#pocket!jonesy

[desertangels70s]

the start of a collection of mini led zeppelins

#70s #1970s #60s #1960s #led zeppelin #jimmy page #john paul jones #the mini collection #mini jimmy #mini jonesy #bad edits again <3 #put them in your pocket to go on your mini adventures #hehehe

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

28

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #jonesy #classic rock #bro your pockets?

[deathbecomesthem]

linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader | 1K

*not proofread, just thrown together and offered into the Tumblr void.

You’ve come to look forward to the slow days. Even with less bills lining your pocket, you still walk out of the diner with a smile on your face. The slow days are when you get to talk to Eddie. He sits with you at the counter and rolls silverware with you - one roll of his for every three of yours. Your hands move automatically, no need to watch the flashing of knives, forks, and spoons. Eddie’s eyes stay on the napkin as he works. And you watch him.

“...that racoon really had it out for me. I had no idea they could hold a grudge like that.” Eddie’s telling a story, he tells a lot of stories. You missed the first part of it, hypnotized by the way his lips form words. He didn’t shave this morning, you can see short bristles above his lip and know exactly how it would feel to run your finger along them.

“I’m sorry,” you put your hand up, halting his speech, “rewind. I zoned out. Start over.”

Eddie laughs, and you take note of the way his smile cuts into his cheeks. You could curl up in those lines, take a nap in his dimples. “I can’t believe you’d disrespect Frank the Racoon like that. Be careful, or you’ll end up on his shit list too.”

“Well, tell me. What did you do to Frank? It must have been bad if he’s got a vendetta against you.” Eddie looks up at you, and you dart your eyes to the silverware tray between the two of you as if you had not been staring at him for the last several minutes. 

“I didn’t do anything. Not on purpose. Frank is unreasonable, he always has been.” Eddie sighs, and resumes his slow and purposeful work. He picks up a knife, sets it on the napkin in front of him, and then a fork, and then a spoon. You risk a look up at him and find his eyes cast down on the set in front of him. “Frank’s been hanging around outside my place for a while now. I couldn’t sleep on night about 6 months ago and found him eating the cat food I leave on the porch-”

“You leave cat food on your porch? Do you have a cat?” You break in, desperate to know if he has a feline pal. He’s never talked about one.

“What? No, I don’t have a cat, per se. There are cats that hang around my place, and I feed them. Kermit, Jonesy, Mint, and Jelly - but we’re talking about Frank right now.” Eddie looks up and points a spoon at your face to emphasize his point. You tilt your head in acceptance, and he continues, “Anyway, so I’ve been feeding the cats salmon flavored Whiskas for years now. I’ve never heard any complaints, and Frank was obviously enjoying it too. About 4 weeks ago, the Kroger on Harris stopped carrying it.”

At this point, you’re really listening with interest. You want to know how this story can end with a racoon plotting Eddie’s demise. You reach into the tray to grab a fork, and Eddie’s hand goes for one at the same time. A rare brush of fingers has you pulling your hand away from his as if you’ve been burned. 

“Sorry,” an automatic apology stumbles from your lips. A stupid thing to be sorry over, because Eddie doesn’t even seem to register that small touch, “please go on.”

“Well, I had to start buying the chicken flavored Whiskas. It took me a couple of days to realize the food wasn’t going as fast as it normally does. One morning, on my way to the van, I saw him. Frank was sitting just in the shadows with his little hands held together. I wasn’t watching where I was walking, looking at the way his eyes kind of flickered at me. It was kind of creepy, he looked downright menacing. Just as I made it to the van door, my foot kind of skidded.”

Eddie’s stopped rolling silverware completely. He’s talking with his hands, motioning to show the way his foot slipped. His eyes are wide, as if disbelieving his own story.

“Ok, your foot slipped. What’s that got to do with good ole Frank?” you ask, diverting Eddie’s attention back to you.

“That son of a bitch shit right outside of my van door. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie, you can’t prove it was the racoon’,” Eddie’s fully mimicking your voice in a rather unflattering way, offering an argument you did, in fact, start churning in your mind, “but that little fucker laughed. Well, it was a squeaky sound that I assume is a raccoon laugh.” Eddie waves his hand as if to shoo the idea of it away, “I know it was him. And I know it was because he doesn’t like the chicken Whiskas.”

“You know? Hmm. Ok, sure. I accept your version of events. Have you tried apologizing?”

“Oh, I apologized. I even started driving to the other side of town to get the salmon Whiskas after 6 straight days of raccoon shit waiting for me outside the van’s door. I even started parking it in a new spot, but there it was - more shit.” 

“Oh, I’d like to meet Frank, he seems tenacious,” you say absently, not thinking about what meeting Eddie’s raccoon friend would entail, “and the cats. I love cats, but my landlord won’t allow them.”

“Well, you should come over and meet them. All of them. Don’t worry, I flea treat the cats once a month, and I had them all fixed.” 

Eddie’s invitation is something that’s never been done before. He has invited you to do something with him outside of work. You open your mouth to respond, you have no idea what will come out, when the bell at the front door jingles.

It’s the first customer you’ve seen in 2 hours, and Eddie’s gone back to the kitchen before you have a chance to realize the invitation was never accepted. It just hangs there, over the silverware tray.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #linecook!eddie munson

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Will you be my Valentine? Sugar Day 2 Vincent Sinclair

Day 2 of the Will you be my Valentine special! This is a short intro as it's pretty self explanatory <3 Lotta babes like Vincent so here is your food for this month.

Notes: Minors DNI, Fluff, SFW, No real warnings for this one. No specific descriptions or pronouns are used for the reader. If there are pronouns they will be they/them when in reference to the reader.

"Five more minutes, I promise"

That's what Vincent had signed to you about an hour ago when you asked him how much longer he has to work on the newest wax figure for the town. You rocked slightly back and forth on the stool you were perched on, your elbows on the table and your propped up on your hands as you watched him smooth down wax he had just placed onto the arm of the figure.

"Vincennnnttttt" You whined out.

Vincent turned his attention to you for a split second before turning back to the wax, this was his way of telling you that he was listening.

"You said five more minutes like 1876 hours ago"

Vincent huffed out a chuckle at the exaggeration.

"I guess I did say that didn't I?" He turned to sign to you.

"Yeah you did. I love watching you work but you promised me surprises if I waited" This was the truth.

Vincent said in exchange for your upmost patience he would present you with surprises he had been working on for you. You knew Valentine's day was approaching, or at least you thought, keeping track of months in Ambrose is kinda tricky when nothing is up to date, but you figured it had something to do with that.

Vincent's shoulders moved up and down once again in a chuckle before setting his tools down on the table and going over to a corner of his workshop you usually didn't go into.

He came back from said corner with a few small things in his hands and pulled up a stool next to you to present you with them. The first one he placed in front of you was a small wax figurine, upon closer inspection of it you realized it was a small model of your beloved Jonesy.

"It's Jonsey! Vince this is adorable!"

He nodded in agreeance before placing the second thing down in front of you. This time it was what appeared to be one of his sketchbooks though it wasn't one you recognized.

"'Vince, what is this?"

You asked unsure of what he wanted you to do with it. He looked at your for a second before motioning for you to open it. You did as he instructed you to do and were met with pages and pages of sketches and drawings of you from various times you had Vince had been hanging around Ambrose together.

"I've been working on these since last Valentine's day" Vince signed.

"Vince...." You were at a loss for words "These are amazing. I've never had anyone do anything like this for me before."

You continued to flip through the pages of the sketchbook. Sometimes remembering the little dates and events that the sketches of you were from until you came to one in particular. On one of the very last pages of the sketchbook there was one of you unmistakably clad in wedding attire, with a rough background of the church penciled in behind you. You paused and looked back at Vincent.

Vincent made eye contact with you for a moment before shrugging slightly and producing something from his pocket. He produced a simple band, one he had clearly made himself.

"Vincent, a-are you sure?"

Vincent nodded, reaching over for you to take the ring from him.

"It's nothing final, yet. Just more of a promise ring I guess" He signed placing the ring into your palm.

"Then I promise" You said, eyes meeting his as he looks surprised for a moment.

"P-promise?" He says nervously. You nod.

"I promise that when you do have the actual ring, that I will marry you"

Vincent took your hand in his, and slipped the delicate promise ring onto your ring finger. A intimate placeholder and constant reminder of your future with him.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #vincent sinclair #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair x reader #Vincent sinclair fluff #valentines day

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓃 𝐻𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎

Featuring: Lester Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair

Word Count: 4.6k 

Warnings: don’t trust strangers, implied drugging, pretty tame until the end, you crash your car, don’t text and drive, watch out for animals on the road, yandere-ish themes, may be ooc but i tried my best, southern accent source: born in alabama, edited but i make mistakes so let me know 

-

It was nothing but in character for your friend to ghost you for a few days—phone going straight to voicemail until the small device was filled to the brim with your annoyed messages. You hated when she didn’t reply, but she would always text back, hungover and begging for a ride back home from miles out of town. 

This time, however, it had been almost two weeks with no sign of her. Sure, she made bad decisions, but you hoped that she would surface, maybe a little drunk but unharmed. 

You slid your flip-phone back in your pocket after checking for messages, the device barely fitting into your high-waisted shorts. You would one day find and murder whoever made the sizings on women’s pockets.

Rolling your eyes, you continued down the road in your beat-up car. It wasn’t much, but it got you where you needed to go and that’s all you could ask for. You just prayed it wouldn’t break down out here—you had been following a winding country road for miles, trying to spot any sign of your missing friend. There was some kind of party going on way out in the country, and of course she just had to go.

It was stupid—you shouldn’t be so worried, and you definitely shouldn’t keep acting like her babysitter, but you couldn’t just not look for her. 

Your eyes scanned the shoulders, checking for any mailbox or sign somebody actually lived out here. You’d never gone this way before—the highway was much quicker—but your friend couldn’t make it easy for you.

You closed your eyes for just a moment, letting out a sigh, before opening them again. 

You screamed as you slammed on the brakes, seeing a dog wander out into the road. It wasn’t on your side, but you couldn’t live with yourself if something happened to it on your account.

You slid harshly as you veered off the road, tires squeaking on the rough asphalt. You felt yourself hit dirt, and finally came to a sudden halt—the front of your car firmly dented with a tree blocking your vision. Smoke emanated from the hood.

Luckily, you didn’t slam your head into anything, but you still felt the force of the impact, letting out a breathless sigh as you fell back against your seat.

You switched the car off, wincing just thinking about the damage. Still, as you exited your now ruined vehicle, your mind was on one thing—was the dog okay?

You scanned the road, spotting the black and white dog sitting on the other side of the road, tongue out as it looked at you. 

“Oh, thank God,” you mumbled, clutching your head. You turned back to look at your car, not even bothering to attempt to open the hood. You’d need a tow, that’s for sure.

You pulled your phone out, popping it open. No signal. You groaned. This just wasn’t your day.

Stumbling to the edge of the road, you looked both ways before crossing. The dog had to have an owner somewhere—maybe they could help you out?

By the time you made it to the other side, the pit-mix was standing a few feet away, already trotting back into the woods.

“Wait!” you called after it, following the dog as best you could through the overgrown forest. Branches scraped at your bare arms and legs, and suddenly you wished you were in something other than a tank top and shorts.

Finally, you stopped at the edge of a precipice, looking down the steep hill where the dog was now trotting around a large pile of road-kill. You screwed your face up at the smell. You supposed it all had to go somewhere, but did you have to stumble upon it?

The dog sat patiently next to a beat-up truck, and you watched as a man exited the vehicle.

“Jonesy, there you are! Where d’ya think you’re runnin’ off to, huh?” 

The man looked like you expected someone who hung out next to a road-kill pile all day would look. Not that he was ugly, but he just—he had the look of someone who was always working and nothing else. His jeans were ripped and the t-shirt he wore had too many stains to count. The flannel he had on top was fraying at the edges, but his attire suited him. 

“Hey!” you called from the top of the hill, trying your best to work your way down without falling face-first into a pile of road-kill. “I wrecked a little ways away from here—anywhere you know that can give me a tow?”

The man met your gaze, a toothy grin on his face. He met you just before you got to the bottom of the hill, holding out a hand to lead you around the pile. You smiled back at him, taking it as he guided you back to his truck.

“Sure, I know a place. Just up the road. What’re you doin’ all the way out here?”

“One of my friends is missing—I’m trying to find her,” you replied, finally releasing his hand as you stopped in front of his truck. He smelled of dead animals, but you supposed that came with the job. You watched as he shut the trunk of his truck. 

He gestured to his vehicle. “Well, come on, then. I’ll give you a ride. Can’t have you runnin’ around out here gettin’ lost.” 

You hesitated only for a second but soon realized you didn’t have another choice. You took a deep breath, grabbing the handle and popping the door open. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, just Lester’s fine. I don’t look like much of a sir,” he said with a laugh.

Jonesy hopped in before you had the chance to slide in yourself. You smiled at the dog who was probably used to riding shot-gun. You climbed in next to her as Lester jumped into the driver’s seat.

You shut the door next to you, all the while trying not to startle the dog who seemed very much content with spreading out over the small seating space.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” he said, giving her a pat on her side as she lay against his lap. “She’s spoiled. Give ‘er a few pets and she’ll never leave your side.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to place a hand against her side. She lifted her head up, turning to look at you, tail wagging against your thigh.

“She’s a cutie,” you replied, beginning to pet her softly. For a dog out and about in the woods, she sure had some soft fur. You thought it was endearing she was better groomed than he was—what a kind guy, taking care of his dog so nicely.

“Oh, and she knows it, too,” he said, shaking his head as he laughed goofily. He gave her head a pet.

“So,” you started, looking up from the dog to look at the road—well, dirt path, you should say. “What’s this place? I didn’t know anybody lived back here.”

“It’s an old town—used to be pretty popular ‘til that highway was built. Still, Bo’s in town—he should get you all set. Think he’s still got his tow-truck runnin’.”

“Thanks again for driving me,” you replied, any anxiety soothed by the happy dog who had now turned to place her head in your lap. You gave her a scratch behind the ear causing her leg to start thumping. You laughed. “Must not get many strangers around here.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lester replied. “Every now-n-then some new city folks come around, all off-put by what we do out here. They never stay long. It’s a real shame.”

You shrugged. “Might not be the best job, but someone’s gotta do it,” you said, hand resting against Jonesy’s head. She let out a soft whine, nestling further into your shirt. “AT least you don’t deal with people much. I’d prefer hanging out with this sweetheart than dealing with customers any day.” 

“Guess that’s true. Seems she’s takin’ a real likin’ to ya, too. Don’t steal her away from me now!” 

You laughed. “D’aww, plans foiled,” you joked. She was a cute dog, but you’d never take a beloved pet away from its owner. Especially when he seemed like a genuinely nice guy who was trying to help you out. 

You watched as he stopped in front of a rather large puddle in the dirt track, and you could spot the tire tracks running through it before submerging beneath the murky water. 

“That’s not good,” you replied. “Can you get through that?”

He shrugged. “Lemme lock the hubs right quick and we’ll see. Might take a few minutes but it shouldn’ be a problem.” 

You bit your lip, debating something. “Oh, it’s alright. The town is just up ahead, yeah? I’ll just walk. You’ve already helped me out enough. I don’t want to put you out any more.”

“You sure?” he replied. “I ain’t in any rush.”

“It’s nice out—some exercise will do me good anyway,” you responded. Jonesy whined, seemingly aware you were about to leave.

“Tell ya what. I gotta few things to do before I head in—why dontcha take Jonesy with ya—it’ll make me feel better that you’re not out here alone. I’ll meetcha at Bo’s shop in a few.”  

It was your turn to protest. “Oh, you don’t have to—” you were interrupted when the dog nosed at your hand. 

“See, she wants to come with, anyway. She’s a good girl—will even lead ya straight to the town.” 

You nodded. “Okay, if you say so. You said Bo is who I’m lookin’ for?”

“Yup,” he said, hopping out and walking over to your side. He popped the door open before holding out his hand. “Tell ‘em Lester sent ya.”

You took his hand, hopping out as Jonesy stretched before following behind you. She stuck to your side, taking a seat.

Lester bent down, giving her a kiss to her forehead. “You take care of the lil lady, gotcha? Go straight to town. No more chasin’ rabbits.” 

You smiled. “Thanks again. I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Nice to meetcha,” he said, tipping his hat goofily. “Now go on—just follow Jonesy.” 

You did as he said, looking to the dog as she stood up, now trotting along the side of the washed out path.

You followed, making sure to stay out of the mud as much as possible. You would hate to slip and fall, and this time there was no sweet man to guide you. 

Still, you managed to make it all the way to the town with no issue, tagging behind Jonesy as she pitter-pattered down the street, tail wagging behind her.

She looked like she was leading you straight to your destination, even now that you were within town limits.

Lester was right—it was quiet here. It was like a ghost town. Still, it was relaxing in a way. No traffic. No angry honking or screaming children. Just cute little shops and quaint houses.

You spotted a few sleeping puppies in a window of a pet store, but forced yourself to keep going. You had a wrecked car that might’ve been on fire by now—you didn’t have time to buy a dog.

Speaking of dogs, you noted Jonesy was now stopped in front of a body shop, paws scratching against the door. Music sounded from within.

You trotted up behind her, opening the door to let her in. She looked back at you before continuing deeper into the shop.

You cautiously entered, door shutting behind you.

“Hello?” you called, staying near the entrance as you paced around. You didn’t bother looking at the shelves—you knew damn well there’d be nothing you recognized. You weren’t a car person, but you knew when you needed a tow. So that’s what you hoped for.

“Is anybody here?” you called again, waiting in the now empty lobby. Jonesy had trekked off somewhere. Maybe to fetch your guy?

Sure enough, you heard the music shut off and the sound of boot steps coming closer, and you spotted a man come out from one of the back rooms.

He reminded you of Lester, though certainly more cleaned up. Clean shaven. Neatened hair that still fell messily against his face. A jumpsuit with a few stains on it zippered against him let you know he must’ve been working when you showed up. He still held a wrench in his hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he spoke, confusion in his words. “How’d you wind up all the way out here?”

“Umm, Lester sent me. Said to look for someone named Bo who had a tow truck. I crashed my car avoiding Jonesy here,” you said, reaching down to pet the dog who was now standing next to you. “But, she led me here so no hard feelings,” you joked.

“Well, you found ‘im,” he said, slipping the wrench in his pocket before taking off his hat, “And I did have a tow truck. As luck would have it, I’m tryna fix the damn thing right now.” He brushed his hair back with his hand before popping his hat back on.

You tried not to show your disappointment. Great. What the hell were you supposed to do now? “I see. . . Think it’s gonna be fixed any time soon?”

He gave you a half-smile. “Maybe—once I figure out what’s wrong with it. Thing just stopped on me.” 

You weren’t sure what to do, hands resting nervously on your belt loops. “Well, uhh, think I could borrow a phone? I don’t have any signal out here.” 

“Phone’s haven’t worked here in years,” he said, letting out a soft laugh. “Hell, this place ain’t even on the map anymore.”

You clicked your tongue. What now? 

He noted your dismayed expression. “Hey—don’t make that face, honey. Have a little faith in me. I should have it good-as-new by tomorrow.” 

You thought about your options—which weren’t many. The only thing you could think of was staying somewhere in this town until you could get your car towed, but who-knows how long it’ll be until it can be fixed, or if it can be. What then? Ask someone to drop you off at the nearest phone-booth? You were stuck. Still, you had to take it one thing at a time. First-things-first—”This town have a hotel?” you asked.

He stifled a laugh. “Sure—right next to the McDonald’s and the roller skating rink.”

So no. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You hadn’t seen but two people the whole time you were here—including the one you were talking to.

“There’s that frown again. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a spare bedroom up at my place. Nothin’ fancy, but enough to get you through until I can get my truck runnin’.” 

If you had a nickel for every time you met a kind stranger who offered you help despite not knowing you or having any reason for doing so, you’d have two nickels. Which wasn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice today. 

That feeling of anxiety bubbled up again. “I don’t want to intrude—”

He waved you off, walking past you to open up the door. “What’d I say about worryin’ about things? C’mon. I’ll show ya. The room’s got a lock on it in case yer scared I’ll try somethin’.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant, I just—” he cut you off, giving your head a gentle pat as you walked out behind him.

“Just teasin’, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna mess with ya.”

You let out an awkward laugh. You certainly didn’t feel safe staying in a stranger’s home, but followed him, nonetheless, listening as he described the few places you passed on the way. Jonsey trailed next to you, bumping your leg every once-in-a-while. At least you had another girl with you—sort of.

Another girl. . . A sudden thought struck you. If something happened to your friend around here, she probably ended up here at some point.

“Hey, sir,” you said, causing him to slow down and match your pace. He walked beside you. “Was there a woman here any time in the past two weeks? Long blonde hair, brown eyes, attractive and also probably drunk?” 

“Two things, honey. One—just call me Bo. I ain’t yer teacher. And two—we haven’t seen anybody in at least a month ‘til you showed up. Sorry. I’ll keep an eye out, though.” 

You nodded. “Thank you, sir—err, Bo. For all of this. I was an idiot coming out here alone.”

“‘S’not so bad? Ya ran into me, didn’t ya?”

You laughed. “I guess I did. Y’all are good people. Thank you.”

“You can quit thankin’ me—I ain’t even done anything yet.” 

You didn’t reply and the rest of the short walk went in silence. You glanced beside you to look at him—Bo. This whole town was bizarre, and you wondered how he wound up here. You figured he had to be born here. You doubted this place was booming in the immigration industry.

Still, you didn’t pry, and before you knew it you reached a house. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a key and sticking it in the lock. You heard a click and the door swung open with a creak. Jonesy quickly trotted inside, vanishing behind a door frame.

“It’s dark in here—old house ‘n all. Lights don’t work like they used to. Just watch yer step.”

You nodded, but almost as soon as you entered, your foot clipped against a stray shoe, and you let out a gasp as you tripped forward, bumping into Bo. Luckily, he’d turned around to shut the door behind the two of you and he steadied himself in time, arms wrapping around you to stabilize you. 

You were met with the smell of gasoline and oil as your face pressed against his chest. You quickly held your hands out, pushing against him as you backed up. Your face burned.

“Careful, now,” he chastised, hands moving to rest on your shoulders. He moved a finger to tuck underneath your chin, pulling your head upwards to look at him. He smirked. “Wouldn’t wantcha gettin’ hurt. ‘Specially that pretty face.” 

“Sorry,” you stuttered out, eyes avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t mean to bump into you.”

“Never said you did,” he teased, winking before turning back around after shutting the door. The whole house was engulfed in darkness. “Now c’mon. I’ll show you the guest room. If you can make it there without killin’ yerself.” 

Face burning from his teasing, you didn’t reply, too embarrassed. Your hands were out on either side, trying to feel for the walls. He carried on confidently, seemingly used to the dark hallways. Finally, he stopped at a room, swinging it open. Light flooded in through a window, and you spotted a few matching furniture pieces along with a small bed with floral bedding. It was cute. And also dusty. Like it hadn’t been used in years. You supposed they didn’t have many guests.

“Make yerself at home, sweetheart. I’ll be back. I’m gonna wash up. Want any coffee, tea?”

You shook your head. “No, thank you.”

“Alright. Bathroom’s down the hall if you need me.”

You nodded, watching as he turned and vanished down the hall. You took a seat on the cozy bed, bedding sinking underneath you. You felt a thin layer of dust coat your hands when you pressed into the fabric. 

Deciding to do a little cleaning, you stood back up before grabbing the blanket and sliding it off the bed, shaking it off as you held it out in front of you. You watched the dust fly off, floating in the air as it caught the window light. You scrunched your nose. It was a solid minute of shaking before no more dust fell, and once you were content, you lowered the blanket back down, only to scream.

In front of you was a man—a tall and strange man, with long black hair and a pale mask covering his face, mimicking his features. He stared at you, a clay-working tool in his hand as he stood in the doorway.

He took a few steps forward, leading you to toss the blanket back on the bed and scramble away, shooting past him and running down the hall. 

“Bo!” you screamed, spotting the door in which steam was cascading out from under. He must’ve been in the shower. You knocked on the door hurriedly. “Bo! There’s someone else in the house!” 

You heard the running of water shut off, followed by the sound of the door creaking open.

You stared at the wet face of Bo, hair drenched and dripping down, splattering against his bare chest and shoulders. “What’s all the fuss?”

You almost forgot why you knocked before realizing the stranger still lurked just out of arm’s reach, standing down the hallway. You looked on the verge of tears.

“There’s a man,” you said, pointing a finger down the hallway.

Bo opened the door wider to peer out, spotting the looming figure, still clutching his tool. He rolled his eyes, frowning. 

“Vincent! What do you think yer doin’, scaring her like that! She’s our company. Now get outta here and make yerself useful! Start dinner.” 

The masked man didn’t reply, only tilting his head slightly. His shoulders were slumped like a child scolded. He began to lift a hand, but Bo’s glare stopped him.

“What are ya, deaf? I said get to makin’ dinner! And feed Jonesy, too.”

The lumbering man turned around slowly, making his way back down the hallway and away from you. You let out a sigh, hand on your chest.

“Didn’t think to tell ya about him—that’s my brother. Doesn’t get out much. Hell, I don’t see him most of the time—he’s always workin’ on something up in that house of wax.” 

You had no idea what he was talking about but hummed in acknowledgement, anyway. As long as you weren’t in danger, you didn’t care.

“It’s okay, just scared me,” you said. You stepped away from the door. “I’ll let you get back to your shower. Sorry.”

“Don’ worry about it. Yer my company—I’m here to help ya. Need anything else or he becomes a pain in the ass, just holler.” With that, he shut the door again, though not enough to click it shut. “I’ll leave it open just in case,” he said with a wink.

You forced yourself to turn away from the slit in the door, instead nodding. You trotted back to the guest room, but spotted Jonesy turning a corner and decided to follow. You’d rather hang with her than be alone.

You wound up in a living area and kitchen, seeing the dog curled up on a well-used couch. You started to make your way over but paused when you spotted the masked man in the kitchen, large figure reaching to grab some spices from the cabinet. He carefully seasoned a pot of something on the stove. 

You didn’t know if you should say anything, and so sat silently down next to Jonesy, giving her a few pets. 

Without hesitation she clambered onto your lap, and though you couldn’t breath nearly as well now, you forced yourself to remain still as she made herself comfortable. You weren’t about to disturb her.

You absentmindedly combed through her fur, eyes closing as you leaned against the couch.

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until you awoke to Jonesy clambering off of you, tail wagging as a metal bowl was placed down in the kitchen.

You opened your eyes, looking around. You spotted Bo and Vincent in the kitchen behind you, talking about something you weren’t close enough to hear. Lester was there, too, though he was preoccupied with feeding Jonesy, who was digging into some kibble.

The smell of warm spices filled your nose, and you stood up from the couch, slowly walking towards the kitchen.

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Bo commented, leaning against the kitchen counters as he shooed Vincent away. “Have a nice nap?”

Your cheeks burned. “Sorry.”

“Don’ apologize, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. In fact, Vince just finished cookin’ up dinner. Take a seat.” He pulled out a worn chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to sit down. You thanked him with a nod.

“You guys are the perfect picture of southern hospitality,” you said, watching as a plate of wonderful smelling chili was placed in front of you. “Glad I stumbled onto the good kind of strangers.”

The others took their seats, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Vincent would remove his mask. Maybe he was self-conscious about something? You’d been there. 

Bo and Lester each let out a laugh. “We’re far from angels,” Bo quipped, sticking a spoon in his chili. “But it’s nice to have some company around. Well, company that’s not a douchebag.” 

“Well thanks for having me,” you replied, lifting your utensil to your mouth. It was seasoned beautifully, and you had to stop yourself from slurping the whole bowl down, taste warm and homely on your tongue. “This is really good,” you complimented. “You’re a good cook, Vincent.” You nodded in the direction of the man.

He made no move to touch his food, mask still firmly on his face. You frowned. “Are you alright?”

“He’s a shy bastard,” Bo chimed in. “Hates to be seen without that mask on.”

“Is it because I’m here? I can go somewhere else if you’re—”

Bo cut you off. “You don’t gotta do that. He’s just a baby. He’ll get over it.”

You shot Vincent a sympathetic look. It seemed like Bo was the one in charge of things. You wondered if that contributed to his secluded attitude. 

“He made the food,” you replied. “I’d just hate for him to not eat because of me.”

“He’ll live.”

You went back to eating, but occasionally looked to the quiet brother, still sitting frozen in his seat, fiddling with his long sleeves.

“So,” you started, “What’s this house of wax that you mentioned earlier? Like a wax museum?” 

“Pretty much,” Bo replied. “The whole damn thing’s made a’ wax. Somethin’ of an engineering miracle. Not that anybody comes ‘round to see it anymore.”

“Could I see it sometime?” 

“Vincent’s up there all the time. Sure he won’t mind if you tag along. Hmm?”

You watched as the pair stared at each other until Vincent finally nodded gently. 

“It’s a little late for it tonight, but you can go up there tomorrow. I’ll see if I can get my tow truck up n’ runnin’.”

You nodded in agreement, pausing as a yawn left your lips. “Sorry. Been a long day, I guess,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Don’ worry about it. Go ‘head and get to bed. We’ll clean up, darlin’.” 

You wanted to argue, but suddenly felt too tired to do so, barely able to support yourself as you stood from the table shakily. You wobbled only a few feet before collapsing onto your knees. 

Lester got up, hand on your back. “‘Ey, you alright?”

“‘M fine. . .” you slurred, vision going black. “Just. . . tired. . . “

With that, you slumped completely forwards, leaving Lester to pull you against him. 

“That worked fast,” Bo commented, standing up from the table. He kneeled by you, hand sneaking into your back pocket to pull out your phone. He stashed it away in his own pocket. “Put ‘er in the spare bedroom. But don’ be rough with ‘er.”

Lester did as told, Jonesy whining behind him as he carried you down the hall.

Vincent remained seated, eyes glued to his brother’s back as he left with you in his arms. He turned to look at Bo, head tilted. He didn’t speak, but it was obvious he wanted an answer.

“What? I ain’ gonna kill this one. I like ‘er. ‘sides. Might be nice with a lady around here.” 

Vincent sighed underneath his mask. Something about you intrigued him, but unfortunately, it seemed like his brothers had that same feeling. 

He just hoped you’d stay with them willingly. He would hate for more drastic measures to be taken.

#fanfiction #fanfic #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #reader #x reader #x yn #x y/n #y/n #slasher #slashers #does this movie count as a slasher film #does now #long fic #fic #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #look at warnings #fluff #angst #meet-cute #yandere-ish #might make a sequel if this goes well #we will see #:) #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

[thesightstoshowyou]

Collective

- Part Two -

(Part One here)

Vincent Sinclair x F Reader x Asa Emory (NSFW)

- and -

Mild F Reader x Bo Sinclair (NSFW)

Warnings: Oh no, here comes Bo. A little bit of Daddy kink, violence, mention of blood, abuse from Bo and Vincent, rope play, wax play

~~

Muggy heat suffocates, covers your skin in a sheen of sticky dew, glues your hair to your brow. You pant like a dog, lips parted, shoulders slumped as though the warmth physically weighs you down. Being cooked out under the sun would be heaven compared to this.

You’d like to say you’ve gotten used to Vincent’s workshop, but it’s as unbearable as always. Even Asa seems affected if the sweat dripping down his neck and wetting his shirt is any indication. Vincent is the only one unbothered, his long curtain of dark hair bobbing up ahead as he leads the way.

You wipe away the crusty blood under your chin with the back of your arm, salty sweat stinging. The knife that caused the wounds is back in Asa’s pocket, but he keeps you close, a barrier between Vincent and himself. His leverage.

Candles litter the workshop, little flames dancing as you enter and throwing flickering shadows across the walls. A low fire heats the pot of wax, keeps it from solidifying and ready for the next victim. In her dog bed, Jonesy’s tail thumps excitedly, thrilled to have company.

Asa grips your arm, keeps you from wandering too far as he inspects the space, glittering eyes roving over tools and Vincent’s little projects. You see his curiosity pique when he spots the contraption used to coat trespassers in boiling wax. Vincent’s creation.

Vincent spots the enthusiasm too, his own excitement growing in response. He’s eager to share his process with someone who will appreciate his effort, his creativity. They converse as well as they can, Vincent pointing and gesticulating, Asa commenting here and there.

Awkwardly, you quietly wait, Asa’s hand never leaving your arm. You wonder who he is, what he does, marvel at his nonchalance when faced with such brutality. “A fellow artist,” he’d said. A fellow psychopath, you wager.

Suddenly, Vincent points to you. You balk, realizing you hadn’t been listening. You hope you’re not in trouble….

Asa chuckles, his calloused fingers finally slipping from your arm. A truce has been reached, it seems. Immediately, you hurry to Vincent, allow yourself to be pulled into the cage of his arms. Better the monster you know than the one you don’t.

Vincent cups your face, waxy fingers tracing your cheeks, tilting your head up and back. He assess the little cuts, tugging your skin this way and that until you wince. You feel Asa’s eyes on you as he surveys the entire exchange.

Satisfied, Vincent releases you and points to the darkened hallway from which you all arrived. He wants you to leave.

You don’t have to be told twice.

You’re almost home free when a thought strikes you, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your eyes close despairingly. Timidly, you turn to face the two men once more.

“Um, Vincent?” you ask, voice breaking. He glances up from his silent explanation. “What…what do you want me to tell Bo?”

~~

“Bo….”

“Gotdamn, yer fuckin’ ass in these shorts….”

“Bo, h-hold…hold on a s-second….” The mechanic has you backed against a counter in his shop, rough hands groping every inch of you, lips and teeth attacking the sensitive flesh of your neck. You push against his chest, anything to get him to stop for one god damned second and listen, but your protests only spur him on.

“Feisty today, huh?” he purrs in your ear, fingers working open the button on your shorts.

“Just-just let me—

“What happened here?” Bo questions, tipping your head back to inspect the slices on your throat. Before you can respond, he chuckles and asks, “Piss Vinny off again? Had t’ come running to Daddy so he can kiss it better?”

Your retort spills of your tongue as a mewl when his fingers circle your clit, his tongue dragging over the burning cuts in your flesh. Your toes curl, your eyes clench shut, your legs part—

“It was somebody else!” Finally, Bo pauses. Hand slipping from your pants, he straightens and fixes you with a frown. Panting, you grasp your chest with a trembling hand and continue, “There’s someone here. Someone else—like you. Like you both. Vincent has him up at the house.”

Several long seconds pass as Bo stares at you, the gears turning in his head as he processes your words. Then, his scowl deepens and you flinch when he grips your wrist with bruising force. Wordlessly, he strides from the shop, dragging you along behind.

There’s no point in telling Bo to calm down, to think things through. Not only would it make him angrier, but it would direct his ire toward you as well. So, you say nothing, allowing yourself to be towed in tense silence.

Who knows? Maybe they’ll all kill each other and give you an out.

You’d laugh if you weren’t so terrified.

The screen door slams against the wall when Bo kicks it open. You stumble over the threshold as he storms inside, nearly colliding with his back when he abruptly comes to a stop. Something has frozen him in his tracks.

Peering around Bo, you find Vincent and Asa seated at the kitchen table, the latter with a mug of coffee in his hand. Coffee.

Vincent made him coffee.

Carefully, you glance up at Bo. This is going to be a disaster.

“Vincent, what the FUCK?!” Vincent hurries from the kitchen, holding out a hand to stop a red-faced Bo from leaping over the table. Asa stands, but doesn’t set down his coffee. He takes a casual sip as you wiggle free from Bo’s iron grip and back away to a safe distance.

“How do you know he’s not a fuckin’ cop or somethin’?!” Bo shouts. Vincent responds with a shake of his head and circling gesture, like he’s connecting the three of them. “Oh don’t give me that shit, what are the fuckin’ odds….”

Bo continues to holler, but your attention fades when you feel eerie prickling on your neck. Glancing over to the kitchen, you find Asa intently watching you instead of the twins. Timidly, you meet his gaze, swallowing thickly. You can feel your heart drumming against your ribs, your fingers curling into sweaty palms.

What’s he looking for?

Unfortunately, Bo notices.

“Ohhh. Oh alright, I get it.” He shoves Vincent out of the way and stalks over to you. Meanly, Bo grips you by the jaw as he buries his fingers in your hair. You whimper, hands flying up to grasp his wrist to ease the hurt.

“This what caught yer eye? Huh?” He shakes you for emphasis and you must grit your teeth to silence your protest. “Sonofabitch wants to play with a toy that doesn’t belong to him.”

Vincent crosses the room, places his hand on Bo’s shoulder, squeezes, but Bo shakes him off. Setting his lips against your ear, he growls, “Isn’t that right, baby girl? Who owns you, huh? I want ya t’ tell ‘em—

“The figure across from your shop, the old woman. What did you use for a timer?” Asa asks, glittering eyes finally leaving your face to meet Bo’s baby blues. He takes a sip of coffee.

Bo’s grip loosens. “…What?”

“What kind of timer did you use on the mechanism that makes her open the curtain. I’m assuming it was you who set it up, your brother being too busy with the sculptures themselves?”

Bo stares at Asa, silent, eyes narrowing as he attempts to process the intent behind the man’s question. Asa waits patiently, expression passive, unreadable.

“It’s…it’s a Christmas light timer…attached to, uh, a electric motor.” Bo finally replies. Asa hums thoughtful, takes another sip.

“Simple and clever. I wouldn’t have thought of it.” Another beat of silence passes. The fingers in your hair release their stinging grip.

“Who the hell are you?” Bo questions, ever suspicious. Asa sets his mug on the counter, retrieves a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. Removing two from the pack, he crosses into the living room and holds one out to Bo.

“A collector.” Asa finally responds. “I’d like to see it, the timer.” He moves the cigarette closer to Bo, urging him to take it.

Bo’s lips thin out when he presses them together and you wonder if he’s going to start shouting again, but instead he releases your face, surprising you. Snatching the cigarette from Asa’s fingers, Bo throws you one last scowl before stomping away, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

Immediately, you fall into Vincent’s arms. His fingers card through your hair and you allow yourself to relax against his chest. Bo’s wrath always takes its toll.

The screen door squeals on its hinges and you glance up to see Asa following Bo outside. He pauses in the doorway to light his cigarette, his eyes meeting yours. You mouth a quick, ‘Thank you,’ only he can see. His lips quirk up in a crooked smirk as he lets the door close quietly behind him.

~~

Candles flicker, shadows jumping across the walls as Vincent shifts behind you. Rope bites into your skin, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to leave indents in your flesh. Deft fingers loop, knot, loop again in practiced motions.

You rest on Vincent’s mattress in the cellar, bare except for your panties, legs bent at the knee and beautifully tied. Behind you, Vincent secures your arms with more rope, no doubt tied as intricately as your legs.

The rope slides a little over your soft and supple skin as you shift slightly, Vincent having bathed and moisturized you earlier that evening. The room is still sweltering, but it’s a little better now that the sun has set, more bearable when you’re nude. Still, sweat trickles down your neck, dots your skin, collects between your bent legs.

You inhale deeply through your nose and allow the feeling of your bonds to ground you. It’s one of the few things you enjoy doing with Vincent, you’ll admit. It’s freeing, in a strange way, letting someone take over and maneuver you like this. The choice is out of your hands.

You’re his little doll to do with as he pleases.

His muse. The word brings a frown to your face, makes you think of Asa. He equally puzzles and terrifies you. Again, you question what he wants from you all.

The mattress shifts as Vincent slips off. He cups your face, gently turns your head to the side, posing you. Retrieving a Polaroid camera from his desk, he snaps a few photos of his handiwork.

You smile when he shows you the photo of your arms. “Really pretty, Vince” you tell him and he brushes a thumb across your bottom lip in gratitude.

Then, he reaches for one of the nearby candles. You bite your lip, suck in a tremulous inhale when Vincent grips your chin, tips your head back. Feather light, his fingers tease your throat and trace between your breasts.

The first drop of hot wax makes you yelp, tremble, but you stay still and brace for the rest. Liquid heat splatters across your bare chest, cooling and hardening just as it starts to burn. You jolt, whimper, and shiver as each droplet meets flesh.

Goosebumps race across your overheated body and a deep, needy ache settles low in your belly despite the way you fight it. Vincent’s unique brand of foreplay always manages to set you ablaze.

Finally, Vincent replaces the candle and kneels between your spread legs. From behind his mask, he admires your heaving chest decorated in rivulets of wax. You twitch when his fingers trace your thighs, your eyes following their path toward your center. His thumbs brush the elastic of your underwear, just shy of where you want them.

He leans in, brings his face inches from yours so you’re looking into his eye, the long curtain of his hair tickling where it brushes your skin. Gently, he nudges your nose with the waxy nose of the mask, prompting you.

He wants you to beg for his fingers. You hesitate, your gaze falling to the lips of his mask instead. You hate how much you wish he would take the damn thing off and just fucking kiss you.

Sharp pain makes you grit your teeth and hiss. Vincent roughly tweaks a nipple, discipline for not responding the way he wants. His other fingers slip under a section of rope along your thigh. He twists that as well, pulling hard until it pinches.

Your mouth snaps open to acquiesce, but a deep voice at the doorway interrupts.

“It’s missing something.”

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #asa emory #asa emory x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #the collector 2009 #the collection 2012 #the collector x reader #I need a ship name for Vincent and Asa #to be continued #thesightstoshowyou

[spinning-stars]

Horror charaters x A bone obsessed Y/N

I did this for all my animal bone collector horror fans (Myself included) 🖤🦴

Characters include- Asa Emory, The Sinclair brothers, Bubba Sawyer and Thomas Hewitt!

It's Sfw!

Warnings- there is a part skinning animals, I'll let y'all know when that part will come up!

Enjoy 🖤

Asa Emory-

It's Asa so of course he's going to love the fact that you love animal bones.

💜 (scroll to heart # 2 this is the mention of skinning animals part!!!) Every time one of Asa's victims' pet dies due to one of his traps or one of his dogs dies or he finds a dead animal, he doesn't like to waste. Asa makes sure the animal is dead before he loads them up and takes them to his workspace, he'll de-skin and clean up the bones for you to keep. If the animal was a bird or something small he'll try and make a necklace with them. He won't tell you how or where he got the bones.

💜 He will definitely try getting you into insects/bugs exoskeleton, he will pull up another chair and teach you how to pin the animals wings and how to frame them for display. He's rather patient with you, and if you enjoy it you and him will have a little weekly date doing that exactly.

💜 Asa would always be on high look out for animal bones as he stalks his next victims. (One time he found a box of animal bones in one of his victims room and took them to give to you on your birthday🖤)

💜 When y'all move in together he will set up the coolest room ever, framed bugs on the wall, cool animal bone decor, and a bone pillow, as a little surprise.

Vincent Sinclair-

He finds your bone obsession to be cute tbh.

💚 He will make you little wax skeleton of your favorite animal. You just came home from helping Lester with Jonesy and you just see Vincent waddling up to you to hand you it. (He's more excited to give you your gift than anything else in the entire world)

💚 Vincent may not leave the house often but Lester does. So every day Vincent asks Lester to try and find some animal bones so that he can wrap them up in a little bouquet.

💚 He makes it a habit to search the bodies before he covers them in wax, he knows people wear shark teeth, alligator teeth and sometimes bones quite a bit.

💚 Once he figured out what was your favorite skeleton he told Bo to take you out to eat somewhere, head to the store for food and let you help in the shop for the day. He told Lester to pick up very specific shades of room paint. (I headcannon that Vincent has trained Lester's eyes to tell the difference between 2 colors that barely have a difference.) Once Lester came back he started painting a detailed mural on the wall.

Bo Sinclair-

Doesn't mind the bones obsession.

💙Bo trys to make him out to be "oh ok." And does nothing about the obsession kind of guy but he fails at that so badly.

💙 "Hey babe, I got you some of these bone shaped candies because you have a weird obsession." (He has to throw a small insult in there or he will literally explode)

💙Bo will sit in the shop all day and work on carving a little bone design into a peice of metal to make a ring/bracelet for you. (Vincent provided the drawings for him to make the ring/bracelet)

💙 This Mother fucker is a good pick pocketer and thief. Every time he sees someone wearing bones he will figure out a way to get it and give it to you.

Lester Sinclair-

Lester is Lester.

❤️He will feed into your obsession the most.

❤️ Every. Single. Day. He will bring you baskets of animal bones (Most of them are teeth)

❤️ Lester would carve you and him matching animal bone knifes, you can't convince me otherwise.

❤️ He would buy you a Lego animal bone set, I can't unsee it. (Most likely one of the dinosaur ones)

Bubba Sawyer-

He misunderstood the assignment a bit

💛 you made the slight mistake of not specifically telling him what bones you exactly liked, so he brings you human bones.

💛 Once you correct him and tell him you ment animal bones he made it his mission to search every single spot for one.

💛 on every note he left you there will be a very tiny animal tooth attached to it.

💛 he'll forget sometimes and accidentally give you human bones again

Thomas Hewitt-

Has a bone obsession too.

🧡 He too has a bone obsession and he made a little case dedicated to y'all's obsession.

🧡 Like Bubba he will not get the assignment unless specifically told animal bones.

🧡 ever since you moved in with the Hewitts you've noticed more and more bone decor. (Tommy just wants you to this the house is nice)

🧡 He got a *your favorite animal* skull tattoo because it reminds him of you <3

Authors note- Hello hello 👋 I hope you enjoyed! Requests are open!!!! Have a lovely day<3

Ps. @stitcheswashere13 was my old account that had a lot of problems with, if you liked my content of there and wondered where I went I'm now here!

#fanfic #thomas hewitt #horror #gn reader #sfw #bubba sawyer #x reader #sinclar brothers #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #asa emory #bones #animal bones #horror character #y/n #fluff #animals #fanfiction #slash fic #slashers #slashers x y/n #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slasher headcanons #slasher hcs #new account #<3 #ao3 #writers

[small-sinclair]

Can you do more slasher band au headcanons for bug infested bodies???

PSA: Never watched the movies or know who they are, but looked and fanart and fics to get personality.

Au by: @arkunder

Jesse Cromeans and Asa Emory as “Bug Infested Bodies”.

Jesse doesn’t drink water. No one knows why. Asa has to force him to drink water.

Asa has a collection of ski masks that are all different. One has a lot of eyes, one looks like a disco ball, and another is white.

Asa’s fans like to give him crow gifts. Buttons, pins, coins, acorns, leaves… it’s kinda out of control.

Whenever Asa is stuck on a question, he likes to rub Jesse’s head, saying, “Magic 8 Ball, Magic 8 Ball. What should I do?” Then Jesse would answer, “Whatever and whoever the hell you want.”

Asa has a PhD in bugs and science. He could be a professor if he wanted but he likes writing music more.

The band was made by accident. Jesse was playing music one day in a bar and Asa told him he sucks. So, Asa got on stage with him and did a song together.

Asa and Jesse have a bro-mance. They’ll fight and throw hands one moment then hug it out the next.

Jesse has a photo of him at the beach with his adopted daughter and son in his wallet and back pocket when he performs. (Yeah, he has a family)

Jesse loves making the music videos and Asa makes the props.

Asa’s dogs do come on stage from time to time and the crowd goes nuts. They have merch and a fan base around them. They’re also featured on some songs, too, like barking, howling, and panting.

Asa is good friends with Lester Sinclair. Jonesy and Asa’s dogs have play dates on the road while the Sinclairs, Asa, and Jesse do a LIVE Jam on social media while raising money for an animal shelter.

They like to do backflips on stage.

Due to Asa’s resting bitch face, it’s hard to show his emotions. When he does smile and show joy, he brightens up the room.

If Jesse has his black jacket off and his back turned, you can see where he got stabbed on his shoulder.

Jesse likes to collect new skull masks from fans. His favorite one he gotten was from a little kid; it has a unicorn and some butterfly sticks.

There’s a segment in the show called “Bug Facts with The Collector”. During this time, a bug comes out and Asa gives a little science lesson about the bug and what it does.

Side note: There was a Boy Scout troop and he invited them on stage so they could get their Bug badge.

They like to perform near museums because they visit the day before the show. They meet fans, take photos, do autographs while looking at historical stuff and the big bug displays.

Jesse has been arrested for public intoxication and assault.

Asa sleep walks.

Jesse screams in his sleep.

Both go to therapy.

When they are on break, Asa likes to guest speak at schools about bugs and shows off his collection. Jesse goes home to his kids and partner; he takes this time to be a father and go to important events like ballet and games.

#asa emory #the collector #jesse cromeans #slasher imagines #slasher au #slasher band!au #slasher headcanons #slasher #slashers #slashers headcanons

[eldritch-spouse]

*slowly scoots towards jonesy and throws a handful of sand at his head/eye/face, and makes a sad attempt to run away*

"POCKET SAND, BITCH"

(sincerely, baseball bat anon)

Jonesy wouldn't be a throne if he didn't have reflexes worthy of his rank, so it's safe to say he sees you coming a mile away. Because you're anything except subtle.

A lot of the sand pelts his wings and arm, the rest does hit his reddening eyeball. He yelps and shudders, momentarily blinded, but quickly reaches for one of his halos, throwing it vaguely in your direction. Jonesy hears an "Oof!" before regaining composure.

Your figure, bound tightly around the midsection by his halo, is approached. " Mother loves you so so much. " He starts, clearly seething, as you're grabbed by the feet and dragged somewhere, presumably the altar. " But I'll state my case regardless, you're in dire need of discipline. "

#Jonesy oc #tce rp ask

[bullet-prooflove]

Choices!Series Part 6: Run - Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Tagging: @annetje @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @the-wandering-lunatic

Part One: First Date (NSFW) - Nester and you have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Familia - (Feat: Marcus Alvarez) - Marcus discovers your relationship.

Part Three: Fair Trade - Miguel makes a proposal.

Part Four: Slaughterhouse Rules - Nestor deals with the aftermath.

The problem is Miguel Galindo, you want to kill him. You want to invade his fucking fortress up in the hills, put a plastic bag over his head and suffocate the other man until he understands what it is to pray for death. That impulse is all you can think about, it vibrates through your brain keeping you up at night. You’ve had this before with the others, and the only thing that resolved it was their destruction.

The Major, Jonesy, Matthews, DuPont, you see their faces in your dreams, the aftermath of their ruin. You see the bravo fade out of their eyes when they feel the first cut, and then the second, when they realise that you have no intention of ending it quickly or keeping them alive. They’d thought you were soft because of your gender.  You can still remember the disbelief in their eyes as you sit in their kitchen chairs, or on their tables, watching them bleed out slowly. You want them to feel each agonising breath, you want them to feel a fraction of what you felt as you fought and kicked and screamed in an abandoned Afghan home as they stood outside the door and fucking listened.

Just like Miguel had fucking watched as that animal tried to choke the life out of you. You’d had your choices stripped away from you all over again. The past echoing once more into your present.

If he was anyone else you would have hurt him, you would have shown him what it was like to have your control taken away, to feel truly powerless. But you didn’t because you couldn’t do that to Nestor. You couldn’t murder the only family he had left; you couldn’t inflict that pain upon him. And there was the issue.

The man you hated and the man you loved, entwined so precariously together.

Every time you tried to explain it to Nestor the words died in your throat because you knew the position it would put him in, you knew that you would be forcing him to choose.

The lover he’d known for only a pocket of time, or the man he’d grown up.

In the end you made the choice for him.

In the dead of night, while he sleeps, you take your go bag from the closet and you run.

You run as far away from San Padre as you possibly can.

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

You’re a mess, you try to hide it, but Nestor sees it. He sees everything when it comes to you. You play with your food instead of eating it, when he wakes up in the night it’s to an empty bed because you’re up pacing or out running, anything to get rid of the thoughts that plague you.

It’s hypervigilance, he’s seen it before, felt it himself. The work the two of you do leaves you with a healthy dose of paranoia. He doesn’t know how to help you because when you do talk, you don’t tell him everything. There’s something stabbing at you underneath the surface, something you can’t bring yourself to say. He can’t force it out of you.

When you leave, he half expects it because this thing between the two of you it isn’t working, and he doesn’t know how to help you.

 What you need isn’t here, it isn’t him.

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva #nestor mayans #nestor #mayans fx #mayans #mayans mc

[slaasherslut]

Lester Sinclair + frogs hcs

Okay thanks to @coppasulfate I am now OBSESSED with the idea of Lester loving frogs. hes a frog boy at heart and nothing can change my mind.

Since he was left alone a good chunk of his childhood he had to make his own fun, and one way he did that was going to the nearby creek and catching frogs.

Baby Les spent so much time just crouched at the side of the creek wearing his bright green froggy rain boots trying to spot some frogs in the water.

He refuses to leave his hunt empty handed. He will catch a frog, and he will take it home, no matter how long it takes.

Has a new frog every day but he always calls them "James".

Known to shove frogs in his jacket pockets and carry them around.

Bo is terrified of frogs, he flips out whenever Lester brings them in the house.

Speaking of Bo, one time as a kid Lester put a bunch of frogs in a deep kitchen pot for safe keeping. Bo opened the lid and a shit ton of frogs just jumped out at him. He was traumatized and he definitely cried.

Definitely slept with a frog plush as kid. He doesn't anymore now that he has you to cuddle but its kept on the shelf high up in the closet so Jonesy cant reach it. He sees it every day when he gets dressed.

Has accidentally let frogs loose in the house on multiple occasions.

One time he thought he wrangled them all up and as the two of you were settling down in bed for the night, a soft ribbit echoed throughout the house. You both groaned knowing he missed one.

Will send you blurry photos of frogs hes seen throughout his day or a selfie with said frog, usually captioned "I made a friend today!" or "*insert random frog name* says hello!"

"aint he so cute, sweetpea!? What should we name him? I think he looks like a 'Kirk'. Whatchu think, hon?"

You have definitely told him so many times to stop bringing frogs in the house.

"Lester, what's that in your pocket?"

"...it's nothin'..."

Meanwhile he's literally trying to avoid your gaze and is standing in front of the fridge in the kitchen like

also I will not be judged for using not one but two photos of Greg from OTGW its one of my favs. plus Greg kinda reminds me of baby Les, just a bit brighter lol

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @cries-in-latino @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @25bohemianmoons

message me if you want to be added to my tag list!

#house of wax 2005 #house of wax #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #headcanons

[visceravalentines]

Sinclair Nightmares:  Lester

Rating: Teen (SFW, hurt/comfort)

Length: 1k

CW: mention of hypothetical character/animal death

Lester Sinclair x GN!Reader

This will be a series featuring all three of the brothers!  Lord knows they all have enough nightmare fuel to last them a lifetime. We're starting with Lester for once cause he deserves it! There is copious use of nicknames in this one for both Les and the reader and I will NOT apologize for it.

The nights in Louisiana are often hot and muggy. You toss and turn, flipping your pillow, kicking off the blankets, trying to get comfortable and stay cool. On this night, you have finally accomplished a tolerable position when you hear a timid knock on the door. Before you can even focus your bleary gaze, you hear the door open and someone hesitantly whispers your name.

You sit up and rub your eyes and see Lester standing hunched in the doorway. His hands are in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he wears to bed, his frame thin beneath his baggy t-shirt with a crocodile screenprinted on the front.

“What’s going on, Les?” you mutter. He doesn’t answer right away. “Lester?”

“I had a nightmare,” he says. He tries to play it off, but his tone is all wrong, and even in the dark you can see he is wide-eyed and rattled.

“Oh, honeybee. Come here.” You pat the bed beside you and he shuffles over, sits down, changes his mind, pulls his feet up and curls up in a ball in your lap. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No…yeah.”

“It’s up to you. It might make you feel better.”

“I dunno. ‘S stupid.”

You run your hands through his hair. “It’s not stupid. Tell me about it.”

“Well, I was…I was comin’ back from the workweek, and when I got home, no one was there. I looked through the whole house and couldn’t find any of ya. I went outside, looked around, and when I came back in….”

He takes a deep, shaky breath. You are about to speak, encourage him, but the rest comes out in a wave. “When I come back in I see y’all layin’ dead on the floor, right in the livin’ room, I don’t know how I didn’t see ya before, but there y’all are, even Jonesy – “

His voice breaks and he grips your ankle tightly. “An’ so I run outside and I’m tryin’ to get a hold o’ myself and when I turn around the whole house is on fire and I can’t go back in there, I tried, but my feet are stuck, and so I just had to stand there and watch the whole thing come down on – on top of – ”

His voice catches again and you hear the sob he is trying to suppress threatening to burst out. “Oh, my sweet bee.” You bend over him, wrapping him in a hug, and he dissolves into tears he fights to hold back. “I’m so sorry, baby, that sounds horrible. C’mere.”

You lay back and pull him with you, tightening your arms around him. He buries his face in your chest and trembles. You squeeze him tightly, nuzzle his temple. “It was a nightmare, it wasn’t real. We’re all okay, I promise.”

The scrabble of Jonesy’s claws on the floor draws both of your attention. “Jonesy,” Lester says thickly, reaching over and beckoning the dog onto the bed. She hops up and steps unsteadily over your legs, licking at Lester’s face, allowing him to weave his arm around her neck and pull her into the pile. He holds the both of you like that for a while, until he regains control of his breathing and lays against you, staring into the dark, dazed.

“Do you want to go check on Bo and Vincent?” you ask, your lips pressed to his brow. “We can go make sure they’re alright.”

Lester sniffles. “Yeah. D’you mind…comin’ with me?”

“Of course I don’t mind, sweet bee. Let’s go.”

He sits up and wipes his face hurriedly. You lean in and kiss him on the cheek, take his hand and lead him out of the bedroom. Jonesy stands up on the bed, shakes herself, jumps down and follows you.

Lester very carefully twists the handle of Bo’s bedroom door and eases it open. The two of you peer inside and Jonesy sticks her head through the opening near the floor. Bo is sprawled on his face, snoring lightly, one leg out of the covers. Jonesy lets out a quiet boof.

“Jonesy,” both you and Lester hiss. Waking Bo up is a capital offense. Blessedly, the man does not stir.

“He looks okay to me,” Lester whispers, "well, good as he ever does." The three of you withdraw and close the door.

“Vincent next?” you ask, and Lester nods. You check Vinny’s bedroom across the hall from Bo’s, but it is empty. You catch the expression on Lester’s face and squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, you know he usually sleeps in the basement. Let’s go find him.”

The three of you traipse all the way downstairs. You have the forethought to snag a candle off the kitchen counter so you don’t have to turn on all the lights.

“Thanks for doin’ this, honey,” Lester mumbles.

“I’m glad you woke me up so you didn’t have to do it by yourself,” you smile.

True to form, you find Vincent on his cot in the corner of his workshop. The tall man is curled up tight, facing the wall. Jonesy wiggles past you and hops up on the bed to settle in against Vincent’s back. He makes a soft sound, reaches back and brushes his fingers against her flank before burrowing deeper into his pillow.

You hear Lester let out a sigh of relief, satisfied at last that his family is safe in their beds.

“Come back to bed with me,” you tell him as you make your way upstairs.

“I don’t wanna be a bother,” he says shyly. “I already woke you up and made you parade all over the house.”

You elbow him in the ribs affectionately. “Stop it. I was feeling lonely anyway.”

“Well, I s’pose we can’t have that.”

Lester snuggles into bed beside you, visibly more at ease. You pepper his face with kisses and tuck him in under your arm, his head nestled under your chin. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need me, okay?  I love you, honeybee.”

“I love you, buttercup.”

Before long, he is peacefully asleep.

#lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair fanfiction #house of wax fanfiction #lester sinclair #jonesy sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

It’s dangerous out there so please take small jonesy with you so you won't be alone. 💖

THE POCKET JONESY IVE ALWAYS DREAMED OF

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #jonesy #classic rock #jimmy page #robert plant #john bonham

[roadkillerx]

Hey Lester!!!!

*waves*

I got jonesy a new toy, OH, and I got you this!

*I walk up to him and grab his hand putting a rare model pocket knife in his palms*

Saw this and thought of you!

Howdy! Oh wow! Is this for me! Thank ya’ I love it so much! *he wraps his hands around you and give you a big hug*

#house of wax #lester sinclair #slashers #bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair #house of wax (2005) #house of wax ask blog #lester sinclair answers #slasher ask blog

[brandnewhuman]

AHAHA You have brought any sinful requests upon yourself👹👹👹👹

But first some fluff…

If you’re feeling up to it could you possibly do a fun day at the beach with the sashes (Bo/Brahms/any others) 

Like maybe you drag them into the water and have a barbecue on the beach and just go up to silly little antics 

BITCHES AT THE BEACH

☆STARRING☆

Bo Sinclair ☆ Underappreciated  soft sweaty boy who just needed a vacation and some good therapy but instead he got his head busted

Michael Audrey Myers ☆ mean himbo who eats dogs cause the medical system has failed him

Brahms Heelshire ☆ the wall rat who is afraid of rats and needs to be sued for being too horny and too stinky

Content:

Tw; Michael, mature language

A/N: i think this has been my first fluff request in a while. You sinful whores had been bringing your foul horny behaviour all over my blog 👹. But thank you for the request. Now let's go down to business

BO SINCLAIR:

He's going to be a pain the ass at the beginning 

It's not like he doesn't want to take a break but he feels like if he does then all will go to shit at home

When you finally managed to convince him to go he's actually so excited 

He hasn't done something so fun in years so it's actually a nice change 

WE ALL KNOW BRIAN VAN HOLT IS A SURFER KIND OF HIMBO SO

just- just imagine this

You're minding your own business reading a book while laying on the beach towel

You lift your eyes up to see if Bo is coming back from swimming 

And oh lord if he is

You see this fine art piece of a man running his hands through his black wet hair as the sun kisses his perfect dripping body while he gets out of the water

MY MOUTH? OPEN AND WATERING. MY HEART? DEAD. MY BRAIN? MALFUNCTIONING. 

I just can't help to think Bo would give in doing this type of things when he gets older 

Like he has grey streaks in his hair and he has that dilf charm that everyone would like to have at his fine age

Part of me it's just horny for daddy era Bo but I have a reasoning about this

He would be more comfortable with a normal life because of years of receiving your love and care

Having you in his life has changed everything so much 

He doesn't have that need to please his mother anymore cause with you he has learned he doesn't need to earn love and he deserves to choose something better for himself if he wants too 

His scars are still a touchy subject but he's getting better at that too!

And that's all because of you too. He secretly loves so much when you place kisses on them 

But back at the beach

I think Bo would be that person who's always putting sunscreen on you just to have an excuse to touch you and be close now that he feels comfortable with more tender touches ecc

He listens to you reading while laying on his back next to you and occasionally he brushes back a strand of hair out of your face. 

He loves ice cream so be sure to bring some cause otherwise you will have a very disappointed Bo 

Hates, HATES the feeling of sand sticking to his skin 

He actually might have a mental breakdance if he gets overwhelmed by it

But loves to let the sun give him a nice skin cancer

He just feels so happy under all that warmth, it almost ALMOST feels like one of your hugs or how it was to play hide and seek with vinny and Lester in woods 

He wants to listen to music so either you bring some headphones to listen music together or you bring a radio or speaker 

And since he has good music taste you don't have to worry, he's got you Babe

I think he would actually love to take pictures but like Polaroids cause he likes them better. They fit perfectly in his pocket 

If you stay there till late he would make sure to give you his shirt so you don't catch a cold

ROASTING MARSHMALLOWS ROASTING MARSHMALLOWS

he is bringing photos to vinny so if he wants he can take inspiration from them to draw something

He might try to remember at which hours there are less to no people so he can bring vinny one day 

He is taking jonesy too tho, cause she's his baby and one day without her is too much 

You might want to bring a stick cause the amount of fuckers who will try to flirt with Bo is insane 

AND THIS BITCH DOESN'T EVEN REALISE HE'S FLIRTING BACK CAUSE HE'S SO RELAXED HE DOESN'T PUT UP HIS USUAL ACT

HE'S JUST BEING HIS NATURAL NICE FLIRTY SELF AND YOU BOTH HATE IT AND LOVE IT

fear do not cause he loves on you y/n, as soon as he puts his eyes on you it's like he's watching the most perfect thing on earth

He might be a little bit Grumpy with annoying kids throwing balls ecc but then you catch him smiling to himself as he watch them

They remind him of him and his brothers but at the same times there's a hint of longing knowing he never got the chance to have a childhood like that 

Overall vert wholesome experience 

MICHAEL MYERS:

I feel like Michael is more of a twilight style type of beach 

Hot weather is always a torture for Michael. Between the mask and his medical problems (YES HE DOES HAVE THEM. HE HAS ANAEMIA AND LOW BLOOD PRESSURE)

he actually enjoys relaxing and slow walks by the shore with you 

Maybe it's the whole mix of the beach having those gloomy vibes, the nice and calm sound of the waves crushing gently, knowing you are perfectly comfortable with the silence while walking next to him but it's one of the best days he has ever had 

He even shares a few sweets with you 

Now depending on what version you want this can go different ways 

Rz michael is more likely to take off his mask, hold your hand while sitting on the sand and listening to whatever you're telling him

He loves to spend time "talking" with you. It makes him feels more close to you, like he's an important part of your life

He would love to listen to music with your headphones while watching the ocean and just enjoy each others presence 

Please buy him a hoodie or something otherwise he will catch a cold 

If it's og Michael he's going to be such a pain the ass always huffing because he doesn't want to come with you

When he sees you actually leave even if he doesn't come he decides to follow you 

He won't never admit it but he actually likes being there with you

He likes to observe you as you do your own things knowing that Michael is most likely to decline any invitation to participate 

He finds every thing you do so fascinating 

Watching you makes everything go away and these rare days of calmness and quiet are his favourites 

You give him so much peace of mind just by being there 

He hates and love this so that's why he always looks so grumpy 

It might be stupid but he enjoys the scent of the ocean so maybe the brings up his mask only a little bit to feel it better 

If it's peepaw myers my man is old and honestly all the fun he needs is at other people's home 

Would do it just for you but it's hating every single minute of it

That until he actually sees how peaceful and quiet the beach you chose is

He can even take his mask without worrying 

He looks and acts like a grandpa 

Overall I think you should just try to bring him to a quiet beach in a more chill weather otherwise you would never convince him

The big part on he doesn't like it it's because he has never experience this things and sometimes he gets overwhelmed by how many things he has never done or seen 

This moments makes him more aware of his own fucked up life but he's willing to try for you

BRAHMS HEELSHIRE

How the fuck do you even get this man to get out of the house 

Mysteries of the universe i guess but what I would never get over its one of you fuckers trying to tell me this man would enjoy any of this beach stuff

He doesn't even has a middle ground like Michael with this stuff

He is upset and it's going to be everyone's problem 

"Y/N why do we have to leave the house? Can't you just look at the pictures on your phone and get over it?" "Too much sun can give you cancer pretty y/n!! I'm just trying to protect you!!" "Y/N PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU STOP THIS MADNESS" 

you're basically dragging him out the fucking house

Biggest tantrum in history 

You actually get worry cause mid way he's starting to have a mental breakdance 

To be fair, he has good reasons 

One being his insecurities and other the fact that he has never done anything like this before

He's never going to take his clothes off so don't even try it

You'll probably have to find a spot where no one can see him 

Preferably one that's not too exposed to the sun if you don't him to die from a heatstroke 

Again, if you manage to find a twilight kind of beach it would be better

He's going to be under the beach umbrella all the time reading and making draws of you while you swim 

He loves how happy you look so in the end all the suffering his taking it's worthy 

And maybe the ice cream makes it worthy too

Bro is having the worst day of his life but as soon as he sees you all happy showing him the shells you have found he's going to feel all fuzzy and warm inside 

Maybe it's the mask+sweatshirt combo he's wearing tho but still 

He spends most of the time just relaxing and if you're lucky you could get him to at least get off the sweatshirt 

He's so self-conscious but since he's only with you then he can at least put some effort 

He has to admit he's feeling, for once, normal

Like he feels like you're just a normal couple having a funny date together 

Okay okay MAYBE JUST MAYBE it's not that bad

He doesn't exactly like swimming but all the other stuff it's fine

He even asks when could you both go again

#slasher community #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher fanfiction #horror movies #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #og michael myers #peepaw michael myers #peepaw myers #rz michael myers #michael myers #bo sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #michael myers x reader #brian van holt

[kazoo5480]

Breaking Down Ch. 22

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31477262/chapters/116879242

Killian spun around in his stool, headache pounding.

"Jones!"

Killian's head snapped up, as Ruby stormed through the door, her red scarf billowing around her. She pulled him to his feet and squeezed him so hard that he nearly lost his breath.

"Ruby."

"She had it in her pocket like a stick of gum!" She bellowed, and Killian chuckled.

"Keep your mouth shut, Red."

Ruby hugged him again, tucking her chin against his neck. "Liam would have loved her, like really really loved her." Killian's throat grew thick, and he just patted her on the back and stepped away.

He sat back down, not entirely sure that Ruby was capable of holding on to a secret like this. "You can tell Granny, that's it." Ruby beamed.

"Of course, of course. I won't tell anyone until you guys do, but I can let it slip to the old bird that Jonesy is officially off the market permanently. You know hearts are going to break for at least two counties over!"

Killian scoffed at that, "I never even made it through the next county!"

"You sir, are a liar."

Killian rolled his eyes, "You are far too nosy for your own good."

She shrugged, "I know. And your wife is sitting in a pile of tile in your broken-down house, demanding help with paint. So, why are you here, and not with her?"

He waved his hand around the obviously full shop but smirked at her use of the title for Emma.

"Oh. You're packed. You never have this much business at once."

"Oi! Don't be an ass, Ruby!" She rolled her eyes at him and stole the other stool to sit upon.

"No seriously, what gives?"

"I took out that ad in the local newspaper, and business has been piling in. Might need another person if it keeps up. Everyone and their mothers need just about everything you can think of before Christmas. Not complaining though, tile to buy and all that."

"Jonesy?"

He set the clipboard down and looked over, "Yeah?"

"Liam would be really happy for you, ya know? He probably is wherever he landed."

He nodded, "Thanks, Red. Now get out of my shop."

Killian finished up what he could, and showered quickly before driving to the house.

Pulling up, he saw Emma's explorer sitting in the driveway, the house was dark but as he entered through the back, he heard movement upstairs. He took the steps two at a time and burst into laughter when he opened the bedroom door. Emma sat there, hair askew, as she was trying to lift each leg with both hands, she looked like a castoff doll crumpled on the floor. It was adorable.

Her green eyes lit up as she saw him, "Jones, oh thank god! Help!"

Killian rushed over, and squatted behind her, lifting her to her feet. He kept hold of her waist, and she smiled over her shoulder at him.

"My legs are asleep. I haven't moved in hours."

He nodded and kissed her quickly. "Let's get you some food."

"I ate!"

He raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. "This morning, I ate."

"And we need more than one meal a day, Swan. Come on, up you go," and lifted her into his arms, carrying her down toward the kitchen. He set her on the counter, standing beside her as he handed her a takeout box.

"What can I help with?" he asked through a mouthful of noodles, and she pointed at the wall of paint chips that had grown by at least 10. He walked over and tore down at least half of them.

"Around the corner," she mumbled. She had wallpaper samples hanging up, and he took the time to glance at them. She had them all separated, bedroom 1, bedroom 2, Half bath, and entryway. He marked the ones he liked before he took a particular sample upstairs with him. He noticed the smallest bedroom door next to theirs was slightly cracked.

Peeking in, he didn't notice it right away, but Emma had hung a few paint chips in there to the side of the door, almost out of sight. He flipped the light on and looked at them. His stomach clenched, and he heard Emma ascending.

She just leaned against the doorframe and gave him a small smile.

"Painting for something specific, love?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Not yet."

He nodded and picked a pale green chip. "I like this one."

Emma stood beside him and marked an X on it with the pencil she had tucked through her ponytail. She left the room without a word, and he followed her down the steps.

"We can talk about it, Swan."

Emma smiled and shook her head. "Nothing to talk about yet."

"Well, if you did want to, you know that I want that."

She bit her lip and nodded. "I know."

He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her soft lips. "Alright, whenever you are ready then."

They finished up, and Emma followed him home in her car when Graham called. Killian picked up the call, kicking his boots off.

"Sherriff."

"Jones! Are you and Em still going to foster for the holidays?"

He looked at Emma who had just come through the door. "Hang on, let me ask."

He placed the phone against his chest, "Are we going to foster through Christmas?"

Emma grinned, "I think so, does he need an answer now?"

Killian handed Emma the phone and went to place the bag of food still in his hand into the refrigerator. He got dressed for bed, and Emma came in handing his phone back.

"He wants us to come to decide tomorrow so that he can make sure they all have a place to go. Do you have time?"

He thought about it, he really didn't. He had 15 pickups tomorrow alone, but he knew she wanted this. "I can at lunch, but we have to be quick."

"Alright, I can go alone if you want, it isn't a big deal."

He saw right through that response. "No, I have time. I will just meet you there if you are over at the house." She nodded and kissed his cheek before heading toward the shower.

He glanced through his calendar, realizing that the Holiday market opened next week. He had marked Saturday off early so that he could take Emma for her first time and get a tree, Scott and August were arriving Sunday sometime. He almost laughed when he considered that it was less than a year ago that he had met Emma, moved her in, bought a house, and a car, got engaged, gained a very strange set of siblings, and now they were getting a dog that they were never actually returning because it would break her heart.

He turned Ruby's words over in his head, he liked to think that Liam and his mum would have liked Emma, loved her. The thought of another holiday without them sometimes turned his mood sour, it also usually led him to seek out the comforts of strangers and the bottom of a bottle on occasion. As Emma came out of the bathroom in her fluffy robe, he realized he wouldn't be alone this year, or ever again.

Emma crawled into bed with him and snuggled in, her curls nearly long enough to hang off the edge of her pillow. He toyed with the ends of them, running the silky hair through his fingers as he continued to be lost in his thoughts. Her small hand curled in his shirt, ring sparkling on her finger. How the fuck had he gotten so lucky? She was the entire package, and she had said yes, chose him. He smiled as he watched her sleep, totally enamored by the tiny freckles across her nose, and the thick, dark lashes that fanned across her cheeks.

"Jones, stop staring. It's weird," she mumbled and he chuckled and turned off the tv.

She smiled against his chest, it felt nice to be adored. Even if he watched her sleep like a creep.

Emma hurried through the door, and Killian was waiting by the counter for her. She ran up and quickly kissed him, and apologized for being late. They were led into the kennel area, stacked crates held cats and kittens. Emma paused to peer into a few crates but followed Killian as they headed further toward the larger kennel area.

She took one side, while Killian took the other, dogs wagging their tails at them, some barking, and she looked past the ones with the red tags because they were either adopted out or already being sheltered. She gave them each a smile, and if they ventured close enough, a pet through the bars.

"Swan!"

Emma glanced over, and made her way to stand beside him, glancing at the tag by the door. "Murphy," she smiled at the name and peered inside where a yellow lab mix of some kind sat wagging his tail at them, smiling almost.  She knelt down and he walked nervously toward the gate.

"Hi, Murphy," she cooed and stuck her hand through the bar to scratch his ears. She heard a whimper, and Murphy turned, quickly making his way back toward the pile of blankets.

"Wait, are there two?" She asked looking up at Killian and Merida who ran the shelter.

Merida sighed, tossing her poufy red curls over her shoulder. She nodded and handed Emma the clipboard. "It's why we have had so much trouble adopting them out or fostering, they cant be split up."

Killian knew at that moment, the one dog that he had resigned himself to, just became two.

Emma looked up at him, and he smiled, yep he was okay with this if it made her smile like that at him.

"Mer, what's their story?"

"Ah. A sad tale, but they were found together off the interstate about six months ago. Spent the last few trying to fatten them up, they were nearly starved. She looks like she had a litter at some point, but there were no pups, just the two of them. Murph is pretty protective over her, we call her Ava."

The little white Maltese Shih Tzu poked her head up, and Murphy looked over at them, tail wagging.

"Can I go in?" She asked, and Merida unhooked the latch. She approached slowly, Killian behind her, and knelt down next to them. Murphy lurched forward rubbing his pink nose on her face, sniffing her hair. Ava sat up at full attention, her little eyes curious, but she didn't make a move forward.

"I think we can take them, right Swan?" he said and she looked up at him and smiled.

"We can?" she was nearly about to cry with excitement, and he nodded. He knew they couldn't be split up, he understood.

Killian followed Merida out and quietly said, "Draw up the paperwork, we will adopt them both most likely."

Merida grinned and slapped him on the shoulder excitedly, rushing off to get it started.

Killian leaned against the frame of the kennel and watched as the small dog crawled into Emma's lap, and Emma was holding tears back, her nose pink as she sniffled. He came and sat beside her, back against the wall and Murphy nudged against his hand, and he scratched him behind his ears.

"What do you think? You guys want to come home with us?" He directed at Murphy whose tail whipped wildly and licked his hand. Ava looked perfectly content in Emma's lap, her hand stroking her short white fur.

Emma looked over at him, and the grin on her face was absurd. "You're sure?"

He glanced at Murphy who seemed younger, a ball of happy energy, and then at Ava who seemed skittish, an observer.

He petted Ava's head softly and nodded. "They need a home, we have room, and soon we will have even more. Murph will be a good running partner for you once we get some weight on him."

Emma's head landed on his shoulder, and he kissed her curls. "Come on, let's head out, sign the papers."

Emma gently set the dog down in her blankets, Murphy trying to follow her out. "I'll be back, don't worry. I promise, she whispered as she scratched his ears, and latched the gate behind her.

Merida set both forms down, and they signed, Killian kissing her cheek as he headed back to work, leaving Emma there with their two dogs. Merida walked her through the forms and some of their medical histories that they had deduced, and let Emma know that they would be ready for pick up the following day after a bath. Graham smiled knowingly at her and waved her off before she headed toward the pet store to grab everything that they would need, including an extra large crate for them both, since they didn't like to sleep apart.

She rushed home, and Killian helped her carry it all up to the loft, before leaving her to it, grinning as he headed down the steps.

Emma set everything up, and labeled their food containers, tucking them away in a cupboard since Murphy apparently got into anything left out on the counters. Thankfully she was assured that they were not chewers, but she grabbed them the treats anyways. She set a smaller pillow up near her chair by the window so that Ava could lay in the sun, and threw Murphy's large pillow down facing the door. She was told that he preferred to sleep facing doors, and would drag his bed if he didn't like where it was.

It would be a tight fit, but she was grateful all the same that Killian seemed to be on board.

August tapped his pen mindlessly as he hunted down every single photo he could find of the Kennedy-Bessette wedding.

Dress, check. Gloves, he had someone on the hunt for those in New York. Shoes, check.

Scott leaned over his shoulder looking at the small church on the screen. "Auggie..."

"What! She needs a church, I found one!" He was glancing at the small church on the screen.

"It's their wedding, babe."

He crossed his arms and huffed. "She won't even discuss it with me!"

"Because they are in the middle of gutting a house! Why don't you finish packing the records up? Keep yourself occupied, the movers will be here in two days."

August glanced up at Scott and nodded before following him out. "What about flowers? Or cake? I could call Ingrid, and start-" Scott placed a large palm over his mouth silencing him.

"I will tell Emma to have one of those make your own dessert tables that you hate if you don't stop." August gaped at him.

"You wouldn't dare! She isn't a child! Regardless of how she lives sometimes, who has a sundae bar at a wedding? Knowing her, Emma would just to spite me! Completely tacky." He shook his head mumbling something too low for Scott to hear.

"It is not our wedding. You need to back off and make sure our life here makes it there, so focus!"

"Fine. But only because I am choosing to, not because you told me to."

Scott grinned, "You are an absolute pain in the ass, no wonder Killian is not giving us housekeys."

"I can pick locks," August sniffed.

"And Killian is best friends with the sheriff who will put you in a holding cell."

He barked out a laugh, "Graham? He would probably give me a donut and a coffee and make me do all his backlogged paperwork before he stuck me in a cell for a B&E."

Scott stared at him, "You know that you have a problem, right?"

August avoided eye contact, "I know."

"If we get approved for adoption, don't be the helicopter dad, or our kids won't have friends."

"I won't!"

Scott smirked at him. "I see it now, you taking over as head of the PTA, and bake sales, all while running background checks on little Timmy's parents to find out if they ever got a speeding ticket, and clipping the brake wires on a mom's car who forgot to attend the back to school night meeting." He wrapped his arms around Auggie's waist and kissed him. "I can't wait."

"Brakes are a little far, maybe I would just put something in her tea at the next meeting, give her a mild case of IBS."

Scott rolled his eyes and chuckled. "As I said, you are a lunatic. Now pack," he said dropping his arms and began taping his own boxes up.

August smiled, a wedding, being close to Emma, and possibly kids? He hit the jackpot, plus his husband was hot. He and Emma did alright for two street rats.

Killian held Emma's hand as they walked into the shelter, leashes in each hand. Merida greeted them, and led them into the kennels, Emma smiled noticing that almost all of the tags were red now, that they would have a home for the holidays.

Merida unlatched the gate, and Murphy ran toward Killian rubbing against his legs, as Killian scratched his ears, earning himself a headbutt.

Emma walked over to Ava, who was sitting up, her little white tail wagging, and her heart melted. "Hi there, ready to go home?" She asked and hooked her new leash onto her collar.

Killian had Murphy at hand, and led him toward the front, Ava running closely on her short legs to keep up with him, tugging Emma along. They led the dogs out, Killian lifting Murphy into the trunk of the Explorer, while Ava stayed near Emma, choosing to sit on her lap for the short drive.

Killian made sure that the drills weren't running when they brought them inside, not wanting to scare them, and Murphy rushed up the steps, while Emma carried Ava behind him. Killian headed up and made sure that they had everything that they needed, choosing to sit on the floor while they wandered the loft checking everything out. Emma sat beside him, a massive grin on her face, and pulled his lips to hers.

"Happy?" He asked.

"Exceptionally."

"When do they get here? Sunday?"

Emma nodded. "He is going to ambush me about the wedding."

Killian sighed and tugged her against him. "We decide, love. Not August, not Ruby." She nodded, but he could tell she was a little anxious about it, her new tick was twirling her ring around on her finger.

"Pick a movie, and I'll call in a pizza."

Murphy bounded back into the room and promptly dragged his bed toward the door, and plopped down, while Ava came trotting out quietly behind him. She curled into Murphy's belly, snuggling in. Emma grinned, they were happy, and they felt safe. She could relate to that feeling.

"They don't have to go back, Swan," Killian said from the kitchen, smiling softly at her.

Emma looked up at him and nodded. "I don't want to get my hopes up."

He nodded and dialed as he walked down toward their room. Emma queued up the movie, and grabbed a bag of candy before laying on the couch, waiting for him to come back. He placed her feet in his lap, dragging a blanket over them.

After pizza, they took the dogs out on a quick walk, and he got them settled while Emma got ready for bed.

He walked in as she removed her earrings, and combed out her long curls. He sat on the edge of the bed just watching her, and she smiled at him in the mirror, knowingly. She set her comb down and stood between his legs, brushing his hair away from his forehead, before leaning in to kiss him. Killian's arms banded around her waist, and he fell backward taking her with him.

She placed kisses along his lips, and cheeks, his hands wandering up and down her back tugging her in tighter. She tucked her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply, taking advantage of his parted lips.

Killian's hand slid down her back to cup her cheek, dragging her against him, squeezing out every bit of space between them. His hand wandered beneath her tee shirt, tugging it upward, and nearly had it over her head before he felt something against his leg.

He looked toward the end of the bed and Ava was up on her hind legs watching, and Murphy's tongue lolled out of his mouth, tail whipping back and forth. Emma giggled and slid off of him, much to his dismay.

"Cockblocked by my dogs. Excellent," he groaned, hands dropping to the bed.

"Aw, it's their first night in a new place. Are you scared?" She petted them and slid to the floor. Ava crawled into her lap, and Emma was about to ask when he laid down a hard rule.

"Not on the bed."

Emma pouted but nodded.

She stood carrying Ava, Murphy trailing behind her as she headed toward their crate. She tucked them inside, making sure their blankets were okay, and shut the latch.

"Goodnight, see you in the morning."

Killian was still laying where she had left him, she lay beside him, his blue eyes seeking out hers, and he tugged her back atop him.

"Now, where was I?" he murmured, before trailing kisses down her neck and rolling her to her back, picking right up where he had left off.

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#killian jones #Emma x Killian #emma swan #ouat #ouat au #once upon a time