’s like a giant huggable teddy bear.

He holds you like a teddy bear too. You busy doing something and he wants cuddles? He’ll patiently wait for you to finish then pick you up under your pits and hold you close to him, nuzzling his cheek on your’s.

KISS HIM WHILE CUDDLING! He will MELT!

I feel like he’d be a great cuddler because not only is he comfortable and warm, he would also hum you to sleep, a lullaby his mama used to hum to him.

Insomniacs, he is willing to try and help you sleep and if it doesn’t work? He’ll stay up with you. He doesn’t get a lot sleep anyways!

That’s all folks! Have a great day or night! <3

#slashers #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #michael myers #jason voorhees #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #slashers x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher fluff

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

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Slashers with a trans masc s/o who asks for help cutting their hair

I am a trans man and for awhile I have had shorter hair and I know many other trans mascs find comfort and gender euphoria in shorter hair. I remember getting my hair cut short for the first time and just falling in love with it. While obviously not all trans masc want short hair I thought this would be kind of cute to do. It is kind of implied that y/n doesn’t have a hair type past 3c. I am a white person so I don’t know much about cutting very tightly curled hair and I don’t want to mess it up. If it is wanted I will do some research and make another one of these but for people with tight curls. Also the slashers know their s/o is trans masc in this case their hair has just really grown out and they need it cut. Sorry for the rant.

Includes: The Sinclair Brothers, Billy Loomis and Otis Driftwood

Lester Sinclair

This man cuts his own hair and he does a pretty good job at it. He helps Bo with keeping his hair short so helping you won’t be a problem.

He has a ton of magazines to help you chose a style for your hair. Granted they’re from the 80′s and 90′s mostly but you can still find a good style in them.

He has the kind of scissors made for cutting hair and like one of those thinner brushes to help cut it.

He will do a great job and make the cut look almost exactly like the one in the magazine.

Bo Sinclair

He’s gonna be surprised you’re asking him for help. He’s not really good with cutting hair but he does know how to style it well.

If you just need him to help trim it up in the back he’ll be so relived and will happily help you with it.

“Ya know you’ve got great hair darlin. I get jealous sometimes of how nice it looks.”

After he helps you cut it he’ll want to try and get you to style it in different ways. He can only do so much with his hair and having someone else to do different styles on is gonna be so exciting for him.

Vincent Sinclair

He’s never really cut his hair before. He hasn’t gotten it cut in like so many years he won’t really know where to start.

I feel like he has cut some hair on the sculptures before but he really doesn’t wanna mess it up on you.

He’ll do better with a reference picture to go off of for what you want.

To be honest he might save some of your hair for future works of his.

Billy Loomis

He’ll ask why you don’t just go to a barbers shop or something like that and after you explain to him the struggle of getting the stylist to understand you know the hair cut will be masculine and make you look like a boy and that’s the entire point he’ll understand a bit more.

He’ll call Stu for help because Billy is an idiot when it comes to trying to help anyone else with their hair and Stu is well a bit more of a general idiot so hopefully putting two brains together will help it turn out alright.

You’ll have to do most of it yourself or as much as you can. He’ll be super nervous to mess up the back so Stu will do the thing where you hold up a mirror that you can see in another mirror to make sure Billy doesn’t mess up.

But over all he’ll do pretty good on your hair and be so happy you like how it turned out.

Otis Driftwood

Like Vincent he hasn’t cut his hair in years and he rarely does like genuine hair cuts. He’ll be kinda confused about why you asked him to help but he’ll go along with it.

You’ll have to scrounge around to find anything to help give you a reference for what you want.

Like with most of the guys here you’ll have to do as much as you can yourself before he steps in.

He’ll joke about always being able to shave your head if it turns out shit so you pray it doesn’t.

But it’ll be an ok hair cut. Nothing ground breaking but still nice.

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boxxyass · 2 years

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Blood Fest week 3 Vincent Sinclair x GN Reader

Vincent Sinclair x GN Reader

Week 3 of Blood fest here! I present to you a nice little sappy drabble of the reader and Vincent being cute, sorry not sorry!

prompts Mask. Chains. Bone. Sleep

keywords: Powerless. Fervor

Sometimes the sweet moments, you shared with Vincent made you forget he and his brothers murdered people and turned them into wax figures to give the fake allusion to life in this ghost town. Even with the mask he used to cover his defects, all you could see was your love and devotion for the man who had given you a chance when no one else would. Also, both of you had a morbid sense of what art was and could be, so you had no problem accepting his wax figures hid the dark secret of a human body beneath, learning this drew you to him in the first place. You found yourself lost in Ambrose, attempting to leave your life behind, and somehow by sheer luck, not running into Lester or Bo allowed you to explore the wax museum and run into Vincent for the first time; the rest was history.

Now you called the boys' family and Ambrose home and you got to curl up next to a man who had the ability to make anyone feel powerless and break a grown man's bones when it was necessary, but with you, he was only rough when you asked for it and even then he was gentle. Getting to coax him to lay down with you and away from his chained-up newest piece of art became a nightly chore within itself but it was one you gladly did with enthusiasm. Sure you could lull yourself to sleep just by watching Vincent sculpt the wax carefully onto an unfortunate tourist with his usual fervor and the warm atmosphere and ambiance of the various machines at work made it easy to just drift off.

So what a nice feeling it was laying there half asleep all cozied up in Vincent’s sweater that all but engulfed your body in his comforting scent, through half-lidded eyes you focused on the dim glow of the nearby candles Vincent was so fond of using. With each drip of the wax falling from the candles your eyes grew heavier until you felt the dip of the mattress. Giving out a sleepy groan you started to move before Vincent’s bare lips are brushing against the side of your head in a ghost of a kiss and made a noise that you assume is meant to shush you. Letting yourself relax again you let Vincent move you so you’re laying against his chest and those large arms have wrapped you into a bear hug. If you weren’t on your way to dreamland you would have given him some sleepy kisses too, but you can save them for the morning. For now, you can enjoy being in Vincent’s embrace as his heartbeat and breathing slow down and he kisses the crown of your head one more time before you both fall asleep.

#SFBF #house of wax #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher files blood fest #writing challenge #Slasher x reader

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skylarsblue · 2 years

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Vincent Sinclair Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Vincent isn’t as focused on physical attributes. He appreciates them, but it’s not something he searches for. Ironic given he’s the one with an eye for art. They find beauty in most things, if not everything. Any shape or color can be beautiful in their mind. The things they tend to admire the most are things he favors to sculpt. Dips of collar bones, the planes of someones cheeks, subtle tendons in the hands. He also takes note of unique marks. Stretchmarks, scars, freckles. Obscure parts of the body.

While they’re not picky, when it comes to personality, Vincent would best fit with someone gentle. Someone with a lot of patience who’s always understanding. Who approaches every situation with the wellbeing of everyone involved at the forefront of their mind. If you haven’t noticed, Vincent’s grown up around volatile people. Though he loves his brother Bo, it’s no secret that the man is a bit selfish and short tempered. They love their mother too, but she also had a short fuse. Having someone with patience, who brings calm & gentle air to a room, would suit him well.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Vincent’s never really thought about it. Bo & Lester have definitely mulled over it more than them. The idea doesn’t make him feel bad or anxious, per say. It’s just not something he’s considered before. They, sadly, have a terrible self esteem, they’ve never assumed someone would find them attractive enough to fall in love with. If you wanted kids however, he’d have to think about it. The idea wouldn’t be terrible but it would make him a bit nervous. If you can have biological kids & that’s what you want, they’d worry about the possibility of it being conjoined. Perhaps some other problems. What if he turned out to be a bad father?

At the same time, he would be so moved by you wanting a family with him. That you want to settle down with him? It’d certainly make him cry a bit.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

It would take some time for him to get used to it. It’s not that they don’t like hugs and cuddling, but they know they’re inexperienced. He’s gonna worry about doing something wrong. You might notice he’s a bit tense for a while. Still, they love cuddling. His favorite way to be held is when he’s sitting in his art chair, having his partner rested in his lap. It allows them to have you close by while still being productive. This also helps ensure you don’t feel neglected if Vincent’s been invested in a project.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Vincent doesn’t leave Ambrose. Once he came back, he never planned to leave, unless maybe someone needed to go to the hospital, and even then…

But, they understand your want to have dates. They always melt when you suggest anything that implies you’ll be spending time with him. So, even if he won’t do much, he doesn’t mind doing dates around town. The movie theater still technically works, and there are many places to have a picnic. Though your options are limited, Vincent tries. He does want to please you. Even if they have rather strict boundaries.

E = Everything (You are my___ (e.g. my life, my world)

“My inspiration.”

You bring Vincent a lot of inspiration. You even help with art burnout & block. It’s part of the reason he loves you so much. Whenever they can’t bring themselves to get out a project properly, or they’re running out of ideas, they just have to look at you. A simple sketch of you gets him back into the flow. He finds it effortlessly easy to make art around you. Poems, short stories, paintings or sculptures. You inspire him just by existing.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Vincent is a natural romantic. He’s always consumed things like romance novels, movies, poetry, etc. Maybe it’s because he’s an artist, but they’re able to find appeal & beauty in most things. Even if his brothers don’t really get it. Bo doesn’t understand why Vincent would compare your personality to things like butterflies & the sunset. Lester isn’t much of a poet, but he sees the appeal of Vincent’s views of romance.

So, when Vincent starts to realize how much you’ve wormed your way into the things they make. The need to sketch you, how you give him the analogies & words to put into poems? It doesn’t take them all that long to realize what that emotion is. There have been a million times where they’ve heard the butterflies described, that floaty, warm feeling that fills the veins. The need to be around someone constantly. It’s only natural that they’d deduce that’s what they feel for you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Vincent’s one of the most gentle slashers, despite what he does to people. He’s naturally good at the pressure his hands apply. Well skilled from years of working with art mediums that require gentle strokes. Aside from physically, they’re certainly more empathetic and emotionally intelligent than some other slashers. Again, he’s consumed a lot of media with well-written, poetic descriptions of how someone feels.

Every abused family needs one that’s the empathetic one, the family therapist if you will. (Which isn’t necessarily healthy, but it is common.) Because of this, Vincent will be able to tune into how you feel rather easily. He does his best to care for you like something valuable. Because you are! They don’t necessarily treat you cautiously because he’s afraid of breaking you, they know you’re not glass, but they do think you’re priceless. He treats you carefully out of respect for your beauty, physically or otherwise. Not because he thinks you’re weak.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Vincent’s hands tend to be occupied by a project, so they find it easier to hold you while their hands work on something. Productive! Of course, they still love to hold your hand. It’s you after all! When holding your hand, Vincent likes to trace the features they have. Whether it’s the curves of your knuckles, the lines of your palms, the veins, any freckles or scars. Vincent adores individuality. He knows every human has specific features that no one else has, they’ll admire everything about you for this reason. Expect many kisses on the backs of your hands.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Vincent tends to see everyone as a project. He’ll acknowledge things about you he’ll want to focus on when dipping you in wax. I’m sorry to tell you, but he didn’t fall over the moment you entered Ambrose. They certainly took note of where he’d have to place you, since he would certainly want you to be front & center. Admiring you under an artist's perspective. What likely got them to believe you were different, would be how you behaved in Ambrose.

Vincent would take note mostly over how you were treated by the people you came with (if anyone) & how you treated the town. If you were the kind of person to admire his artwork, rather than make snide comments? You get a point.

If by some miracle you somehow bump into him before you realize what’s going on in the town, how you behave will tip them to how they feel about you. The nicer you are the better. Vincent’s not used to people, really. He’s a shut-in. He’s also very accustomed to the few people he does meet being put off by his demeanor & mask. Having someone accept him so quickly? That’s what gets them to keep you.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

For the most part, no. There are not a lot of people to get jealous over. Any interactions you have with visitors he’s unlikely to see, if he doesn't see what happens then how could he get upset. If you manage to get along with Bo, it’ll certainly make them a bit insecure. They associate Bo with being the attractive sibling. Something Vincent doesn’t have in his mind. So, when they get jealous, you’re not likely to know unless you know what to look for. He doesn’t think he has the right to get angry when jealous. If you seem to meld well with someone else, they’ll be insecure & hurt, but not surprised. The best thing to do is reassure him a lot. Especially if he seems to be pulling away from you. It’ll take a while, but if you try enough, eventually you’ll get them to really believe they’re what you want. Not anyone else.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

It was likely a mutual thing. It’ll take a while for him to feel comfortable taking his mask off. They’ll be shy, probably hiding a bit behind their hair, ready for some form of rejection. Hold his face, trace the lines of his scars, carefully run your fingers through his hair. Don’t move too fast. It’ll startle him. Just take your time, help them relax in your affection before moving in. They’ll melt into you.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

I think Vincent can talk, just with some struggle. They slur some words & struggle with some syllables because the side of their mouth is affected by their scars. He prefers sign language. Still, I can certainly see him saying it first, if in the right circumstance. He’ll feel love for you long before he says it because he’s a bit afraid to scare you off. He’ll try to make it as romantic as possible, maybe he’ll write a poem to convey it. If you beat them to it, they’ll be a bit huffy that their plan can’t go as they wanted, but they’re still going to melt.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

The first time he met you properly, no doubt. The way you treated him so kindly, despite the fact he was very clearly a bit off. You spoke to him like he was the average man, no odd looks or insults. Especially if you spoke highly of his art.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Vincent doesn’t have a job. He kind of relies on Bo & Lester for financial things. And, again, he doesn’t leave Ambrose unless absolutely necessary. Like most slashers, he can’t buy you a bunch of things to spoil you. They will certainly spoil you in other ways. Making you tea, dinner, making you artistic gifts. He wants to show his appreciation for you as much as possible. Even if they can’t buy you anything.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Waterfall Turquoise & Lilac Purple. Turquoise is a color Vincent personally associates with various things. A specific pond he’d visit as a child, the color of a gem in a pair of his mother’s earrings, the color of a songbird. Turquoise is said to symbolize compassion, clarity, stability, & growth.

As for lilac, Vincent likes the color purple in general. They like using various shades of purple often in their paintings. It’s the color that most appeals to them. Purple is a color meant to be associated with spirituality, imagination, mystery, & royalty. It’s the color that least occurs naturally in nature. It’s a rarity. Vincent certainly considers you a unique rarity of a person, after all, how likely would it be that he found someone to be so kind to him?

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Vincent really doesn’t talk much, as I mentioned. Technically, he can, he just prefers not too. You may not hear him say pet names often, but they certainly use them. Whether it’s in their head or in the rare moment he’s actually speaking to you. He tends to use ones relating to things he associates with you.

Sunshine, songbird, goddess/god, treasure.

Of course, they also use ones like dear, darling, sweetheart. But, they don’t use pet names all that often oddly enough. They like your name. He uses it most often because he loves how it sounds, spoken or thought. Your name is special for him because you’re special to him. Even if someone else mentions your name, a part of him warms & he feels all fuzzy.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

While he likes some clutter, it’s not for the sake of having things. Large, empty spaces just make them uncomfortable. So they want to fill it with things he likes. He’s made most of the knick-knacks that fill his space. But, in terms of things like what’s new & modern? They don’t really care. Though, to be specific, probably books? Old books are probably their favorite. Vincent’s not a snob, I promise, but he is a book snob. Both they and Brahms have the same mentality.

“They just don’t make books like they used to.”

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Vincent’s not likely to care, really. They can’t really hear when it rains in the basement. Sometimes, Bo will complain a bit about it, Lester might struggle with the mud. But in general, it’s not a huge problem. If it’s a heavy storm? The basement might flood. Then it becomes a problem, but that doesn’t happen all that often.

However, Vincent does like the rain. The weather calms him. When he’s calm, it’s easier to pull him away from big projects for some quality time. Tea, cuddles, maybe an old noir movie. On the other side, they feel art is most easy to make when they’re relaxed. It’s a coin toss.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

He pours how he feels into his art. That’s what they’ve always done. It was easier to put it out onto a piece of sketchbook paper than try to speak about it. Especially when surrounded by people who either didn’t understand or just didn’t listen. Vincent isn’t really good at cheering themselves up, but, they do have ways to get through what they’re feeling. If you want to make Vincent feel better, just express that you care how they feel. That alone makes them start to feel better.

As for when you’re upset, Vincent’s not necessarily great at cheering you up either. But, he does support how you feel. He’s a shoulder to cry on. They might not know how to make you laugh the negative emotions away or distract you very well, but you don’t have to worry about dealing with your feelings alone. They’ll always agree to hold you. He’ll get you tea, a blanket, and hold you while you ride out the wave. Whether you need to rant or cry, he’s willing to listen.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Again, Vincent doesn’t talk much. When he does, it’s usually single-word answers or short sentences. But, when alone with him, you might occasionally get him to ramble a little. Usually, it’s over the meanings in his paintings that he’s proud of. They’ll also sometimes go through a book they’ve begun reading, especially if it’s a tragic romance story. It’ll send them over the moon if you show any interest at all. It’ll probably make him more willing to talk to you more. He’ll always be quiet, but he’ll open up if you encourage him enough.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Aside from painting, things like tea, reading, and a simple nap tend to work well. With you around, it’s even more relaxing. Something Vincent will also sit in a dark room and listen to a music tape in his old walkman. He’ll share the songs with you if you’re curious.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Vincent would probably unintentionally show off. He does things that he’s really good at with flair. To others, it looks like they’re doing things in an extravagant way on purpose. In reality, no, he’s really not trying to be a show-off. Him doing something quickly or taking over an action for someone because he does it better than them for the sake of efficiency? This isn’t them trying to gloat, they really don’t think about it. While Vincent wants to impress you, they wouldn’t really go about it in a showy way on purpose.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

It’s not completely at the front of Vincent’s mind. If he were to propose, it wouldn’t be for a while. They’re comfortable with what you two have. They don’t see much of a need for things like a legal document or a ceremony to bind you two together. But, if you express a want to do it for whatever reason, he’d be more than willing. Of course, your ceremony’s guests would be made of wax. But hey, you’re probably used to that by now.

Vincent would let you make most, if not all, of the decisions. If you want their input, they’ll probably only suggest things like colors. It’s not that he’s not invested in being bound to you until death does you part, it’s just that he already felt that way. The ceremony is fulfillment for you if you want it. Otherwise, he’d be fine with only wearing the rings. Though, Vincent does really enjoy it when you start calling them your husband.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

I imagine they’d like softer songs. Some classical is probably best for when he’s trying to get into the zone, since there’s no words to follow, it’s just music. When they were younger, they most certainly listened to harsher music. Ranging from Nirvana to ICP. Music was therapeutic to him because it could convey the emotions he wasn’t necessarily allowed to show. Now Vincent finds songs that are slower, more calm, to be the most appealing. Though they don’t mind the occasional head-banger. Now, songs I think suit them, regardless if they’d like it or not-

-lovely by Billie Eilish (ft.Khalid)

-This Is Home by Cavetown

-If I’m Being Honest by dodie

-temporary nothing by mxmtoon

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Again, not necessarily. It’s not because they don’t want things like the title of husband, nor is it because he’s afraid to be committed to you. Vincent is very much a dedicated partner. It’s just that he doesn’t fully see the need when you two are already in love. The thought may pass once or twice, but they’re more than comfortable with what you already have. If you want anything more, he’ll do it, it’s no real burden on his shoulders. They just want you to be happy.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Vincent likes Jonesy a lot. They’re not really a pet person. There’s no particular reason, it’s not that they don’t like animals. Animals just require a lot of attention and care, something he knows he’s a bit bad at when he gets roped into a project. Something like a dog, unless someone else could care for home when he’s busy, wouldn’t necessarily be ideal. And things like a bug or fish pet would…honestly, probably die because he couldn’t remember to feed them on time. A good pet for Vincent would be a cat. One that’s mostly independent. A smaller cat would also be ideal, so it could sit in their lap while they’re working without getting in the way.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax #slasher x reader #slasher community #slashers #slasher fucker #fluff alphabet

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slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

I'd absolutely love love LOVE head cannons for patching up the slashers wounds (pleaase)

Patching up the Slasher’s Wounds:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas obtains his fair share of injuries, whether from nicking his hand on a tool or from an altercation with a victim. Either way, you’re there to help him.

He doesn’t nick himself on tools often, having grown used to using them so often, but accidents happen from time to time. When you saw him do so, you had frowned, taking his hand in yours and fussing over the tiny cut.

He knew it wasn’t anything to worry about but he felt a familiar sense of adoration for you as you tended to him.

And when he received larger wounds, you fuss and fret even more. You insist on him resting, carefully and lovingly patching him up.

He never fights you, knowing it’s better to just let you help rather than attempt to do it himself.

Thomas usually tends to his own wounds and if he ever needed assistance, it was Luda May who would provide it. But now you’re there, insistent on helping him every time no matter how minor it is. It makes his heart warm and Luda May isn’t upset about being replaced, happy to see you caring so much for her son.

Michael Myers

If you want to help Michael with any injuries he had received, you’re going to have to fight to do so.

Michael will just take care of himself, handle it himself, and he doesn’t need your help. You know that he doesn’t need your help, you’re sure he has patched himself up many times in the past, but you care about him and want to help.

You have to tell him that you know he can do it himself but to just let you assist him.

He’s not used to handing over control like this and he really isn’t used to somebody genuinely caring so much.

So the two of you end up in your bathroom in the middle of the night as you scold the man for getting in your way while simultaneously fretting over him.

He isn’t the most tidy person, so you’re probably going to have to clean everything up as well. But let’s be honest, you would have insisted on it anyway while making him get some rest.

Jason Voorhees

Jason avoids injuries for the most part, he knows the forest well enough to avoid any accidents. So most injuries come from messy run ins with victims.

Every time, no matter how little the injury, you worry and rush to him, checking him over.

This has happened plenty of times before when he didn’t even have anyone to tend to him, he knows how to take care of it.

But now you are here, and you always insist of taking care of him no matter what the problem is.

You’re always so careful and tender, love and concentration in your eyes as you patch him up.

You are such a wonderful addition to his life, a miracle, and he adores you.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is always scurrying around in the walls, and while he might be an expert at it by this point, he’s bound to scratch himself up every now and again.

So, when he catches himself on a nail or something, he comes to you, playing on it a little.

He’s scratched himself up before, sustained little cuts, and never worried about it. But if it means he gets extra attention from you? Of course he is going to pretend it is worse than it truly is.

You just play along, fussing over him a little, giving him some attention and affection.

Oh, and of course, he needs a kiss to make everything better.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had received his fair share of injuries in the past, most of which he treated by himself. If he couldn’t see or reach the wound, Vincent would tend to it.

He does not need your help and makes sure to tell you such when you offer to help him.

You will have to fight him on the matter, prying the bloodied cloth out of his hand and demanding that he just let you look at the wound.

He eventually gives in and huffs, letting you have a look.

Pretty much pouts about it the whole time, reluctantly accepting that it is easier to just let you assist him.

You apologise whenever you accidently touch the wound or apply too much pressure, but Bo just grits his teeth and acts like he barely even felt it.

Rolls his eyes when you tell him that you’re finished but tell him to just take it easy.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent actually secretly likes when you patch him up. He doesn’t like to feel like a burden but he likes the feeling of being cared for, and you’re just so kind and loving.

He’s used to looking after himself when he gets hurt, he’s used to it and really doesn’t mind it for the most part. But now you’re here and you care so much about him.

He’d never ask for your help, not wanting to drag you into caring for him like this, but you always want to help.

If he’s cut his hand on something, you’ll sit with him in the candle lit workroom, tenderly caring for his small injury. He can’t help but admire the concentration on your face and the care you have for him.

And when he gets injured in a struggle with a victim, he is a little surprised when you rush to him so eagerly, concerned about his wellbeing. You insist on patching him up and making sure he is alright.

You’re so careful and delicate, making sure not to hurt him further, you always make sure he rests afterwards so he can properly heal.

Lester Sinclair

Lester rarely gets an injury he can’t take care of himself. He tends to stay away from the victims once they reach Ambrose, so any injuries he gets are usually due to cutting himself on a jagged piece of metal he didn’t see or just on his own knife. All things he takes care of himself.

So, when he gets home, holding a bloody cloth in his bleeding palm, he’s a little surprised when you rush over to him and clap his injured hand gently in your own.

He’s used to dealing with these things, and this is the first time you’ve been around when it’s happened.

But you guide him through to the kitchen and tender patch up his hand, with much more care than he ever did.

He just reassures you that he’s fine and smiles as you work, flinching every now and again when you touch the wound, quickly reassuring you again when you apologise.

He likes having somebody who cares so much about him, to fuss over him even when it’s not that big of a deal. He just thinks you’re so sweet.

Bubba Sawyer

The house is one big hazard, so Bubba is bound to receive an unserious injury here and there that have nothing to do with any victims they’re dealing with.

Bubba pouts at the injurie but he’s used to it, if he needs to wrap it, he will but then continue on with his day.

When you notice that Bubba has a piece of material wrapped around his hand, you know he’s hurt himself somehow and are quick to sit him down and take a look at it. He lets you without argument.

Bubba just lets you take his hand and examine it, cleaning it for him before wrapping it up again with some clean bandages. He can’t help but smile at how you’re helping him with so much care.

Once you’re done, you tell him to come to you if he hurts himself again, not wanting anything to get infected because he didn’t clean it properly.

And of course you give him a quick kiss to get him smiling again.

Billy Lenz

Billy has a habit of accidently hurting himself, cutting his hands when dealing with sharp objects, scratching himself on random things in the attic, ending up with bruises that neither of you know how he got them.

Nearly every time he comes to you, holding out his scratched or cut hands.

He really loves having you dote on him, so he loves you tending to his small injuries.

You sit together on the couch as you clean his hands, placing little bandages over his small cuts. He sits still, letting you turn his hands in your lap to inspect them.

After tending to his injuries, he requires a kiss from you to stop pouting and put a smile back on his face.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Surprisingly, considering the dangerous contraptions he puts together, Asa doesn’t really get injured often. Nothing serious or too permanent anyway. He might have a few faint scars but nothing that would cause too much concern for anyone who sees them.

But accidents happen to the best of us. A victim very very rarely gets to him, he’s more likely to injure himself slightly when testing or building new traps.

He always takes care of these things himself. If it’s just a cut, he will clean it, wrap it, and keep an eye on it until it’s healed. If it’s more serious, he goes to a hospital with a story in mind in case they ask too many questions.

It’s almost surprising to him when you walk in on him tending to a small wound and hurry to his side, offering your assistance.

At first he shakes his head, telling you he is fine and handling it himself, and at first you nod and take a step back.

But you can’t just stand to the side, he’s hurt and you want to help even if he is perfectly capable of doing it himself. So, you step in again, and he lets you, looking at you with a sense of curiosity.

You take your time, clean and examining the wound. Asa lets you, but he will step in if he deems that you are doing something wrong.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

If you’re around when he’s sustaining injuries in his trips, you’re likely in some sort of assistant position.

In that case, you will have been trained in how to tend to wounds if a doctor was unavailable. You’re not a professional by any means but you know enough to patch him up.

Jesse doesn’t let any pride get in the way of letting you help him. He got hurt and you’re here to help him, he’ll let you work without complaint.

You’ve become very good at patching up his wounds and Jesse enjoys not having to do it himself.

Though, he always seems much more calm than you. You worry about him when he gets hurt because you care about him so much but he knows what he can handle, he’s literally been shot before and he barely seemed concerned while you couldn’t stop fussing over him.

Otis Driftwood

It wasn’t a serious injury, it required attention but it wasn’t fatal. As long as it didn’t get infected, he would be fine and you both knew it.

Otis didn’t really need any assistance with it and he had experienced worse, and dealt with worse by himself.

But you had heard his grumbling and complaining as he tended to his own injury and just had to step in. Both because you were a little concerned about him but also because his complaining was irritating.

You marched over to him, slapping his hands away and taking the cloth from his hand before focusing your attention on his wound.

He complained a little about not needing any help but allowed you to tend to the wound, watching you curiously as you fussed over him so much, you seemed so concerned for him when he had done so much more to other people.

Thinks it’s a little ironic that you’re so insistent on helping him when he’s probably the least deserving of it.

He can admit you get the job done quicker and with less cursing, but will never admit to needing help.

Baby Firefly

It’s a miracle that the Firefly family doesn’t have more scars between them all, they live a dangerous life and are always getting hurt in some way. Maybe Baby has always just gotten lucky enough to get non-serious wounds and few lasting scars.

As soon as Baby gets hurt, you’re there to check on her.

It’s a small wound, nothing serious, something she has dealt with a hundred times, but you’re still there to help.

She likes when you fuss over her a little, so she is happy to let you tend to the wound and patch her up.

When you ask if there is anything else you can do to help her, she just asks for a kiss with a playful smirk.

Mama Firefly is glad to see that somebody is looking after her little girl even if she’s perfectly capable of looking after herself.

Yautja (Predator)

Of course your mate has experienced his fair share of injuries, wearing his scars with pride.

The only time he really gets hurt at all is on hunts and it’s rarely anything serious. It’s things that he’d usually patch up himself, making a trip to the med bay once he returned.

But when you see that your mate is wounded in anyway, of course you worry and want to help him.

At first, when you start fretting and fussing over him, he is a little offended. Do you not think he can handle himself? Do you think he is weak in someway?

Then he starts to realise that this is just something that humans do, they worry about their partners when they are hurt no matter how serious it is, and then he’s just proud to mean so much to you.

He reassures you that he is fine but allows you to help patch him up if he can’t see a medic at the time, both amused but warmed by your concern and love for him.

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creepswrites · 2 years

Text

Protection (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)

Again with me writing very self-indulgent things. I hope you enjoy this at least! I've been meaning to write for Vinny for a hot minute anyways...

Vincent Sinclair x gn!Reader

Summary: Settling into life in Ambrose was easier than you had anticipated. You'd grown close with Vincent Sinclair, bonding over art together. Things were going very smoothly until a rowdy group of victims wandered into the brothers grasps and found you before Vincent could. (Warning: violence, deaths of minor characters)

Brushing your hair behind your ear, you sighed to yourself in the mirror. Since moving to Ambrose, you hadn't been able to get a proper haircut. As fond as you were of the Sinclair brothers, you had seen once before how Lester cut Bo's hair and you were suddenly aware of why exactly Vincent kept his hair long. Lester was probably more of a hazard with scissors when they weren't being used to kill someone. It was almost impressive.

So, your hair was longer than you were used to. Brushing past your ears and brushing your shoulders now.

Seems the masked man spying on you from the doorway to the bathroom seemed to like it at least. Vincent loitered within your line of sight in the mirror, watching you through the dark eyeholes of his mask. With the cloudy day out and no lights on in the house, he seemed scarier than he was.

But you knew Vincent. He'd been scary at first, terrorizing the friends who'd left you to die to let them escape in the car. They hadn't known Bo had slashed their tires and allowed the twins to pick them off one by one. Leaving you: their lone survivor. But rather than kill you, Vincent had wanted to keep you alive. While Bo had been harder to convince, one plate of your garlic bread and he was persuaded.

So, here you'd stayed. Under Vincent's protection, mainly, though Bo and Lester had grown fond of you during your time in Ambrose. You helped them take care of the town, keep it looking alive despite how very not-alive it was.

Vincent helped make it pretty, in his own way, you thought.

"Hey Vince," you said softly at the mirror, watching him watch you in the mirror, "what's up?"

Vincent gestured over his shoulder. "People passing through. Stay in the basement until we are done." He signed slowly so you could read. You were still learning sign but you'd slowly gotten the hang of most words.

"Bo wants me to start helping, y'know," you called to him as he turned to leave, stopping him in his tracks. "Wants to show me how to shoot so I can help." You felt a bit anxious saying it aloud. While you knew it was only a matter of time before the eldest Sinclair put you to work helping them get new... subjects for the wax figures, it still felt odd to consider yourself part of the whole thing. Planting fake plants, keeping house, and playing peacemaker between the brothers was easy, let you live in your little fantasy. But the idea of actually participating was... daunting to say the least.

The taller man turned slowly to you, his good eye surveying your face. Maybe he saw the terror in your eyes before signing, "Not letting him. You're important."

You snorted. "Important? Vince, I grow fake flowers, I doubt that's really important.

He shook his head, insistent, and stepped more into the bathroom, closer to you. "Important to me." Now that certainly made you pause. "Go downstairs. Please."

Swallowing, you nodded as he left the room. You heard the front door to the Sinclair house open and close in quick succession. Vincent was likely headed to loiter around the House of Wax, try and separate the group quickly. Straight to business, you chuckled to yourself as you made your way down the stairs to Vincent's basement. Much warmer than the dark, cold bathroom, it was a wonder Vincent could stand wearing so many layers.

You settled on Vincent's bed and picked up one of the sketchbooks he'd given you. When you'd first been made a citizen of Ambrose, Vincent tried to connect with you via art, encouraging you to draw and create in a similar fashion to him. You'd taken to it easily enough. Nothing you made was ever as great as his stuff, you thought, but you were proud of it. Though the masked brother seemed to adore anything you created.

Settling comfortably, you picked up a sharp pencil and went back to work on a sketch you'd been working on before needing to get lunch and use the bathroom, where you'd noticed your hair.

Typically the brothers took care of visitors to Ambrose quickly and Vincent would be in and out of the workshop. You should have noticed something was very wrong when he wasn't back after half an hour...

Setting the book down to crack your fingers, you took note of the empty workshop. Odd, you thought. Standing slowly, you wondered if Bo had gotten shot with a crossbow again. You snorted at the memory as you crept up the stairs. Or maybe there was no visitors and Vincent had mistaken Lester's car? Got wrapped up in something like he usually did. You smiled fondly as you recalled how focused the masked man could be when he was really invested in a project. How he didn't see or hear anything beyond the wax he molded once he was into it.

Pushing open the trapdoor and poking your head out, you were met with a dark, still house. The sun had long since set and you wondered how long you'd really been down there for...

Then, just as you shut the door with a soft thud, you heard the front door swing open.

"Hey!" A stranger stared at you with wide, panicked eyes. Judging by the panic in his eyes and the blood staining his jeans and white shirt, he was one of the victims. Must be on the run from Bo, if the fact he was still alive was anything to go by.

Bo always did love a good hunt.

"A-are you one of them? O-or did you get c-caught too?" He stuttered, running his hand through smooth, short brown hair. You swallowed, struggling to find the words to explain yourself.

"I'm- I- Uh-" Thankfully you didn't have to say much as a girl with bright, neon green hair and an undercut pushed her way into the house after the boy. A large gash stretched across her cheek to the bridge of her nose and she had a limp. The puncture wound looked like Vincent's knives.

"Aw hell Jakey, leave em alone. Chances are they're as freaked out as we are. Maybe they just escaped those freaks too." She slurred, limping her way to the couch to sit. "Name's Paige, thats Jake. We, uh, got caught by the mechanic guy. Thought we could take him till he fucking shot Aaron in the-"

"With a gun or a crossbow?" You interrupted, earning a strange stare.

"Crossbow... why?" Jake asked. You swallowed before shuffling over.

"Umm... he shot my friends with a shotgun. Was just wondering, since I didn't hear it." You mumbled, fidgeting with your hands. Times like this made you wish the Sinclairs believed in radios.

Paige gave you a pained smile. "Aaron got shot, we can't find Kelsey and Leslie... this whole place seems like a deathtrap." Oh she didn't know how right she was.

"Does the phone work?" Aaron asked, checking through the curtains for Bo and Vincent. You shook your head quickly.

"It's, um, why I haven't been able to call for help," you lied, softening your voice to sound more helpless, "I've been stuck in their basement for a long time..." You sniffed, shifting from foot to foot. If you could just stall long enough, they might notice where these two had run off to.

Your mind flashed to the light switches in the basement that you could use to call them... but you didn't want to risk these two damaging any of Vincent's things. You'd just have to hold out.

God, if you didn't get killed you were going to make them carry phones...

"What's your name?" Jake asked, which you answered hesitantly. He gave a slow nod before looking out the window and panicking. "Mask dude is coming, hide!" He whisper-yelled before grabbing you and Paige by the arm and hauling ass out the back door and to the backyard. You heard Vincent open the door just as you were yanked out with a swift yelp, Paige and Jake practically yanking you down the street.

"C'mon, cmon, theres gotta be somewhere in this town we can hide!" Jake called into the night sky. Your heart stuttered for a moment, empathizing with them. They were just two people fighting for their lives. They didn't know what you did, didn't have the brothers protection. Weren't even aware they were prey.

At least, not until an arrow lodged into Jake's shoulder, pulling a scream from his throat and a cry from Paige. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Vincent standing at the back of the house wielding a crossbow.

You didn't have to see his eyes to know he was pissed.

Marching towards the three of you, you panicked. Did he think you were trying to escape? Was this where he killed you?!

Instead, Paige saw the look in your eye and saw Vincent's focus entirely on you and seemed to connect the dots. Pulling out a small knife from her pocket, she held it to your throat. "Stop right where you are!" She called to Vincent, who did freeze. "C-come one more step and I'll paint the roads red!" Your heart froze at the words and you stared at Vincent with terror in your eyes.

Jake looked pained and confused before Paige spoke to him. "This one's their bait. We can use em to bargain... might even get out," her voice was hushed as she spoke, eyes still on Vincent. "If you let us leave," she called to him after a moment, "we won't hurt your little honeytrap here!"

You knew better than to struggle at this point, the knifepoint too close to your throat for comfort.

Vincent nodded to the two of them slowly, signing just as slow. "Bo coming. Stay calm." Seems your two captives didn't understand sign enough to know what he was saying, which you were momentarily grateful for. Though a pathetic part of you found it sweet Vincent was trying to reassure you, likely knowing how freaked out you were.

Paige walked backwards through Ambrose, heading towards the edge of town, keeping her eyes on Vincent. Jake was struggling behind her and kept wincing in pain when his shoulder moved, the arrow still lodged in. Vincent followed close, not letting you out of his sight. If Paige thought he was too close, she'd hold the knife to your neck tighter and make you tell Vincent to stop.

It was horrible.

And you'd watched your friends die before.

The closer you got to the edge of town, the more your eyes were scanning for Bo. If he was coming, you wanted to know which way to run at least. But as you came to the end, you still hadn't seen him. Vincent seemed calm though. Or perhaps he was simply faking it for you.

Paige motioned for Jake to get in their car as she walked you backwards towards it, tightening the grip on her knife. As soon as Jake opened the driver side door and Paige was close by, she kicked you hard in the back away from her before hopping into the car and slamming the door behind her.

You didn't even spare her a glance as you ran straight into Vincent's arms, who held you tightly, one arm around your waist and the other hand tight in your hair. He was mumbling incoherently but you could tell from the tone he was relieved you were okay.

The real surprise came when the car blew up, a quick but powerful burst of fire and glass as Vincent turned to take the brunt of the impact and keep you safe.

Seems Bo had rigged the car to blow as soon as the engine started. Just in the nick of time. Bo pulled the two of them out of the wreckage, Vincent still needed his art supplies after all.

Hauling the two bodies to his truck, Bo let you and Vincent climb in for the drive up to the house, the masked brother not letting go of your hand for even a moment. As soon as the car stopped, you were headed directly to the house, Vincent on your heels. Bo could unpack the bodies, he knew what to do. In the meantime, Vincent herded you downstairs to his workshop, breathing heavily all the way.

In the light of his shop, you took in his appearance. Hair a bit messier, his eye wide and frantic with the adrenaline, and his hands and overalls stained with fresh blood. He paced the room anxiously, gesturing wildly to himself. "I'm sorry," you finally choked out, causing him to look up at you. "I know you told me to stay but... you hadn't come back, I was worried. I wanted to go looking for you."

The long haired man stared at you for a moment before signing. "I protect you." It was plain but effective. It made your heart hurt. "Don't worry about me."

"But who will protect you? Bo? What if you're both hurt and Lester's not here! What if they'd had guns instead of a knife and really hurt you! What if-" You were cut off by Vincent pulling you to his chest in a hug, letting him tangle his hand in your hair again as he pressed his forehead to your temple with a soft inhale.

You wrapped your arms around him and just stood there with him for a bit, listening to the soft crackling fire heating the wax Vincent would use for his latest figures.

Speaking of figures, "You two done?" Bo's voice cut through, "Or can I just leave these somewhere so I'm not standin' around?" He raised an eyebrow at Vincent, who shot him a look. "Hey, don't gimme that shit, ain't my fault it takes 'em nearly dyin' for you to realize you-" Bo was quickly shut up by Vincent roughly pushing him towards the stairs. "Alright, alright- quit pushin'!" You heard Bo's voice echo as he vanished down the tunnel towards the stairs.

As your protector shuffled back into the room, head hung in embarrassment, you giggled to yourself. "Alright Vince, how about a deal then," you cooed to him as he lifted his head, tilting it curiously. "I'll let you protect me, buuuut" you drawled, stepping closer and closer towards the taller Sinclair until you were right up to him. "You have to let me protect you sometimes."

He looked ready to protest till you leaned up and kissed his masked cheek, blushing when you watched him reach up to touch his face with the tips of his fingers. "Deal?" You asked him softly and got a gentle nod in response.

Vincent would make quick work to kiss the smug look off your face right then and there.

#🔪 creeps writes #creeps writes sfw #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #its minor but its there #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax #slasher fanfiction

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hooterhorror · 2 years

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Hope you're doing well 💕! I have a little request if ya don't mind, How would the slashers be like if they lived together as roomates? Tysm and don't forget to drink water ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING IDEA!! bet anon, I hope this was good!

Slashers are roommates.

format: headcanons

warnings: cursing. general crack.

RZ!Michael and the Sawyers.

I use he/she/they for bubba and they/them for choptop!

Rz!Myers has the prettiest blonde hair the family has seen. Even with his lack of self care for the longest time, his hair remains full of life. Opposes death just like The Shape himself does. choptop is always staring right at his hair and loudly asks "You gonna keep that hair or can I have it?"

how this family and Michael even met is beyond me, but it's funny to think about!

Drayton's yelling doesn't bother Michael all that much... In fact he usually stares the man down when he starts yelling about money and meat not being able to cut itself. Then the giant that is Myers turns to look at the others with a look that says "is he yelling at me? ME??"

Drayton's lucky Michael has some form of respect for him. Michael does sort of admire how this single man keeps this shit show of a family together and provides for everyone and has raised his brothers himself, so he isn't about to stab him for talking to him like that.

Isn't even the least a bit fazed by Bubba showing up in drag or with makeup on their mask. It's basically a normal Tuesday.

Hates how the twins kinda start to look up to Michael as an older brother figure, but it kinda tickles him. Especially when nubbins climbs him like a tree.. which he basically is.

Maybe eventually he'll let bubba paint his nails. Or choptop braid his hair (as long as he's sure they won't chop it off at a moments notice)

And damn does he grow protective of them.

if the group that winds up in town makes fun of any of them, Michael will just have to kill them where they stand.

Michael and Thomas respect each other. Luda Mae creeps Michael out.

yes a little old lady freaks out the Michael Myers. Have you seen her? Everyone talks about how she hooked a serial killer in the 60s across the face when she was younger and now he's careful what he does around her.

Brahms and the Sinclairs.

THIS WOULD BE SO FUNNY HEAR ME OUT- Brahms still seeks shelter in the walls and Bo absolutely hates it. Calls him a rat for it.

just imagine waking up in the dead of night to hear Bo shouting "BRAHMS GET OUT OF THOSE DAMN WALLS OR SO HELP ME GOD"

Brahms and Vincent get along really well. Brahms is more outgoing even if he hides in walls. He'll probably try to get Vincent to say fuck like he's a three year old.

Vincent teaches Brahms sign language and Brahms only ever uses the "bitch" sign at bo. Lester loses it and Bo starts shouting up a storm. They never physically fight, but Brahms does roughhouse with Lester!

Lester just leaps at Brahms and they roll around. Like they ain't grown men in the middle of the road just rolling around like a couple a kids. But that's exactly what they are.

Bo ends up treating Brahms like another annoying little brother. Even if they disagree and Brahms is spoiled and still adjusting to being a poor southern white man, there are moments where they share stories of their childhood and stories of the less than great moments.

Vincent's workspace is off limits to Brahms. Simply because Brahms would make a mess, but also Brahms wouldn't like seeing all those tiny flames.

platonic bro cuddles are common. Brahms is a cuddle bug and needs attention from his newfound family.

also hc that luda mae knew trudy sinclair and was legally the boys godmom. Therefore Brahms and the three brothers could meet Michael during the holidays at luda mae's. Chaos.

Billy Lenz and Stu M + Billy L.

I love the idea of Stu and Billy Loomis being in love and dating, but I typically write them separately and not as a poly with reader unless speociifed, btw. But let's say they're dating and living together and Billy Lenz cozies up in their attic.

Stu swears they have a rodent problem in the attic, Loomis says he'll call an exterminator and never does. Then the calls start.

Lenz is on his usual muttering spiel and snorts into the phone while Stu just stands there in a mix of horror and... indifference. I feel like Stu has seen some crazy things as he's grown up with Loomis so.... If anything he just corrects Lenz.

"Sorry dude, I'm not a girl."

*click*

seriously it's really funny. Stu becomes accustomed to the person in their attic while Loomis.... eh not so much. I mean they can't exactly call the police because Lenz has found their video tapes of murders and all that.... So it would be unwise.

Stu begins to bring up some dinner to Lenz and finds out his love for candy canes and liking towards Christmas, and the next time Loomis is up there it's decorated with their Christmas lights and there's a bag of mini candy canes that's been opened.

"Stu! Are you feeding that guy!?"

"yeah! he's really cool!"

Loomis tolerates Lenz but... but barely. Lenz is always ruining soft moments between the couple, and it's getting annoying!

Stu and Loomis could be cuddling on the couch and lenz will race downstairs holding up two rats he found, screaming and giggling about them. Stu encourages this behavior. Loomis hates it.

"What the hell!? put those down!!"

"C'mon he's just having fun! look at him!"

Stu knows more about lenz than Loomis, of course. It's why he understands lenz more and is trying to get Loomis to give him a chance and the benefit of the doubt

They have a bit of a "in love with each other + gremlin little brother who their older sibling is very proud of"

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smexy-slashers · 2 years

Text

Kiss

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

My irl friend requested this! So bae when you see this I hope it's okay TwT.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't remember how long you had been living down in the basement. Four months? Five? It didn't matter anymore; You were never going to leave, the twins wouldn't let you anyway. You would probably be killed if you tried, so being complacent was the wisest option.

Bo, the older and meaner of the twins, was the one you rarely saw, but dreaded when you did. On the occasion that he actually came down to the basement to talk to Vincent about his 'work', he treated you like a pet, or a chore he didn't want to do. God forbid you made eye-contant, because if you did, he jumped straight into insulting you, or, if he was in a particularly bad mood, attempting to hit you. Vincent, being your favorite of the two, never let him make contact though.

Vincent was a completely different story than Bo. He was probably the only reason you were still breathing. When you were passing through with your 'boyfriend', his car broke down. A man named Lester, who you could now identify as Bo and Vincent's baby brother, stumbled across the two of you and gave you a ride to the nearby town, Ambrose, to see the mechanic, Bo.

You didn't know when you realised something was terribly wrong, but by the time you did, your boyfriend was already dead, his body waxed up and in the 'house of wax' museum. You had escaped from Bo's slimy clutches, but Vincent wasn't far behind. It was at that point you knew that no matter what you did, you were going to die. There's no way you could fight off two fully grown men and win, even if you did have a weapon.

So, instead of kicking and screaming, you accepted your fate, and waited for the masked man to kill you. Your complacency had kept you alive, as once Vincent saw how defenseless and tired you were, he refused to harm you, going as far as to convince Bo to let him keep you.

That was how you ended up living in the basement with Vincent, who brought you meals twice a day and was probably the only person who treated you like a human being and not a pet dog.

At the moment, you were curled up on the basement floor, fiddling around with a piece of clay Vincent had given you to keep you occupied whilst he went out and dealt with a couple of survivors.

It had been quiet, until the basement door slammed up, causing you to jump and scramble under the work bench. Fear jolted through in that moment ; What if it wasn't Vincent or Bo?

You noticed a familiar pair of boots, which instantly made you relax, and you were about to come out, when they were joined by another pair.

"Ya useless fuck! The hell were you thinkin'?! She coulda gotten away and told the whole damn world what we been doin'! Ya wanna be locked up?"

It was Bo, and by the sound of it, was absolutely fucking furious, so, it was a good thing that you had decided to remain hidden, as if he had seen you he definitely would have taken his anger out on you instead of his brother.

"Fuckin freak...I dunno what Ma could see in you...jesus christ."

You frowned. This was too far, even if you knew Bo didn't mean any of it. He had a tendency to treat his brothers like pieces of scum if he was in a bad mood, and you doubted that he apologized for it later.

After a few more grumbled insults, the sound of footsteps echoed up the stairs, and the basement door was slammed shut once more.

"Vincent...?"

You called out carefully, watching as his movement paused and he crouched down to peer under his work bench, regarding you with a small head tilt, as if asking what you were doing.

"Sorry..I thought someone else had come down here so I hid..are you...okay?"

He said nothing, like always, but called you forward with a beckoning hand. You complied, crawling towards him and allowing the behemoth of a man to carefully pull you into his lap.

Vincent liked being physically affectionate with you, which you had a come to find out a few weeks in to your captivity. He was a gentle giant, not being able to convey anything through words, so he took to soft touches and delicate strokes of your skin to demonstrate his liking towards you.

You clutched the fabric of his jacket to keep yourself steady, balancing your body on his knee as he kneaded the flesh of your thigh, pressing the nose of his wax mask into your hair and inhaling deeply; You shivered.

Vincent was the main reason you had begun to tolerate your permanence here, as you knew you were never escaping with your life. You leaned into his touch, craving it, as he was the only one who touched you anymore.

"I'm sorry...about what your brother said.."

You mumbled against him, and he sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small sticky note and a pen. He scribbled down his answer, then showed it to you

'Not your fault. Never your fault.'

"I know but...I feel bad. I'd intervene but...Bo would probably kill me if I tried.."

Vincent audibly growled, making you jump as he rarely ever made a sound. He scribbled down something again, and your heart warmed at the words.

'I won't let him. You're mine'

You should of been disturbed as his declaration of you being his, but you weren't. It made you feel safe, protected even. You knew that aslong you stayed here, and you belonged to him, nothing would hurt you again.

"I'm yours" you affirmed, and he let out a pleased grumbled into the base of your neck as you played with his long, black hair, twirling the strands between your fingers.

Vincent scooped you up easily, carrying you over to the bed in the corner that you both shared. He laid you down, then climbed in beside you, resting a hand at your hip and you stared into his blue eye. You smiled.

"Can I kiss you?"

You asked absentmindedly, suprising even yourself. You hadn't thought about it much, but you felt something for Vincent, beyond platonic boundaries, and beyond the fact that he was your caretaker.

Vincent stared at you for a long time, and you considered retracting your request, but then he pulled you closer to him and liften his mask up just enough to reveal his lips, half of which were terribly scarred.

You saw this as permission, swiftly leaning forward and kissing him gently, closing your eyes and melting into his warmth. He sighed into you, causing a shiver to run down your spine, and when you broke apart for air, you found yourself light headed and flushed.

No words were said after the kiss, but there wasn't need for sound. The way he held you afterwards was your confirmation that he shared what you were feeling for him this entire time.

#vincent sinclair #slashers

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