#bo sincalir

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

May I have Thomas Hewitt or Bubba Sawyer giving their S/O breast massages after breastfeeding their baby (Slashers and their S/O's baby) You can add other slashers if you like. Even I'm starting to like the Sinclairs

Bodacious boob brimming ask bro!

Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, and Lester Sinclair, AFAB! Reader, gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous reader, fluff, some suggestive content, headcanons, mentions of breastfeeding, boob massaging, not really NSFW but I still tagged it since I go into some light detail

Thomas Hewitt

you rarely breastfed your baby directly

instead you opted to pump then store the milk for later

while you didn't mind Luda Mae or Thomas watching you breastfeed your baby, Hoyt and Monty were another thing

So you pumped, stored, bottled, then fed your baby like that

But the silicone flange on your pump cracked then tore rendering the device useless until you can get new ones

So you opted to do things the old fashioned way

You never realized how spoiled you were with that fancy pump until you actually had to have your baby drink directly from the tap

It wasn't an unbearable pain but man did you prefer the pump

Afterwards it felt like your breasts were twice as sore than usual

And lucky you with your big bear of a man to come to your rescue

Thomas held you in his lap with your back to his chest and took handfuls of your breasts

He softly rolled your boobs in his hand trying to be careful not to get too rough with your poor sore body

And while you were getting relief from your previous feeding session, Thomas was starting to use your breasts as stress balls

There is just something about how soft and squishy your chest is that really helps him relax

Honestly, he turns massaging your breasts into a daily thing

It's less of a sexual thing with Thomas and more of loving way to destress with you

Bo Sinclair

He can't keep it in his pants

However, it surprised you that he mind your breastfeeding

It wasn't sexual to him, you're the parent of his child doing your part in taking care of it

"Now don't you go drinkin' 'em dry," Bo teased one day, "gotta save some for your pops."

A teasing comment once every blue moon was all that came from him

If you're really tired, he'll hold your guys' baby for you while the little thing suckles

Now when you asked for him to rub your breasts?

Bo went and took it the wrong way

He immediately went for your nipples and became confused when you hissed and pulled away

"Not like that!" you whined grabbing his calloused hands, palm down, to press to your sore breasts

Bo is still turned on by this but will gladly massage your breasts

You don't have to ask him twice

"My baby's all spent and sore?" he'd coo in a low voice as his hands worked wonders in easing the tension in your tits

Having Bo massage you would most likely turn into sex

He just can't help himself with your beautiful body that gave birth to his kid relaxing under his hands

Maybe if you weren't so irresistible, Bo would be less horny

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent suggested that you pump in private or breastfeed in private since he doesn't know how Bo will react

The last thing he wants is some sleazy comment being slung at you by his brother

But Vincent was delightfully surprised when Bo didn't say anything

Sure he glanced to see if he could see some titty but other than that he didn't care

"Glad I dont have to worry 'bout accidentally drinkin' your breastmilk," Bo joked when he learned how you'd rather breastfeed than pump

Vincent on the other hand

He was pretty pumped, pun intended, to drink from you

Massaging your breasts? He's already on it

Long fingers gently rolling the fat of your chest against his palms

Holding and lifting them a little so you could get some relief from their weight

A teasing swipe over your nipple that has you sending a playful warning glance at him

Sit on his lap while he sketches and he'll use your boob like a stress ball with his free hand

Vincent is so gently with your sore breasts you'd honestly fallen asleep one time while he massaged and played with them

Lester Sinclair

Lester gets slightly flushed when he sees you breastfeed

it's less him getting turned on by the act but more that your titty is out

And boy does he love your boobs

He'd help you pump if that's easier

While he does get a little flustered while you're breastfeeding, he still loves to cuddle up to you and your baby while it feeds

Lester would run his hand along the back of the baby's head just in awe at what you two had created

He's at your beck and call whenever you're breastfeeding

Lester has 100% hand fed you while you breastfed your baby

Now when the baby has its post-meal nap, you don't even have to ask twice

His hands are on your breasts the second you put your baby down

It's 50/50 whether Lester turns the massage sexual

Sometimes he just likes reviling in the trust you have for him and how much he loves you as his hands work on your sore boobs

Lester massages your breasts to he's worship the body that birthed his child

The course skin on his hands dragging over your shirt covered breasts as they work out your soreness

He absolutely melts when you lean into him while he's rubbing your boobs

The relaxed look on your face makes him want to cry and hold you until you realize how much he absolutely adores you

Other times, Lester likes to try to get you riled up during the massage

A quick kiss to your neck, a little jiggle, oops did he rub your nipple?

Honestly, he's tried your breastmilk out of curiosity more than any sort of kink

Lester isn't one to actively seek our your breastmilk but he does love sucking your titties and he isn't disappointed when he gets a little snack in the process

#my writing #slashers #slasher #slasher fandom #vincent sinclair #bo sincalir #lester sinclair #thomas hewitt #slasher smut #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x reader smut #slasher fluff #slasher x reader fluff

[fic-crews]

Southern Charm:

Just a reminder, you guys can ask for any kind of fic at any time on here. We’d be happy to write for you. You can request from either one of us or both of us! We appreciate the support. But since there are no current suggestions, this one is for Moth and me. I’m testing out my new first name/ potential nickname in this. But I hope you guys enjoy reading it anyways.

Moth sat upright in the front seat, his feet up on the dashboard and their arm lazily on the window sill. Frances had told them many times this wasn't safe, but he never wanted to listen. Frances was a worry wort, always taking care of everyone else. But this personality trait wasn't very appreciated in college groups. So they remained quiet.

The car suddenly started to slow down, the sound of the engine sputtering catching everyone's attention. The man driving pulled over to the side of the road and got out. The two vapid college girls on either side of Frances got out to, doating over the boy.

"What's wrong with it?" One of them asked.

The boy shoved her back, not in the mood for her stupid questions. Moth and Frances looked at each other and snickered under their breath. Moth spun in his seat now, turning his full attention to his younger companion.

"I know that look. Relax, everything's going to be fine."

Frances shook their head.

"It's probably just something small we can get fixed in a nearby town. Then we will be back on our way to the cabin." He attempted to assure them.

"Bad feeling" Frances signed.

Moth sighed, there was no changing Frenchie’s mind once they had it set on something. The rest of the group made fun of them for this, but Moth couldn’t help but believe they actually had a sixth sense. Frenchie jumped when the car door flew open. Mathew threw open the drivers side door in a rage.

“Fucking fan belts broken!” He shouted.

Moth sent a glare his way. He glanced up in the rearview mirror where Frances signed “bad feeling” once more.

Just as Moth pulled out his phone to call AAA, a truck came down the road and stopped next to them.

“You folks need some help?” The man asked.

The two girls, Amber and Sasha, flinched away from the dirty looking man. Mathew rolled his eyes in Moth’s direction, a silent exclamation of his disgust. Moth glared at the back of his head when he turned around.

“Do you know anywhere around here where I can get a fan belt?“

“Sure do buddy, there a little down just a few miles down the road called Ambrose. Can hook y’a up with the mechanic.”

The man in the truck sent a smile to Frances who sheepishly smiled back.

“How many miles?”

“Just ‘bout three. Straight line, town directory right up front can’t miss it. I could drive y’all.”

Mathew could feel the girls discomfort. He may have been a bonehead, but he wasn’t completely stupid.

“I think we’ll walk. Thank you.” He spoke bitterly.

His tone didn’t go unnoticed by the man.

“Actually I’ll take a ride.” Moth added.

Franchie’s eyes widened. They were sure they didn’t have to remind Moth about stranger danger. But they had to admit, there weren’t many more options. There was no way they could walk 3 miles with their health condition, and they don’t want to stay in the van out in the middle of nowhere.

Mathew grabbed Moth’s bicep, sending him a warning look.

“Relax Matt, we’ll be fine. See you there.”

When he didn’t let go, Moth pried his finger off of their arm. Moth hopped into the passenger seat of the truck.

“What about you little buddy? You gonna walk with your friends?”

Frances shook their head. They weren’t quite ready to sit next to this strange man. Nothing against him personally, but they didn’t even have his name yet. They crawled out of the back of the van, and hurdled themself into the bed of the truck. They plopped down and glanced through the window at Moth.

“Alrighty then. Anyone else? You ladies sure ya want to walk in them fancy heels ya got on?”

“They’re fine, thank you.” Mathew spat.

The truck started rolling down the road. Moth made some small talk with the man, learning his name was Lester. Frances could only hear bits and pieces as the window was open. But they weren’t paying much attention. They fidgeted with the stuff in the back of the truck, passing time until they pulled into town.

Moth hopped out of the truck, and Lester was quick to follow. Moth made his way around the back where he found Frenchie sort of spacing out.

“Earth to French, hello!“ he jeered.

Frances looked up at him.

“We’re here. Wanna come check out the auto shop with me?”

Frances shook their head no.

“Still have your bad feeling?”

They nodded.

“New people.” They sighed.

“Alright, you can stay back here. I won’t be gone long. The others should be here soon, and we’ll come get you when we’re done.”

Frances watched as Lester lead Moth into town. Their mind wandered a bit thinking back to his hands. It was they first thing they noticed about people. Force of habit from signing.

Moth felt bad for leaving them behind, but they knew it would be much worse if they had a panic attack. As they entered the auto shop they looked around.

“Yo Bo, got a customer for y’a!”

Moth watched as the man slid out from under the car he was working on. His heart fluttered when they made eye contact. The man was quite handsome, better than most of the boys back home that was sure. He was greasy and dirty just like Lester, but something about it was attractive. Meant they worked hard for what they had, unlike Mathew who got handed his daddy’s money on a silver platter. That’s the whole reason they could afford this spring break trip in the first place.

“We’ll hello there.” Bo said.

His accent was thicker than Lester’s and it made Moth’s legs weak.

“What can I do for y’a?”

“Their car broke down few miles out, others decided to walk, should be here soon.” Lester informed the mechanic.

It was like their words had a second meaning, but Moth paid no mind to their strange dynamic. It was none of their business anyway.

“You can go now Les.” Bo said.

Lester knew when he wasn’t needed anymore. He chuckled under his breath at his brother's clearly smitten look. He figured this time would be fun.

Moth stood there, arms crossed over their chest while he waited for the others to come. He couldn't help but be slightly anxious in this man's company. Bo was quite handsome, and it made Moth a little nervous. Boys back home didn't look like this, and they didn't have that accent either. Moth contemplated asking a question, just to hear him speak again. But it seems like the gods were willing to answer his silent prayers today.

"Know what's wrong with it?" Bo asked.

Moth shook their head.

"Not a clue, I don't even have my license to drive the damn thing."

Bo chuckled, smiling into the collar of his shirt as he wiped his brow with his serve.

"City folk." He jeered.

"Need any help?" Moth offered weakly.

"Thanks, City Boy, but I'd prefer this truck stay functional."

Moth raised his hands in defeat.

"Why don't ya go on and sit over there. I'll wait for y'ur little friends and go check on y'ur car."

He didn't have to be asked twice. Moth hopped up on the bed of the adjacent truck and watched Bo work. They were shamelessly gawking, and kind of glad their friends were slow walkers. He watched as Bo's arms flexed in his shirt. The care oil shining in all the right places. Those damn jeans looked so tight on his ass, it would almost be a crime not to admire it.

Bo wasn't oblivious to his staring. He was used to the ladies giving him a once over, and the men glaring at him just for existing. He sort of enjoyed the attention, it was new to him, but he didn't mind it.

"So where were ya'll headed?"

"I have no clue, you'd have to ask Mathew."

"Y'a don't know much do y'a?"

Moth took no offence to the question.

"I don't ask if it's not my business. A free vacation is a free vacation. I don't care where we go. I'd be fine staying right here actually."

Bo's grin grew wider at that. Little did Moth know how true that statement would become. Moth looked down at their phone, getting a text from Frances.

Frances: They just passed me, sending them your way.

"Friends are almost here." Moth declared.

"Why'd they walk anyways, I'm sure they could have fit in Les' truck."

"City folk." Moth mocked Bo's earlier statement.

"Y'a know, y'ur quite funny there, what's your name?"

"Moth."

Bo stood there stunned for a moment, before laughing slightly.

"Now I know yu'r parents must have been the hippy type. That's some name y'a got pretty boy."

Moth blushed slightly at the statement. They squirmed under Bo's stare.

"So is Bo short for anything or..."

"Just Bo." "Just Bo. I like it."

The tension in the room was cut when the others arrived. Moth couldn't even get out a greeting before one of the vapid college girls opened her mouth.

"God it's hot out here. Everything feels all sticky. Do you have a bathroom mister?"

"In the house, the front door's unlocked. Turn to your left, right under the stairs." The annoyance could be heard loud and clear in Bo's voice. He didn't like being interrupted. Mathew took note of this and glared at the southern man.

"We need a fan belt, have any in your shop?"

"Course I got some, what kind of car you got?" Bo growled out.

"Mathew-" Moth said in a warning tone.

Moth wasn't one to speak up much, but he didn't take to kindly to disrespect. Even if it was coming from one of his 'friends'. They didn't look very big, but they knew they could best Mathew in a fight if they ever had to. But Frances usually kept things from getting to that point. They locked eyes in a silent battle for a moment, before Mathew finally broke away.

"I can fix it myself if you just give me the piece, no need to drag you away from your current project," Mathew concluded.

"S'no problem at all. Girls can stay here, there's some lemonade in the house. Take me to the car and I'll check it out, make sure y'a ain't gonna break down again when I send yall on your way."

"I like that plan Matty, I'm exhausted." The other girl whined.

"Course y'a are a doll, you're wearing the wrong shoes for walkin'" Bo joked.

Mathew's jaw tensed at Bo's compliment. But Bo flirted with everyone. This girl wasn't the object of his affection. She was just something in the way of his prize. The girl tried to drag Moth into the house, but they protested.

"I'll stay here, in case Frances comes looking for us. They won't know we're up at the house, and we don't need them having a panic attack."

"Yeah, where are they? You sure that creep didn't ya know-"

The girl drew her finger across her highly decorated neck for emphasis. Bo glared at the back of her head. Of course, she didn't know she was talking about his little brother. But he didn't take too kindly to her accusations. He'd definitely make her death slow he decided.

"Yeah, Moth why would you leave them alone?" Mathew chimed in.

"They can take care of themselves, fuck you very much. They wanted to stay back in the trick, so I let them. It's not like you three even care."

Moth crossed their arms over their chest again. Mathew scoffed.

"Whatever."

Moth watched as everyone parted ways, waiting patiently for Bo to come back.

Frances heard foot step approaching the truck and raised their head up from their phone. They glanced out the window and saw Lester approaching. They crawled over to the driver's seat and stuck their head out the window.

"Moth?" They asked.

Lester raised his brow at them in confusion.

"Friend."

"Oh, y'ur friend. Took 'em down to Bo's shop. Should be able to fix up the car real quick."

They nodded.

"You shouldn't stay in my truck, gets pretty hot in there, and the bones start to smell."

They shrugged.

"Being serious, the sun gets pretty hot."

They pushed open the door and squirmed out, wriggling their way onto the dusty road. Lester caught them looking back at the truck.

"Don't worry, I ain't takin' y'a far. Y'ur friends will come find y'a. Just don't want y'a burning in the sun is all."

They started following behind Lester as they walked toward the middle of town. Lester began to whistle a tune and Frances started humming along.

"Y'a know that song?" Lester asked.

They nodded. COntinuing to hum it as they skipped behind him.

"Y'ur pretty chipper, y'a know that right?"

"Like you." They said plainly, with a small smile.

"Well shucks, Darlin' y'ur makin' me blush."

They giggled softly, not used to having this effect on people. They grabbed Lester's hand in a vote of confidence and continued walking toward town.

"Y'a see that building right there? That's the house of wax."

Lester explained. He watched as their eyes lit up, and they started pulling him towards it. He smiled after them, excited by their enthusiasm. He decide right then he wouldn't let his brothers touch them. They didn't talk much anyway, what harm could they be. He watched as their eyes widened comically larger once they were inside.

They quickly ran around the room, inspecting every piece of art thoroughly. Lester broke his eyes away from them when he had a creek in the floor.

"Oh, hey Vincent!" He greeted his brother. A way to break his attention away from the "Intruder"

Frances turned their eyes to the large man. Both men expected they to shy away in disgust like everyone always did. But they were presently surprised. Frances walked up to him and held out their hand, silently asking about his mask. Vincent just starred.

"This is my brother Vincent, he made all the art in here. Made that mask too."

Frances bounced up and down on their tippy toes, a low squeel coming out of their mouth. It was possibly the cutest thing Lester had very seen. They even did a little spin, jumping around in a circle. Vincent seemed to relax a little around them, but looked at his brother oddly.

"Their friend's car broke down, everyone's up at eh shop with Bo. They didn't want to go, so I figured y'a wouldn't mind if I showed them the house of wax."

Lester turned his attention back to them.

"Lookin' pretty happy over there." Frances frowned, thinking he was mocking them. Lester quickly regretted his words. He knew insecurities when he saw them, he lived with Vincent after all.

"Sorry." They muttered.

"No, no I like it. It's a good thing, right Vinny?" Lester asked his brother for help.

He wasn't very good at these things. Bo was always the charismatic one. But Vincent read a lot, he knew a lot in theory. Vincent nodded his head at the both of them. Frances held out their hand to Lester who gladly took it. They started jumping up and down again, coaxing him to do the same. Vincent watched with a smile under his mask as his little brother had fun, letting loose for once.

He understood his brother's intentions now. To mark this one as off-limits. He hoped he wouldn't have to do anything. Their light was too bright to stomp out. Frances turned their attention to Vincent.

"No speak?" they asked.

He shook his head no.

"Sign?" He sighed yes.

They smiled up at him.

"Ok."

"What's your name, Buzzy Bee?" Lester asked.

They blushed furiously at the nickname. Hiding their head behind their hands.

"Fr-Frances. Friends call me Frenchie. But you can call me Buzzy Bee if you want." The mumbled. Their voices disappeared as the sentence went on.

Vincent almost swore he could taste how sweet this moment was. He'd never seen something so adorable in his entire life. He was happy his brother was happy.

"Frances, I like it."

They shy away further, heads feeling like they would explode from the heat rushing to their cheeks. They pointed over at Vincent's face.

"Mask." They said.

Lester chuckled under his breath. Vincent's shoulder shook in a silent laugh.

"Y'a don't have to hide from us Buzzy Bee, y'ur safe here."

The three of them walked around the House of Wax, Vincent signing anytime they'd ask a question. It was nice to have someone else to talk to, especially about art.

Moth groaned in frustration as the sun went down further in the sky. They hadn't gotten a text from Frances in a while and began to worry. Come to think of it, they hadn't heard from anyone in hours. He got up from his spot and began to wander around. Until he heard a noise that never meant good things. A gunshot rang out, followed by a girlish scream.

He absentmindedly ran toward the sound. He saw one of the girls crawling away, blood all over her. They looked down at her cofnsued.

"Help me!" She begged.

She attempted to crawl up Moth's pant leg, but Moth stared down at her in disgust. She was getting him all filthy. He broke eye contact with her to see Bo approaching with a shotgun. Bo paused when he saw him.

"I can explain-" Moth held up their hand to silence him.

"No need."

Moth kicked her in the chin, a sick crack ringing through the air. The girl fell backwards onto the hard ground, clutching her bleeding mouth. Bo stared at Moth in shock.

"Been wanting her gone since the dumb slut stole my boyfriend. She and her stupid friend were never mice to Frenchie anyway. Only hung out with them for the money."

Bo smirked widely at this.

"Want to do the honours pretty boy?"

He knew it was risky, giving a victim the gun, but he couldn't help but trust him. Something about the way Moth looked at him, made him seem serious. Moth took the shotgun gladly, cocking it like it was what he was trained to do. She began to beg, but he stepped on her neck, pointing the gun at her forehead.

"This is the part where I'm supposed to say something witty? I'm not witty."

The gunshot rang through the air and the girl was silenced. Moth handed the gun off to Bo.

"The others are dead too aren't they?"

"Kinda what we do with tourists."

Moth hummed contently, lost in thought.

"What about Frenchie?"

"If your friend went to the House of Wax, they probably ain't make it. I'm sorry."

Bo felt himself actually seeming sorry for this man. Moth frowned.

"I don't know, that idiot's pretty hard to kill." They chuckled.

Bo looked at him curiously.

"Deaths tried to claim them so many times, we stopped counting. It's kind of an inside joke at this point. You could chop off their legs and they'd flat put refuse to bleed out." Moth laughed a little louder.

Bo debated if they were going crazy for a moment. But he didn't care, he liked them crazy.

"We could go check, but I wouldn't get your hopes up City Boy."

"You better hope they're alive Country Boy, cause this-" Moth gestured between them, "Ain't happening otherwise."

Moth patted his shoulder in condescension. No rolled his eyes. Bo led Moth over to the house of wax, silently praying his friend was alive. He was pleasantly surprised when he heard laughter upon approaching. He pushed open the door, and Moth followed after. A smirk grew on Moth's face at the scene before him.

Frances lay on the floor, clutching their side as they laughed historically. Lester leaned against the wall, trying to hold himself up. And Bo stared at his twin as his mask was off. He wondered for a second what was going on.

"Cute," Frances said between laughs.

Vincent frowned signing an "I am not cute." In a huff.

"Face it, Vinny, you can't take back their compliment. I mean look at that face"

Vincent sighed about to put his mask back on, but Frances quickly stood up, asking for it. Bo watched the strange encounter, never seeing his brothers so open with a stranger before. Vincent reluctantly handed it over to them, and they slipped it on their head. A soft giggle left their mouth as they spun with the mask on, showing it off. They all stopped when they noticed the others. Frances waved at Moth, and Moth waved back.

"Glad to see you're having fun," Moth said.

Frances took off the mask and handed it back to Vincent, running up to give Moth a hug. But then frowned when they noticed something wet. They stepped back.

"You're bleeding?" They asked, suddenly worried.

The three brothers watched the situation carefully, silently discussing how this would end. None of them want the newcomers to leave, and none of them wanted to pull the literal or metaphorical trigger.

"Not mine. You want to stay here?" Moth asked.

Bo watched the most carefully, waiting for the younger stranger to pull back in disgust.

"We can stay?"

Moth nodded. "Mhmm, we just have the follow the rules, but you're pretty good at that."

"But Mathew-"

"Isn't a problem anymore. It's just us and them now. So, you want to give Ambrose a try?"

Frances nodded, squealing happily.

"New home! New friends!"

Moth smiled as he watched them run back over to Lester and tackle the poor man in a hug. Everyone in the room broke out into laughter. Moth opened his arms and signed for Bo to come over. Bo hesitantly walked over into their arms.

"So what do you say Country Boy? Want to show me your room?" Moth asked with a smirk.

"I thought you'd never ask City Boy."

AN: I wanted to write some more non-verbal/semi-verbal characters. As someone with autism, sometimes we don't like to use many words when it's too hard to speak. I don't usually get the luxury of going non verbal in my life, people always think I'm mad if I'm not talking. So I wanted to express it in my writing a bit, and I really enjoyed writing this. Also, peep the teen wolf reference.

#slasher #slasher x reader #slasher boyfriend #slasher best friend #bo sincalir #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bo Sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader

[house-of-slayterr]

When you type “Bo Flag” instead of “Bi Flag”

#bo sincalir #Bo memes #Bo flag #my sexuality is bo Sinclair #house of wax edit #house of wax #house of wax meme #fairy bo #Bo Sinclair meme #slasher #slasher meme #bisexual #Bi flag #i actually did this so I had to make it

[small-sinclair]

Never Leave

Dad!Bo x preg!fem reader

Tw: nightmare, blood, death

“Say you’ll never leave me?” Bo whispers, resting your head on his shoulder. Blood drips from your chest like a waterfall even when he tries to to stop it with his hands. He’s choking back tears as he rocks back and forth. “Say it, y/n. Just say it.”

“I’ll nev-never leave y-you,” you stuttered, trying so hard to breath, to stay awake. “I-I won’t leave.”

“Stay with me? Love me?”

You brought a shaky hand to his cheek, and he holds it there, kissing the palm. His eyes shimmer as tears fall like an open dam. “Y/n? Don-don’t leave me. Don’t leave’ me alone.”

You tried to keep your eyes open, but it’s too heavy and too much all at once. You look up and smile to yourself. The stars are out tonight. You love stars.

“Bo,” you breathed. “Stars… the stars are out…”

He watched a tear leave your eyes as the light blew out like a candle.

******************

Bo wakes up screaming your name. Sweat covered his forehead as his head snapped over to your spot in bed.

You weren’t there.

“No,” he breathed, his breath shaky and scared. “No. Y/n?” He got out of bed in a flash. “Y/n!” It’s a dream, it has to be!

Bo flew down the steps and rounded the corner towards the kitchen. He lets out a tired sigh when he sees you with a pint of ice cream on the counter and a spoon in your mouth. You looked back at him like a deer in the head lights before eating your ice cream again.

“Baby,” he stammers as he enter the room. He starts to cry when he hugs you tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut as he liters you with quick kisses. “Darlin’, don’t leave lik’ ‘at again.”

You stood confused but you hug him. You rubbed his back and let him cry in your shoulder. “Where’s this coming from?” You asked. “Nightmare?”

He doesn’t say anything as he sobs in your shoulder. He thought he lost you. He thought you and Dallas were gone for good. He can’t lose you… he can’t. “Don’t leave me. Never leave.” He let’s up and rested his head against your forehead. “Never leave.”

You run his fingers through his curls and nod. “I won’t, honeycomb,” you kissed his lips. “I promise.” You look back at the counter then at him. “Baby wants ice cream.”

“Yeah?” He tries to center himself, and you can see he’s really trying.

Then an idea hits.

“I know what’ll cheer you up. Wanna feel something cool?” You take his hands and lower them to your stomach. He looked at you confused then eyes lit up as he felt a little kick. He looked down then back up, mouth a gap. The nightmare that he had soon became a memory as he felt another kick. He laughs nervously and happily, sad tears turning into joy.

“Our-our boy?” He asked in disbelief. “He’s kickin’?”

“And wants ice cream,” you added, nodding at the carton behind him. “He woke me up and brought me to the freezer. I think he wants that.”

He grabs the ice cream and hands it to you. You started wolfing it down, humming in content. You look back up at him, smile, and rested your head on his shoulder. He swings an arm around you before kissing your head.

“Besides,” you started, “the boy needs you. I need you. Jasmine needs you— why would I leave a perfectly good man that loves me?” Your hand held his cheek, and he held it there, kissing the palm. “I love you, Beauregard.”

He leans into you touch. The nightmare tuck behind his brain and never came back. He has love for you. Only you. “I love you more, y/n.”

And what a promise that makes him whole.

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair fluff #bo sincalir fanfic #bo sinclair fanfic #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x female reader #dad bo #dad bo sinclair #dad!bo sinclair #dad bo sincliar x y/n #dad!bo sinclair x reader

[adalwolfgang]

He would do this to you.

#x reader #reader insert #house of wax #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair fluff #bo sincalir fanfic #slasher memes #slasher movies

[poquespoke]

Bo: Oh fuck, what's the password for Vincent's cell phone?

Lester: Try his birthday.

Bo: ...

Lester: YOU'RE FUCKING TWINS!

Bo: Oh! right!

#Bo Sincalir #Lester Sinclair #Vincent Sinclair #slasher #house of wax

[datenightfright]

Bo lover here. God I love the way you write him ♡♡♡ How would Bo react to finding out his bf was abused in the past? He knows Bo would never hurt him, but be still flinches sometimes when Bo moves to fast, or curls in on himself when voices are raised around the Sinclair house. It's something I find myself struggling with with loud friends in my irl life so I thought I'd ask.

Thank you so much! I was worried I made him too much of an asshole. If you ever wanna talk, my inbox is open.

Bo tries hard not to get loud when you’re around, but he’s a passionate man, it’s hard for him to keep his emotions in check all the time. In all honesty, he feels guilty when you flinch away from him. He should know better, he comes from a broken home too. 

He may forget himself from time to time, but one thing he’ll never do is make you feel guilty about the flinching. There’s never a “I’m not gonna hit you, stop flinching,” or a “It happened years ago, get over it.” It’s always, “I’m sorry baby, I know you don’t like the yelling,” Or “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you darling,” He’ll always make up for it with hugs, and kisses, if that’s alright with you. 

#house of wax #bo sincalir #ask answeredmdrabble

[scarychica]

Lester Sinclair making dinner like:

Vincent Sinclair making dinner like:

Bo Sinclair making dinner like:

Yes I will apply to be wifey and save these men from themselves.

#house of wax (2005) #slasher memes #slasher community #house of wax #vincent sincalir #house of wax 2005 #slasher love #horror love #horror meme #slasher meme #lester sinclair #bo Sinclair #Sinclair twins #I got jokes #dinner meme #dank memes #men be like

[slasherstuff]

Sinclair bros reacting to their S/O coming home injured 'cause of a victim

Anon:Can I request the Sinclair brothers with their s/o that comes home injured due to a victim that escaped.

a/n:In conclusion:i do not know how to write for Bo

Bo sinclair:

🏹 ohohoh...is this man pissed. You could stare at him for a whole decade and couldn't figure out if he was more mad at a) the victim for being a bitch b) yourself for being dumb enough to get involved somewhere you shouldn't or c) himself for not protecting you like hes supposed to.

🏹 there's two things he's gonna do in chronological order once his brain clicks about what happened.Number one: go literally feral on the victim.Doesn't matter where they are he IS going to find them even if it takes the whole day .

🏹 number two: take care of you but in the most dickhead way possible all while yelling in your face and lecturing you how you should be more careful and what not. The reason being because he cares(as much as he can)

🏹 maybe,just maybe,if he's feeling kind enough he'll go softer on you for a few days.No,not that babying kind of shit. Just not gonna make you do as much chores

Vincent Sincalir:

🕯 unlike his brother Bo, Vincent's first instinct is to help you and make sure nothings broken,no wounds are infected and for all the bruises and hurt places with no wound to be taken care of.(imagine vincent in a nurse outfit!!!Someone please draw that I'll pay you all of the 0.30$ i got)

🕯 makes Bo take care of the victim. Like yeah, Vincent could and would defiantly take care of them himself if it came as far as them hurting you. But,in this case, he doesn't have time. You are his first priority and he's not leaving you at all, but the victim needs to be taken care of asap so they don't escape further

🕯 another one that blames himself(most of the slashers i write for would tbh.That's your luck when I don't write for Freddy or Chucky).If you were there with him or he made sure for you to be in a safe place like inside his room than this wouldn't have happen.

🕯 goes a bit over protective for A WHILE(like good 10 or more months).Everywhere you go you must hve supervision(not including Lester).After like 6pm you're only allowed inside and in case any victim in in the vacinity you need to be in the basement with him

🕯 No,it is not your fault and you are not being punished.Its just better to prevent anything from happening than to clean your wounds.Just in case u kno'?

Lester Sinclair

💥 Takes a moment or two to process just whats happening. Like,tries to connect how the fuck it has come to that point,just imagine him staring into the distance very shocked.

💥 Reacts super quickly after the initial process of taking all in. Asks questions from how did they hurt you to do you see who the victim was or at least some feature that could help him recognize exactly who did that to you.

💥 Taking quick care of you while deciding whether he should just tell Bo to go after the victim or do it himself.On one hand,he would feel bad to leave you alone and struggling with open wound.Yet on the other,hes so frustrated with what happened he would want them to disappear out of this world.

💥 Decides to stay with you. You're his first and only priority and if something happened to you while he was away he could not get over with. Giving in on his anger is not worth possibly sacrificing the only good thing that happened to him

💥 No matter the recovery process,he would try to take it easy on you. He cannot ignore his job or duties and stay with you at home,but if youre up for it he'll take you with him in his truck or if not he'll leave you with Bo or Vincent

#house of wax 2005 #lester+sinclair+x+reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #slashers+reactions #slashers headcanons #slashers x reader #slasher

[pink-apollo]

Hello and welcome to this weird and magical place of my blog! Under the cut are the basic guidelines I have and what I write and do not write for as well as the fandom and characters! I hope you guys stick around and enjoy yourselves💕 :)

🎀Requests Open🎀

>IN PROGRESS MASTERLIST<

What I write for💜

⭐️Preferences

⭐️ Headcanons

⭐️ imagines

⭐️Sfw

⭐️Nsfw

⭐️Fluff

⭐️Maybe a bit of angst (I write a lot fluff)

⭐️drabbles

WHAT I DO NOT WRITE FOR💀

⭐incest

⭐️Forced

⭐️Rape

⭐️Degradation

⭐️Harassment

⭐️Death

⭐️under age

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR

⭐️Call of duty

⭐️Rainbow Six Siegep

⭐️ Assassin’s Creed

⭐️House of wax

⭐️Texas chainsaw massacre

⭐️Gears of war

⭐️My bloody valentine

Side Notes:

⭐️Any hate will be deleted! There is no room in my ask box for hate,slurs, etc.

⭐️Sometimes I cannot simply get to requests because of work and stuff at home. I am also in college at the moment, or just not particularly feeling it that day.

⭐️My dms and ask box are always open! Please feel free to send a message! I always look forward to them. This is a safe space for everyone!! 

Slashers

Sincalirs

*Helping their s/o when sick

*How they are with affection

Lester sinclair

*S/O that’s like Jessica Rabbit

*Lester coming home to a home cooked meal

*calling lester adorable

Bo sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

*Showering vincent with kisses

*S/o who’s having a burn out 

Thomas Hewitt

*Staying up late with Thomas

Harry Warden 

*Late night with Harry

Rainbow six

in progress....

Call of duty

in progress.....

Assassin’s Creed

in progress.....

Dead By Daylight

in progress.....

[softmary]

I HAVE NO LIFE AND I NEED VALIDATION SO HERE

TW: Cringe. So much cringe. Why did I do this-

How I think I would get along with the slashers if they somehow spared me because of an unfitting reason that only happens on my imagination because irl they would totally destroy me:

Jason Voorhees: in a relationship? If he wanted to, I wouldn't turn him down! I feel like the motherly/housewife is a type he can like. Then again, this might just be me trying to convince myself that I'm worth it- If we were just friends I'd bring stuff he might enjoy, since I don't think there are many things to do on Crystal Lake other than killing horny teenagers-

Thomas Hewitt: MARRY ME I wouldn't mind being in a relatioship with him and I'm hoping he'd like me back 👉🏻👈🏻 As friends we would get along pretty well! I wouldn't yell at him or insult him, so there is a pretty good chance of becoming closer!

Bubba Sawyer: I'm not so sure about a relationship as I see him on a more "I want to care for you as if you were my child" way, ✨but✨ maybe I would accept being his gf because how can I say no to that face 🥺 As friends? Probably besties! He seems to be more sensitive and dependant than the other slashers, so I'd definetly cuddle him when he is feeling sad and would show him my seashell collection. I think he would enjoy it <:

Freddy Krueger: N O. He would be SO mean to me. I just know I would be his laughing stock. I can just hear him calling me "half-pint", "hairball", "round face", etc >:( He teases me because of my height because he is insecure about his own 🙄

Charles Lee Ray (AKA Chucky): a lovable jerk, but I don't see myself in a relationship with him- Would we get along, though? Eeeh... I'm not sure. If anything, he would stand me and I would stand him, but maybe we could get along even if we weren't the closest of friends.

Tiffany Valentine: I'm straight and she gives me mom vibes, so I'm afraid not :( Friends? Probably! She is very sweet and supportive, so I'd love to be adopted by her try to befriend her!

Michael Myers: I'm not sure if I'd accept being on a relationship with him... Don't get me wrong, he is v handsome 😳 it's just that he doesn't seem to be kind of guy to be very affectionate and I feel like he is very easely annoyed, so unless he forces me into a relationship, I'll stay single- Plus, I don't think I'm his type to be perfectly honest, haha... Friends? I don't think so. Again, he would stand me and that's good because that means I survive. Basically: "You are not annoying enough for me to murder you, but don't test your luck." but if he was willing to try, I'd totally give him a chance!

Carrie White: I don't think I'd be in a relationship with her. Not only because I'm straight, but because I think we would be better off as friends. I myself have been bullied back in highschool (though I didn't have it as rough as her) and I like to think that I'm nice, so we could work a friendship! I'm 99% sure that she doesn't enjoy killing people who haven't wronged her, so maybe we could even become besties :D

Bo Sinclair: I... don't think we could be in a relationship. We are polar opposites and while I love that dynamic, we are WAY too different. I don't blame him for being like that because he had a rough life and his shitty parents basically pushed him into those anger issues. A friendship? Again, I'm unsure. If he is willing to try and be nice to me, I'll give him a chance!

Vincent Sinclair: now this is a Sincalir I can get around 😳🕶🤏🏻 If he wants me to be with him, you won't see me turning him down. He is reserved yet a little hot headed if pushed to his limit, just like me, so being in the same room with him without saying anything and just cuddling or observing him while he works is really not problem for me!

Lester Sinclair: just like Bubba, he is my child, a feral one. Seriously, this man is a possum and I love that. We would get along perfectly because even if I'm quiet and well behaved I'm just as weird as he is- We would go to the woods to catch bugs and come back to the town covered in dirt from head to toe and Bo wouldn't let us in so we would end up stargazing on his truck before falling asleep. A relationship with him is tangible! But I'd rather stay as friends.

Pennywise (2017): another lovable jerk who happens to also be feral. I would be in a relationship with him if he wanted to. As friends he would be so chaotic and would tease me by scaring the crap out of me any chance he got, thought he would probably do the same if we were to be bf & gf. No, I don't care that he is actually a giant spider. He is a shape-shifter so it doesn't matter.

Pennywise (1990): He gives me unhealthy grandpa vibes, so I don't think I would be in a relationship with him. I don't think he'd ask me out because I'm probably no this type either, lmao. As friends? Maybe... maybe not... if he spared me it has to be for a reason, so maybe we could work something out.

Yautja (any of them!!): yes. Of course. Absolutely. Please take me away. Boyfriend material right there. I would LOVE to be in a relationship with one of them! Though, if I'm being realistic here I don't think they would like me. I'm way too small, weak and clumsy to be likeable and if I don't meet the human standards, I doubt I'd meet the yautja ones, haha... If I'm lucky I might be able to befriend one.

Brahms: very handsome BOY (wink wink nudge nudge. Please, don't block me 😔) I would accept, basically because he would make me choose between staying or getting murdered in cold blood. He is a stinky rat but I love him anyways. It could work because he is just as touch starved as I am. But I'm afraid he can be a lil' too horny sometimes- I would have to introduce him to the magical world of ✨personal space✨ and ✨consent✨ I've struggled with its meaning before, I know what I'm doing- As a nanny I would be basically the mom to an adult who is twice my size and that would tease me for it and who is unable to say "No" to him after he does that pose where he has both arms behind his back-

#I tried my best to keep it real #You don't know how much I struggled not to write that my crushes all love me #The yautja one was painful why do I like to torture myself-

[house-of-slayterr]

IMGONNABETHEPRETTIESTGIRLATTHEPARTY!!!!!

#lester sinclair #bo sincalir #vincent sinclair #the sinclair brothers #house of wax edit #house of wax movie #Bo is a pretty girl

[small-sinclair]

Love like You

An idea based on @modern-greek-tragedy's post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader

Tw: abuse mention, childhood trauma and physical abuse mentioned, blood, punching glass, yelling, Bo being himself for a while, sad Bo at the end

Bo wasn't a nice man, and you knew this after picking up the broken glass he threw when he came home.

Today wasn't the best of days. There was a group of tourists that were slippery, and the last one Bo had to take down put up a real good fight, busting his lips and bloodied his nose. His arm was cut by a sharp rock as the man fought, but it wasn't something that need stitches. You watched from the window as Bo killed the man, strangling him until there was no movement from under him. When he saw your eyes watching from the windows of his house, you pushed away and went away from the glass. It's best never to see him like this, and it's something you learned long ago since you got here.

When he came to the house moments later, you pulled out pain pills and a glass of water.

"Wha ya lookin' at?" He snapped as he caught your eyes looking at his hurt arm. "Did I ask fer yer help?" He yelled, slamming back the pain pills and to gulps of water. "Well? You deaf!?"

"No, I just thought--"

He earned a yelp when he threw the glass past your head, it shattering to pieces behind you. You covered your ears and looked away as you felt his shadow over you. He looked over your fear and smirked to himself.

"Gonna shower," he said as he pushed past you. "Clean this up."

You knelt down and hurried to pick the big pieces before getting the broom. he stopped and looked back for a moment but shrugged it off, regret forming in his stomach, but he'll never let you know. Never.

He knows you're scared of him. He knows you hate him when he's like this, but this was all he knew. He knew that there wasn't a way to show how much loves you, and this was all he could give? Goodness, he's the worse, but it's not his fault. Shit, it never was his fault! Never said sorry or said a single line to match his apology. All he knew was shouting, blood, destruction; he was raised to be Hell's greatest creation and he was going to let the whole world remember it.

But you? For you, he would fall apart before he was violent towards you. Yes, when you first came here, he hunted you like sport and tired to stab you, but he couldn't. He couldn't hurt you. Everything he tired he couldn't do to you. He would push you to the side, throw things, but he never would hurt you in a way that would scar your skin.

As he undressed, caught himself in the mirror and froze. The wrinkles around his lips and the circles under his eyes were tired and screaming. His blue eyes darken and didn't show the whites of his eyes. He dark brown hair messy and untamed from the fight, his shirt ripped at the collar, and dirt sticking to the sweat of his skin. His left eye twitched as fear crept over him as he straighten himself, his eyes looking over the man in the mirror. He... he didn't look himself. He looked like him. He looked so much like Victor Sinclair.

His breathing quickened as he looked at himself more, watching as his face morphed and changed into that man he swore never to be, but it's a sin to swear by nothing. His father taught him that one day as he felt his father's belt against his wrists, his ring hand slapping his face. Bo squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to look away, but he felt dead, cold, and hard eyes looking back. He was scared; Bo Sinclair never gets scared.

"Stop it," he breathed as his hand grits the porcelain sink. "Stop."

"You can't run from it," his father said back to him in the mirror. "You are me. Just like me."

"No--"

"Yes! Look at ya! A carbon copy of me!" Bo felt his father's grip on his face, the ghost hand forcing him to look up to see him and his father looking back. "Ya act like me. You talk like me. And you love like me!"

"No!" Bo shouted at the glass, his voice making you jump in the kitchen. You listen to Bo closer, unsure what was happening.

"You did the same thing that I'd do!" His father shouted back. "You'll be a cruel man like me, and you'll never love like her!"

"Shut up-"

Get mad. Get angry. You'll never run from your sins, boy.

"Shut up!" His hand balled in a fist and he punched the glass, punching through the glass , shattering the mirror. Glass cut into his flesh and bone, ripping new colors over his eyes. "Shut up!"

Outside the bathroom door, he heard you coming and knocking. "Bo? What's wrong?"

"Drop it, girl!"

"I'm coming in!"

"The hell you are-!"

When he saw you standing in the door and your eyes going wide, he hated you. He hated that you were looking at him so scared. He hated that you looked so much like Vincent when he walked in after their father beaten Bo for speaking back. His brother's hands holding his twin close as he cried in Vincent's long hair, but he was trying so hard to stop it because boys don't cry. That's what girls do! He hated that you looked like Lester, scared and teary eyed, when he found Bo strapped to the surgery bed in their father's study, his chest raw and bleeding like his wrists and ankles. He remembered his baby brother trying so hard to get him out, but his father found them first. He tried to look away, to ignore his brother's tortured screams and pleas as his father beat Lester there, just feet away. He felt helpless, hopeless, as he watched his younger brother get punished for trying to save him.

Maybe that's why Bo killed Victor with his bare hands.

You looked at his bloodied hand, glass sticking out of the skin then back at him, lost for words. What in the world was going on in that head?

He hated you. He hates you!

Quickly, Bo picked up a large shard in the sink with his healed hand and swung it at you. You closed your eyes and covered your face, waiting for the sharpness to cute you, but it never came. You lowered your hands and your eyes started looking where his hand stopped. The sharp glass gripped in his hand, cutting in his palm. Blood dripped on your shoes as he looked at you, eyes filled with fear and anger and sorrow. His breath was shaky as he looked at you, the glass next to your neck pressing lightly against your skin, itching to cut you but too scared.

No... no...

"Get out," Bo breathed through his teeth. "Git! Run! Scream!" His hands were shaking as he stepped away, catching a glance of his reflection in the broken shard. He saw his father smiling as he looked back. "Run. Run away from me! Get mad! Scream! Say somethin'! Anythin'!" He swallowed hard as his other hand held his other, glass still pressed against your skin. "Tell me you hate me. You want me dead! Tell me, y/n. Tell me!" His voice broke as he watch you shake your head, watching him crumble into dusk. "Com'on! Say it! Say ya hate me!" Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as his bright blue eyes lighten in a childhood fear. "Please, say it. Say it, damnit."

You shake your head, your hands reaching up to touch his arms. It felt like ice touching fire, and it was so soothing, so confusing, so comforting and painful, he dropped the glass and it shattered over his boot. He tried to cover his eyes from you, squeezing them tight, but all he could see in the blackness was you dancing barefoot in the creek with Jonesy, kicking water up to splash over your sun dress. You looked happy, and it kills Bo. What did you do to him, y/n? What spell did you cast to make him think of you?

How could you love him?

"Run," he whimpers as he steps back, lowering himself to sit on the side of the tub. "Please... get away from me, girl."

You looked at the broken glass then at him. As much as you wanted to run, to be away from whatever mess he was going through, you knew it wasn't right. None of this was right or healthy for him. It's not healthy for you, but he shouldn't suffer alone. Your shoes crushed the glass as you stepped in and sat on the closed toilet seat next to him. He flinched away from your touch as he cried silently to himself, but your hand took his injured hand. He breathed heavily as he tried to pull away from your touch once more, but your sad smile called him back, called him home.

Every fiber in him wanted to scream at you, but your touch and hold, your fingers carefully taking out the glass plucking out of his skin, your soft humming of a song that lulled his anger and fears to bed, chasing away his father's hatred eyes and angry hold, hissing at your gentleness… all of it made him scared. How? How are you not afraid of him.

"Why?" He breathed as you finished his arm, looking over his skin with your beautiful eyes. "Why can't I love like ya?"

Your eyes met his, and they held sadness. "I wish I could give you an answer, honeycomb," call him that again, y/n; call him that once more and he's yours forever, "but this is all I can give."

"Y/n," he breathed as you led him over the shattered glass and out of the bathroom. You'll clean that later; he knows it. "Y/n--you should be scared of me."

"Oh, I am," you answer, taking him into the kitchen. You sat him down and found a wash cloth, a bowl, and the first-aid. "But I also don't fear you all the time." You sat across from him and looked him. "You shouldn't give up, Bo. Don't give up on yourself."

"How can I love like you?" He asked desperate for an answer. "How c'n I do it?"

"You can't," you answer truthfully, cleaning his arm with cloth before bandaging it. "Can't love like me."

"Teach me," his other hand caught yours, longing to hold you, to kiss you, to have you. "Teach me, then." He looked up and saw the shadow of his father looking back, black hallowed eyes stinging his blue eyes.

You didn't answer this time as you focused on your work. You tried to keep your eyes from burning in tears as you listened to Bo cry to himself, leaning against your shoulder. He felt like glass against your own skin, but he was broken beyond repair. He was shattered and missing so many pieces of himself that you don't know how to make himself whole again. Pieces of him were scattered around Ambrose, and it was begging him to fall apart more, losing himself in everything. His mother's toxic world that she wrapped him into, his head spinning from being like his father, the kills that tore him apart. Bo was so tired that he wants to fall on his knees and beg to God to take him somewhere far from here.

Maybe that's why you're still here, y/n? To pick up where he fell apart?

When your finished, you looked at his arm and held him close to you, letting him wrap his arms around you. How could he show his love? Was he doing it right? Was this hug, embrace of gentleness and tenderness? Was he learning?

Was this love?

"You must be so tired," you whispered in his hair, and he found himself nodding at your question. "From all the killing and pride. From all the hurting and running." You pulled away and brushed his tears away. "You much be so tired from it all?"

He nodded, his lower lip quivering. "I-I want it to-to stop," he whispered, his words shaking. "Make it stop, y/n? Show-show me how to-to make it stop?"

You hummed softly as you brushed his hair back. "Let me turn the lights off and we can go to bed." You pressed a kiss against his forehead, burning your love over his skin. "Does that sound good?"

He opened his mouth, words not wanting to pour but he let out a choked sob, falling back into you. He needs you. He craves for you. He hates you and fears you and never wants you to let go. Put him out of his misery, y/n. Say the words he craves and he'll be gone forever.

You ran your fingers through his curls and kiss his head. "Let's go, honeycomb," you raised his face, brushing away his fears and toxic thoughts. Your smile is like the sun to his stormy days, y/n. Don't you see what you're doing to him? How can he do the same? Show him. Teach him. Love him until your heart ends in a violent crash. "I'll get the kitchen and living room lights and it's off to bed."

"Okay, darlin'," he whispers. "Okay."

He found your hand as you led the way, turning off the lights and leading him to bed. You took his boots off and finished undressing him to his boxers. You lowered him to bed then turn to get in your night shirt and sleeping shorts. As you climbed to bed, he pulled you into his chest, kissing your lips, drinking into your posinous love as if it's water, then rest his chin on your head. He closed his eyes and listened to his heartbeat, but it was replaced with your sleepy breathing. You love will smother him until he has nothing left, and it's scares him. No, he'll never love like you, but he'll try his best to look farther beyond the blood in his hands. He'll look pass the death and destruction that he craves for.

He can't love like you.

He'll never love like you.

#bo sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sincalir fanfic #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair fanfic #bo sinclair x y/n #slasher #slasher fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher x you

[adalwolfgang]

(Original imagine found on Pinterest)

#x reader #reader insert #house of wax #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sincalir fanfic #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x female reader #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair fluff #bo sinclair x gender neutral reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax (2005) #house of wax x reader #house of wax x y/n #house of wax fanfic

[small-sinclair]

Madness in These Words

Chapter 1: Summer Goes

Hello! I am a nonbinary of my word, so here's chapter 1 of the Sinclair Band!AU. This is inspired by @arkunder's slasher band and @loveandmurders's sister sinclair!au. I have chapter 2 finished and going to reread it to make sure it sounds good (might post it next week or in a couple of days).

Tw: mention of fake blood, religion themes, sad Bo at the end, worried Lester, flashbacks

Enjoy this first chapter and let me know if you like it! :3

By the time the lights went out on the stage, the crowd of women roared in thrilled screams and out-of-control shrills. The buzzing of the atmosphere was too much all at once, but wasn’t it exciting? It’s enough to drive a sane man wild, enough to burn everything else down. Flashes of lights from cameras and phone lights shined in the darkness like stars on a clear night, reminding him of the stars back in the country. If infinity had one more day to share with nothing, Lester hoped they would spend it here.

            He took a deep breath in, slow and sure, then let it out, anxious and unsteady. This was his first time playing with his brothers, Bo and Vincent, and he wasn’t sure if he could live up to the fans’ expectations. Was he going to mess up? Yeah, he already knew that. His fingers fidgets with the brim of his shirt as his other hand spun the drumstick faster. His bright brown eyes darted from one corner of the stage where Vincent stood, his black and red guitar hanging from his shoulder like a jacket tied to a hip. His half face shined in the faded lights, making him look like a dark angel in ripped jeans and a too-tight button up with fake blood stains on his neck and white priest collar.

            It was Bo’s idea for the religious themed night, where he and Vincent would wear the white collars under the black shirts, fake blood on their hands and arms. They looked like fallen priests that last their path of the Lord, and Lester was the new shining hope that could bring them back. Lester’s black shirt was unbuttoned at the top to show off his rosary, and he was the only one not covered in fake blood. Father O’Connor gave the rosary to him in Ambrose before he and his brothers left on tour a few weeks ago. He didn’t feel comfortable with the theme of the night, but he was more than willing to try it out. Bo promised not to make fun of the Father’s gift because it met a lot to Lester. Father O’Connor was the one who made sure the boys felt welcome in the church going up, and he made sure all three know the Word back to front. Yes, Bo did resist it because of… personal reasons, but he still came to church every Sunday. But tonight’s theme was all his idea. It’s to promote the new album that’ll be coming out in three days, and the song lineup has three new never-before-heard songs.

            He took another deep breath, nervousness filling his head to make him dizzy. He bit the inside of this lower lip hard enough to taste sweet iron and bitterness from the lack of sugar. If he could do back flips to get the nerves out, he would. He felt like he was going to throw-up on his boots, but he had to stop himself. Men don’t get nervous; that’s what his father taught him. What he would give just to hear his grandmother telling him that he was going to do good—

            His thoughts were interrupted as Bo smacked his back a bit too hard, causing him to jump. His hand clenched the drumstick tightly until his knuckles turned white.

            “Nervous much?” His brother hummed, his drawl in a joking matter. “I reckon you’ll do fine.” He held a devil-may-care grin, his bright blue eyes glowing from the smeared blood from his forehead. It didn’t make Lester cringe at the sight of his brother like this, but it did make him feel uneasy because it brought back a memory of when they lost—

            Lester clinched his jaw tightly, swallowing the memory down his tight throat. He turned his attention back to the crowds screaming and getting hyped as the lights started to shine dimly in the fogy filled stage.

He already knew that some of the fans weren’t thrilled that he was part of the band, and he was new to the music world with his drumming and singing. He’s read the headlines and how they gave him “Shit-Pit Kid” because he was in the pit area for the first tour along with behind the scenes on stage. The first time, actually, that he introduced himself was when Bo called him to the stage to sing a cover that he and his brothers joked about doing. He remembered how girls went crazy at his voice and his feet tapping to the beat. The “Sounds of Silence” was really introduction to the band, sealing his soul to the drums and backup. Vincent was more than proud to have all of his brothers in a band; all of his siblings were part of a vision that he and Bo dreamed about in the back of the tailgate overlooking Ambrose shitty fog, listening to the crawdads sing.

When they started, Lester was starting his Senior year of high school, but he was able to come to some shows over the summer and breaks. He loved the road and the adventures he and his brothers went on. He loved going out seeing people line up for blocks and blocks just to see his brothers play. Vincent's writing skills and Bo's voice were something unmatched to the rock 'n roll world, and it woke music listeners all over. He'll never forget how the Prime Minister of Canada came to a summer show just to get a picture with his daughter in front of the band bus. What really made things going was the fan art of his brothers playing. Whenever Vincent got a drawn photo of him, he kept it in his guitar case, calling his fans "Muses". He wasn't lying, too. At random, Vincent would find a photo of him and a fan online and draw them together, posting it, and sending a copy to that fan. Art and music speak louder than words and smiles.

Bo was different. He was the charmer of the group and really knew how to get the girls flustered and hot, earning the nickname "Boe", which is a play on "Hoe". Though he would get drunk on stage while Lester was there to watch, he would stay sober long enough to make it through the first seven songs until taking a 5 minute break for the bathroom or in need of water. But Bo's eyes always scanned the crowd with excitement and thrill. He loves the attention and the fans screaming over him and his brother. Lester remembered during one of the shows, Bo stopped it and had the people turn the backlights on because a fan passed out. He didn't start the show up until she was out of there with help. It's a rare moment that Bo showed this side of him, but the fans ate it up like ice cream on a hot summer day along with the rock world. It showed parents that it wasn't always scary music and angry lyrics.

The only thing missing? Their sister backstage. It's selfish for Lester to want her back, but it's enough for him to play for her. Goodness, if she was here now, the crowd go nuts over how pretty she looks. She would be sixteen, Lester reminded himself, and she would still be in high school.

To keep love in a photograph in the heart locket he wore under the rosary...

            Their mother, however, hated this. She never approved it because of her own faith. She called her sons devils and demon-minded, and that only fueled Bo’s musical thoughts and Vincent’s lyrics. The growls and screams, the deep voices and swears—it’s like they were crafted and carved to be punk rock singers.

            Bo raised a brow as if he could read his thoughts and nudged his elbow. “Ma ain’t here. Got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

            “I gots lots of things to worry ‘bout, Bo,” Lester responded as he heard Vincent walking out, playing to start the countdown for Bo to walk out. “Wha’ if they don’t like me?”

            “Never mind ‘at, Les,” Bo reassured, ruffling his little brother’s hair, earning a giggle. “You’ll do just fine. Wal’ out with me an’ we can start. You’ll feel bett’a when ya playin’.” He let his guard drop for just a moment, showing Lester that his big brother is right with him. “You’ll do amazin’ tonight. We believe in ya.” Bo takes a deep breath, whispering loud enough for Lester to hear, “Ambrosia would believe in ya, too.”

Lester looked up at his brother, mouth a gap slightly. Ambrosia's name on his lips felt like prayer never spoken. Bo hardly said her name unless he's really drunk and out of it, or when he's sober looking up at the stars dancing over the sky. he would talk to her when he's alone, Lester found out one night on the road last week when he noticed Bo wasn't in his bunk.

When he went outside, he hid by the bus and watched Bo, who was sitting on top of a park picnic table with a cigarette in his fingers. He was clutching the shared golden locket (the same one Lester is wearing tonight) as he looked up to the sky.

"You up there, Ambrosia? 'S me, yer brother, Bo," Bo said softly to the rolling clouds. "We had anoth'a good show. Wish you were 're. You'd like tonight." Lester remembered how Bo rubbed his wrist too rough, causing them to bleed. "Miss ya like hell. Vincent misses ya, too." Then his head perked up to the sudden moonlight basking over him like a blanket. "I wrote a song fer ya, sis. A dumb one, but I like it." He took a drag of his cigarette and blew it up to the sky. "Wish you were 're, Ambrosia." He flicked the cigarette and stood. "Goodnight, starlight. Talk to ya tomorrow?" He turned away from the moonlight, singing the same melody:

"Memories, sweet songs of light, bring back the one we forgot.

Sweet Ambrosia on my lips, say goodnight to the waters and bright sky.

Goodnight, sweet summer days. Goodnight, sweet summer nights.

Keep Ambrosia close to my mind and this sinner's heart."

Then Bo’s face went back to the smoke and fog. The crowd as soon as they started screaming his name like a chant of gods calling their hero forward. “Let’s get this, yeah?”

            Lester gripped the rosary, finding courage in his chest, then nods. His nerves were swimming around in the pit of his stomach, but looking at his brother made it all go away. There’s a strange trust between him and his brothers, and it’s connected by anger and filled with off key anthems.

“Alright,” he said in a breath, gripping his drumsticks. “Take ‘em to church, Bo.”

#bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #slasher band!au #sinclair band!au #house of wax au #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax #bo sincalir fanfic #vincent sinclair fanfic #lester sinclair fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic

[scarychica]

Me trying to write a House of Wax fanficiton which is just an upgrade to the script:

Reader saves Vincent after tackling Carly to the ground, giving Vincent the chance to slit Chad Michael Murrays throat. Vincent then stabs Carly in the back of the neck as she’s fighting with the Reader and she slumps over dead. Then the rusty old sprinklers finally go off stopping the fire and melting of the museum. Reader then gets up checking if a now maskless Vincent is ok.

Vincent: “She said——-Bo lied to me.” (Vincent can talk now and his voice is a softer version of his brother.)

Reader: “I mean, he is a liar.”

Vincent: “That’s what I thought too! Anyway, wanna get married?”

Reader: “Yeah totally.”

They’re about to kiss (uwu) until a loud voice can be heard through the water.

Bo: “Hey I’m still alive down here!!”

Vincent and Reader rush down the stairs to Bo and wince at his bloody lasagna looking face.

Reader: “It’s a good thing all this wax is melting Vince, you’re gonna need it to fix that mug.”

*cue the sitcom laughter*

#crack post #but it’s better then canon #canon is dead to me #hoorah #house of wax (2005) #house of wax 2005 #vincent sincalir #bo sinclair #reader under #maybe I’ll do a part 2 with Lester #Vincent Sinclair x reader #x reader #reader insert #script upgrade #house of wax #slasher x reader #and they all lived happily ever after #the end #I win