#horror oneshot

[random-imagines-blog]

Cards on the Table {Bo Sinclair x Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 10830 Summary: You end up making your way into Ambrose - and you’re given a job? Notes: This is House of Wax so there’s definitely death, and swearing. Author Note: Okay this became like a loong passion project, I’m not sorry.

Lester noted the appearance of the car moving slowly forward along the road, kicking up dust. It was a beaut of a car, that was the first thing that he noticed. He wasn’t quite the gearhead that his older brother was, only knowing enough to know what to cut under the hood, but he could appreciate. It looked like a classic car. Something that his dad might have driven back in the day. But in impecable shape. It didn’t roar or wheeze or sputter. It purred. The second thing that he picked up on was that it was just one car, with one passenger. It was a bit disappointing when that happened. Sometimes he’d just let the sole passengers go. Wasn’t really worth it. But Bo really would love that car. It would make a great present. Better than the oven mitts that he tried to give him for Christmas the year before, and got a slap upside the head for.

You pulled off into what looked like a really quiet clearing. You were lost, exhausted, and just hoping to get a couple hours of shut eye before tackling the problem in the morning. You completely missed the truck hidden out among the trees and the brown eyes that were watching you. You tried to check your phone - no service up here. You weren’t surprised. Louisiana was notoriously spotty unless you were in the big cities. Something about all of the trees and the swamps or something, you figured. You sighed. You turned off the engine. Hopefully whatever town you find has a carwash - you hate getting your baby dirty. Shuffled back into the seat. Rolled your windows up - the old handcrank method since it was an old car after all. Rested back against the head rest and let your eyes close - and let your mind doze.

Lester was like a predator out there in the trees. Waiting until you were good and deep in REM sleep before he’d even reach for the handle of his door. One person. That might piss off Bo. Going through all of this trouble for next to nothing. You were aesthetically pleasing though. He saw a lot of girls come and go this way, usually with a bunch of friends and their boyfriends, so Lester thought he knew all about that. Bo and Vincent only saw the girls that were on the television screens. So they weren’t such good judges of real people.

He watched you sleep for another couple of minutes. Yeah, you’d make a good enough figure. Vincent had been complaining that there were more men than women now. They just didn’t come through nearly as much. Or they weren’t nice looking enough to put on in. Or sometime Bo would lose his temper and hurt them, deform them so badly that they wouldn’t make good enough figures, and then Vincent would be very disappointed. This one was good.

He lightly touched the glass of the window, his grubby fingers making little impressions on it. He hadn’t meant to go that far but you did look so nice and peaceful. So unaware of what was up to come. Ahh fuck. Oh well. You asked for it by taking the dangerous road is all. If Les felt bad about every pretty person that he sent up to Ambrose, he’d never get out of bed in the morning.

He lifted up the hood of the car quietly. Not even a squeak. He admired that in the car. He didn’t need anything other than the light of the moon and the stars above to help him rummage around in there until he found what he was looking for. He’d done this enough times. The fan belt. Always the fan belt. Why mess with what works? It was actually pretty easy to mess one up. He could feel that this one had been recently replaced and he felt a little bad before he would sabotage it. Not for you. For the car. Maybe Bo would let him drive it once in a while. Take it into town.

He finished up pretty quickly. Then lowered the hood as quietly as he could, making sure that it was nice and secure. Rubbed off any finger prints that he might have left behind with the elbow of his shirt, which was also pretty filthy but better than nothing. Back to his truck, and to Jonesy who was waiting patiently in the passenger seat. The dog gave him a lick as he started up the vehicle and made it crawl away from you, leaving you vulnerable to the night.

-

Ambrose seemed like such a pretty town, you had to admit. Quiet, but there was nothing wrong with that. After your car wouldn’t start, you had begun the walk and you were found by a nice redneck named Lester who offered to take you into town. There were red flags abound and you hated having to leave your car, your baby out there but he had promised you that no one really came up here and it would be safe. “Either I can drive you back with the fan belt or the mechanic can bring you himself. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be taken care of.”

He had such an earnest little face. So you tried to trust him. You kept your keys close though. Clenched in your hand so that no one would be able to get them. Unless someone hot wired your car, or towed it - though it was off of the road and hidden pretty well, it shouldn’t be, it should be alright. You had to trust that it was alright. It was the only thing that you had in this world.

“And here you go,” Lester said, stopping in front of the gas station. “‘should be in there. If not, he’ll be ‘round.”

“Thanks Lester,” You said, smiling at him. And you even pet the dog too, a little sweetheart, though mangled. You always did love animals. “It was nice to meet yah!”

“Yeah, you too,” Lester said to you, a grin showing off some badly rotted teeth. It was off-putting, sure, but you didn’t see much of a dental office being here in Ambrose. You could see just about the whole town from the gas station when you got out and had a stretch in the sunshine. Some storefronts, a church, and a building that advertised itself as a House of Wax. Now that was interesting. Maybe you would check that out before you left. You weren’t in a big hurry to get to wherever it was that you were going. You hadn’t even decided yet. Leave it to you to get lost when you didn’t even have a destination in mind.

The truck puttered off and you stood alone in front of the gas station. The sun was beating down so roughly on you, you hoped that the mechanic had something cold to drink. You’d pay him a whole ten dollars for a cool bottle of water if that was what it came down to. Anything for a parched throat. You walked up to the door and peer in through the window first. You could see what you needed in there, hanging up. Or at least, you hoped you did. It might be the wrong size. But you didn’t see anybody in there. Still, the door was unlocked so you walked into the dusty interior, looking around. Completely and totally empty. But there were a couple of chairs, so you sat your butt down and decided to wait. And dozed. It really was warm in here, wasn’t it? Just a little bit more shut eye until this mechanic came off of his break or something. Maybe he was on breakfast. Lunch?

“Well, hello there,” A smooth, southern-sounding voice said, breaking you out of the near-sleep that you had fallen into. You startled awake and saw a man standing directly in front of you, legs so close to yours that your jeans and his nice black trousers were touching. In fact, he looked very dressed up. “Now what can I do for you?”

“Are you the mechanic?” You asked, taking in the formal attire. The black suit looked like it had never seen a grease stain before. But you caught a glimpse of those hands and - yes, those were hard-working hands. You knew them well. You were a bit of a grease-monkey yourself. Yours often looked the same.

“I am,” He said, unbuttoning the jacket that he was wearing. How he managed with the heat, you didn’t know. “You caught me on an off day. I was just up at the church for a funeral. Someone very special to me passed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” You said, feeling bad for interrupting just by being here. “Listen, I - I only came for a fanbelt. If I could just buy one, and maybe a cold drink off of you, I’ll be out of your hair in no time. No one should have to work the day of a funeral.”

The guy was looking down atcha, an eyebrow raised.  “A fan belt? You ain’t from around here, are yah?”

“Yeah, a fifteen inch if you have one? But yes, I suppose in a small town like this, you’d know everyone. I didn’t even know this town was here. I was taking a scenic route rather than the boring highway and ended up not too far from here. And then ... I don’t know what happened. My fan belt just was - messed up. Strange since I replaced it myself not too long ago but you know how these things happen. And I’m so sorry. I’m rambling and you’re upset. Really, I’ll just be going once I get the belt.”

He still didn’t move back from you. You couldn’t even stand up for how close that he was. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulled one out by the teeth and lit it, right there inside of the station, not even wary of what could happen. So many containers of chemicals in here that could go up with one spark.

“You said a fifteen inch?” He asked. You nodded. “I don’t have any here, but I do up at the house. Why don’t we go get it? It’s only a couple of blocks from here.”

You thought about it for a couple of seconds. You were in a strange town. And this man, even if he was good looking, even if he did have a lot of charm to him, was inviting you up to his house. You looked at him warily. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I could be a murderer for all you know.”

A smirk spread on his face, like you just shared something that was a private joke. But then he chuckled and everything seemed to light up again. “I think I’ll take my chances. But you could just stay here and wait again for a while if that’s what you want to do... I know them chairs aren’t the comfiest though.”

He had a point there. You were aching a little from sitting for so long. So you nodded. “Alright, yeah. I could do with some stretching of my legs.” What could it hurt? It was just a couple of blocks. And there were quite a few houses from the looks of things. “How much do you think it will cost?” You asked, getting your wallet prepared.

“Ahh - twenty should be near enough,” He said. That seemed a low, but this was a small town. Perhaps they just had smaller prices. Or maybe you were just being a bit too naive. You had that tendency sometimes. You nodded, and followed him up the street, taking in the look of the town as you went. “So - you traveling by yourself?” He asked smoothly.

“Yeah,” You said. “The feeling of being by yourself on the open road. It’s just a freeing feeling, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t get out of Ambrose too much.”

“Maybe you should try it sometime. There’s a big, bright, beautiful world out there. Or at least, that’s what people keep telling me. Might as well explore it while you still have some life in you.”

He had his hands on his hips while he was walking. It made him appear more disarming that way. “Everything I need is in Ambrose,” He said. You nodded slowly, thinking that you might have touched a nerve. “You see that big house up there? That House of Wax? People used to come to see it from miles away. And Trudy was the main .. I guess artist is the appropriate word. I’m living next to what was one of the best tourist attractions in all of Louisiana. Ain’t nothing like that to see anywhere else. You wanna go exploring, I’d suggest you start there.”

“Whoa,” You said, as you came in closer to the attraction. House of Wax, written right there. “I’ve never been to one of those. Maybe I will stop in.”

Because of your interest, as you were ascending up a hill, your legs getting the work out that they needed, Bo told you the sad story about Trudy Sinclair. It nearly broke your heart, thinking about someone going through that. You were looking over at the House of Wax so wistfully - there was no way that Bo didn’t notice it. That and - you were really listening to him. He had a real southern charm about him. Something that a lot of boys down here in Louisiana thought that they had but really didn’t. It’s what separated them from the men. He stayed a few steps away from you, enough to make you feel comfortable. Not looming like boys were known to do.

His house was up behind the House of Wax. And it was a gorgeous house. All big windows. Curved walls in the front. Bo stopped by the outside of his truck, wiggled the handle and opened the door. “You can hop on in, take a seat if you want. I’ll go in, get the fan belt, and then take you back to your car. Least I can do for making you wait.”

A real gentleman, this guy. Reminded you a little of Lester who had brought you to Ambrose in the first place. “Well,” You said, looking curiously over to the House of Wax. “If it’s not too late - do you think the House of Wax is still open? I’d love to see it before I leave town. I don’t know if I’d even be able to find this place again. I just want to take the opportunity, you know?”

He gave you a glance that looked almost like approval. Like you just had the best damn idea that he had ever heard. “Go on ahead,” He said with a nod. “Doors should be open. They always are aroun’ here. I’ll get that belt, and wait for you out front, how does that sound?”

“Real swell,” You smiled. “Thanks Bo.”

--

The House of Wax was a real work of art. You had never seen anything like it. You were sure not to touch most things but there were some little figures that you couldn’t help but pick up. A name was written on the bottom. Vincent. “Now isn’t that cute,” You said, setting it back down. “Always liked the name Vincent.”

There was no official tour or anything. No signs which pointed which way you should go. Even with Bo waiting for you, you took your time. Circling everything. Until you thought that you saw someone outside of the window. There was a movement absolutely. Figuring that it was the man who was waiting on you, you hurried on outside. “Bo, I ‘m sorry, I -”

But you froze when you realized there was no vehicle waiting for you outside of the museum. It wasn’t Bo either. There was a large figure standing there, with hair down to the midback. You caught the glimpse of pale features before the face turned back around and the person scurried into the brush. “Hey, wait,” You said, taking a couple of steps after him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. Bo- the mechanic - he said that I could be in there. If I broke the rules, I’m really sorry-”

“Who are you talkin to?” A voice came from behind you. You turned around in relief to see Bo standing there.

“I think I startled someone. I saw them from the window, thought it was you. When I came out, he went running-”

“Oh, that was probably my brother. He’s a bit more on the skittish side,” Bo said with a grin that didn’t look as friendly before. “How’d you like the house? Real neat, ain’t it?”

“It’s beautiful,” You said, starting to gush. “I’d never seen anything like it. That woman, she was real talented, wasn’t she? I can’t believe she managed to make it all by herself.”

“Well, she had a little help,” Bo said, continuing to grin like he had just told a funny sort of joke. “So does my brother.”

Your face turned into one of confusion, all before you felt something, a fabric, go around your mouth and nose, and fell into a sleep. It was so quick, you didn’t even hear the footsteps coming up behind you.

--

“Ain’t they perfect?” You heard Bo’s voice. But it sounded far away. Like they were underwater. Or maybe you were underwater. No, you could still breathe. In through the nose. Out through your lips. They felt dry. Cracked. Chapped. Most of your skin did. It was really cold in here but you were covered in a thin layer of sweat - which might be helpful. You could feel restraints around your wrists but you couldn’t quite tell what they were. Sweat might help you get greasy enough to get out.

There was no response from whoever it was that Bo was talking to. But there were the sounds of someone moving around. You tried to feel what you were sitting on, your eyes feeling too heavy to open. Effects of the sedation, possibly? You remembered a cloth. Chloroform? That’s what people usually used in the movies and television shows. But why? Had you done something wrong? Were you not supposed to go into the House of Wax, even though you were invited?

It almost felt like you were on a bed of some sort. Your legs were sprawled out in front of you, which meant there was no way that you were on a chair. There wouldn’t have been enough room. Your back was up against a wall, uncomfortable. You shuffled forward a little, as slowly as you could, and then became aware of something beside you. Something alive, and warm. Short and bristled - a dog, you figured.

You wrenched your eyes open. They felt so heavy but you were managing to - and finally caught a look around the dim room that you were in. First of all, Jonesy. You were not expecting Lester’s dog to be down here with you, looking up at you, breath so hot against your neck. She let out a little whine, alerting your captors to your wakefulness. Your eyes traveled across the room - a lot of candles, two men, and a lot of machinery. Bo was grinning, adjusting the cap on his head and walked on over to you. “Well good morning there, darlin.”

“Doesn’t feel too good of a morning, Bo,” You admitted. Your head hurt from the fumes of what you had breathed in. Everything looked like it was waving rather than staying still. You were blinking profusely while trying to get a look at the man that was beside Bo. They were about the same height. Only this one had long hair which covered up most of his face. And larger shoulders. “Wha - why was I...”

“We needed a new Miss Ambrose,” Bo said, bending over, hands on the knees of his dirty jeans. He was on eye level with you now. Face to face. Letting you see the steely look that was in his eyes. “And you’re fit to be a beauty queen.”

The words should have been flattering. They were - a little bit. But it felt hard to smile when the situation seemed so dire. “Something tells me this isn’t some sort of preliminary,” You said, looking past him towards the other man. His hair was hanging in his face. Hiding half of it. The half that you could see looked very much like Bo. There was a strong resemblance. Brothers at the least. Twins maybe. Why you were looking at him and not searching for an exit, you didn’t know, but there you were, distracted by the two men. The longer haired man noticed you looking. He turned away almost shyly, insecurely.

“You’re right about that, it’s already been decided,” Bo said, clearly the talker of the two of them. “You’re gonna look real good on that stage.”

You looked back at him again as he spoke. His eyes were so pretty. So close. You could almost lean forward and bite his nose. But you refrained. You were still restrained and his retaliation would probably be brutal. “This is a serial killer thing isn’t it? Should have known. It’s always the attractive ones.”

Did that come out? Were those going to be your famous last words? It was no ‘I’m losing it’ like Frank Sinatra or ‘I’ll show you it won’t shoot’ like Johnny Ace. And the only ones who would know it were these two men. You sighed and leaned back, more against the dog, seeking some sort of comfort in these times. At least the dog wasn’t growling. In fact, Jonesy adjusted herself and laid her head down in your lap. Little ear flapping against your arm. Bo surprised you by chuckling. “You hear that?”

The longer haired man didn’t acknowledge. Not a sound. Bo was laughing again. He looked over his shoulder, daringly. The brief thought of rushing forward with a headbutt came to mind. But he turned back around, looking at you. “Now I don’t normally allow this kinda thing,” He said. “But I kinda like yah. You’ve been nice, respectful. So I’ll ask - got any last words, requests? Except not killin’ yah of course.”

Damn. “That was the only one that I could think of,” You admitted, causing him to chuckle again. You took a deep breath and tried to think. “Umm - okay. Yeah, I have a request, if that’s okay.” He nodded, giving you the floor. “Could you - maybe - take care of my car?”

“Your car?” Bo asked.

“Lester knows where it is. He gave me a ride here - but you probably already know that,” You said, sheepishly. “It’s the only thing that’s actually important to me. I restored her myself. Put all my time and money into her. So, if I can’t  have her, well, at least she should belong to a mechanic.”

“It is a beauty,” Lester said, walking into the room and leaned against the door frame. He looked just as dirty as he had when he had picked you up. How much time had elapsed? Hours? Or maybe you’d been out for a day? You didn’t know. You couldn’t quite tell. “I hooked it up to the truck. I took real good care of it though, y/n. Real good care.” He gave you a grin, showing off the crooked teeth. Despite yourself, you smiled. You already resigned yourself. You weren’t much of a fighter. And like you told Bo, you didn’t have much that was important to you.

“Thank you for that, Lester,” You said, giving him an appreciative yawn. “And - can I make one more request?”

“‘m listening, darlin,” Bo said, looking amused.

“Could I just have like - a one hour cuddle with Jonesy here, if she’s up for it? She’s a real good dog. I really like her. And I promise I won’t hurt her. She just brings back good memories,” You looked away from the men, down at the dog whose head had raised up when Lester came into the room. “I won’t fight, and - I don’t think anyone would come looking for me anyway. It’ll  be real easy for you.”

The large one with the hair put a hand on Bo’s shoulder and pulled him back. Bo was taken a bit by surprise and lashed out, throwing his hand away. Pushing him off. You were used to seeing violence in front of you, it was hardly a bother. But when he was pushed, the hair moved aside to reveal - wax. A wax face. You kept your gasp from coming out of your lips by loweing your head down onto the warm back of Jonesy. She smelt like mud and - wet dog. Not the best combination. But it was comforting. It kept you feeling ... secure. You were going to die. You were going to die. You were going to die. But at least you had an animal cuddle beforehand.

There were sounds of movement. You didn’t watch. You closed your eyes and kept your head against the dog. Bo was speaking back, but his tone was low. Lester too. You recognized his own particular drawl. They seemed like they were arguing over something.

But then fingers snapped in close to your face, making you startle upwards. Bo had gotten close again. A whiff of aftershave and motor oil. You met his eyes, unwavering. “Yeh can have your dog cuddles,” He said, giving into that. “And I’ll take care of your car.”

“Thank you-”

“And we’re not gonna kill you,” He finished. Your eyes went wide with delight, but then faltered. There were a lot of things that were worse than death. You could be tortured. You could be assaulted. You could be forced into listening to horrible pop music. “But there’s a catch.”

Of course there was. You waited patiently to hear, scared of what his charming voice was going to say. Be their sex slave or lure in other victims or - an array of things were crossing through your mind. When he realized you weren’t going to ask out loud, he smirked. “My brother -” He motioned his head towards the large man. “Vincent-

You gasped, making him pause. Four sets of eyes were on you now. That included Jonesy’s because her head lifted up and she was looking at you, blinking slowly after the sudden noise that you let out. “I’m sorry, I-” You said, looking back towards Vincent. “I saw your name up at the House of Wax. Your work, I’m guessing? It was really good.” And now things were flashing in your head. Putting things together. The story told about the family that owned the museum. The woman. Were these, perhaps, the kids? Bo and Vincent? Lester? The matte-ness of the side of the face that Vincent was trying to hide behind his hair. Wax. It could be wax. Which also brought to mind - you hadn’t seen anyone else since being here. Not a single living soul. No cars on the streets. No receptionist at the House of Wax. No customers at the garage. Imagination was going wild now. Could this be a - a town of wax?

Vincent stood, his feet slightly apart, hair over his face again. But he nodded. You could see the motion. That was his work. That made him seem a little less threatening somehow. How could someone who created such beautiful things, be bad?

“Right,” Bo said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like being interrupted. “As I was saying, my brother Vincent. He makes all the wax sculptures now. And he finds you to be rather ... what’s the word that you used?”

“I think he used inspirin’,” Lester spoke up. Bo pointed at him without looking, like yes, that was it.

“Inspiring,” Bo repeated, in his not-as-thick accent. “That’s what he said. So here it is. You’re gonna stay here with us in Ambrose. No attempting to get away or I’ll be smashing that car of yours to pieces-” You flinched at the very thought, “- so don’t even go thinking about it. And you’re going to be Vincent’s model. You understand?”

“I think so,” You said, though you weren’t quite sure how you were going to model for wax. It didn’t seem as if there was much of a choice either way.

“Good. Have your time with Jonesy. You’re gonna be busy tonight.”

--

Bo went through the things that were inside of your car. He took out anything that might be dangerous. Anything that might be used as a weapon. So essentially, you were left with a couple of your paperbacks, and your clothing. They didn’t trust you to be in your own room so often, you were switched between the three. Bo’s room at the main house, Lester’s shack or Vincent’s workroom.

Lester was real nice to you. When you weren’t working, he’d bring you on walks sometimes. Going around the perimeter of the town. Bringing carcasses to the boneyard which stank to high heaven in the hot Louisiana sun. Jonesy usually came along for the walks, staying by your side. She took to you well.

Vincent rarely left his studio. Sometimes he would go through the House of Wax and pick something up that was no longer perfect and bring it down to work on it. You were learning from him, learning a lot. Once he realized that you were somewhat interested in the process, he would slow down and show you how it worked. He still did not talk, and he still hid himself from the world behind the hair, trying to avoid letting anyone see his wax face, but you picked up on a little bit of sign language. Enough to get what he means most of the time.

But Bo. He watched over you the most. He was the most untrusting out of the three of them. If it was his turn to babysit you, as he’d say, you were always within eyeline. When he washed your car, when he ate dinner, when he put his feet up at the end of the day and watched tv. He also didn’t really like to be interrupted in any of these things. You opened your mouth, he grunted. Speak when spoken to. But apart from that bit of your feelings getting hurt, he didn’t do anything to wound you. He never even restrained you. Not while you were sleeping, which you usually had to do in bed with one of the boys, or while they were watching over you. It was usually Bo that you had to share with. You were on more of the same schedule. At first, it was terrifying. This man had hurt you, restrained you, and was now kidnapping you essentially. You stayed awake all through that initial night and he didn’t do a thing. No moves. No touching. No hurting. He had his back to you and that was that. He snored like a dog though. Or a pig.

You found out exactly what your position was when Lester brought back word that there were going to be some people coming into Ambrose. You were hidden with Vincent right away. You sat in his cot with your legs crossed in anticipation of what was going to happen. People. Real people - and it seemed like the guys had a sort of plan for it. You were patient. You didn’t have much else of a choice. Vincent wouldn’t even let you go near the door. He watched you carefully when you got yourself a glass of water. This was a no running away sort of situation. He also made sure that you made no noise. Anything that might get their attention. And to his surprise, and your own, you did nothing but stay quiet.

“Sick a’ doin’ your job for you,” Bo said, dragging someone unconscious into the room. You remained on the bed, but looked with wide eyes. Bo just let him drop. A man. Dark hair. Quite big, actually. Bigger than Bo and Vincent. “Now I gotta go check on the girl. Looks like y/n here might have some competition for the Miss Ambrose contest,” He said, and winked over at you. The man beneath groaned, but Bo paid him no attention. “You still have my vote though, darlin’.”

This wasn’t the first time that there were these little nicknames. Sweetheart. Honey, Darlin. The last one tended to be his favorite. And despite yourself, it did make you feel nice to be called that. He didn’t use any of those words for his brothers, obviously. It felt like it might have just been for you. Only for you.

“Thanks Bo,” You said, letting your legs dangle off the bed but didn’t get up. He gave you a wicked grin and a chuckle before heading out of there, wearing some nice clothes with only a little blood upon the sleeve. Barely noticable. Vincent went over to the body, looked at it with his head tilted then picked it up. Set down on the table that was in the middle of the room. Restrained him down. The guy was starting to wake up. Bo must not have used as much force on this one as he had on you.

You got out of the bed. Vincent looked at you. You put your hands up. “I just - I want to see what you’re doing. May I? I won’t get in the way. I promise.”

His hair was over his shoulders now, showing off the waxy face. The eye holes were so dark, you could barely see anything through them. But you could feel his eyes. He nodded. You moved off to the side away from the door and took a seat in the chair. He stared at you for a full moment before finally turning back to the man that was on the table, satisfied that you were not going to be a nuisance.

Scissors went up the man’s shirt, exposing flesh. A needle jabbed into his skin. The man was groaning. As his noises grew louder, Vincent looked over at you again, like he was expecting you to have something to say about this. To try to stop him. You gave him a weak smile, and stayed in your chair.

You were curious what was going to happen. Or how this guy ended up here on the table. Who he was, what his life had been like to this point, who was the girl that Bo had talked about. Curiosity took over good sense. As long as you were here, on the chair, and not on the table, you were on good terms with the Sinclairs. That’s the way it needed to be. It wasn’t even so bad sometimes. Better for you than this guy.

Vincent wasn’t a talker. He didn’t go through his process. He cut up the pants of the man, leaving him in his underwear. Started pouring wax over -

Wax.

All of the statues that you had seen throughout the town. The exquisite faces. Some were obviously older than others, and had a more artificial look but some were impeccable. You didn’t doubt Vincent’s ability. But now you were learning. Now you were thinking. Why were there no other souls in Ambrose...

The man’s face was washed down. He was whimpering. Vincent sewed up the injuries that were on him. Bo hadn’t been kind. There were gashes on the chest, the upper arms. These could be covered with a shirt, if it had long sleeves. But you could sense how Vincent was annoyed by the amount of prep work that he had to do. Still, he kept looking to you. And then back down. That long hair. Brushing against the man’s torso as Vincent worked.

After another moment of watching, you cleared your throat. Vincent tensed, and his whole body moved towards you. The man on the table was trembling. Was looking to you for help. But instead you removed one of your hairties from your wrist, they’d been in your pack and you resumed your old habit of keeping them on you most of the time, and held it out to Vincent tentatively. When he didn’t take it, you mimed tying your own hair back. He gave a grunt, but he also took it, and pushed his hair out of the way. It still bunched in his face but it didn’t trail down as much anymore. You stayed in your seat after that, making next to no noise. Jonesy was the loudest one in the room. Making whimpering sounds.

Waxing the face - literally using wax to remove all facial hair. And then he was put into some kind of contraption. That’s when you stopped watching. That’s when Vincent would need you, beckoning you over towards the stairs which lead up to the museum. You followed, dutifully. You could hear the machines at work down there. Loud. There was no missing it.

Vincent was being more gentle than usual. He took hold of your arm once you were up, but without any real force. Just holding you out of habit to make sure you didn’t leave. Out to one of the grand rooms. The piano room. He urged you to sit down through little pushes and motions, so you did. You sat down on the bench, and then your part in this became clear. Posing. You were going to be the inspiration behind what the man down there and turned into. You had to get the position right so that Vincent could get it right for the man down there. Jesus Christ.

He put your hands on the piano keys. “I don’t know how to play,” You admitted to Vincent. You looked up in time to see the very human reaction of rolling his eyes behind the wax mask. It made you smile a little to see him look almost normal for a second there. Like an exasperated teenager. But that didn’t last long. He pushed your fingers down this time. So you did your best. You were no Mozart. No Chopin. Not even a Taylor Swift. But you could manage Chopsticks well enough. The piano was out of tune, which was why it was always music playing from speakers and not anyone really playing the piano but nonetheless, the sound echoed throughout the room. It made it sound more cheery. More alive.

Vincent watched. He was always doing that. And then he stopped you. He posed you. Like you were nothing but a doll. But he was so gentle about it now. Trusting. He posed you, raising one finger a little more elegantly, guiding your foot to the pedal underneath, pushing your head up and forward rather than looking down like you had played this song a thousand times before. He then took polaroids. Old school polaroids of everything. From the tilt of your neck to your fingers. You didn’t dare move. You held that position until you felt like you were cramping, and then beyond that. Until the moment Vincent gave that grunt that he was done. Then you were able to relax, and follow him back down to the basement. You joined Jonesy on the bed, cuddling her, putting your face into her fur and breathing in that warm animal smell. She accepted it and licked your arm back in affection.

The process continued. The pose was taken from your pictures, which Vincent carefully studied, and put onto this strange man. He was still conscious. He was still trying to speak. You didn’t give him anything to hold onto. You didn’t give him any help. In fact, you were helping Vincent a little more. Demonstrating how you had held your fingers. Getting it right. Everything was fitted and sculpted completely, and then the man was entirely covered in wax. It shot out. Covered his head. Covered his face. Cementing him, in a way, into the correct position. And though you were frightened - it was completely fascinating. Watching Vincent work. How he relaxed as he came to realize that you weren’t going to try to escape, try to help this man escape, or attack him while he was distracted with work. Vincent didn’t ask you to help you move him after everything was complete. But you offered anyway. He nodded, preferring you inside of his sight, anyhow. Especially with Bo out there chasing some girl around. The idea made you a bit ... uncomfortable. Either Stockholme Syndrome was playing at you strong or .... or you might actually have started to fall for all of Bo’s southern charm. He could be a real asshole, there was no mistaking that, but when he called you darlin with that drawl, those little flirtations, when he’d brush by you as you laid together in bed... it caused something. Something was stirring.

Jonesy followed along like a little shadow. She took to you the same as she took the Sinclairs. Like you were a new owner. The House of Wax was silent save for the footsteps of the three of you against the ground as Vincent heaved this new figure upstairs. He was strong. The man had been tall. Over six foot, you’d guess. Taller than Vincent and he loomed quite a bit. And then the addition of all of the wax on top of that. Intimidatingly strong.

The man was set in place on the piano. Everything was exactly as it should be. Not a hair out of place. Vincent stood back to look at his handiwork, examining it with an artist’s eye before finally letting out a grunt of satisfaction. The nice moment didn’t last long, though. The front doors opened. And it wasn’t Lester or Bo. Their walks, the sounds they made, they were well known. Vincent pointed towards the door to go down, and then pushed you in that direction. You didn’t need to be told twice.

Down in Vincent’s room, you waited. You sat on top of the twin bed and had your knees up to your chest, watching the door. That lasted a little while. Your breath was caught in your throat, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You - you were innocent. But you weren’t exactly a victim, were you? In the eyes of the law, you’d be seen as an accomplice. Thinking about that, you looked around at all of the materials. Vincent hadn’t put any of them away. A real sharp knife was calling your name, glinting in the light.

The night seemed to go on forever. There were some banging noise from upstairs. Jonesy barked. Next to nothing for a little while. And then footsteps coming down the stairs. They weren’t the same heavy thud as Vincent’s. Not the slightly limping Lester. Nor the confident strides of Bo. You got up from the bed and stood near the door, holding the handle in your hands. You were trembling. Somewhere along the line, the idea of strangers became terrifying. Of being dragged out of this place, this little perfect place. The people weren’t real, but that meant that you didn’t have social anxiety, there was always seats open at the movie theater, you only had to worry about the opinions of three people who decided to keep you.

The door opened cautiously. That also was not like the boys. So as soon as you saw a figure step inside, you lurched forward, knife in hand, and stabbed it right into the jugular of the man that was walking in. Short buzzed hair. Definitely not want one of the brothers. He flailed in panic, putting his hand up to his neck where the knife was jutting out, blood already gushing down from the wound. It happened so fast. He fell into the room, down onto the ground. His eyes were on you. And they were furious. Not confused, not startled, but full of hatred. It didn’t take long for him to die. And it didn’t take long for you to take the knife out of his neck and put it back in on the other side to make sure that he was dead. He died with that red-hot look in his eyes.

Everything was back to silence. You backed up towards the bed again, your hand and wrist and your shirt having blood speckles all over. You waited. Eventually the door swung open again, but you weren’t armed, and you weren’t lunging. It was Bo, who nearly tripped over the body while jogging in. “Well, lookie here,” He said, slowing his roll. His eyes darted to you and a grin went across his face. It looked like what your arms looked like. Blood splatter. He crouched down. Put his hand around the man’s neck and gave it to squeeze to see if there would be any reaction. His fingers curled around the knife. “Look what you did, beauty queen.”

You swallowed. You held onto your legs. “I - I ... he might have attacked me, I don’t know. You said something about a girl, I wasn’t expecting a man.”

“Oh, I got her too darlin. Don’t be getting jealous now,” Bo winked at you. He wiped his hand on the man’s hoodie. The dark color covered that of the blood. “Vincent’s gonna be happy. And you’re gonna have a lot of work to do. These intruders fucked up our town. Got rid of some our long-time residents.”

“And he was the last one?” You asked, motioning your head towards the man on the ground. Bo nodded, and got to his feet, still grinning. He looked ecstatic. Like all of this had been some sort of euphoria for him.

“My my my,” He said, crossing his arms and looked at you. “Aren’t you a surprise.”

--

A lot of work had to be done. There was one that had been unsalvageable. You had to ride with Lester to take it down to the bone pit. You didn’t know how Jonesy could survive the stench. Your nose wasn’t nearly as gifted as hers and you were retching by the time you got close. Lester did laugh at you a bit, and then took a little mercy and gave you a bit of vapo-rub to put under your nose to make you smell something different. It helped a bit. Getting away from it was the only cure though. Lester kept giving you that shit eating grin all the way home, and you knew, with a sink of your heart, that Bo and Vincent were going to be hearing about your embarrassing reaction.

There was the posing. Long hours spent in different positions, Vincent taking pictures. Bo took an interest in watching this more recently. In fact, his eyes had been wandering to you a lot more than usual lately. He was sitting back with a beer while you stood, dancing with a female mannequin. This was going to be the man that you had killed. He was going to be standing in the same place where you were now. And there was something almost - nice about it, the more that you thought on the topic. That he’d be living forever in this beautiful museum.

“What do you think?” Lester asked, plastering up one of the damaged walls. “She look like a dancer to you, Bo?”

“Hmm, somethin’ ain’t quite right,” Bo said, making Vincent pause in his picture taking. He set his beer onto the ground and stood up, walking over. “No, no. There’s no way you know enough about dancin’ to be takin’ the lead.”

“Would you like to take my place then?” You asked, giving him a surprising amount of attitude. The brothers had become more lax around you since you had killed a man in cold blood. They gave you a little more freedom. You were allowed to drive your car through the town, but there were still roadblocks leaving Ambrose. You could do little more than small circles meant more for go-karts than a real drive, but you wanted to keep your car in working condition. And you were even allowed in the theater by yourself. But you never really talked back. The boys were harder to be comfortable around than the city itself.

“How about a lesson instead? I’m no fuckin’ model. That’s all you, beauty queen,” He stated, walking over, moving the wax woman out of the way.

“A dancing lesson?” You asked, swept up by him as he came in close. You could smell the bitter ale upon his breath. His calloused hands, dirty underneath the fingernails, took hold of yours and pulled you in close. “I’m surprised you know how to. You don’t really seem the type.”

“Now now,” He tsked. “Don’t go saying things like that, it’ll sound like you’re insultin me.” Your chest was up against his. Hie one arm went around your waist while his other  hand stayed planted on yours, off to the side. Vincent turned up the radio. It was playing an old fashioned song which fit the feel of the party room. The first guy whom you had seen turned into a wax figure was still there, being the piano, looking as if he were playing it. The waltz. You didn’t know the name of the musician, but you at least knew a little of what you were supposed to do to the music.

Bo was, surprisingly, a good lead. Alright, so he had a smirk on his face which showed that he was enjoying being in control, but it was still almost a dream like moment. He stepped forward, and you stepped back in time with the music. Your bodies worked in harmony together. When you got something wrong due to inexperience, he’d give a grunt and correct you. There wasn’t any sort of compliment when you did well. Just that same smugness like he was taking the credit for it.

He finished off the dance by posing you himself. This was the first time that he had ever done it. It was usually Vincent’s hands that guided you into the position that he wanted. Bo had that same careful look in his eye, the artist examining his work, before stepping away. “Now that’s how you fuckin’ lead,” He laughed. “Bring the doll.”

“Never let him forget his fancy feet,” Lester muttered to you, making you grin as he brought forward the female doll that you had been posing with. A grunt from Vincent took it off of your face, not because he was mad that you were smiling, but any movement might mess with your posture.

“Never,” You repeated to Lester, causing the redneck to laugh.

---

Bo drank a lot. Sometimes he’d take your car to the next city over and come back with only a couple of cases of beer. He’d forget the groceries, and Lester would have to take a second trip. You learned not to expect Bo coming into the house with a bagful of groceries. Just the damn beer. You weren’t much for it yourself. The bitter taste. Even the smell of it. You were the one who often picked up and stored the empties for Lester to take back, since Bo would always forget.

It all felt very domestic. And oddly, stable. After your show of killing the intruder, the new waltzer, they trusted you more. You weren’t being constantly monitored when you walked through the house or through the town. Just as long as you were back for dinner. To make dinner, more like. You were given more responsibilities, like cooking and cleaning.  ‘Because we spared you, Beauty Queen. You owe us,’ Bo was fond of reminding you.

It was often the smell of beer that announced his presence to you. When it was him that walked into the kitchen to see what you were making. It lingered like a cloud in the air, through his breath, seeping out of his pores. “Who said you could use the big knife?” He asked, grabbing it from you as you were attempting to chop up some lettuce for a salad.

“A butterknife wouldn’t cut through this,” You said, putting one hand on your hip, looking up at Bo. The burst blood vessels in his face, the redness of his nose, he’d been drinking for a while. “I need that.”

“I’ll tell you what you need,” He stated. “I need you to hurry up and make dinner, I’m starving.”

“I can’t do that unless you give me the knife, darlin,” You said, using his own word against him. He could get erratic sometimes when he drank, a little rougher, more violent. And having that knife in his hand was intimidating. He looked at it and then at you, then at the lettuce and the rest of the vegetables on the chopping board. He was realizing that you had a point. It was a whole head of lettuce. The butterknives would take an eternity. But he still didn’t feel right letting you handle the sharp knives like that. He’d seen what you could do with them.

“You just worry about the stove, darlin,” He said it right back. It affected you quite a bit. Sent a warm feeling through your body. “I’ve got this.”

You wanted to ask if he was sure but he was already giving you nudges away from the counter. The knife came down hard against the wooden board, chopping through the lettuce. Again. And again. Getting beers from the fridge, yes. Heating up microwave dinners, sure. But Bo, making a salad? That was something never before seen.

You got out of the way. He did the lettuce rather roughly. A lot of larger pieces compared to some smaller ones. But you didn’t say a word. Didn’t feel right to criticize it at this point. He pushed what he had already cut aside and you were the one to carefully reach over and put it in the bowl. The same with the rest of the vegetables. The watery scent of cucumbers and then the tanginess of dressing covered up that beer smell. He left his in the living room where he’d been sitting on his favorite Laz-e boy, watching TV. You could almost catch the scent of his laundry detergent as well, coming off of the plaid flannel he was wearing. You liked it a lot better.

You had to stop to focus on the stove. To stir the pasta sauce in with the noodles. And then started to make up the four plates and Jonesy’s bowl. Jonesy always got a portion, she was one very spoiled girl. “I’ll go tell Vincent dinner is ready-” You said, wiping your hands on a dishtowel and started to head out of the kitchen. A finger hooked into the belt loop of your pants and pulled you back, surprising you and nearly making you fall.

“I didn’t excuse you,” Bo said, pulling you right into his arms. You hadn’t been that close to him since the waltzing lesson a couple of days before. Everything had gone right back to back-to-back sleeping in bed when you shared with him. You had assumed that might be what he wanted, even with all of his flirting. But now he was sending out a different signal. He was so close. Breath against your face. Back to beer smell. “You should know better.”

“Sorry, Bo,” You said, no attitude this time. “May I go and tell Vincent that dinner is ready?”

“Vincent, Vincent, Vincent, do you love that guy or something?” He scoffed. “You gonna run off and tell Lester too?”

“Well,” You said, eyebrows furrowed. “I was planning on it, yes.”

Bo’s eyes rolled dramatically. “They’re grown men, they can get their own dinner. Fuck knows they’ve been doing it since before you came along. We had lives before you. And we’ll have lives after you.”

It didn’t feel as much like a threat as it sounded. If they were going to kill you, you figured, they would have done so by now. They had ample opportunity. Your place in the beauty pageant was still open. The new girl, the one that Bo had a hard time getting but ended up besting, was the runner-up. Vincent was working on her next. She’d have a sash and all. But they let you keep your place here, in the Sinclair house.

As long as you didn’t piss them off.

“And you’ll have a life while I’m here,” You said, cheerfully. “And that includes not letting your brothers starve, or have to fend for themselves. Did any of you even eat vegetables before I started asking you to pick them up?”

“Hey,” He said, his voice rough. He pulled you in closer. Chest to chest. “Lester makes a real mean dandelion salad.”

“I don’t know if that really counts as vegetables, but it’s better than junk food, I’m sure,” You muttered. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. His breathing was steady. “I can always put some in the fridge for them to eat later, if you don’t want to eat with them tonight..”

“Fuck, you’re just ready to please, ain’t ya darlin?” He said with a laugh, keeping you in place with his arms. They crossed around your back, resting against your waist. “If I tell you to jump, you gonna ask how high?”

Your mouth grew dry, and you felt more than a little embarassed. He was right. You would ask exactly that. “My life is in your hands,” You admitted honestly.

“That’s not the only thing,” He smirked, moving his hands lower to cup your ass. Your eyes went wide and you jumped in place, not expecting that. He laughed at you again, and gave you a harder squeeze. “You sure you wanna call up the boys and have them see you like this?”

You gulped. It was a very compromising position. Especially since you weren’t fighting it. His touch was warm and - you felt wanted by Bo. Fuck, Stockholme Syndrome coming in strong. “I - umm -” You were stammering. Not a good sign. Either you were giving in a little to their banter with little bits of sarcasm, or like he had said, easy to please. Not a mess like this. Not since the beginning. “No-” You squeaked, making him smirk all the more.

“Didn’t think so.”

Lifting you with those arms which carried so many people over his shoulder, both living and dead, he brought you up onto the counter. You were surrounded with the carrot skins and leftover little bits of lettuce but you didn’t notice them. You were looking at the handsome Sinclair who was still wearing that filthy cap that he refused to let you wash. He wormed his way in between your legs, pushing them aside with his thighs. He was so tall. He overpowered you still, even in this higher up position. He had to stop feeling you up in order to get you up on the counter, and now his calloused hand, filthy fingernails, took a violent hold on your chin, thumb pressing almost deep enough to leave a dimple.

Heart beating rapidly. What a cliche. He came in quick, and fast, knowing exactly what he wanted and taking it. The kiss was as rough as you had imagined it to be. There wasn’t much that was soft about this man. His lips weren’t waxy smooth like Vincent’s created ones. No, this was a man who sometimes bit on his bottom lip when he was getting pissed off. The mouth of someone who swore like a sailor. The mouth of someone who knew how to fucking use it. His tongue was out, bringing the taste of beer to your mouth, not just the scent of it closer to your face. And you let him. You created the entryway. You opened your mouth willingly and let him explore. There was no easing into it. He was in like a man who knew his way around.

It was rough. Your lips tingled when he pulled away. A near-painful sensation. Had he bitten you? It felt like it. Even though he left your lips, he kept his thumb on your chin, a little smirk on his features. “You’ve been waitin’ for that, haven’t yah?”

“Um-” You said, lower lip trembling.

“Don’t fuckin lie to me.”

“Yes,” You said, following his instructions. “I’ve been hoping for something like that.”

“You’re a sick puppy, ain’t yah? You see what we do here. And you still wanna be ours?”

Ours? Now that made your heart skip a beat and then struggle to catch up. Ours. The Sinclairs. You shook your head as much as his touch was able to let you, which wasn’t much, but enough to get your point across. Mouth still dry, you said, “Not ours. Only yours.”

With Bo, there was always a right answer. Everything was black and white. You either said exactly the right thing or you were in the wrong. You held your breath waiting to find out if you fucked up or not.

But that smirk turned into something more. A smile. A real Bo smile. The likes of which you haven’t seen sice he had charmed you into trusting him when you came into town.

“Fucking right, mine,” He said, and came in again. His fingers dropped from your chin since you weren’t tugging away. In fact, your arms flung around him, pulling him in closer. He put his cards on the table by instigating, and you had put yours down by reacting. It was so wrong, wasn’t it? He was a killer. Your kidnapper. But he was also the sexiest man that you had ever seen in your goddamn life. And gentle with Vincent. And a funny little shit. Fuck, you had it bad, but it felt so good.

“I see someone’s gettin’ into dessert before dinner,” A voice cackled from the doorway. Bo pulled away from you so quickly at that, it gave you whiplash. Thudding boots against the ground. Lester laughing and sounds of furniture being pulled.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill yeh’,” Bo could be heard shouting. Vincent came up to see what the noise was but quickly got distracted by the sight of all the food. You made him a plate, and he sat down, his large frame hunched while he was at the dining room table, and ignored the madness coming from the other room.

“INDIAN BURN!”

“Ahh, shit Bo, stop -”

“Say Uncle - Say Uncle -”

“I’ll never surrender!”

More furniture scuffling, grunting coming from the living room. Struggling noises. You looked over to Vincent who was eating his food slowly. He constantly wiped at his wax face with a napkin, self-consciously. “Should I go in there, do you think?” You asked him. He looked at you, straight on, eye to eye contact, which was quite rare for him. And he shook his head, no. Vehemently.

“BO AND Y/N, SITTIN IN A TREE. K - I - S - S - I - N - G!” Lester’s laugh was loud. Bo’s anger was louder. The sound of a breaking lamp now. Vincent shook his head again, but this time like an annoyed parent. You took one last look at the doorway, and then made up your own plate and sat across from Vincent. He even kicked your chair out for you, which made you smile at him. And you finally got a smile back.

It was moments like this that really made you remember that these aren’t just three men who work together. They were brothers. And they were behaving like brothers. It made you wonder what they had been like as kids - but you stopped that thought in your tracks. You had seen Bo’s scars on the rare occasions when he was wearing a t-shirt. Mostly while working on your car. The high chair with the bindings. Vincent’s poor face. It wouldn’t have been a good childhood. So maybe it was good that they were getting some of that out now.

“Yeah, we fuckin were, until SOMEONE interrupted us!”

“Shoulda put a tie on the door - OW, FUCK-”

“Gotcha Les, now you’re gonna scream Uncle.”

“We ain’t got any uncles!”

“You’re a fucking idiot, just SAY it.”

“Get off me, your fat ass weighs a ton-”

“One ... two ...”

“Alright, fucking UNCLE.”

A few moments later, both of the men came back into the kitchen, looking a little worse for wear. Hair ruffled. Clothes disheveled. Bo gave Lester a push inside, making the lighter-haired young man stumble forward towards the counter. Lester scowled, until he looked over at you, caught your eye, and winked. Instantly, you felt your cheeks growing pink, and looked down at your plate, feeling caught. Oh, these boys. Only one of them could call you theirs but you called them all yours.

#Bo Sinclair #Bo Sinclair x reader #Bo Sinclair oneshot #House of Wax #House of Wax oneshots #horror #horror oneshot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #nonrequest #bos

[raiuart]

My latest dnd oc. His name is Kairan and he's a mariachi themed bard

#dnd #dnd oc #oc artwork #bard #mariachi #mexican #tiefling #tiefling oc #horror oneshot

[dirt-foundd]

C O L O U R S

This story is not suited for children or those who are easily disturbed. It contains scenes of spousal and child abuse, violence, death and blood. Please do not read if you are susceptable to being disturbed by these topics.

He hit her again today, her bruises are uncountable, and it hurts me to look at them.  I always feel so helpless.  I wish I could do something to stop him, but I would probably just make things worse if I intervened.  She’s crying right now.  I am too.  Gosh, I’m so afraid!  What if he started hitting me, too?  Oh, who am I kidding, I don’t think he even notices that I’m still alive.  I’m starving, I'm always starving.  But I don’t dare go into the kitchen.  Maybe it would be okay if I just went to the kitchen to help her, I don’t need to get anything for myself.  Yeah, I could help her get up, there’s no harm in that.  His car just pulled out of the driveway, that’s a relief.  Now it’s safe to come out of my room.

Luceile walked gingerly down the stairs and into the kitchen.  “Mommy?”  she mumbled, looking around for the parent she asked for.  She then saw her mother lying on the floor, looking a bit dizzy.  Luceile knelt down next to her mother and hugged her eagerly, squeezing her mother as tight as she could with her weak arms.  “I’m so sorry, I wanted to help but I was too afraid-  I’m sorry”  Luceile cried into her mother’s arms.

“Afraid?  Afraid of what?”  Luceile’s mother asked, looking at her with a gentle, but somehow sleepy? expression.

“I was afraid that if I got in the way, he would hurt you more.”  Luceile’s expression looked like that of a beggar.  She then saw the bruises that covered her mother’s arms, shoulders and neck, “Mommy, you’re hurt!”

“I’m fine Sunshine, really.  I’m strong, remember?  As long as you’re okay, I’ll be fine.”  Luceile’s mother smiled weakly at her, “Now that your father has gone, let me get you something to eat sweetie.”  The battered woman limped over to the cupboard and got out a few slices of bread.  After that, she hobbled over to another cupboard, grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, “Here you go Sunshine.”  And she handed Luceile the bread and water.

Luceile scarfed down the bread right then and there and chugged the water down, “Thank you, mommy.”  Luceile smiled thankfully.

The sound of a car coming into the driveway could be heard from the kitchen.  “Oh, it sounds like your father’s home.  Hurry up to your room now.”  Luceile did as her mother said.  “Good night sweetie!”  The woman called up the stairs.

“Good night, mommy!”  Luceile called down from her doorway.

I can hear him hitting her, and yelling at her.  She’s crying.  I wish there was something I could do.

Luceile didn’t get much sleep that night.

Today feels…  Different.  Something about it feels…  Wrong.  But I can’t figure it out.  I don’t hear my father.  Maybe he isn’t up yet.  Maybe it’s safe to go downstairs.

As soon as Luceile stepped out of her room, she heard it.

Oh, so he is up.  And he’s already on her.  Maybe I won’t go up to my room just yet.

Luceile silently made her way to the bottom of the stairs and looked around.

Of course, it’s the same as it’s always been.  My father standing over my bruised and beaten mommy.

It isn’t fair, she shouldn’t have to deal with this.  Maybe if he was gone- No!  She can handle this.  She’s fine, see she’s bleeding.

Wait, she’s bleeding?!  No!  This is all wrong!  She shouldn’t be bleeding!  He went too far!  This isn’t right!  No!  It’s all wrong! Tears blurred my vision and memories of my old best friend, Mr. Mews flashed in my mind.  I forgot about him.  I miss him.  What happened to him?  Suddenly images if my father holding an orange and white corpse covered and smeared with blood in his big hands played in my mind.  My cat's limp body flashed in my arms, no, no! This is wrong!  My vision flashed again, my arms were empty.  Mr. Mews’ cold, limp, lifeless body was no longer there.  His head which was once cupped in my hand was replaced with a bloody knife.  Where did this come from?!  I don't remember grabbing a knife.  I looked past my hands to see a mangled body beneath me.  My hands were covered in blood and bits of torn flesh.  I looked up from the corpse, my vision still blurred with tears.  Mommy was looking at the corpse underneath me.  Her expression read like something between horror and relief.  What a weird combination.  “M-mommy?”  I then realize that the bloody corpse was my father’s.  “A-are we safe now?”

Word count: 777

This story was written for an old oc of mine, named Luceil. She suffers a serious psychotic break after the end of this story. After which she lives in a distorted version of reality based in hallucination and whatnot. I don't know why I made her, but she's the most physically and mentally ill of all of my characters.

#original fiction #original character #original child character #pov child #pov first #child oc #young murderer oc #murder fic #horror oneshot #horror fiction #tw abuse #tw death #tw blood #tw murder #tw knife #tw stabbing #tw flashbacks

[dryboner]

tf is wrong with tumblr search

#horror oneshot

[lumendelmari]

The Cult of the Gol’Goroth  

Chapter Four

The Village

15 Elient (The Fading) 1484 DR / Day 6

Northeastern Neverwinter Wood, near Goldleaf village

Another day of travel passed for the four companions with only a minor setback. They were far from the Long Road, the Blackford Road, and the High Road—the three major trade routes that looped around Neverwinter Wood. But occasionally, daring caravans would depart from those major thoroughfares and pass through the Crag Mountains or skirt the Wood as a shortcut. The companions nearly met one such train of five wagons traveling south on their fourth day of travel. The other travelers did not appear of any threat. They were pale-skinned humans, likely Illuskans. But instead of engaging them, Varan, Krom, Zelyra, and Arlathan slipped into the forest and waited for the wagons to pass. They were on a timed mission and did not wish for anything to slow them down.

By the following morning—their fifth day of travel—the companions were half a day’s march from their destination. And unlike in days past, Varan trailed behind the others. He gave the excuse that this was Zelyra and Arlathan’s mission and they should head the journey from here on out, but truthfully, the ranger was fighting himself with every step. It brought him closer to a nightmare, a time he wanted to forget. He wanted to be angry. He was angry. And yet, he knew the Masters of the Wood had not sent him on this quest out of spite—no matter how much Varan wanted to blame them. They didn’t know. No one knew. For the ranger had not told a single soul what had driven him into Neverwinter Wood as a fourteen-year-old boy in the first place…

Zelyra and Arlathan chatted about this and that as they walked. Krom would occasionally offer input from where he trailed just behind them. But Varan was utterly silent and haunted by memory.

By mid-morning, the companions walked down a dirt-packed path lined by healthy trees laden with large golden apples. A light breeze blew and stirred them, causing a sweet scent to gently waft through the air. The weather was balmy, and the sun shone overhead. It was quite pleasant for an autumn day.

“Look at the size of these things!” Arlathan exclaimed as she ran over to one of the trees. The druid quickly scaled a low-hanging branch and plucked off one of the apples.

“Get me one!” Krom shouted.

Arlathan picked a second apple and hurled it in the half-giant’s direction.

It struck him square in the jaw.

“Ouch,” he groaned.

“You were supposed to catch it!” Arlathan laughed.

Zelyra picked up the now bruised apple as it rolled to a stop at her feet and handed it back to Krom. He took a big, crunching bite and gave a thumb's up after a few moments of chewing. It was good. Arlathan quickly began to fill her pack with apples. They would make a good snack later in the day or breakfast for the return journey.

“I wonder why there are so many apple trees?” Zelyra mused.

“Because the village is known for its apple-based wines,” Varan replied unthinkingly.

The druid raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Varan shrugged. “Come on, we’re wasting daylight,” he said instead. The ranger then looked to the other druid, who was haphazardly balanced in the tree, still picking apples, and sighed. “Arlathan!” he barked.

“Whaaat?”

“Oh, for the love of—let’s go!” [1]

Arlathan scurried out of the tree and rejoined her companions. She excitedly held out her pack and showed them her spoils. “I got enough for all of us,” the moon elf said. There were approximately twenty apples in her bag.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Varan replied with an eye roll. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The ranger stalked off, and as he did, Arlathan muttered under her breath, “Except you. You don’t get any apples….”

. . .

Read more https://archiveofourown.org/works/46514380/chapters/117375901

or

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14223062/5/Zelyra-Erenaeth-Origins

#neverwinter wood #taras aldar #druids #circle of swords #ranger #barbarian #bardbarian #forgotten realms #dungeons and dragons #5e #horror oneshot #cult of the gol'goroth #gol'goroth #cultists #demonic frogs #apple trees #improvised weapons

[bubbles-the-banshee]

🥺 Last night’s Dread group brought me a gift, and I—

#professional dm #dungeon master #game master #ttrpg #ttrpgs #ttrpg community #dread #horror games #horror oneshot

[ulyxie]

Alpha, Lambda and Tau

Hello, this is my first every try at writing. It's meant to be a horror story but sadly I don't do horrors. Any and all criticisms are welcome as I try to improve my writing and also English is not my first language so sorry if it looks or sounds wrong. And yes this was inspired by Soma. That game rocks. The only thing I actually regret is using so much from the game and never really going with it.

-----

Who would've thought that the sound of sirens can be so bloody annoying? Especially after waking up.

Those are your thoughts as you are forcefully woken up from your restful slumber. You think back on last night and all the drinks consumed, wondering if it was too much alcohol or just bad luck that made you black out. Either way, it's safe to assume you're going to pay for it later today.

You would think that the fire sirens are meaningless when you're two thousand and a half meters under the oceans surface. You proceed to stagger out of your room to find any one who could tell you what the hell is going on. You of course find bloody no one. Standing in the middle of a living room, your eyes settle on a monitor displaying "HULL BREACH DETECTED: EVACUATE IMMEDIATELLY".

"What the fuck?"

That's unexcepted. You are standing within a massive habitat with many safety protocols. This shouldn't be happening. "Aurora? What's wrong?". "There has been a hull breach detected and everyone but you has been evacuated back to the surface" the AI replies. Evacuated back to the surface? Well something had to go seriously wrong. "Last evacuation pod has left 3 hours and 27 minutes ago" she continues.

With the last pod leaving, you know you've been left for dead. "Any other evacuation routes?", you ask Aurora. She proceeds to display the evac pods available at the deep ocean site lambda. Site Lambda. "LAMBDA?!", you shout. That site has been abandoned due to several things going wrong.

As your mind races through possibilities, the alarms begin to scream again. The hull breach detection system in a much nearer section of the habitat has gone off. You know that's just wishful thinking. But even then you would rather take a chance at survival than certain death. You ask the AI for directions before following them.

THUNK

You freeze.

THUNK THUNK

"Anyone there?", a panicked voice says. Relieved that you aren't alone, you respond to the voice "Yes I'm here!".

THUNKTHUNKTHUNK

"Please help me! I-I can't see", the even more panicked voice says. Something isn't right. "Aurora? I thought you said that I'm the only one not evacuated?". Asking the AI made sense at the time. Right before a massive hunk of metal and synthetic muscles bursts through a locked door. "That is indeed correct. You are the only human not evacuated."

The, for the lack of a better term, monster starts running at you. "Please help me", that voice says again. You realized too late that the voice is coming from the monster. You take off in the opposite direction. Remembering the map, you navigate to the nearest janitor closet in hopes that the monster will loose sight of you.

It doesn't work.

It's almost like the monster knows where you are. It follows you into the janitor closet and slams its hand down onto the wall. There is a loud crackle followed by a series of thunks. After a bit something makes a sound and causes the monster to wander off. Sprinting out of the closet as quietly as one can, you beeline for the airlock leading out of Site Alpha. Getting into the pre-airlock section, you stuff yourself into a suit and get into the airlock. While you're getting into the suit, Aurora has started to drain water from the airlock so you can immediately get in.

***

Once both you and the airlock are ready, you step in and it began filling itself again. You decide asking the AI now will be the best.

"What was that monster?"

"That appears to be biomechanical repair robot."

"Then why was it asking for a help like a human would."

"Please wait while I connect to the robot."

The airlock finally finishes and opens into the water.

Aurora finally continues, "It appears that WAU has copied human consciousness into some robots."

"WAU?"

"An artificial intelligence developed to preserve mankind. The creator of this AIs is unknown. However, we do have access to data logs from the time period where WAU was created. They show that WAU was originally meant to protect human life in case of extinction level events."

"And it decided that putting human brains into robots is the best course of action?"

"We don't really understand how these actions were taken, but we believe they were done to try and preserve human life."

"How does that make any sense? Why would an artificial intelligence that was designed to preserve life choose to destroy it instead?"

Look around the HUD of the suit and find a radar that's showing 3 markers. You in the center, the next mid-stop and your destination. You look at the radar again. Four pings. That... is not right. That last ping is moving towards you at faster speeds.

Aurora decides to speak, "Run, that is not a friendly robot."

Your body reacts before your mind can even process her words. You take off, the suits exoskeleton helping you move faster in the water than you every could. Beelining straight to the next habitat, you see that its doors has already opened and are slowly closing. You manage to get in right before the doors of the airlock fully close.

***

The airlock finishes its draining cycle and opens. A distant echo of the alarm is heard. The same alarms that woke you up. "Aurora? How many habitats are still fully operational?"

"Only 4, Lambda, Alpha, Delta and Gamma are currently operational".

"Why haven't you sent us to them yet?"

"I am trying to send you to the closest habitat, but the hull breach detector system is going off everywhere".

Suddenly the lights shut off and the computer systems start beeping at high pitch. The emergency lights turn on and you feel the vibrations from the alarms and mechanical repairs.

Finding a literal closet, you hide in it. Site Beta should be a research lab which doesn't explain why there is another robot. Perhaps it was an accident? Or a test run?

The robot just walks past your hiding place. It most likely doesn't know that you are here. Once you are unable to hear it, you ask Aurora for another set of directions to the next airlock. Thankfully you encountered only few more machines of death and get into the airlock to head out back into the water.

***

As you proceed deeper into the ocean, you realize that something's wrong with the environment. Water temperature seems to be increasing. The pressure is also changing, as if something's sucking the oxygen out of the surrounding waters. You are well aware that you are in the part of the route in between sites Beta and Gamma that is used to get oxygen from the water into its gas form and delivered to the sites.

But the fact that you can feel the pressure change means that some of the machines had to be in overdrive. Which could mean one thing.

WAU is making more biomechanical robots.

As your brain starts processing what's going on, your mind races through possibilities. You could die. You could survive. You could even die a second time. But no matter what choice you make, one thing is certain. You need to evacuate ASAP.

You tell the AI to take you to the closest evac pod. As the AI is recalculating your path, the lights go off and all sounds stop. You think it's a malfunction with your suit or something similar. Standing in the silence, you start hearing a quiet deep rumbling. Like several servos and synthetic muscles working together to move something heavy.

"Aurora? What's happening?", you ask unsure if she can even hear you. "That is the sound of the methane seepage. We are at the edge of the continental shelf and the ocean floor is very unstable" she replies. That's right. You read something about this seepage few days ago. And here you were thinking that it was another monster going for you.

Your suit restarts after a moment and you resume your walk to Site Gamma.

***

The walk to Gamma was uneventful after that. Airlock cycled as normal. Standing inside the habitat you find that the lights are still on. "Aurora, are you sure the habitat isn't damaged?".

"Yes, the habitat has been reinforced to withstand much more than what happened at Site Alpha due to the sensitive and explosive machinery kept here."

"What is this place for then? Is it some sort of testing ground?".

"This habitat was meant to be used as a launch point for submersible vehicles to carry humans and other cargo across the abyssal plain. I'm detecting several still operational vehicles that could be used to get to the deep sea elevator."

"Is there any that could get me directly to the surface?"

"Sadly no. They are either missing or broken."

"What's the nearest habitat that would get me to the surface?".

"The closest one is still site Lambda."

"Lead me to the nearest operational vehicle."

"Displaying directions now."

***

You grabbed anything of use along the path. You also found a lot of information regarding what happened and with Auroras logs, you two managed to figure out that after WAU went rogue and tried to get everyone into computers or robots, everyone evacuated as soon as possible. Once entering the garage with the vehicles, you had a lot of useful tools, including screwdrivers, battery cells, a flashlight and a cutter torch. You took the opportunity of calm and looked over the machines.

There were many submersibles. Machines ranging from big underwater trucks and small quads with propellers to small autonomous drones that appear to be disabled. You remember using those to explore the surrounding area and the marine life.

You even spotted what looked like seamoth looking machine that you would find in Subnautica but it wasn't in a good condition. You grabbed the small quad as it looks fast enough.

Inserting a fresh battery cell, which you found along the way, the machine whirred to life and with a series of happy beeps it announced that it's fully operational. You managed to push it into the vehicle airlock and after putting on your suit, you activated the airlock.

***

As the airlock starts filling itself, you look through the door window outside. A big robotic eye stares right back. That's bad. A monster was waiting for you just outside. You try everything, even asking Aurora to stop the airlock but the airlock happily continues its filling. Your only option is to get on top of your submersible vehicle and try to evade the monster. The airlock is massive so it should be possible.

As the door start opening, you step on the gas and speed out of the airlock not giving the monster a chance to engage you.

You manage to get far away before the robot starts to move. Instead of looking back, you keep looking at the radar on your HUD. 4 pings, you, your goal, a midpoint and the monster. For a brief second the ping of the monster stops appearing. Well before it appears again and is rapidly moving towards you. Maxing out the speed you realize it's not enough. You can't outrun it. You can't even slow down because it is too fast for you to avoid hitting. So what do you have left?

Aurora decides to be help full yet again. "Site Delta even in its dilapidated state can provide a hiding place from that monst-"

Cutting of the AI, you shout "Give me the directions now!"

Aurora does and instructed and now you're speeding towards Delta, your only hope at survival.

The monster has finally stopped hunting you. The ping on the radar just kept slowing down until it disappeared.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you head at a slower speed towards site Delta.

***

Getting calmer the closer you get to site Delta, you fail to register a set of robotic eyes peering at you from the darkness. The beast that hunts you has returned, only this time it is silent.

Now that you can actually see it, it looks like a giant spider. Using its mechanical legs to propel itself forward in such an unpredictable way that it is impossible to predict where it'll appear next. You were cut off from your only way of survival. There is no way to get past it and get into site Delta.

Your heart is racing as you try to remember if you had anything you could use as an improvised weapon. You didn't bring anything, but that cutter. Switching on your hold it in front of you like a sword. You know it's futile. The monster is way too fast for you to react in time. The robot just looking at you, staring.

Then the robot runs at you, its massive mechanical legs allowing it to move at speeds faster than you expected. Caught completely of guard, it slams its leg into you and throws you off the submersible vehicle. You are thrown against the wall and your body hits hard. You're stunned and dazed for a moment, unable to process what's happening around you. A quick check reveals nothing broken or damaged. You are able to move. Before you even manage to get on your feet, it stands above you, its leg on your chest forcing to stay down.

The voice in your mind tells you that you are dead, but the other part of you screams and begs for mercy. The monster's arm moves to grab at you.

"No!" you yell out, but you know the outcome of this. Your luck has run out. You know how horror stories go. It always depends on the author. Will he be nice to you or will he want you dead by the end.

The monster grabs you. Carefully you might add. Then moves to the airlock of the Delta and puts you inside before leaving.

The author must've been quiet happy when writing this to let you survive.

You decide to keep going through the site Delta. You don't know why you are alive, but you will find out the answer to that question.

You continue your search for answers, but it seems that Delta is deserted. No sign of life anywhere. Reaching the airlock on the other side of Delta, you this time get inside a high pressure suit and exit.

***

After a short walk to the deep sea elevator, you get in it and activate its descend.

The elevator speeding down, you recount what happened. Neither you nor aurora have said anything since the encounter with that spider-like creature. The descend was rather uneventful, most likely the author has given up on writing anything entertaining. At least he isn't trying to kill you.

The elevator finally lets you out and you move to site Lambda.

***

Reaching site Lambda, you try to open its airlock only to find that it wont open.

"Aurora? Any way to get in?"

"There is a hull breach few meters to the right that will allow entry. After that you will have to find your way to the airlock in the middle of the site and enter the other half that holds the last evacuation pod."

Extremely helpful as always.

Doing exactly as you're told, you find the hull breach she was talking about. Entering it you find this half of the site flooded. There are helpful labels on the walls that you decide to follow. Thankfully nothing has attacked you. The author probably given you plot armor though you decided to not test it. Entering the mid-site airlock, you set it to cycle. Stepping out of the now cycled airlock you step into a dark but still not flooded part of the site.

"From here use the arrows and signs on the wall to find your evacuation pods. Please note that pods 1, 2 and 4 are damaged and should not be used. Pod 2 and 5 are fully operational but pod 5 is showing some errors.", Aurora says unprompted.

Following the arrows was a breeze using the flashlight you found at Gamma

Now standing in the evac room, you find your pod and step in. Against all odds you have survived. Pressing the evacuate button in the pod causes the pod to seal and launch itself out and rise to the surface.

After a half hour of just rising, the pod surfaces and activates a distress beacon. Thankfully you surfaced near a coast so a ship is dispatched to your location very quickly.

The ship arrives as you sit in the pod, still shocked at being alive. "We have received your distress call and have rescued you as requested. You may now disembark from the vessel." The speaker announces to you.

Getting into the ship, you start thinking about what has happened to you. Why did the author write a story where you managed to survive?

Why did you survive?

You can't help but feel that there is something wrong. It was supposed to be a horror story after all, and a good one at that.

Once reaching the dock, you exit and call a taxi. The taxi does indeed bring you home. Nothing has gone wrong yet.

***

The taxi drops you off outside your apartment building and you head towards the lift. As you step into the elevator, the doors close behind you and the elevator starts moving upward.

You stand there in silence for a brief moment as the elevator ascends to the top floor. Hoping out you open the door to your apartment using a code. It's as if you've left it just a few moments ago.

"Thank you Aurora." you whisper as the doors close.

You head into your bedroom to take your well deserved rest.

You fail to realize that your bedroom looks different than usual.

#first story #of my own making #horror oneshot #writing

[darkbluekies]

GOLDEN TRIAL trailer-ish

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

—RELEASES 11/5-2024—

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere oneshot #yandere horror #yandere mystery #yandere fic #yandere poly #male reader

[etfrin]

Feral

warning - NSFW (p in v sex, no prep, nonconsensual somnophilia but reader wakes up and she is okay with it so does it count? IDK. Ethan is kinda rough, mentions of blood and murder, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie)

Ghostface! Ethan Landry x female!reader

summary: Ethan was bragging about you to his latest kill but then they say that one you will leave him and that makes him fucking feral.

- - -

It wasn't new for Ethan crawling through your window after a kill. There's nothing more comforting than having your body heat beside him after he left someone bloodless and cold. He loved cuddling after a kill. Ironic? But who cares? He didn't. You certainly didn't.

Today was something different however, his heart was pumping the adrenaline of a kill in his veins but he didn't feel at peace like he did. He felt annoyed, angry, and overwhelmed. His victim's words got to him.

That you would leave. His lovely dear girlfriend who accepted him the moment he revealed the truth to you. You didn't care that he was a murderer. All that matters to you is that he was still Ethan.

He crawls to your bed beside you. You were asleep. He had cleaned up after the kill, and freshly showered. His clean scent mixed up with the slightest hint of sweat coming from you. Your back was to his chest, his nose buried into your hair, trying to breathe you in. Trying to find solace in your presence.

"You can't leave," he whispers in the dark. "You can't leave me," he growls, growing agitated by the second. His hand goes down your thigh, you wore shorts. He slips them off. His hand finds his destination in your pussy. He rubs his palm against it. Once, twice. He was still mumbling about the fact that you can't leave him. You can't, you can't, you can't.

God, he felt like he was going insane. He takes his cock out. He spits on his palm and rubs it on his cock before he does the same with your cunt. Spreading makeshift lube onto your folds.

He doesn't hesitate a second as he pushes the tip of his dick into your familiar heat. He lets out a groan from the feeling. You were dry, he wondered for a moment if you could grow as wet and slick as you usually are for him while asleep.

He takes the tip out, his jaw clenching from the loss of not being inside you. He pins you down underneath him. Moving you like a puppet. A pretty one. He raises the t-shirt you are wearing to expose your breasts. He doesn't play with them much, wanting to get to the main course. He kisses the nipples before he moves between your thighs.

He breathes into the familiar scent of you and spits onto your folds. After doing so multiple times, he spreads it all over your cunt. Getting it slick. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles. He could feel your thighs tense.

No, no, that wouldn't do, he thinks. He wanted you to wake up while he was buried deep within you. Marking you. He immediately stops his actions. He didn't bother prepping you in fear that you might wake you.

You're his love, of course, you wouldn't mind taking his cock without any prep. You can do it.

He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke. He bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed so he can stop his groan. Every time felt like the first time for him. He lets himself adjust to the warmth gripping his cock like a vice. His hands are on either side of you and his forehead is pressed against yours.

He gives you a small kiss before his hips begin to grind. Inch by inch so he could stretch you out properly. His head falls between the crook on your neck, one of his hands now on your throat. He wasn't squeezing it, but it was just there. His fingertips feel your pulse.

It filled with him relief. You're here, you're alive and you're his. He doesn't stop his sounds anymore, his thrusts having no pace just chasing whatever made him feel good. He could feel your pulse starting to get faster, your walls squeezing. You were up. He grins, "Darling?"

"Ethan," you moan, your hand going to his hair, fingers into his locks. He pressed a kiss on your ear. "You're awake," he whispers. "Uh huh," you whine, your walls twitching.

"You won't leave me right?" He questions, his eyes peering at your wide ones. "Huh?" You replied back. Unable to think about anything but his cock.

He could feel annoyance creeping in about the fact you didn't reply yes immediately. The hand around your throat tightened, just a bit. Just enough for a feel.

"You," he hisses with a deep thrust, hard enough to rock the bed. He said, "Won't," thrust, "Leave," thrust, "Me," thrust, "Right?" thrust.

You could find yourself nodding, your walls pulsing around his cock near your release. He chuckles, "Good. Because the only way you could leave is when I decide to kill you, my love."

Fuck. His words make your eyes roll back and cum. Your walls spasming, milking his cock just the way he liked. With a grunt, he spills into you. Thick white ropes of cum being fucked inside of you until he slips out.

He lays beside you, his body flushed red. "One of the victims was mean today," he pouts. After you managed to catch your breath, you replied, "Who cares? That fuck is dead." You pressed a kiss on his forehead. "You're the one here right now, alive." You whispered.

#oneshot #scenario #x reader smut #character x reader #x reader #x you #x female reader #x female y/n #x fem!reader #fem reader #female #scream #horror #thriller #scream movie #ghostface #ethan landry x female reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #established relationship #reader insert #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #reader smut #smut #ethan landry imagine #jack champion #jack champion scream

[diggykit-kat]

𝑫𝒐𝒈𝑫𝒂𝒚 x Reader PT. 1

You didn’t know why you even decided to go into the factory. You can’t even remember your motive for going on, but there was none of it left so why did it even matter?

DogDay. After finding you while you were exploring, he felt this deep down in his heart... This feeling had been longing to come back. For the last bit of humanity left in him, he kept you... he made sure you scavenged around for anything that could keep you healthy and alive, food, water, blankets, etc. Despite your whining and fighting, he didn't let you go deeper into the factory, and he kept you in a nest-like room in the orphanage... "Angel...Angel? Are you awake? Are you Hungry?”

You groan, digging your head into the pillow…you were practically kidnapped by this 8-foot humanoid dog, as much as you wished to escape and go back home it wasn't an option anymore, he'd always catch you… “D.D. I was sleeping” you whined

DogDay chuckled, a scratchy sound not matching his appearance. "Oh, my Little Angel...I knew you were sleeping but it's time to eat...please, for me." DogDay sounded exhausted with his role as protector. His tone never wavered from a soft, caring one. "You know that I need you to eat well...right?"

You sighed, looking at him for a few moments, how did you even get into this situation of being forcefully taken care of by some humanoid hellhound… “Yeah. yeah. Right. Just give it to me” you murmured, you almost felt pity if it wasn’t for the fact every time you tried escaping he’d hunt you down like a serial killer in a horror movie.

DogDay snapped his paws in the air, a sudden burst of joy hitting him. "Oh, I can't wait until you eat. I need to know what you think about what I got you." DogDay bounced as he spoke, his movements a stark contrast to his rough voice. "C'mon, Child, get up I got something really extraordinary."

You tense up, the last time he said ‘something special’ he had found a literal animal corpse...and not just any. But a raccoon corpse…wonder what gore you’ll see today, “Oh and what may that be…” you muttered, following in his steps.

"Oh, it's..." DogDay made a show of tapping his chin and pretending to think, then with a snap of his fingers and a loud "Ah-ha!" he said, "It's...a surprise!" DogDay bounced on his hind legs, a rare display of genuine joy that nearly sent him toppling over. "Come on, let's go! It's a real winner!" DogDay's demeanor was infectious,

There was no happy “yeah…” in it, just a sarcastic worried one... Although DogDay was oblivious, you followed him through the orphanage and he made sure to keep a close eye on you at all times.

"Now we're there." The monster said as he turned down a dark hallway behind the orphanage. The place was dark. Very dark. It smelled like mold and mildew and something else...blood. He led you to a room with an iron door. He swung it open. You stepped into the room. The light was murky, but you could make out a pile of...meat on an iron table in the corner. It was a mix of red and white. It was...not a raccoon, that's for sure...

“Th-that uhh…Hey D.Day…what is that?” Your voice became unstable and disturbed

DogDay sneered. "Why that's just your lunch. I know you were always looking a bit hungry, little Angel, so I figured you'd like a nice snack. It's...um...fresh."

“What kind of fresh meat.” You turn and perk up at him

The anomaly gave you another twisted grin. "It's a surprise...I got this, especially for you. It won't bite ya, I promise. Come on...take a bite. I bet you'll like it. Just trust me. Trust your guardian."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

My bot based off this:

#horror #horror x reader #horror fandom #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #dogday chapter 3 #dogday x reader #poppy playtime dogday #dogday #poppy playtime fandom #poppy playtime x reader #DogDay poppy playtime x reader #DogDay fanfic #fanfic #horror fanfiction #DogDay oneshot #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere DogDay

[cherryskyies]

The slashers w an insecure s/o

Includes: Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt

slowly getting through this major writers block. my writing might be dog shit for a few posts but I'm forcing myself to work through it 🩷

Reader is female

Warnings: descriptions of sex (mostly bo section), praise, low self-esteem.

Masterlist || Navigation || ao3

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent doesn't understand it. 

The moment he laid eyes on you he was in awe, knowing immediately he needed you alive. There wasn't enough wax in the world to sculpt you the ways he desired. 

So to see your hesitance at removing your clothing, he was scared you had changed your mind about him — the thought of you being insecure hadn't crossed his mind until you admitted it.

Your cheeks are hot from embarrassment, apologies slipping off your tongue as you dropped your head against his chest. "I'm sorry Vin, I've never liked my body."

He's quick to silently reassure you that he loves all of you, even the parts he hasn't seen with soft hands roaming your delicate body; finger tips gliding over your curves, stopping to lift your face to his – it's a promise.

Vincent will worship the very ground you walk on, making it his goal to show you your beauty through his gentle touches and precise sculptures. You will fill his work space.

Bo Sinclair

"What'dya mean you don't like your body? You've got the best piece of ass I've seen in my life!" Bo exclaims, genuinely confused at your insecurities. 

There is not a chance he'll fully understand, regardless of his own insecurities. Bo looks at you and sees the perfect woman — so what if you have some imperfections? He might as well be blind because he can't see them.

He is very gentle with you though, thoroughly fucking the insecurities away and praising you every chance he gets.

"Look how beautiful you are, cumming all over my cock," Bo praises, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror he's placed across the room. "So perfect."

Would definitely make you point out features you like on yourself before you can cum. Just seems like that kind of guy.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would be so heartbroken to hear you say you don't like your appearance. He'd think it's his fault for not appreciating you enough.

The first time you say it, you're both a nervous wreck. 

"It's not you, Tommy. I just.. I've never liked my appearance," you admit, eyes downcast while your hand holds his at the hem of your shirt.

He whines, nuzzling his face in your neck. It's not fair that you feel this way he thinks, you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. 

But he understands, having his own insecurities; so the two of you make a deal to leave the lights off and keep your shirts on until you are more comfortable — which doesn't take long with the way he worships your body. 

With Thomas your insecurities are a thing of the past. 

#x reader #fluff #angst #oneshot #slashers #thomas hewitt #bo Sinclair #vincent Sinclair #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher fandom #slasher #thomas hewitt headcanon #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #horror #bo sinclair headcanons #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #vincent sinclair headcanons #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair oneshot #headcanons #drabble #slasher fanfiction #slasher fluff #slasher x you

[random-imagines-blog]

Crimson Day {Unfriended: Dark Web Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 4292 Summary: The aftermath after the events of the movie. Warnings: Mentions of death.

Trauma is hell on earth. Trauma resolved is a gift from the gods. - Peter A. Lavine.

You knew a thing or two about trauma. You’ve been living through it for months now. Looking over your shoulder at every turn, avoiding all electronics, living off of the grid and in hiding. Four months ago, life had been absolutely normal. Almost dream-like compared to now. You were just a regular twenty-something year old, living in the city. Your main concerns, like many other people your age, were finding your purposes, and having enough money to cover the essentials and maybe some treats every once in a while. A University graduate, but you had to work two jobs in order to keep affording rent in your small studio apartment over a convenience store. Working, working, working, job searching for something better, keeping your space clean, and once in a while, hanging out with friends. Up until Damon moved to London, anyway. Then it was a mix of seeing your friends around and hanging out with them online. Video chats. Game nights. The worst part was supposed to be maybe the internet lagging or someone not being able to make it or missing your friend who was ‘across the pond’. It wasn’t supposed to come to this. It was someone else’s plan but it certainly hadn’t been yours.

That dreadful night when you lost five of your friends in one foul sweep. A secret organization that was kidnapping people, killing them. Setting up other people to take the fall. You were supposed to be dead. The organization tried hard enough. You barely escaped with your life. A concussion and different scrapes was getting off dreadfully light compared to your friends.

Amara had been shot. It had been a bad one, but it just managed to miss her heart. It dug into her shoulder, and it stayed there. Luckily, a security guard had heard the gunshot and called it in. The security guard didn’t survive when he went in to see what the noise was, but the police that came after arrested the shooter, and Amaya was taken in an ambulance to the hospital. It took hours of surgery to get all of the bullet fragments out. To remove the pieces of shattered bone, put the arm back into it’s socket, and stitch the wound shut.

Matthias had it worse than that. He had been hit hard by a car on an otherwise empty road. Many broken bones. Fractures. A concussion. The ambulance, taking a shortcut to the hospital with Amaya on the back, almost ran him over for the second time, but they managed to stop in time. Called in a second ambulance. The car that hit him was gone. His cellphone was gone. They had a hard time bringing him back, the damage was so extensive. It took a couple of days for him to be lucid enough to get visitors.

Not that he was allowed any.

But you were there nonetheless. Every single day, you sat in a waiting lounge of the hospital, warm drink from the cafeteria in your hands though you hardly drank it. The police questioned you, questioned Amaya, questioned Matthias over and over and over. They didn’t believe you. Who would? All traces of the conversations, the videos, the entire Skype call, was gone from your computer. Matthias’s was never recovered. There was a kidnapped girl in Matthias’s apartment. Damon’s fake confession about what they had done to all of those missing and murdered girls. Matthias was handcuffed to his bed at all times. He had an officer with him if he wanted to get up and use the bathroom once he was able to get onto his feet.

The police wanted to take you to the station but you protested, panic attacks coming in waves. “There’s too many cameras there, I can’t,” You said, shaking your head. The Circle - they must have heard that you had survived. They were probably watching you. A hospital had cameras, but not as many, it wasn’t as heavily watched as the police station would be.

Your heart raced to the point where the doctors advised that they keep you, despite not having any external injuries. They had you on a heart monitor. The police had you in handcuffs nonetheless, but you accepted this without argument. You just wanted to get your story told and then get out of there. In prison, you might be safer, if they didn’t listen and did choose to arrest you.

There was a single detective that took you seriously. You, Matthias, Amaya and your friends all had verifiable alibis during Erica’s abduction. The Circle couldn’t wipe that away. And it reminded him of another case, a few years back. Almost identical details - except no one survived. The ‘murderer’ had committed suicide by jumping in front of a train. There were two witnesses that said he had been pushed, but the police ignored that. The evidence being on computers, the friends of the murderer dying under strange circumstances.

Detective White was the only one that was on your side. While the police wanted to officially arrest you and bring you in, he’s the one that hunted down your alibis, got statements that showed you were nowhere near Erica’s home when she was abducted, and secured at least some freedom for you. It was far from over. It felt like a hollow victory getting those handcuffs taken off of you. But at least it was a victory.

Detective White was the one that wheeled Matthias out of the hospital. Policy, they insisted. He could walk with a limp, but they still made sure to treat him like a victim until they reached the detective’s personal vehicle. He had taken the GPS out, at your urging. It could be easily hacked, or tracked. Since he was taking you to the safe house, the only place that you, Matthias and Amaya could agree on, you couldn’t risk a damn thing.  

You gave him handwritten directions to your parents place. It was outside of the city. A long drive. He took a couple of backways when he could, going past farmlands and through small towns, rather than the major highways, for even they had cameras on them. Neither you nor your two friends dared to get out of the car during the one and only gas stop, opting for hoods up and heads down. Even though Marrhias had to pee, he didn’t dare, just in case a camera caught his face while going in to use the bathroom.

It was a quiet ride. Detective White kept asking questions, and he even knew a little sign language so was able to somewhat understand Amaya when she would answer. But mostly, it was just the forced silence. Any little noise made you and Matthias jump, causing Amaya to worry. Anytime that a car seemed to follow for longer than ten minutes, your heart started to beat quickly again, and you couldn’t breathe until it finally made a turn, or you did. A dark van in a driveway nearly sent Matthias into hysterics. He had to lay his head down on Amaya’s lap, be comforted until the panic attack passed. You dug your nails so deep into your palms that they started to bleed.

The traffic grew more and more sparse, until it was just Detective White’s car on the road. That’s when you felt like you could relax for the first time. You rolled your window down - actually having to use the crank because the car was an older model, and let yourself enjoy fresh air for the first time since all of this happened. It blew in, caressing your face, drying out your eyes. It smelt of trees - evergreen and pine.  

The reason why this was a safe house was because it wasn’t actually under your parent’s name. They had an apartment in the city that was, where they’d spend time when they had to come in for work, usually just on the weekdays. But this - this house, the place that they poured love into, turned into a home - it technically belonged to one of your father’s friend’s from college. He had inherited it but it was too far from the city, so he just let his friends take it over. It was all paid off, and your parents would send money to pay the property tax and other bills.

It was as off the grid as it was possible to be. Your father was one of those doomsday preppers. It was coming, he always said. The apocalypse, the robot uprising, the government shutting down, whatever it was, he was prepared. You used to be embarrassed about it. The teenager that followed him through Costo as he bought stacks of Cream of Mushroom soup. But now you were thankful for it. This was as off the grid as it was possible to get these days.

There were a few technological appliances, thankfully. A microwave, a fridge, an oven, and a working bathroom with plumbing so you didn’t have to go the old fashioned way, out to an outhouse. But apart from that? There was no computer, no laptops, no gaming systems, no internet for you to connect to. You didn’t get service on your phone out here, but there was a landline that worked if the weather was clear enough. There was a small TV with rabbit ears that got a news station and a cartoon chanel - as long as the weather was clear enough, again. Bored? There were decks of cards. There were books. Go for a walk. There were a few Disney films on VHS that you could watch over and over for the nostalgia.

It wasn’t ideal. But at least it was safe. After Detective White left, you went around checking all of the windows and the doors to make sure that their locks worked. Matthias double checked after you did, holding onto Amaya’s hand throughout it all. The two were inseparable since the hospital. She had slept on his shoulder for most of the drive. He hadn’t complained once about it. There was still love in these traumatic times. Their relationship was closer than ever. You were the odd one out. The lonely one out of the bunch. But at least you were with your old friends. You weren’t totally alone in this.

Amaya brought a book about ASL. She taught you and Matthias so that there was no miscommunication anymore. Matthias was more eager to learn now than he used to be. Now that there was no program that he could make to try to make it easier for her to understand him. Now he could understand her. You all could understand one another, bringing you closer, as if sharing the same house didn’t do that for you.

--

It was a beautiful day. The sort of day where it’s all that people could talk about. They’d greet each other in the shops with a nod, a smile, and a ‘Beautiful day isn’t it?’ The kind of day where bosses panicked because people called in sick, but they knew full well that their employees were going to take a fishing trip that morning or take their families down lakeside for a bit of fun. The dog parks filled up and the air was filled with the sound of happy yips and barks.

However, you, Matthias and Amaya weren’t a part of that. The windows were closed, the white and gauzy curtains pulled over, blocking out the light breeze and the sunlight. It was stiflingly warm inside but the anxiety caused you to triple check the windows every time you got up, despite not unlocking them since the day that you got there. No, the three of you were sitting on the ground in front of the couch, the television on the news channel, playing The Game of Life.

You were laughing at how corny Mattias was being throughout it. It was only in the last week that you were able to start finding things funny again - after a couple of months being here. To start smiling and start laughing. You attention span, thanks to the lack of social media, was growing longer and longer, so these games had become one of the most fun things you could do together. Matthias was making a big show of naming the pegs when he was putting them inside of his ‘car’. He signed Amaya’s name when he stopped and got married, carefully picking a pink peg and putting it inside of the car. He was in the lead, already having a son, whom he would consult Amaya on what to name, before either you or Amaya made it to the marriage piece.

‘What about Steve?’ Matthias asked, spelling out the name with his fingers. You wrinkled your nose and stuck your hand out, giving it a thumbs down. Amaya shook her head, her ponytail flying wildly behind her. Matthias thought, tapping the top of the blue peg. ‘Matthias Jr?’

‘In your dreams’ Amaya said, making you really start to laugh. Matthias grinned goofily and nudged her with his elbow.

‘I’m putting my foot down,’ He signed, and made a show of it, tapping his against the ground. ‘Our son is named ... Elliot.’

‘That’s way better than Steve’, you signed, and Amaya nodded showing that she agreed. The game went on. Your little car stopped at the marriage spot, and Matthias and Amaya bugged until you finally gave your husband a name, just throwing out one of the last person that you had a crush on. Amaya reached the spot last, and to the surprise of both you and Matthias, she gave you both a mischievous grin.

‘Zac Efron’ she signed, coyly.

Matthias jumped up to his feet, his words moving quickly with shock and outrage. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, falling to the ground with laughter coming out of you. A deep one from your stomach that felt like the greatest release. Tears came into your eyes and you couldn’t see what Matthias and Amaya were signing to one another again but it didn’t  matter because it ended up with the three of you all laughing and grinning at one another. Even Matthias, who signed that he would let this slide just the one time, but she better name his kid Matthias or there was going to be a car crash. You never expected him to say the last bit, considering what had happened but that felt like letting go of the past too. It was just a good feeling all around.

Once the laughter died down and the game continued, the sound of the television caught your attention. You left it on for background noise, just for you and Matthias, just a little something to get rid of the overwhelming silence, but some of the words actually made you pause and stare at the small and fuzzy screen. It wasn’t one hundred percent clear, but the reception was better today than it usually was. You tapped on Matthias’s shoulder and motioned towards the television. Amaya stopped moving her red car and turned to look at it too, reading the lips of the newscaster.

“- and we are recommending that if you have any children, to ask them to leave the room or to change the channel. What we have to show you is very disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised.”

You felt your stomach rising to your throat. What was on the screen was pulled right out of your memories, a sight that you could not forget, never, as long as you live. The choice that Serena had to make. Your face on the screen, Matthias’s face on the screen. Amaya watched with rapt horror, for this was her first time actually seeing this footage. She hadn’t been in that skype call. She only heard what had happened afterwards. You didn’t know what was worse, seeing it for the first time or for the second, both of it a surprise. An assault.

Your friends cries. The machine beeping as the heart monitor came to a stop. Lexx being pushed in front of the train. You couldn’t look anymore. You turned your eyes downcast, but that didn’t stop you from hearing it. The next, you assumed, was Damon being hung. It was a quiet one, and when you thought that it might be over, you turned your eyes back. No, there was an open word document and it was typing. Exactly like you had seen that night.

‘Why are they showing this?’ Amaya asked, not being able to look any longer. You were wondering the same thing. Was it actually on the news or did The Circle manage to hack this small TV? Could they do it through the small rabbit ears?

The screen went back to the news anchor who looked unsettled to say the least. It actually took a couple of seconds for her to regain control of herself. “Those are the videos that lead to the arrest of an underground group that call themselves The Circle. It’s an organization with surprising members from parliament, the entertainment industry, and corporate leaders, that play so-called games with innocent people using hacking skills, and in-person violence-”

Matthias was signing all of this to Amaya as the words were being spoken, since it was hard to read the lips during those long words. The landline started to ring, making both you and Matthias jump. You excused yourself to get it, hoping that it was who you thought it was. Only four people knew the number to this house. You didn’t even get spam calls or telemarketers here. If the phone rang, it meant that someone important was trying to get ahold of you. Your parents, Your parents friend, or Detective White.

You answered the phone with a little hmm, trying not to give away the fact that you were shaking. Please - please - please let this be real - you never wanted anything more -

“Is this you, y/n?” Detective White’s familiar and tired voice came from the headset.

“Yes - I’m watching the news. Is this real? Or are they hacking us somehow?” You asked, your voice rushed. Panicky.

“I’m pleased to say that it’s real,” He said. Matthias and Amaya were both staring at you, and you signed the good news, and who it was on the phone. Neither of them could move. Truth be told, neither could you. “I didn’t want them to play the footage that we got from one of their laptops, but the media specialist suggested it, something about making sure that the public was turned against them.”

“What, because hearing that they’re a bunch of kidnappers and murderers wasn’t enough to do that?” You asked, pinching the bridge of your nose. For the last while, you managed to escape from the past. You were still looking over your shoulder but not actually expecting to see them. “And you couldn’t have called to give us a warning? We just saw that on the television and-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Detective White cut you off. “I’ve been dealing with tracking down the others, but we got the leaders, including the ones that had physically attacked you and your friends. It’s a lot of paperwork as you can understand.”

The leaders, and the ones that physically attacked you. You were tunnel visioned on those words right now. Repeating them over and over inside of your head. You tucked the phone as best as you could between your chin, jaw and shoulder so that you could sign everything you were hearing towards your friends. Amaya started to hyperventilate. Her face was turning darker and Matthias put his hands on her shoulder to try to help her breathe. They stared at one another, breathing together. He was the only one who could touch her like that. She even flinched from you sometimes. But from Matthias? Never.

“It’s over. It’s really over.”

“We’re hoping so. We’ve already got a long list of names, connecting with police forces around the world to make sure we get these bastards.”

“The world?” You asked, turning your back on your friends to look at the wall. Matthias could still hear you, of course. But you didn’t want Amaya to read your lips. Not when she was already panicking like this. “They’re all around the world?”

“This is bigger than just America,” Detective White grunted. “Japan’s been trying to get these guys for years. The UK too. But we’ve got it. We’ve got them. That’s the good news. Now I have to give you the bad.”

“Oh god,” You gasped. “What’s the bad?”

“I’m not going to be able to expend anymore resources on keeping you three safe now that they’ve been caught. I tried arguing for it, that there could be retaliation though I don’t think that will be the case, they’ll all be busy running for the hills. So you’re going to have to get a legal address again, get back to normal.”

It was bad news.  Detective White had been right about that. But it wasn’t as bad as you thought that it could be. You could still live here. You were sure your parents would let you. And your friends too. You’d break the news to them in time.

“Okay, that’s not too bad,” You sighed. “I think we can handle that. Is there anything else that we have to do? We don’t have to erm - come in and ... you know, testify?” The nerves started to shake up again at the idea of being in the same room as those monsters. At your friends getting attacked.

“No,” Detective White said, squashing all of that down. “We’ve got more than enough evidence. You can if you want to, but just from the video footage alone, the things found on their computers, they’re going to get life. At least. Probably multiple life sentences.”

“Good.” You said, and you meant it. They should spend the rest of their life in an uncomfortable jail cell. No, worse than that, they should have to spend their lives in the conditions that they put other people under. The fear. The small rooms where they kept their kidnapped victims until they were planted in someone innocent’s apartment. All of it. This didn’t feel like enough of a win. But you had to admit that it was a win nonetheless.

After a few short minutes more of conversation and a promise that you’d get back to him once you figured out what you were going to do, you hung up the phone and joined the group hug with your friends. Amaya seemed to have regressed a few steps back after seeing what had happened on the television. Even though they were caught, it was still a heavy trauma. The weight hadn’t been fully lifted from your shoulders quite yet. It wouldn’t be until after the trials. Who knew how long they would take though.

‘It’s all my fault that this happened in the first place’ Matthias signed, also seeming to have taken those steps backwards. You were holding strong in your position, shaking your head.

‘It’s not,’ You signed back shaking your head. ‘They made the choice. It would have been us or someone else, and they might not have gotten out alive like we had.’

It took a whole week for it to sink in. The news was playing the footage over and over again, so you had kept it off. You didn’t need the background noise anymore, you craved the silence. Your parents came back to see you, to promise to help you and your friends look for another place. Together. You’d been living with one another for so long, it felt wrong to be apart. You were bonded now, for life.

You made your first trip into the city after two weeks. You went straight to the police station to see Detective White in person, sunglasses covering your face, attempting to keep low-key but everyone inside of the precinct seemed to remember exactly who you are, all eyes on you the moment you walked through that door. It took time to get used to being around people again. To the attention. You were the first to brave it, then Amaya and Matthias came the second time, holding onto one another. Anyone so much as brushed by Amaya, she flinched, but that was going to take a lot of time to get over. If ever. Eventually though, eventually you might be able to make it to a normal life.

Eventually, Matthias and Amaya would get married. You acted as interpreter during the wedding, saying aloud the vows which the couple signed to one another. The crowd wasn’t as large as it should have been. Your friends should have been there, and it hurt so much that they weren’t. It was one of the most bittersweet days of yout entire life, and you were sure that your friends thought the exact same.

The tragedy was rounding out to a close. You had the scars. You had your traumas. But you survived. Nothing more than that, you survived through it and that meant that you were going to keep on living because there wasn’t much of a choice in the matter. Keep going for Nari, Serena, AJ, Damon and DJ. Getting back to where you had been before, settled in with friends, working, back in school  - life continued, but not as if nothing ever happened. But because everything had happened. A new appreciation for every second, for every friend, for every new experience. That’s how you were living from then on. From now, until forever.

#Unfriended Dark Web #Unfriended oneshot #Horror oneshot #imagines #one shot #oneshot

[doublekanble]

deer (in a head light)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

platonic-romantic. (almost everyone thinks you two are in love or is extremely baffled by the fact, a bit more romantic for me but can be seen as anything actually i just like writing people being sort of stupid)

word count: 5.6k.

or, collectively, everyone's reaction to the fact. Nifty is there👍. no real warning this is a normal fic part two to this.

Husk have never gone through this level of raw mental torture, while Angel thinks it’s absolutely hilarious how hard is it for Husker to accept that one of the most feared Overlord of all Pride Ring is vying for a cute lil fella like you. What started out as a small remark over the rim of a particularly strong cup of gin about how Alastor have been seemingly hovering around you, making small talks that you try to keep up with confused enthusiasm - soon turn into listing off every growing instances of odd affections that no one ever thought he’s capable of, but it’s yours in abundance.

You’re standing up with the intention of going outside? Unless he’s actively in a conversation (and several time, even during one) Alastor will find a convenient excuses to walk with you. You’re cold? Everyone else better be cold too, either that or hope to God he have anything to give you to wear. Hungry? Thirsty? Almost like a caretaker, he’s always making sure you have little bites of food and drink here or there, reminding you like clockwork. Staying in your room for the day? Your room is close to Angel, and the first time he come out of his room, fresh from a hangover, only to catch the tail end of a red coat and a greeting disappearing behind your door, it takes everything in him to try and rationalizing not breaking the door down.

(Husk thinks he was being overprotective. Angel brushed it off with a nervous chuckle. It’s a good thing, he remarks, if only Angel kept that attitude.)

The idea of Alastor actually taken interest in anyone, even positively, send shivers down his spine. Husk have been one of the older soul that fell into the hand of the sadistic Overlord, one that did just enough to keep his earn and do what he want when Alastor would’ve gotten busy with a new project or two. He knows he’s useful enough to Alastor, even with the occasional slipped up, learning quickly where to tread and where to back down. The Radio demon is insane, but he is surprisingly much more lenient with people than he often let on, but not as much as he is with you.

Which quickly became a thorn that Angel uses to dug into his side. Old battle-worn Husk cannot wrap his head around the fact that you, of all people in Hell, somehow get back on Alastor good side and stays there for longer than anyone thought you could.

You are more than bearable, don’t get him wrong. Good at reading and picking up on certain cues to pleased people (more particularly, the fact Husk likes to be alone most of the time), and in spite of being just a tad bit too stubborn at times, is generally a polite and entertaining thing to have around. It would’ve made sense for Alastor to wants to keep you for fun, if not for how you two started out.

Having missing out on your first introduction, all he have to go off of is your debrief of it on the one day you want to try whiskey. You’d damn near spat it out, opting to just sit with some soda instead (he didn’t try to poke too much, you’re almost like a pop-up pirate at time). Husk figured you would earn the ire of the most egotistical man he’d ever known, considering how you loudly asked Charlie for Alastor's resume as a way to try and barred him from working here.

Of course, that didn’t work, both you and Vaggie are long-time victims of Charlie convincing puppy gaze, and Alastor secured him and Nifty a spot at the hotel. But Husk was extremely adamant it would put you on a black book with Alastor, still remembering how Alastor grip on his cane would tighten just a bit whenever you spoke up on the first day. And yet, you get to laugh about it.

-

“Yer just bein superstitious kitten. At this point ‘m pretty sure dude just got the hots for them, nothing big.”  Angel fiddles with his phone on one set of hand, the other propping himself on the bar counter, holding a popsicle to his mouth. He wants to tell the spider that’s absolutely not how the word superstitious should be use, but he digressed. “We’ve been at this for days, if he gonna do something, we would’ve known.”

Husk scoffed, throwing the piece of cloth he’s been using to furiously wiping down a stain someone left on the counter over his shoulder.

“Yeah right, as if you can get your head out of your ass enough to see that.” He ignores Angel smirk, already knew where this can go if he let it, almost like a whisper, he spat. “I’m just saying, he ain’t the Radio demon for show. You lots know nothing about whatever he got planned in his shitty fucked up head.”

Forced contractor be damn, this bar is his pride and joy, or whatever’s left of it anyway.

At that, Angel sends his attitude right back, hand(s) flickering, “And I’m saying he’s head over heels. What? Ya wanna explain the fucker just- casually waltz up to them and kissin' their fucking hand as a morning greeting? Cus’ I’m calling bullshit. Nobody even doing that fucking thing anymore, and he’s doin’ it every chance he gets! Like, have you even seen them?!” Almost like a comedy setup, they both look over to the chattering at the top of the stairs.

Over the railing, you’re rushing off from Alastor’s side to catch up to Nifty, who’s desperately nagging you to come and help her with a spot she can’t dust off with a ladder, having long depleting the fun of falling off from it. And almost like instinct, he took your hand and planted a gentle peck, along with a well wish for your day.

You, with your other hand occupied and being dragged away too fast after the fact for you to formulate a real respond, simply perks up and laugh, waving at him before you fully give into the little bug-like demon and let her rushed the both of you to the other side of the hotel – Alastor stands and watch you fully disappearing behind a corner before turning his head and look directly at the pair. His mic sounding nothing except for a low drones of static.

Husk expertise kicking in, he looks straight ahead instead, wiping down the counter again just to be safe. Angel’s years of acting led him to immediately start talking about the latest project he’s involved in, popsicles stick held from his face. Husk can’t be too bothered by it this time, at least he’s reading the room. But even with their combined effort, it still doesn’t stop Alastor from manifested himself right by the bar, smiles almost pull taut, a too jolly “How is it going gentlemen?” and a request for a cup of moonshine, with a tune contorting just to sound much too whimsical for anyone else except him echoes from his microphone, and he’s off again.

“…y’know, you can just say you’re sorry for being wrong Whiskers~”

“Go fuck yourself.”

-----

Vaggie knows that no matter how much she tries to warn Charlie about the cannibal murderer in their own cozy hotel, her partner can and have constantly willed it away with loving words and cute beady eyes that she can’t fight against. Her loving and trusting nature always been the tried-and-true counter to Vaggie’s much more doubtful and skeptical side. Recalling the way you refer to it (two people working in harmony, balancing out each other’s nature, like a tango, a secret rhythm unknown to anyone but them), she smiles.

It dropped the moment she remembers the matter at hand, specifically, you, a friend that have grown dear to her heart, and the cannibal murderer she very much hated guts - growing close to yours. She’s not sure whether this qualifies for a tango when she’s dragging her feet and Charlie’s tap dancing.

Vaggie would’ve been glad you have virtually zero comment on the fact Alastor is getting close to you, and with her luck, purposefully ignoring it (what’s with you and dive bombing out of the conversation the moment the topic came up), if not for the fact Charlie is very insistent on letting you know all about it (=> conversation you have to dive out of). You and Vaggie traded favors all the time, exclusively about Charlie, who always try to bite off a bit more than she can chew.

Usually, you did a much better job on keeping Charlie from trouble than Vaggie actually can, having the heart she lacks to guilt her partner into keeping still or stop her from running into red light traffic. Yet a pattern emerges soon after this deal started that you three all pick up on, much to Charlie’s delight.

Somehow, some way, Charlie aged old puppy dog eyes are much, much more effective when the both of you are right next to each other. Alone, while Vaggie can’t turn her down, you can and have consistently do so. But together, you both would turn to each other, and you either would give into Charlie first, or wash your hand completely from the whole situation altogether, both decisions are equally awful, and often left Vaggie alone on the line of defense.

Like that time you asked for the Radio demon resume, being extremely firm on his demeanor being horrible for customer service and how unfit it would be for a hotel to house someone who clearly doesn’t want to help or be help. Vaggie remember the chills running up her spine as you stand firmly in the face of the greatest mystery to Hell even after all this time and not even batting an eye to his straining words or the implications of it. Even going so far as to point out that he’s a liability and can’t keep himself straight for anything worth the hotel’s effort.

Only for Charlie to held onto your (and Vaggie’s) hand and tell you both she can do this. She remembers it took you not even 5 second to turn towards her with a wistful gaze, a smile pulls on your lips, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Aside from her first real injuries, it was the biggest betrayal she’d ever gone through.

Vaggie like to think it doesn’t sting so badly that her partner and her friend are now growing more used to the giant red flag stalking their halls. If not also for the fact she have to be in on your effort of stopping Charlie from bringing up a weird line of conversation while you still - albeit not fully of your own volition - feeding into her girlfriend delusion of being a matchmaker. It wouldn’t be so hard if you just, try to at least calm Charlie down yourself, but your tendencies to avoid particularly specific conversation makes her boomerang from appreciation to pure exasperation.

Especially when she would be fighting her love for Charlie to keep your dignity intact.

“But Vaggiee…!” clinging onto her left arm, Charlie tries her best to bring her girlfriend’s eyes back to her. “Just look at them! They’ve never looked at anyone like that!”

She would love to argued otherwise, you have a habit of looking at everyone like that, something with making people feel more welcome to talk to you. But all thought vanished from her head when she turns to try and make an argument, and for a brief moment she forgot what they were talking about. Charlie’s good at distracting her, but she steeled herself and stop Charlie from jumping off into this and making it so much harder on you than it already is.

(God, the things Vaggie’d do for love.)

“I know you really want to, hun, but - I’m just, not sure about this. It’s Alastor we’re talking about. I get them being into him or whatever, but you’d really set them up with the Radio demon? You know…”

Charlie was slowly wilting a bit, but picks herself up at the hesitation, thinking it’s her chance, she races over her words. “A thoughtful, charming and-“

But still can’t finish fast enough, and Vaggie have to advert her eyes, she can’t handle a sad Charlie that well. “and a horrible cannibalistic freak, Charlie. He’s not a good person.” At that, her girlfriend really clings onto her.

“Vaggie…this is a hotel for redemption! We've got to believe that people can change…” Charlie’s not addressing her point, there’s no real way to denying the fact Alastor is really just who he is. A rotten, rancid piece of meat. Redemption be dammed when he doesn’t even believe in it. “And! I have proof that Alastor likes them~” Pulling out little drawn post-it-notes from her front pocket, Charlie nearly doubled over while trying to put all of them onto the table in front of Vaggie, and you.

“I’m going to go back to my room.” You abruptly stand up, nervously grinning while shuffling out of their office. Having sat completely stilled while hoping that you can somehow divert the topic ever since the start of the conversation, you gave up. Completely disregarding Charlie’s attempt at making you stay. “It’s late, and I should’ve been in bed some hours ago…”

“Wait! I swear that this time I-“ Charlie tries to reach for you again, but Vaggie held strong. Nodding towards the exit, you mouthed her a quick thank you as you walked out, wishing them both good night while gently pushing the doors close. “I have the proof…”

“C’mon babe…” visibly deflating, Charlie sat herself back into Vaggie’s arms with a pout. She doesn’t have the heart to press this too deeply, so she pushed back her hair and give her a small peck on her eyelid, she always did have pretty eyes. “You know they’re not going to listen to you if you keep ambushing them like this.”

“I know, but I just- really love them both…” Vaggie raised an eyebrow at that. “And they seem so, nice together. Alastor always makes sure to greet them every day, they always wished him goodnight-“ she scoffed.

“They do that for everyone hun, and I’m pretty sure that bastard just do it because…well, who knows? He’s weird, who knows what he’s thinking…maybe he’s just trying to- toot his own horns playing nice. He does that a lot.”

When Charlie stays still, Vaggie really thought she could end this tonight, for both your sake and her’s. But then, as if was given water from the spring of life, with her back straight, she sat right up and held firmly onto Vaggie shoulders.

“But he’s trying so hard for them! Don’t you see how he’s spending so much time just hanging around them? Oh, and don’t forget that he asked them, specifically them, what they think of his radio show! He doesn’t do that for anyone else Vaggie! He brings them food when they forgot to eat. They told him about stuff they would’ve ever tell us without prompting! And you have to see the way he looks at them when they’re just, sit together and, and-“

“Woah. Slow down Char. Through your nose.” Even like this, she’s endearing. She held Charlie’s arm and bring her closer.

“You have to see Vaggie, he looks at them like…how you look at me!” Vaggie pauses. Charlie is getting to her, she have to stop her from talking or she’ll give in. She thinks about how miserable you would be sitting through an actual talk about this, it doesn’t help.

“And, you’re one of the most wonderful things that happens to me, Vaggie. I love everyone in the hotel, and I would give my everything for them,” knowing her, she would “but you.” She breathes, and Vaggie feels her breath stuck in her throat. “You are my everything. We’re perfect together. And I really love them, and I just thought…”

Charlie looked at her with such a soft and gentle look, her eyebrows slightly drawn together, lips jutting out just a little bit. “I thought he’s perfect for them, that they’ll be perfect together too. I know he’s not the best person, and you don’t trust him. You don't have to. But I think he’s doing his best for them, and they’re doing so much for him too...” their hands, held tightly together “So please, trust me. I genuinely think this can work out. They deserve to be love like I did too.”

Vaggie tries so hard to held strong, opting to stay silent instead of replying and stoking the growing flame, but Charlie looks at her with her big shiny eyes, and she caved.

“…Alright… I guess he haven’t really…done anything to them yet…” before Charlie could jump up in joy, Vaggie tries to get her focus back “But if he touches a single hair on them- woah!”

Wrapped in her arms, Vaggie barely able to get out the full sentence as Charlie rambles on. “Oooh, thank you thank you thankyouthankyou I knew you’d understand! Oh there is so much I want to do too-“

“Charlie, bit too tight…”

“Oops! Sorry!”

Coming down from her high, she stares into her lover’s eye with the brightest grin possible. It takes everything in Vaggie to think about how disappointed you’ll be, so she closed her eye and takes a breath. “We have to let them sort it out themselves, though. No matchmaker.”

“But-”

“You know how closed off they can be. Give them time Charlie. They can find their own way home.” Like that, Charlie smiles a smile so bright and gentle, reserve only for Vaggie. “Like you and me?”

And all she can think is that this might not be that bad after all.

“Like you and me.”

----

“So...thissss is what the youth are…into?”

“Arguably, it’s somewhat better than what I have as a kid.”

Pentious squinted at the device in his hand, clawed hands carefully swipe through your ‘carefully curated feed’, whatever that means. You sat next to him on your balcony, various knick knacks on the side table he insisted you need, hands considerably less clawed holding a book you’ve never managed to get through past the 10th page, as you only ever try to read it when the moon is blue and you always ended up forgetting the previous pages, something he learned while he was helping with cleanups.

He’s flustered when you laugh at a joke without needing to look at the captions in the video, wanting to pretend he completely understood what just happened. It takes you a bit to calm down and explain to him what was so funny, it only serves to confused him further. You grin and handed your book over to Frank without putting a bookmark in first (who then immediately turns the page and started narrating half-way through to the other eggs), reaching for the phone.

“I’ll put on something a bit easier to get used to, is that ok with you?”

“But, aren’t we learning how to be ‘hip’?” you cackle, he tries not to shrink into himself.

“We can leave that for some other day i think, you don’t need to be hip or anything right now. And besides,” handing him your phone, he minded his claws, “I think you’re cool on your own.” You hum and turn to an open sketchbook on the table, picking up a pencil, you start to sketch one of the egg boiz running about your room.

Pentious nearly burst into tears, he should’ve known his friends (or, you) would’ve never made fun of him. Turning to your device again, his attention is immediately captured by a cat video.

You two stayed like that for what must’ve been an hour or two, occasionally checking up on what the other’s is doing. (he would show you the cutest video, you showed him your barely intelligible sketch. He feels like you’re sketching his nightmare he said, you’re flattered). With almost all of his eggies already tiring themselves out some time ago and gathered around both of your feet (and his tail), bundled up in your duvet and pillows. Except for egg boiz number 3, who’s in his lap as both are captured by a video of a dog getting a haircut (a mini-American shepherd, you chimed in happily that it’s one of your favorite video).

Then, the calm afternoon was broken by a singular knock to your door. You and your still cognizant companion(s) look up from your respective entertainment at hand and stare at each other. You glance over to him, head nodding towards the door, he shrugs, growing restless, you pat his shoulder as you stand up and walk away.

Pentious really did try to turn back and focus on the groomers narrating a particularly endearing moment in the nine minutes long video, but he can’t help but be on edge when a familiar voice sing a greeting too loud for him to ignore, and he realized just who is at the door, your door, his new best friend's door (verdict still out on whether you consider him as one).

Taking a peek, assuring to himself it’s to keep you safe, he locks eyes with red and half of his soul descend into the ring below, the other half turns him right back to your phone when the red starts to raise his eyebrows at him. He can keep you safe from a safe distance surely, but when he tries to hug the egg in his lap to comfort himself and feels nothing, he freezes. Horror-struck, he turns and look at you, specifically your back, the other half of his soul joins the first.

Without him realizing, number 3 already slipped out of his grasp and is now climbing on your shoulder and interjecting your conversation with the gentleman, who is now full-on glaring at him whenever your head slightly turn away. He gulped, but he still put your phone back onto the table and stand up, forget to mind his still sleeping minions at his tail. Thank Lucifer they decided to stay silent for once.

“I was just going to stay in tomorrow too… maybe- oh, Sir Pentious? What’s up?” You stare at him, easy-going as always. Almost like you’re unaware of the way Alastor is smiling at him. Pentious can only thank whoever is in charge of fate for the fact you slotted yourself right between them, and cursed them all the same for the fact you can’t covered up the demon’s face.

Clearing his throat, he tries to steered his nerves and curb his stuttering. “I see that someone have rudely interrupt our study session. May I have your permission to…”

At the sounds of radio static grows, his words in turns wilted as he stares into bright, glowing red and yellow growing in volume. Luckily, you manage to pick this up and covered for him. “Oh no don’t worry, Al was just asking when I’m free to hang out with.” As you turn to that same terrifying shade of red, it immediately transformed into a charming smile.

“Why, hangout is such a casual term dear. I prefer to call it a trip! Much more exciting that way.” With his usual theatrics delivery and a backing of voices coming from the microphone staff he uses to give you a gentle knock on the head, clashing with your much more casual tone brushing him off, Pentious wishes he can see this as endearing.

“Oh you’re trying to goat me into going back there again.” That wasn’t a question on your end. Alastor smiles in amusement, but it strained when number 3 chimes in and tries to asked you where is back there. He’s extremely grateful the demon chooses to ignore it, letting you entertain the egg instead.

“I do not know what you’re referring to at all.” Closing his eyes and leaning a bit to the side, the demon bounces a bit on the tip of his shoes and sings. “Otherwise, it seems my presence is making our welcomed guest uncomfortable.” Pentious tries to stand tall for you and number 3, but Alastor preference for getting up close and personal is mincing his confidence to bits. “I guess I will settle for an extra visit by tonight to talk a bit more about your hectic schedule, if that’s alright with you Ma chère?”

You laugh a bit and agrees with him, saying a quick sorry while he brushed it off with a smile, adjusting his coat’s flawless lapel with one hand, the other reaching for yours. Lifted up to his lips, he planted there a kiss with a look that can passed off as soft. Pentious looks away the moment their eyes lock again, whistling like he hasn’t been blanching at the two of you.

As you turn to close the door, he could’ve sworn red dials were looking at him in the seconds you look back to him, completely in contrast with the life-threatening aura now stand outside the door.

“Haha, sorry about that. I didn’t have time earlier and he was busy, so…” you trailed off, explanation offering him nothing but more questions. “I’ll try to be a bit more mindful about this next time, yeah? Didn’t know he still held something against you.”

You want to keep doing study sessions with him? He perks up a bit at the implication, while choosing to ignore the second part, until his egg started speaking.

“Uh, boss number two, why does Alastor kiss your hand so much?” Number 3 raises his hand, still sitting snugly in your arms. Pentious makes a note to make him sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. It doesn’t help that you’re leading them back to the others, who also started to chime in with their own questions. He can tell this time you’re getting a bit miffed, smiles growing a bit taut and looking off somewhere, unable to let them somehow ruin your goodwill towards him, he cracked. “SILENCE! Cease with your silly questions right now!”

You look at him, and he would’ve shrink into himself if not for how you seem more surprised than angry, as your brows relax and you smile a bit, he let himself breathe. “It’s alright, they’re cute, they can get away with a little questioning I think. And hm…” you bounce on your feet in a slightly familiar manner, he sweats a bit. “-I mean, it’s normal for friends to be close, so I don’t see any problem with it.”

“Oh…friends can kiss each other on the hand?” number 1 jump up. You laugh.

“Of course they can. Alastor loves getting into people’s space too, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

He would’ve tried to say something and help you out with the questioning, but it hit him that at least in his time, the specific to the gesture was more of a formal greeting. But he takes into account the fact it's Alastor, and how whenever he sees you two together, the Radio demon always seemingly follows after your heels like a shadow tie too tightly, and he shivers. Anxiety fills his heart as he tries to navigate this thought.

“I do have to say, why is it that he tends to get so…closssse…to you?” You visibly stiffen at this, but as he takes your hand in his, trying his best to be tactful, still minding the claws, you stare. “Could it be…he’s trying to threaten you, dear friend?” he tries to recall how you comforts him in time of distress, and did his best to echoes the same sentiment to you.

“Whatever it is, you can share it to me! I will, uh- “

“You’ll duel him, right boss?”

his eggs chimes in where he falters, he follows their lead.

“Duel! Yesss! A duel to the death! That Radio bastard will regrets the day he-“ You squeeze his hand, and he drop his false bravado and let you seated him back on the balcony, letting number 3 dropped from his spot in your arms to the duvet covering the floor.

(with much less grace compared to you, but all the heart. he takes the fact you’re still around that he’s doing great.)

“We don’t need any of that silly. He’s my friend, I think.”

You fall back onto your seat, number 1 climb up to your lap with a question. “You two are friends? Like with boss?” sitting up, you sing an enthusiastic agreement while reaching for your notebook again. Pentious swore the sketch is looking more and more familiar by the line.

“Yeah, like with Sir Pentious! Al’s intimidating but he’s fun to hang around.” Hunching over while minding number 1 watching in your lap, your grin drops to something a bit kinder. He feels like he’s overstepping, despite the fact the room is void of anyone else. “He nice to talk with, I’ve never seen him shutting up on anyone else’s terms. That’s a good thing.” He wanted to say that’s a bit too barebone, even for himself, but then, turning to him with a smirk, you added. “Don’t tell him i said this, but he’s ssssuch a bitch sometimes. It’s fun though.”

Nodding with a much more serious look, Pentious takes your word as a command. “Not a word to my grave!”

“Hehe, that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Refocused on your sketch, you trust Pentious to be able to work your phone a bit better than before. He thinks he would’ve work it better if not for the tears gathering in his eyes, he takes the tissue paper you handed him without looking and wiped it away, only to panic about the long scratch he left on your screen. You laugh and assured him it’s fine, you can change the screen.

(verdict be dammed, you’re HIS best friend.)

(he took a peek at your sketch before you turn the page, and it hit him why it looks so off-putting. Antlers sprouting from two end on a figured too lanky to make out the physique of, but familiar enough all the same. He’d much prefer you go back to sketching his eggies, he said, you happily complied and he leave your room after with 5 torn note full of egg sketches and another schedule study session he pray you'll relay to Mister Alastor.)

---

“There you are darling! I was looking everywhere for you.” Calling out with joy, then stopping to take in the sight. He steadied you with one hand while you stop to catch your breath, nearly doubled into him. “I can see that you’re quite busy, seems like Nifty is giving you quite the run for your money huh!”

“Please…shut up…” you don’t need to look at him to know he’s enjoying this way more than you do, laughing at your utterly exhausted state. “I didn’t know there’s this much bugs in here… How can she even keep tracks of them??”

“Don’t feel too bad now, that one mind and health both are simply wonders to behold! Even I can’t keep up with her at times.” Trying to dust off your shoulders, he looked offended when you just swatted his hands away, waiting for an explanation.

“We’re not done yet, she’s just in the kitchen for a bit.” You pulled out your phone to check the time, Alastor squinting his eyes besides you, leaning over to keep watch and raising an eyebrow at the long scratch on the glass. “One hour before I’m free…”

“Thinking of giving up then~?”

“Yeah.”

Laughing at your tone, he takes your hand and twirl you, but not too much! Just enough daze you a bit. “Well darling, I would love to whisk you off with me for a trip downtown! I’m running low on good meat, and simply can’t afford to stained my coat while the tailor’s out of commission. But knowing you…” he’d look down-right sad if you let him. He can tell you try to keep your expression neutral, but your smile is growing to match his.

“No Al, an hour is-“

“An hour is an hour. Yes I know dear but it’s dreadfully boring without you.” Holding on still, he brings his face close to you, taking delight in the growing red on your face and you acting like nothing is out of the sort.

“You’ll survive Alastor. Nifty however…” As the sound of tiny footstep calling your name quickly approaching, he can’t help but letting a long, drawn-out sigh, backing off from you. A lost for him. You smile.

“Over here Nifty!” calling out to the little woman, you step away from Alastor to meet her half way, her stopping just before she hit your leg.

“You! I’ve been looking for you where have you been! I saw SOOOO many of them but they’re on the ceiling and I can’t reach them at all you've got to come help me – oh hiii Alastor!”

Nifty stops pulling you down the hall again just to give him a violent wave, dancing from one foot to the other and giving him time to catch up to you two, fully aware of your tradition from the moment it first started. Alastor smiles border on self-pleasing, gracious of Nifty’s effort to not drag you away just yet, less so the fact she would stares with such a wide grin. Nevertheless, he takes your hand again and bring it up, speaking all the while.

“Nifty, dearie, won’t you work our dear friend here a little less? I need them to-“ he pauses as you suddenly grip his hand and bring it up to your lips, too quick for him to stop you. And before he knew it, you both disappeared behind the corner yet again. Nifty voices and your cackle echoing down the empty hall way.

When he came back, aware of how the light flickering above his head now finally stabilizing itself, he laughs. Steadying himself, Alastor brushed off his coat and fix his monocle. Humming along with a love song slowly trickling from the microphone while walking the same way you and Nifty ran off to before. He have time to spare while waiting for you.

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshot #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #me writing this: i can do this in 2k #i wrote 4k in an afternoon and night and the rest is just me going back and forth like replaying in my head dialogue to checks how it sound #i need to draw more of him i need him carnally (he will splattered my guts on the floor) #that title could've actually been for a horror angst fic actually #one of these days i'll commit to writing an actual horror/yan fic im good at weird writing. maybe

[dirt-foundd]

An Insensitive Dream

     He was cradling It in His arms, the way you would a large, heavy moving box.  Its big, dark body lay limp in his arms, resembling a trash bag more than a once living thing.

     "Please, don't throw it away!"  I pleaded up at his emotionless face.  It was very clear how much shorter than Him I was as I waved my hands in desperate discouraging motions.  He merely stood and watched me unmoving - save for maybe shifting His weight from one foot to the other - with an expression that stated clearly that He thought I might be going insane, waiting for me to finish lamenting Him in the doorway so He could carry It outside and continue on completing His task: disposing of of the lifeless It that lay limp in His arms.  "Please!"  I begged again,  "Please, please, please!"  I plead on the urge of tears, practically screaming.  My tone of voice made it sound as though I feared for My life.  I did.  Though, I did not know why.  I desperately clawed at His arm in a pathetic final attempt to make Him stop.  Anything...  Anything to stop this.

     I didn't understand why I was acting this way.  I still don't know why.  For, there was no way I could have foreseen the events that would unfold later that evening.

     Nothing I did made Him stop.  There was nothing I could do to stop this.  The only thing left for me to do was watch Them do it.

     I wished not to watch.  But before I knew it, I was out There with Them watching the end.

     It was over.  The deed was done.  It was gone.  I failed in stopping it.  Tears poured down my cheeks, but I was not sad.  A gentle rain had begun to sprinkle down on Us.  Strangely, We (or at least Me) stayed dry.

     She told me to go to my room.  I must clarify, She did not say it punishingly.  I obayed nonetheless, but with such velocity that I was sure I must have broken at least one rule.  My feet punished the ground as I rushed down the hall to My room.  Or at least, I assumed that's what happened.  I have yet to recall the journey to my destination, only the arrival.

     I opened the door to My room to reveal a chasm of darkness.  There It was.  Sitting on My bed.  Staring deep into the depths of My soul.  The coldness of Its gaze contrasted greatly with the unsettling, glowing redness of Its beady, circular "eyes".

     It was angry.  "Please,no!"  I whimpered.  I knew how badly It wanted to hurt Me - no - It wanted to kill Me.  "I begged Them not to do it!  I-  I screamed!"  I shrieked.  I sent out another pathetic set of begs and pleads, but it was to no avail.  It was not listening to Me.

     It moved towards Me in an unnatural way.  It did not move.  It merely changed Its position is space-time, tilting Its head ever so slightly in the most unsettling way imaginable.  It shifted twice more.  I merely stood still, paralyzed with fear.  I trembled as I desperately tried to sputter out a few more pathetic begs for mercy. I cried hopelessly, causing me to tremble while I waited for My inevitable peril.

Darkness.

     My eyes opened in an instant.  I was laying on my bed, nestled beneath my understandably scattered blankets.  It's glowing eyes flashed in my mind again and again.  A set of three stagnant - but far from lifeless - images of It haunted my thoughts.  The way it came towards me, like teleporting only much more terrifying.  The visible part of it being the lighter - the bit I could see - took the shape of a small, catlike creature.  It was very difficult to make out in the dim lighting it was so fond of dwelling in.  The other part took on the darkness, it was impossible to see, but if it was there, you knew it.  Its presence was looking and overpowering.  It resembled a shadow, but still somehow had mass regardless.  It had filled most of the dark, empty space of my room.

     Thoughts of the events I had witnessed raced through my mind.  My core filled with dread as I laid there, frozen in fear.  I glanced over to my bedroom door, which was closed.  I wanted so badly to go to my parents for comfort, but I was too afraid to move.  What if It came back?  What if it tried to hurt me?  What if it tried to kill me?  What if it succeeded?

     I laid there in my bed, trembling with fear, unable to move or sleep or even blink.  All I could do was breathe.  So I laid there and awaited something more powerful than my fear arrived to rescue me.

      Be it my own exhaustion dragging me back into another nightmare-filled slumber,  or the warm light of the morning sun spreading into my room to draw me into another day.

Word count: 843

#horror fiction #original horror #at least i think it's horror #story based on a dream #one time i dreamt #original fiction #short story #light reading #original short story #horror oneshot #psychological horror #psychological #original oneshot #writer #non binary writer #queer writer #queer writers #non binary writers #yes im using my own identity for clout #I think I deserve it

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

What's in the Woods?

Summary: Task Force 141 crashed down in the woods. Price is missing, while Ghost, Gaz, and Soap found a mansion, where you live.

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Content Warning: NSFW, Smut, F!reader, group sex, blowjob/facefucking, anal sex, p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, slight horror elements (?)

• Task Force 141 where they crashed in a remote forest, but somehow survived. Got separated for some time but managed to find one another in the woods, except for Captain Price. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz went around the forest once more to look for him, only to find a run-down mansion where they decided to stay for the night before finding the Captain again.

• The trio entered the mansion and rested before deciding to look around for things that could help them, only to find a girl sleeping in one of the rooms upstairs.

• Gaz was the one to find you when he entered your dark room and realized there was a person in bed. Thought you were a corpse until you screamed and he screamed.

• the other two rushed to where the sound came from and found you threatening to hit Gaz with a lamp. You still hit the poor guy with a lamp. Calmed down after some explanation from them and apologized to Kyle.

• Ghost thought it was weird that a person was living in an abandoned mansion in the middle of the forest and asked what are you doing here and what made you live here.

• You explained that your family built this mansion here because they liked remote places, only to abandon you here. You also explained how you survived despite the circumstances. They thought of you as modern Rapunzel, if not at least a literate female Tarzan.

• You ended up showing them around the mansion and lent them room, but apologized that of course, they were dirty because a single person couldn't possibly clean an entire mansion. Again, you weren't Rapunzel.

• Brought them to nearby waterfalls where you'd take a bath, clean your clothes, and catch fish because the mansion had long run out of water.

• A couple of months into the crash, they still hadn't found Price, only his hat and gear, and there weren't any rescues coming. At the same time, they had somehow gotten used to living in your mansion, even though they still question some things in their minds, but somehow those questions always slip past their minds. Have they always been that forgetful?

• They found you one night taking a bath in the pool of the waterfalls completely naked. How the hell aren't you freezing? However, the longer they stare at you, the more they can't help the growing tents in their pants. When they joined you, you weren't a bit surprised. In fact, you had a smile.

• Soap picked you up and you quickly wrapped your legs around his waist, his hard cock leaking of precum, brushing against your cunt, and making you moan into the kiss.

• Ghost grabbed your ass from behind and rubbed his cock, groaning at the friction. He trailed kisses on your nape as Soap worked on your breasts and nipples, eliciting whines and moans from you that soon got muffled when Gaz grabbed your neck, bringing your lips to his.

• Gaz held one of your hands and guided it towards his shaft, letting you stroke his length.

• It didn't take long for you to beg to be fucked and they brought you back to the mansion.

• Soap dropped you on your bed and inserted a couple of digits in you, making you squeal at the sudden intrusion, and he teased you about how wet you were. He started to pump in and out, while Gaz gave your clit maddening circles that got you clenching around Soap's fingers.

• You whined when both men stopped, but Ghost was quick to fill up the loss as he thrust himself inside of your pussy. He let you adjust to his size for a few seconds, before pounding onto you.

• He picked you up from the bed, one hand on your ass and the other around your waist. He sat down on the bed with you on his lap and lay down, stopping for a moment.

• You looked at him in confusion but realized that Gaz had lined up his cock on your ass, hands gripping your waist. You groaned as he slowly eased himself inside your hole.

• Soap grabbed a handful of your hair, kissing you before pushing his cock into your mouth. Your eyes watered and you closed them, bobbing your head with Soap's hand guiding your head.

• After a few rounds of getting your three holes pounded, you and the trio decided to go back to the waterfalls to get yourselves clean and rest in one of the rooms they borrowed.

• Still not too tired to sleep, you talked and talked with them until the moment Gaz asked if you would like to come with them once rescue comes to this place.

• You merely smiled, eyes blank like a void, and answered, "Leave? Why would you leave this place?"

• They stared at you as you said that and a hum left your lips, slowly bringing them to sleep.

Note: It was fun writing this. I wanted to make this more creepy but got lazy halfway through. Totally did not make this next to my grandmother.

#call of duty #141 x reader #cod 141 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #cod mw2 #john price #oneshot #horror #cod smut #smut #ghost smut #soap smut #gaz smut #141 smut #vellichor-of-the-mundivagant #one shot #simon riley smut #john mactavish smut #kyle garrick smut #simon riley x you #john soap mctavish x reader #female reader #f!reader

[lumendelmari]

The Cult of the Gol’Goroth

Chapter Three

The River

12 Elient (The Fading) 1484 DR / Day 3

Central Neverwinter Wood

After consuming a breakfast of cold rations, the companions set off on their second day of travel. Again, they progressed slowly through the Wood to dampen their steps. But this time, Varan scouted ahead of the group from the vantage of the treetops while Zelyra hung back with Arlathan, Krom, and Hayth. The ranger managed to guide them around another nest of giant spiders without incident, and thankfully, they did not run across any meenlocks or any other fey that day. But they did manage to encounter a different obstacle that, while appearing harmless, held danger of another fashion.

Neverwinter River lived up to its name. From its source on Mount Hotenow’s slopes all the way to the sea, the waterway never froze. Volcanic heat and the mountain’s underground springs ensured that it remained warm on all but the coldest of days. It was a stark contrast to the temperature of the rest of the forest. The wind was often harsh and biting. Despite taking the precaution of protective layers, the cold still found a way to creep inside to send shivers down your spine. But for the companions, this was their home, and they were accustomed to that unnatural feeling.

Despite the warmth of Neverwinter River, no one dared to bathe in the tributaries shrouded in the Wood. Not even the Archdruids of the Wood could explain it, but something had happened during the Spellplague that transformed it along with the rest of the forest. Submerging into the water could cause a person to grow mad and see or feel untrue things. That kind of madness could quickly turn a friend into an enemy. Fortunately, Ansron had crafted a spell to suppress that effect within the sanctum of Taras Aldar—the villagers required access to fresh water, after all—but his countercharm was not powerful enough to extend to the rest of the forest.

The wood elves, along with the help of the Circle’s sentries, had built several bridges to safely pass over sections of Neverwinter River in the forest. But as Zelyra held the map up, looking at where it said such a crossing might be and then to the river before her, there was nothing.

“I don’t understand,” she muttered frustratedly. “It’s supposed to be here.”

Varan peered at the map over her shoulder. Then, after a moment of studying it, he heaved a heavy sigh and silently flipped the parchment upside down.

Zelyra turned beet red. “Oh…”

Arlathan and Krom began sniggering, but Varan continued to scan the map.

“I’m sorry, I—” the druid began.

“It was a mistake. You don’t know the layout of the Wood like I do,” the ranger replied. And though the words sounded harsh, Zelyra sensed that it was merely spoken fact and not genuine criticism.

“Maybe you should mark the top of the map,” Arlathan giggled.

Zelyra’s face turned even redder.

. . .

Read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46514380/chapters/117128884#workskin

or

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14223062/4/Zelyra-Erenaeth-Origins

#neverwinter wood #dungeons and dragons #forgotten realms #druid circle #circle of swords #barbarian #ranger #druids #bardbarian #horror oneshot #goldleaf village