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Romanticize Real Serial Killers.Â
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If you donât see the desired character you want written for on this list provide me with the characters name and the fandom/game/movie/show they are from.Â
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hey can u do one shot for Bo Sinclair with internalized homophobia and pent up sexual repression, hating himself for falling for a male s/o and the s/o catches on and comforts him? thanks bud.
Contains: Internalized Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Pre Relationship, Fluffy Good Times, Drinking, Drunk Reader, Smitten Bo, Lightly Edited
Bo didnât know why he kept you around- well, he knew, but heâd rather take a bullet straight to his groin before heâd admit, even to himself. âWhatâcha brooding around for?â Your voice was deep and raspy, a cigarette burning between your fingers, and one of his beers in your other hand. He shouldâve been furious. Another man was in his home, touching his cigarettes, drinking his beers, but he didnât feel a lick of rage. âSâ nothing for you to wonder âbout.â Your boots were heavy, stomping a few steps down before plopping your ass onto the top step, painfully close to Bo. âWell, now Iâm wonderinâ for sure.â Head radiated up Boâs arm when you bumped your shoulder against his playfully. Bo bit down the warmth he felt. His face held his usual aggravated expression firmly in place. âWell, knock it off.â His hand came down on the top of your head, lightly smacking you and memorizing how soft your hair was for a dude. âCanât help it- You're so mysterious,â The last part you said teasingly before chuckling and taking a long swig from your beer. Silence settled between the two of you comfortably.
âWhyâd ya keep me âround?â The question leaves your lips hanging in the air while Boâs jaw tenses. The crackling of your cigarette that youâd stolen from Boâs stash fills the air as you take a drag, eyeing the cold man beside you, waiting for his response. âNot complaininâ but I always wondered.â Bo sat there silent for another moment before shrugging. âJusâ like the company, I guess. Itâs not always easy beinâ just my brothers and me.â The smile on your face made Boâs chest twist uncomfortably as his heart raced. âMâ happy I can make it easier for ya.â You were clearly drunk as you slurred a few words, and if it wasnât you whoâd done it, Bo would dread the damage done to his liquor stash.
The man snapped his eyes to the driveway and the treeline in front of him, not able to hold your gaze. The faint drunken flush on your cheeks, the lazy smirk, your lidded eyes, the way you were subtly leaning into his personal space. It all made Boâs chest feel heavy with the weight of unaddressed emotions. Just the thought of these emotions had the manâs stomach flipping till he felt nauseous at just how strong the effect you had on him was. Your forehead felt heavy when it thumped on Boâs shoulder. âJusâ lemme stay like this for a second-â Bo couldnât push you off of him even if he wanted to, and he really did. He felt nailed to the ground, unable to move a single limb as all his focus went to keeping his breathing steady, barely able to stay calm with the way your breath felt seeping through the cloth of his shirt. Goosebumps raised down his arm when you sighed, your breath running fanning across his skin. â(Insert-Name)-â Bo whispered, his voice hoarse. He didnât fully mean to say your name, and he didnât know what to say next as his mind felt foggy and blank. âBo?â His name falling from your lips made his breathing stutter momentarily. You lifted your head up, resting your chin on his shoulder, studying his side profile. Breath ghosted on the shell of Boâs ear, your voice hushed. âUse your words now.â
Boâs shoulder shook for a second as a stutttered breath forced its way past his lips. His face turns to face you, his expression screwed into a scowl despite the unsure, vulnerable look in his eyes. He wasnât expecting you to be so near, and he forgot the scolding he was about to give you almost instantly. âDon't- say that kinda shit,â Boâs face flushed- you chuckled as the sound vibrated through his shoulder. âDidnât mean to upset you,â The usually strong man felt weak, and he hated it. âMâ not upset-â âThen why canât I talk like that?â Bo felt bombarded- You were so close every syllable you spoke ghosting across his lips. His stomach churned, his mind scolding him for feeling how he did. Bo didnât know how to answer you. He couldnât answer that- why couldnât you talk like that? It should be obvious you're a guy. It wasnât natural- âYou're cute when you're flustered.â Bo stuttered on words he couldnât form. He wanted to curse you out to push you away, but his whole body felt heavy. Unable to move.
Coming impossibly closer, you pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, shutting down his unintelligible sputtering. His face was a deep red color, and his eyes were open wide, a multitude of emotions swirling underneath. âS okay-â One of your hands slid around Boâs waist, your hand resting on his hip slowly while studying his expression. Making sure it wasnât too much for the man. Hugging his side, you slid closer, feeling satisfied as the other man melted into your embrace. His arm sat stiffly and awkwardly on the ground behind you, but he didnât try to pull away. He stared ahead, trying to silence his mind as your warmth seeped into his skin, making his heart flutter till he was sure he was having a heart attack. Moving in slow circles, your thumb brushed Boâs hip, the gesture comforting in ways the other man had never experienced. Subconsciously, he pressed closer to your side, his shoulders becoming less tense. Even as the air turned bitter with night settling in Bo couldn't bring himself to pull away when you were so warm.Â
Prompts: Stubbornly Injured x Protectively Exhausted
â "You canât even open the painkillers without shaking."
"So get your ass over here and open them for me."
â "What the hell are you doing? Get back inside, you're already hurt!"
"I broke my leg, not my arm. I can still shoot."
â "Don't wait up."
"Wait up? Sweetheart, if you think you'll be going alone you must've hit your pretty head."
â âYouâre limping.â
âYouâre lucky Iâm putting weight on the injury trying to hide it.â
â âNot a word. Iâm done laying around.â
âThen sit.â
â "What- Where are you going? You dislocated your shoulder!"
"Oh, itâs fine. Itâs not my trigger arm."
â "If you try to climb that wall, I will fucking knock you out."
"Iâm concussed anyway; wonât even feel it."
"Youâre not making the point you think you are."
â "What part of bedrest do you not understand?"
"The one where me laying around is gonna do anything for our situation."
â "Fine, go ahead. But if you pass out, Iâm not carrying your ass to safety."
"Thatâs what you said last time."
"I know."
"And you carried me, bridal style."
"I know."
"And-"
"Okay fine, I get it."
 Gentle hands wrapped around Frankâs knee. The man in front of the killer stared at a gash on Frankâs knee, their face riddled with concern. âThat looks pretty bad, Frank.â The killer scoffed, his hand brushing the survivor away from him. âItâs fine- you don't need to fucking coddle me.â Frank made a move to stand, pushing himself up and off the toilet he was sitting on. The killer didnât get far before the insistent man trapping him there had shoved Frank back onto the seat. âI don't think so.â Frank tried fighting back, but he couldnât struggle much before he was gasping in pain, the gash on his knee bleeding. âI'll tie you down if I need to.â The survivor said his expression stubbornly determined.
Frank stilled, grumbling the whole time under his breath as the survivor worked quick knowing Frank wouldnât be content with the gentle treatment for long. Despite what the survivor thought, Frank went limp as soon as the other man went to work. The killer watched silently with an unfamiliar warmth making his chest ache. âThanks,â Frankâs voice was quite barely audible, but the praise was enough to have the survivor grinning. The survivor pulls the bandage taut and tucks the extra roll into the wrapped wound before standing. âGood as new.â The survivor said, missing the way Frankâs eyes linger on the bandaged spot, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the bandage.
Headcanons of Frank and Danny somehow becoming super close friends with survivor reader to the point that they may as well be siblings. (I had the random thought that Frank would be that type of older brother who would kick anyone's ass if they were an asshole to their sibling because only he can be an asshole to them. So figured I would ask since I really like your writing!)
Frank would be hard to befriend. He operates on a kill first talk never basis, especially in a trial. Youâd have to banter with the man mid chase to get him to even consider not getting stabby. (Good luck bitches with asthma)Â
Once youâve cracked that exterior Frank would treat you as a part of his legion. Heâd let you come to the ski lodge whenever you wanted. Frank would actually prefer it if you stayed on the grounds whenever you weren't in trials indefinitely.Â
If a killer gave you a reasonable hard time, and wasnât too dangerous compared to his lil ass, heâd make sure theyâd fuck off. If a survivor gave you a hard time at all heâd tunnel the fuck out of them. Going as far as to stand under the hook waiting for the entity to take hold while taunting them.Â
If the Legion members fucked with you heâd be quick to shut that shit down whith a smack over the back of the head and a quick scolding.Â
That doesnât mean you're free from teasing though. Frank is relentless when it comes to picking fun at you. All in a good sport but there've been times where you've even snapped at the stupid man. Heâs quick to shut up when he sees you're actually angry, don't expect an apology though.Â
Your lungs strained and your heart pounded as you ran avoiding the red light biting your heels. âStep off you cum fuckerâ You screamed despite your over exerted lungs. It didnât take long after that for Frank to down you, but you couldâve sworn you had heard him chuckle.Â
Danny (Jed Olsen)
Danny would seek you out first. He's always been a stalker, so it was no surprise he was keeping tabs on you. What came as a surprise is when his normal obsessive behavior turned into affection? Itâd take him a while to speak with you and for him to bring you around his humble abode though.Â
Heâd start out fucking with you in subtle ways. Running and passing by an opening in a wall? Oops now you're face first in the dirt with Ghostface mocking you.Â
Heâs always mocking and teasing you. If he overhears one of the other survivors throwing shade at you though it's safe to say they won't again. If one of the killers gives you a hard time Ghostface would return the favour fucking with them endlessly till they leave you alone.Â
Ghostface would be at your cabin more than heâd have you at his. Heâd show up unannounced and slip in through a window, door, wherever he could. You're asleep? Not anymore. âGet up in boredddd-â He'd whine before attacking you with your own bedding.Â
Heâd bring you trinkets if it looked like something youâd use or like. Ghostface finds all kinds of objects from the survivors' home worlds in the forest while he's to and from stalking sessions, so he'd even find some stuff from your home world on occasion.Â
Lights flashed overhead and the generator youâd just finished roared to life. Quickly you scurried away knowing you didnât want to be there when the killer found his way over. Running you passed by a wall with an opening. You were looking ahead and then you weren't. Your face met the ground, and you heard a chuckle. Looking over you saw Ghostfaceâs hand over the mouth part of his mask, his other hand dumbly pointing at you on the ground. âWhat the fuck-â
Contains: Sub Frank, Dom Reader, Canon Typical Violence/Blood
F/GN POVs on Patreon
 âOn your knees for me, nowâŚâ
Frank felt his kneecaps hit the cold concrete floor of the basement, the dull thud echoing in the confined space. The killer hadn't even had a chance to spot the survivor he'd gotten to know so intimately before the command was barked through the air. The entity called out demanding the killer to rise, to kill, to claim victory in its name, but the killer couldnât bring himself to move from where he knelt. It was the middle of a trial, so it was no surprise that there was blood dripping from Frankâs fingertips; his mask and clothing were stained in the crimson fluid as well. The gruesome sight was a testament to the violence he was capable of. No matter how dangerous the killer was, all it took were a few words to render the masked man weak-kneed. âLooks like you've been a busy boy.â The man walking towards the killer, his pace painfully slow, had Frankâs full attention. Despite the condescending tone in his voice Frank couldnât feel upset at the teasing. Not when it was coming from his perfectly curved lips. When the man finally stopped, his mud smeared boots mere inches from Frankâs knees, the killer looked up, straining his neck to meet the manâs gaze. Scarred hands gripped the underside of the wooden mask with the grotesque smile. The killer didn't fight back as the man in front of him ripped it off throwing it aside before burying his hands into the man's short hair, gripping firm. Frankâs breath fans over the survivor's crotch due to how near it was to the killerâs face. The man in front of him smelled like sweat and musk, no doubt from the exertion he faced in the trial.
âSomeoneâs real eager," Frank hadnât even realized his eyes strayed from the other manâs gaze, focusing on his crotch with a hungry gaze. The killerâs hands found the back of the survivor's thighs, his fingers digging into the muscle there. âYou have no idea how-â âDown boy,â Without hesitation, Frank shut up, removing his hands, placing them back on his lap quickly. The dominant manâs voice rang through the killer's mind like a record stuck on repeat, each new syllable he spoke pushing the song only the survivor could make the killer sing onward until the masked man felt like he was going to shatter. The survivor never let him fully break though. He was always there, pulling Frank back from the edge only to restart the dizzying game the killer couldn't get enough of.
Crickets chirping and the buzzing of insects filled the cool air. The moon was the only thing illuminating the world, the stars in the sky twinkling brightly above the clouds. Simon had wandered away from the base past the distant tree line, finding a much-needed solace from the quiet hum of the forest. While the rest of Task Force 141 celebrate drinking their fill and rejoicing in a mission completed, Simon couldnât embrace the upbeat environment inside. Silently, he sat with his brows furrowed under his mask as his eyes squint scrutinizing his hands. He saw no blood, having thoroughly scrubbed away the grime from the mission, but he could feel the weight of the blood he carried on his hands. The lives and deaths that rested solely on his shoulders weighing him down. The pain and grief that followed his every step left the strong man feeling hollow and cold.
Snap- A gun was raised towards the source of the sound before Simon could take another breath. âDidnât anyone ever teach you how dangerous it is to sneak up on an armed man?â Simonâs voice was rough, barely containing emotions he thought were long gone. âI canât help it- seeing you startled is so fun.â Infuriated was how Simon felt as he looked at the man behind him, wearing an idiotic smirk as he interrupted Ghostâs brooding.
âI can still shoot you-â Simon said, his voice holding no real hostility. âBut you won't. We both know you're too much of a good guy to do that.â Simonâs harsh glare wavered momentarily before he scoffed, looking away from the man. The words he spoke as he threw himself down into a sitting position next to Ghost made Simon feel odd. âYou donât know anything about the kind of man I am.â Simonâs words held grief and the weight of memories he willed to be lost to time. Faces heâd put in the ground long ago flash behind his eyes as guilt weighed down on him like an anchor pulling him into the depths of a cold sea of mourning he couldn't surface himself from. Ghost watched as the man beside him fished in his oversized jacket pocket, whipping out a small bottle of brandy before speaking. âI know youâd do anything to protect your own and that you donât act rashly.â The seal cracked the cap, grating against the glass bottle as he unscrewed it. âThat doesnât make me a good man. A man down is extra work for the rest of us.â Despite the coldness in Ghostâs tone, the man beside him laughed, taking a long swig of the bitter drink. The warm noise cuts through the silence of the forest. âBull fucking shit- I saw the way you threw yourself over Soap when we were under heavy fire, and he was injured. You were putting yourself at risk without a second thought. You care- even if you're a prick about it.â
Simon didnât know what to say, for once his quick tongue failed him. âAnyone would've done-â the man was cut off abruptly. âNo. They wouldnât have, but you-â Brandy scented breath ghosted over the side of Simonâs face as the man beside him leaned towards the masked man. Thanks to the close proximity, Simon could clearly see the flecks of color hidden in the other man's eyes. The look directed at the cold man kept Simon silent. The man next to himâs gaze was soft and understanding, but most importantly lacked any pity. "-didn't even give it a second thought.â Just as quickly as the man had invaded Simonâs personal space, he retracted. The sudden loss of warmth had Simon unsure how to feel as his chest twisted with unnamed emotions. Ghost looked away from the man sitting beside him, unable to look at his face as his mind raced. His eyes were zoning out on the blades of grass by his feet, his mind swimming with feelings he thought he'd locked away for good. Closeness and warmth were a luxury he had forfeited long ago, accepting and using the cold ache that plagued his heart as a crutch to keep going. To keep moving forward. To keep fighting for justice to prevail.
âYou're not alone here.â Simonâs eyes snapped to the man beside him, eyeing the bottle extended to him, unsure. âNo matter how much you act like you are, it's like you always say. No one fights alone.â Simonâs hands take the bottle after a second spent contemplating his words. Lifting his mask enough to expose his lips, he gulps down a small swig. The burn throws him off for a second and makes him cough into his arm as he hands the bottle back to the man beside him. âFuck- that's harsh,â
Both men settled into a comfortable silence after that, enjoying the tranquility the soft forest noises offered them. Simon didnât drink anymore, but he blamed the warmth blooming in his chest on the liquor and not the man he was subtly watching throw his head back, gulping down the brown liquid. The moon illuminated the bottle in the man's hands, the light reflecting against the planes of his face, a faint drunken blush tinging his cheeks in a way that had Simon forcefully peeling his eyes from the sight. Yeah, it was definitely the liquorâŚ
Where he is so nonchalant about the killings and thinks that everyone is overreacting.
For example: Randy would be yelling out in a frenzy to everyone that Billy was obviously the killer and reader would just be over it and ask why heâs so adamant about figuring out the killer. Saying, âPeople die everyday.â
Or Sydney would exclaim that another person died and heâd just be like âokay, so back to what I was saying-â and everyone would look at him like he was crazy.
Maybe the duo finds him interesting and it turns into something more.
 Contains: Nonchalant Reader, Pre Relationship, Gender Ambiguous Reader (Mb I was high & forgot), Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Stalking, Crack Fic Shit, Kidnapping WOmp WOmp
 CRASH-
âARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!" Randyâs shout echoes through the customer-less video store as the tapes on his cart clatter to the ground due to him throwing his arms outward in exasperation. Randy and you were closing up the video store; he was putting away the last of the returned rentals as you closed the till. âKinda hard to count and listen, bud.â You say, painfully aware of how many times you'd already had to recount the change in your hand thanks to Randyâs ramblings- or more accurately, accusations. âOne of our friends could be a KILLER. A SERIAL KILLER and you're worried about the god damn till?" Randy bent down, picking up the tapes with haste. âExactly.â Slamming your free hand down on the countertop, you sigh aggravated as you lose count of the change in your hand once again. âSo, you're saying you donât care that our good ol buddy Billy is getting stabby in the night?â You shoot Randy a duh look before going back to counting the change. âUnfucking believable, man." Randy pointed a finger at you accusingly; his face twisted with worry and suspicion. âYouâll care when Billy boys behind you,â his arm raises in a stabbing motion. âAnd boom-â Randy brings down his raised hand. â-just like that, you're another face tacked to a corkboard in some dingy station.â The cash register slams echoing in the small space as you close it scribbling the total on a scrap piece of paper before turning to face Randy. âAt least you'll be right there with me if Billy's the killer.â Randyâs expression turned mortified, a dramatic sound of shock leaving his lips. âThis isn't funny!â The aggravated man shouted, making you burst out laughing. You weren't the only one laughing at Randyâs frustration. Just beyond the doors leading to the back room, Ghostface hid, covered by shadows as they observed the interaction.
It was a new day, and you were at school surrounded by your friends as you all ate lunch outside like usual. Another murder had happened, and Randy stood smacking the newspaper in his hand as if he could beat the answers out of the pages. âFirst, Casey and Steve, and now look,â Randy held up the article he had the paper opened to, flashing it uncomfortably close to your face, leaving you unable to make out any of the words on the page. Bringing up your hand, you pressed the middle of the newspaper down just enough to make eye contact with Randy. âIâm tryna eat here, if you mind.â You shooed the shocked man away dismissively, not caring much about the recent murder that claimed the life of another classmate. He went down the row of your friends, making sure everyone's face was thoroughly shoved into the newspaper. You ignored his continued rant, his fast-paced speaking turning into a dull droning of background noise as you ate unbothered. Munching down, your eyes wandered across the front lawn of the high school you couldn't wait to get away from. As your gaze wandered over to the side of the yard where your friends were sprawled out, you froze. Billyâs eyes were staring holes through you, his gaze calm and curious as he tried to find something under your uncaring demeanor. Eh- weirdo. You thought looking away as if you hadnât caught your friend staring at you intensely. His gaze didn't bother you as you continued eating, wondering what crawled up his ass and if you could cut class.
âSurprise (Insert Name),â You stood in the doorway to Stuâs room, the man blocking your way from behind. Billy was sprawled out on Stuâs bed, a shitty Grim Reaper robe on his body and a Ghostface mask in one hand with a crimson-tinted knife in the other. A part of you suspected that wasn't corn syrup on the knife in Billyâs grasp. âFuck- Randy was right.â The lack of fear in your voice threw both the men in the room thrown off a loop. It made Stu bark out laughing as he watched you look more upset that your nerdy friend had been correct than the fact that you were face-to-face with two serial killers. âFucking nerd was right and now Randyâs waiting for you on a corkboard in a dingy station right nowâŚâ Billy chimed in a lazy half smirk resting on his face, satisfied with himself as he waited for your face to morph with fear at the revelation that they'd been stalking you. âFucking stalker.â There was no fear in your voice. You sounded teasing as you addressed the man with the weapon carelessly. Stuâs hands come up, gripping the back of your neck almost possessively. âDidnât I say theyâd be fun, Billy?â The taller manâs breath ghosts over the back of your head, his fingers dipping into the sides of your neck. You look up at Stu, who was staring right back, his eyes filled with mischief and something more sadistic.
âWhat's wrong with you?â Billy asked, sliding off the edge of the bed and stalking towards you slowly, his head held at a slight angle as he studied you. Stu pushed you forward, his free hand pressing the tip of a knife at the small of your back. You didn't even flinch walking forward in time with Stuâs steps, unbothered by the weapon. The knife left your back momentarily as Stu reached behind him. SLAM- still no flinch. Stuâs front rested flush with your back as Billyâs presence overshadowed you. âPeople die every day. Why should I bitch and moan because it's my turn?â Billy stared dumbly at you as he processed your words. âCan we keep them? I promise I'll take them out for walks and feed them every day.â Stu whined his fingers around your neck, practically vibrating as he joked. Billy scoffed, but he didn't look opposed to the idea of keeping you.
âYeah- fuck no- HEY,â Before you could protest further, Stu shoved you into the closet in his room heâd prepared. Stu held the door shut as you tried to open it while Billy fished out a small key with a rounded end for the door from the man's bedside table. He threw the metal object to Stu, who caught it out of the air, locking you away. âWe got a little business to finish, but you stay put now. Be a good captive, okay?â Billy teased, speaking against the wooden door before chuckling, hearing your fists beating on the door.
