Dreams of Milk and Honey (The Mandalorian X Earthling Reader)
I was inspired by a need to mother Grogu. I love him, my green son.
Yes, I made things up, Marie Kondo style. Sue me. gif by @jedialways
Love, One At A Time
"Okay, there we go" You set up your phone just across from you, propped up precariously from across you on the counter, the device perched upon a strange contraption of wires and some questionable scrap metal that looked like it should be on the outside of the great antique ship the Razor Crest instead of inside but who was going to notice?
Well, someone, but not you. Out of sight, out of mind.
You open up the app, letting the timer start.
"Grogu, we're taping! Come on! Let's start!"
A small wrinkled green child with ears twice the size of its head and a nose as small and cute as a flower bell smiled widely at you, excited for what you had planned today.
"Good morning, and Welcome to the 'Craver Crest' where we make and bake what you're craving!" you spoke into the camera, smiling at your reflection as you speak. You turned and waved Grogu over, speaking once more to a disembodied audience as you kept your eyes on the little baby padding his way over to you, arms outstretched and ready for the world. You cradled him into your arms and had him face the camera with you to 'say hi to your fans!'
"Today and every day, all day, we welcome our sous-chef and taste-tester, Grogu! So today, we'll let Grogu decide what we get to make!" You presented two unused wires, one blue and one red, as choice makers. "So, Grogu, we can make either those cookies you like or we can make a snack sandwich today! Which would you like to pick? Blue for cookies, red for sandwich!" you chirped for him. Under your breath, you hummed the Jeopardy theme song as you smiled at Grogu, his big brown eyes full of innocence and sunlight that had seen too much pain already, living every day to the fullest, eagerly choosing the blue wire like you guessed he would. He did have a sweet tooth after Nevarro, after all.
"Well, looks like we're making cookies!" You grab a bowl and bring it to the camera, filling it with the egg whites and the cream you'd gotten at the behest of a few villagers you'd met several days ago. The places you'd travelled to had often yielded both unimaginable (to you) adventures and was often rewarded with homely little goods or money, but they were often a combination that greatly helped you pick out what you wanted. The last planet you'd been on, a pretty planet named Naboo, had offered you some goods that were easy to keep in the foodstore inside the Crest. The eggs belonged to some animals whose name you couldn't remember, but all that mattered was that the ingredients given to you by some thankful shop-owners you'd inadvertently helped by getting rid of the bounty had thanked you with some confectionary recipes for on-the-go dessert as a thank you, and also gave you at least 3 weeks of ingredients' worth for it! Mando sighed as he accepted, and you were determined to use them; it'd clear the shelves for the 'more important foodstuffs' he'd claim, like the practical grump he was.
"So, we've got our bowl with the rested egg whites, and the yokes I already cooked for breakfast, isn't that right, Grogu?" you asked, turning to the small green child who cooed in agreement, the camera catching your interactions as you spoke on about the ingredients of green sugar, blue cream, some paste that was almost almond-like, etc. You'd no idea that some sugars and milks in the galaxy could come in their own colours like that, but it just goes to show how far humankind could go if they weren't currently warring over dreams of delusional imperialism.
You turned to Grogu often, letting him join in the cooking after introducing the ingredients.
"Here, Grogu, could you pour the sugar in for me?" You'd lift him up and use a free hand to help him pour the contents of the bowl and then kiss his cheek as he laughed. "What a lovely assistant you are!"
"Would you pass me the spatula, dear?" He cooed as he lifted a small spoon, before you told him it was the one beyond, and as he grabbed it, you called him a 'sweet and clever sous-chef!' and bopped his teeny tiny nose before helping him stir the ingredients to finish off the quick recipe. Soon enough, it was time to put the fast-made sandwich batter for the macarons onto baking sheets and warm them, and you and Grogu laughed as you piped little circles of the batter onto a hoverpan, known to be the perfect non-stick pan even in heavy baking! You gave Grogu the important job of holding a small heart-shaped thick wire that worked as a cookie-cutter, and the wire was clean and usable, you'd made sure. Grogu was up to the task, concentrating very hard, his little eyes narrowing to inspect your work and ears perking up at every little heart-shape you both made. He took his job seriously and it warmed your heart every time.
By the time the pan was covered in two dozen hearts, the first two hearts were ready to be baked. In a matter of a few more minutes filled with your storytelling of Mando's most recent hunt, every last one of the hearts were ready, the quick-acting flour doing its job well. "Well, these look ready, so, with my sous-chef's word, we shall bake them! What do you say, chef? Shall we show our audience how to cook?"
Grogu's tiny fists waved in the air as he let out a squeal of agreement, and with a kiss to his head, you placed it into the Crest's oven, no preheat needed.
The wait was only 30 minutes, and you filled that time playing with Grogu, keeping him occupied as he passed you some sugar and milk, spilling a teeny bit as he lifted it to you, and you took it graciously and joked about the milk being excited enough to leap, just to hear Grogu giggle.
Grogu helped you mix, and in the corner of your eye, you could see your phone still recording, you and your lively little green boy stirring some fluffy butter-cream mix together for his cookies. You didn't know if he could read these recipe cards, but he was clearly vivacious, eager for the world, seeing it with the eyes of a child, even though he's known so much pain. This video wasn't just to make a joke and some fun: it was a small part selfish, but a bigger part for Grogu: he was already 50, and considering how young he was, it was clear he was going to outlive you. You didn't know if you'd be able to see him beyond a toddler's age, didn't know if you'd be able to hear him speak English/Basic, didn't know if sometime in the future, he might even forget you, or worse: not have the means or time to do something that makes him happy in a galaxy, a whole fucking galaxy's worth of enemies. You wanted to leave something for him, a memory of something fun, and maybe, just maybe, you'd find some way of living too, even as a little ghost who brought Grogu some joy in his young life. You'd give anything to be with him, but even you were mortal: you hoped you could give him a childhood to look back on before the future comes, whenever it may be.
The timer dinged in the midst of your little game of patty-cake you were teaching your three-fingered companion, and he jumped up, ears perking at the sudden noise. His eyes lit up, and you giggled at his antics. "Looks like our cookies are ready!"
His scream of joy was worth your teeth nearly gritting. His little feet pitter-pattered towards the oven that took you only a few steps to reach, but you walked slowly so as to give him time. "Come along, sous-chef, let's see what we made!" You had to move Grogu from the oven's front as he stubbornly squirmed until you told him hot air might hit him, and when he moved, you grabbed a protective handler and took the hoverpan out, placing it on the counter. You could feel Grogu tug on your clothes, trying to get up, so you picked him up and let him see the cookies.
"Well, it looks like we're finished! We just need to put them on the cooling rack! Would you help me, oh great sous-chef?" you exaggerated with a flourished bow, and a coo answered you in the affirmative. You took Grogu in your hands, took a flat-headed spatula that should be legally classified as a giant screwdriver, and with both your hand and Grogu's on the handle, lifted the first cookie up off the pan, the airy concoction coming up effortlessly, and you flipped it onto a cooling rack, making Grogu kick his little feet in excitement at this new activity. You two continued to flip the cookies, making sure you were explaining to Grogu to 'flick the wrist' and 'be gentle, or they might break before we can use them, okay hon?" and soon enough all the shells were cooling. You checked the recipe card from the shop-owner once more, seeing that the cookie shells just needed "a moment to rise and then it would be ready for the filling"; you turned to Grogu, telling him: "we can wait, right? We're almost done?" He tilted his head at you, and you nodded back, setting him down on the counter. "Well, we heard him, we're almost done and then its time for filling the cookies and eating! Did you want to say hi to the camera, sous-chef? Any words?" You pointed him the camera out to him, and he waved at his reflection, babbling at the phone, before the last clump of green sugar left from cooking caught his interest.
The timer blinking on your phone, and with Grogu occupied within supervision, you decided to add a personal touch to the video.
"So, Grogu and I made some cookies today, and we found out that flipping the cakes is a lot of fun! And that we have to be careful near heat sources, right?" You sighed at the camera, eyes distant, looking at Grogu in the camera who was facing the cookies, watching them with interest. "I hope that this recipe is something that you can enjoy any time, and I hope life gives you many sweet treats as sweet as you are. You're the world to me, baby, I love you so much; I hope you know that, sweetling". You smiled softly at the camera, before your expression turned to one of confusion as a turquoise macaron shell hovered in the air, Grogu's eyes narrowed and hand raised.
"Grogu no! They need to cool-" You got out of your seat and caught the cookie as it was making its way, hissing at the heat remaining on it before putting it back on the rack. You turned back to Grogu, his teeny hand now down as he looked up at you with those puppy eyes that screamed innocence with the gleam of mischief only you, Mando, and other parents could recognize in him. Snickering, you pick him up, cradling him to you, as you spoke with as honeyed a stern voice as you could make: "Grogu, those need to cool before we put the icing in or they'll get mushy and not tasty!"
The last thing the camera saw was a human placing buttercream onto little green shells, and a green baby putting another one atop, making a sandwich, both filled with smiles on their faces, love in their hearts as the human fed the tiny one the first of the cookies, the child enjoying them quite dearly.
Mando heard a beep registering on his vambrace, the alert not important but originating from his ship: your 'phone' he'd connected to his systems had taken a video. He remembered how he'd tracked your moves when you came aboard, and though it wasn't necessary, it was still a precaution that could help, he believed. The notification was a video file, titled Craver Crest1_ Cookies.
Well, it was alliterated?
He opened up the file. His helmet's visor picked up the command, and as he walked down the tunnels back towards the Crest since he'd delivered the bounty, the backdrop of the dark empty tunnel was perfect for the hologram as it appeared from his vambrace's built-in holoprojector.
He watched, nearly stumbling a few times as the passengers on the Crest made the same cookies he'd seen Grogu eat on Nevarro. It was so lovely to see Grogu smile and laugh, and learn about different things while having fun. The sight of him kicking his feet in excitement was something the Mandalorian would carry with him, an image in the back of his head, of just how cute Grogu would get sometimes. He watched as the video ended with the passengers, Grogu and his babysitter, smile and eat, waving goodbye to the camera with cookies in their hands. The video turned off, and the Mandalorian stepped out into the light of the lavender sunset on Tiragon, and made his way back to the ship. He wondered if there would be any cookies left for him? He'd know once he got back to the Cravor Crest, where they made the cookies he was now craving.
(Almost done with another final thing so I am, of course, going to do something cute. Reader is gender neutral, also I made up a planet cause Marie Kondo said I could. GIF by @scifisblog)
Ordinary Miracles
The Mandalorian: Din Djarin x Reader
The Razor Crest sat at the top of a rocky outcrop overlooking a beach, the perfect place to be with the planet's climate being warm and sunny, and the need to stretch your limbs after the last hunt that your little three-personned group had embarked on six standard days ago.
Din's fingers moved across the dials, turning off the engines and other mechanical things as excited muffled whispers floated from the main hull up to his receptors, his helmet picking up on your rushed words and Grogu's squeals of joy as you made plans to go to the beach. He could hear the baby's giggles as your footsteps rang on the ship's floor, and he knew you must have been waiting for an opportunity for an outing like this on a warm, mild planet.
"Mando, are you coming? Day's not getting any younger, come on!" your voice echoed, playful impatience making him sigh behind his helmet in mock annoyance.
Finishing his last check, he climbed down the ladder to see you holding Grogu in one arm, and in the other holding a...basket of sorts. You were dressed in clothes for warmer weather, light and airy that looked as though it was vacation wear in its soft colours and entrancing patterns, but what caught his attention most was the smile on your face, warm and bright and raring to go.
"What's the rush?" he chuckled, helmet tilting towards the basket.
You waved a dismissive hand, laughing along. "Oh, you'll see, isn't that right, baby?" you cooed, the baby giggling as you tickled his chin.
Din shook his helmet, snickering as he watched you hurried off the ramp to get into the sun. He jogged right after you to keep up (and he too, missed the freedom of the air just a little bit), closing the ramp as he followed your path towards the beach.
The sand of the planet Krevis was not like the rough-textured grains of Tattooine, but softer spongey flakes that crumbled like snow that didn't melt. It was soft to the touch, and with water it made a solid flat that felt like volcanic pumice, but somehow spongey. Perfect for Grogu, who was already toying with the sand while you opened up the basket, setting up everything while keeping an eye on him.
Din watched you, a few paces behind, as you pulled out a cloth that looked like one of his old capes that you decided to somehow re-dye and repurpose, spreading the now peridot-green blanket atop the sand, then placing dishes from the basket to weigh the blanket down. You set up a small plate for Grogu, redirecting him from his little sand play to his plate, where you'd placed some berries and little meats and vegetable rations for him to enjoy, a display you took time in making. The child cooed at the food, already snapping up a berry you fed him, giggling as you warned him about the juice.
Din arrived in a moment, the jangle of his weapons alerting you he had come. He watched the display with amusement, seeing his little son enjoying his lunch.
"Here, Mando, there's a spot for you too," you called to him, scooting over as you patted the empty space next to you.
"You planned-" he began.
"A picnic? Why yes, yes I did" you chuckled, a hand on your chest clutching imaginary pearls, feigning haughtiness as he took a seat beside you, legs outstretched due to his greaves.
You took a cup from the basket, filling it with a yellow-looking liquid, before grabbing a mini-freezer unit, and using a spoon, scooped out some...frozen fruits into his cup, giving it a stir. You then added a small sprig of some herb, tearing up the tiny leaves and putting it into the glass, before using the spoon to press the leaves into the glass to bring out the flavour, it seemed. Din watched the fruit and herb bleed into the drink, creating a myriad of colours that looked like some nobleman's art collection he'd seen when he'd taken a bounty a decade ago. You seemed pleased with the concoction, before you took out a small pipe and placed it inside the drink, before handing it to him with a smile. "For you".
For him?
His confusion must have made itself known through the helmet, as you nodded once more and handed him the drink. "I know you can't drink without your helmet, so I added a straw; that way, you can sip the drink without moving the helmet, and it has the added benefit of not letting the fruity ice cubes freeze your lips" you joked.
His helmet tilted from your face to the drink in hand. You'd...made this...for him...and made sure he could enjoy it in public? It was quite...thoughtful of you, to ensure he could partake-
A sudden apprehension seemed to come over you, as you offered: "I-I can take it away if you don't want it, you don't have to if you don't want-"
"No, sorry, I- ah," he stammered, surprise still in him, "I'm just surprised. Thank you, I'd be glad to try it". That seemed to set you at ease, as you asked him to let you know how it tasted.
Taking the straw between his fingers, Din eased the small pipe under his helmet, locating it to his mouth and eventually wrapping his lips around the opening. He took a sip, cool liquid with bursting flavour settling on his tongue.
You were a Maker-damned artist.
The flavours all complimented one another, citrussy and sweet, the tang of a certain berry he couldn't recall on his tongue as the herb, he recognized you calling it 'lavendar', set a more floral warmth to the drink. He hastily drank in more, savouring the flavours.
You giggled, and he turned his helmet to you with the straw still in his mouth, a sight that sent more giggles from your lips, teeth starting to show in your mirth. He tilted his head in question. He looked so cute.
"I take it the drink was good? I, ah, I heard you gulping it down" you replied.
Din's face heated up in embarrassment. Was it that loud? Maker. He took the straw out of his mouth to speak, and to slow the kriff down. He nodded his assent.
"It was really good, I really liked it. Thank you".
You beamed at him, and for a moment he forgot the blunder he'd made earlier. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. You keep drinking, and let me know if you want more, okay? I'm gonna go to the water with the kid" you told him, nodding in return to him before turning to the baby, who'd finished his food on his own and was now in your arms as he toddled towards the beach, fascinated by the water and spongy sand.
Din watched you coo to the baby, holding him in the air and settling him close to your chest a few times, making the small green thing laugh in excitement. You kicked off your footwear, bare feet in the sand as you made your way towards the blue-violet water, courtesy of the chemical builds of the sand.
You made a small sandcastle with the child, Din watching you both as you played in the sand, child and guardian laughing in harmony with the waves splashing against the shore. He watched as you both wrote things in the sand, made a small sandcastle and decorated it with some made shapes and shells, before you both walked to the water, just enough that only Grogu's feet got wet and there was no danger of the tide. You guided him to walk along the water, Grogu laughing as he seemed to play with the speedy waves on the spongy elevated rock that slowed the tide down into miniscule waves. You ran alongside him, ankles in the water, splashing and shielding him from deeper water. You took him in your arms again, holding him to you as you waded out into knee-deep water, holding Grogu as he reached into the ocean and caught a small tadpole wiggling about. He became sad when he dropped it, but soon caught another one, and this time he slurped it up without a thought, and Din laughed to himself as he heard you scold a warning to Grogu who seemed to giggle at your distress, especially when you turned back to the Mandalorian he called father and made an incredulous face, shaking your head as you kissed the child's ear.
Din took another sip of the drink, watching you both play once more before he nearly choked himself.
The sun haloed you, Grogu sharing in your light as you both smiled at each other, and Din couldn't hold back his small gasp at the image. You looked so soft, so...glorious, like you were a saint, of divine origin.
You were the epitome of sun-kissed beauty.
You turned back to him and smiled, pointing to him and waving as you suggested Grogu and you 'wave to daddy!'
Din nodded at you both, heart fit to burst from the beskar and jump into your waiting hands as he lost all thought except of you and the baby you both called yours.
He smiled to himself, and back to you under his helmet, basking in the warmth of your radiant smile and glowing soul, hoping that his actions spoke more than he could, lost in you both, lost in his aliit, and he hoped the Maker made you aware, or that he could make it known how much he loved you both, and he hoped you'd stay with him, his aliit, to the end of his days.
Just fluff I thought of while doing exams; platonic, slow burn. Reader is from Earth, and I just really enjoy nature. Might make a series of this? Feedback is much appreciated! btw Printemps is French for Spring. Reader doesn't know Mando's name. GIF: @oliviajdjarin
Printemps
The Mandalorian: Din Djarin/AFAB! Reader
This was an easier hunt than he thought. Good.
His last bounty on Kashyyyk put up a fight, and while he'd gotten good pay for it, he absolutely hated when his bounties put up such a fight and in so many stages it got hard to track whether it was genuine or a ruse; to him it could matter little as everything could have been a ruse as far as he cared, all that mattered was that he didn't fall for it. But the violence to the bargaining, then pleading for mercy, then taunting him with the child as if the kid wasn't so sacred to him that he'd kill anyone who spoke of him with such an ill mouth, to struggling and cursing while he was being dragged after causing so much of a scene on the way to the ship, it wore him down and he was all too happy to slam him into carbonite, placing his slab on the rack, glad he didn't have to deal with that pathetic man anymore. It wasn't a hard fight (the pathetic man was pretty weak and not good at fighting), but Maker did it drain his energy.
Din sighed, flexing his shoulders in order to relieve the tension that the bounty had caused. He was definitely going to take a quick warm shower, he needed it.
But first, to get the kid and his babysitter.
Din turned round, walking back down the ship's open ramp, not fearing anything coming for his ship from the Wookies' home planet as he descended back down towards the forest clearing near the open hill where he'd parked the Crest.
He'd met you not long after meeting the kid, finding your skills with tools something extremely helpful to someone with a ship that breaks something almost every trip, and the fact that the baby liked you was something that he knew was too good an opportunity to pass on. He was initially wary of you, as you were a stranger in his ship and therefore on probation to him, but within a few weeks into your recruitment you'd managed to become the baby's favourite person and his most trusted mechanic when he'd found you repairing a part of his fresher that he didn't even know was originally wrong with the Crest when he'd gotten injured, taking care to adjust the sonics so that it wouldn't put too much pressure on his wound. You'd done him a world of good while he was healing from a nasty cut at that time, and he'd been indebted, grateful to you ever since.
That had been months ago.
You and Din had reached a sort of understanding of one another of shared duties, and your conversations were amiable, never pushing buttons but always pleasant. Now, he could honestly say he'd come to see you as a friend, trusting you with his most precious thing, and knowing you'd listen to him and respect him when the rest of the world seemed to want to fight him. He was thankful for that.
Din's boots hit the grass of the hill, walking down the gentle slope of the hill towards the trees that bordered the clearing. The sky overhead had greyed while he was getting the bounty into carbonite, meaning that the day might end soon, and he had another bounty to catch on Corellia. He walked past the first few trees, their leaves whispering by his pauldrons and helmet as he traced your footsteps: you told him you'd sit and play with Grogu in the forest while he went on the hunt, so he rationalized it was where he'd find you since you weren't on the Crest.
The crunch of leaves underfoot accompanied him as he walked through the forest, the darkness from the tree canopy opening up to light further inside. A coldness settled onto his skin through his flightsuit, and through his visor he could see mist coming in. It would rain soon.
He walked up to the light, where there was a smaller clearing in the forest, and grass rushed up to his ankles, flowers brushing soft petals around his calves as they grew tall in the temperate climate. His audio receptors picked up the soft birdsong in the air, the fluttering of leaves in the breeze, and he could hear the distant rush of water.
He found you in the centre of the open glade, sitting atop a boulder that sat on the edge of a small stream, water flowing at your feet where you sat as the Child was in your arms, cradled in your lap and loving hold. Your hair was let down, waves where you'd have braided your hair back, some of it in tangles where flowers had made a home for themselves; mist fell onto the strands, and whatever light there was in the clearing reflected off the droplets, a gentle veil of light.
Din watched you tilt back your head, look up into the sky, and breathe deeply; you exhaled, your breath turning to mist as the air cooled, and he knew it must have felt amazing. You kicked up your feet, splashing some water, and he could see your body fully relax.
You looked so...content.
His feet moved towards you, and he knew you could hear him when you turned your head to greet him. A smile as soft as a cloud graced your face, your eyes gazing at his visor in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. He came and stood close to you as you leaned back once more to look up at the overcast clouds.
The warrior looked up into the clouds, wondering if you could see something he couldn't, only to hear you breathe deeply once more, sighing. What could have made you so wistful, he wondered?
Your eyes looked up at him, pinning him to the spot with your gaze as your voice drifted to his audio receptors.
"Do you ever think of how beautiful so many of the places we visit are?" you asked, a voice as far away as other planets. Your eyes glazed over, as if distant, before continuing: "Do you ever stop and just...breathe, and live in the moment?"
This question you seemed to want an answer to. Moments passed and you continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
"No. I just hunt bounties, I don't have time to stop or absorb sights that aren't necessary to the hunt" he said, the modulator of his voice giving the answer a more biting tone than he'd intended.
You gave a low hum, as if disappointed, looking away from him, and for a moment he wanted to apologize; he didn't mean to take whatever joy you and the kid could find in constant travel away from you.
"Want to try now?" you offered, and he was about to turn you down and remind you there was a bounty waiting, but you seemed to beat him to the punch, saying: "It'll only take a moment, I promise". You patted the flat boulder, inviting him to sit. "I know that bounty hunting takes a lot out of you, some relaxation might do you good, Mando".
Din sighed, too exhausted to argue, not that he truly wanted to; he did need a break. He unclipped his jetpack and set it down on a smaller rock, before sitting himself on the boulder, his armoured back to you.
Getting to experience smells under the helmet wasn't easy, but this time, in a safe, open space, Din could feel the air travel under his helmet and fill his lungs with fresh oxygen, notes of flowers, rain, and water filling him up with their delicious scents. It felt...good. Better than that. He was enjoying it.
His audio receptors filled his ears with the rustle of leaves, the trickle of water, and distant birdsong, accompanied by the gentle humming of a wordless song you were giving the baby. He could physically feel himself relax, his body, his mind, his soul taking a moment of much-needed rest, his tense shoulders loosening just a tad.
He couldn't remember the last time he did something like this; maybe he'd never done it. But it was definitely worth it.
Din could feel additional weight on his back, and he knew it was you leaning back on him a bit, just a touch, as though to make sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. He leaned back as well, his head resting against your own as you both basked in the misty afternoon in the glade.
He found himself thinking about you. You've been wonderful to the child, taking to him as though he were yours. He knew you loved the baby a lot, but he wondered what you thought of him, your employer. You were kind to him, respected him and helped him whenever you could, fixing things and easing his jobs as father and hunter, but was that simply because you were hired to do it? Did you like him at all, or just tolerate him as an employer for the sake of the baby you adore? Did you consider him a friend, like he thinks of you?
A quiet plink! sounded against Din's helmet, the noise so sudden it prompted him to sit back up, unbalancing you both. You sat up as well, knowing that Mando probably had things he needed to do, and your moment was up anyway. You carefully tugged your sock on with one hand, before slipping your shoe back on, moving the baby to the crook of your neck as you worked with one hand.
A droplet landed on your head, and you understood: he wanted to go because it would rain soon. He confirmed so when he outstretched his hands for the Child, cradling him as he took him from your arms. "We need to go, it's going to rain". You agreed, nodding as you hurriedly donned your shoes.
You slipped off the rock, following Mando as he walked back towards the ship, the baby tucked into his side, enjoying his father's presence. You three walked under the canopy towards the hill where the Razor Crest sat.
"Do you feel better?" you asked him, your voice quiet, but the open space echoed towards him.
Din caught your wistful gaze as he pressed a button on his gauntlet to open up the ramp. You glanced over your shoulder towards the forest before turning back to him, you eyes seeming to want an answer.
"I did. It was...good" he found himself saying, earning another of your soft, understanding smiles that never failed to make him feel like the world was not as heavy as it felt sometimes.
He smiled back at you under the helmet as you climbed aboard after him. A gust of wind ruffled your child-mussed hair entangled with flowers as you took the child from his arms, while he set to closing the ramp.
Din found himself looking back at the forest, a drizzle of rain already falling into the glade and nearly clearing the canopy. One last drop of water hit his pauldron as the rain came, the mudhorn looking as though it were crying.
He'd be sure to return here sometime. He really did enjoy spending a moment in nature, and you...Your smile suited you, and he would do what he could to make sure you kept smiling.
This is me procrastinating from schoolwork by watching funny reaction vids. I legit died of asphyxiation trying to imagine this and HAD to write some headcannons. I might write a oneshot.
(While working on this I tried to add a gif and it fucking DELETED IT now I'm an hour behind schedule fuck you Tumblr)
House Of Wax Sinclair Bros. X GN Reader (Platonic or Romantic)
Lester Sinclair:
Curious. Has heard of ladies doing it and sees ads for it on TV, so when he sees you doing that, he wonders what it's like.
He'll be initially excited to try it out but will feel apprehensive once you set the patch on him. It really grips.
Will cry out.
He takes it pretty well, feels pained and whimpers a bit but he does overcome it. Takes it like a champ. Just needs some company while he complains about it.
Will ask if you have anything to soothe it.
Will run his hands over the patch and marvel at the smooth skin, even though he's hurt.
Will let out a few tears, it hurts like HELL for something that just happened. He'll breathe through it, would really appreciate some company.
Will probably want to hold your hand.
Achievement unlocked: newfound respect for you and everyone that waxes.
He's really appreciate if you pat his back or praised him for withstanding it. Please give him some serotonin to brighten his day and heal faster.
Vincent Sinclair:
Familiar. Having worked with wax so much, there have been times he pulled it out of his own body hair and ended up getting no hair in patches on his arms so he'd end up smoother than a baby dolphin on his arms cause he didn't want them to be uneven.
He's waxed the hair off several targets and even while sedated they still groaned, he still grimaces as the thinks on it afterwards.
Will sigh as he knows what's coming but braces himself. He can do this, he did it before. He's used to this by now he's lying it still hurts
Problem: this isn't the same wax. This is far more adhesive.
Will shake and hiss in pain. Waves his arms about to let the cool air soothe it. Will pace about.
Goes upstairs, grabs something cold to soothe his skin, then stays in the basement for a while. One of the few times he does not stray from plan, regardless if there's other people on the upper floors or Bo needs him to do something.
He lays in bed for a while to recuperate from the pain that is just material karma. Ouch.
Will appreciate a kiss on the hand more now that he can feel it against the bare skin. Please give him a kiss on the hand, it makes him heal faster. Must be magic.
Bo Sinclair:
Incredulous Heathen. You're pulling out some hair, it can't hurt bad.
NOPE.
Ambrose News: Bo Sinclair dead by waxing which pulled his skin off
What he said first? It's written in quotations with the exact date and time, carved into stone.
Will curl into a ball and curse under his breath. RIP Bo Sinclair
Would appreciate if you held his hand. But if you comment on it, he will rip it out of your hold and that is not a threat, it's a promise.
Will cuss you out; he doesn't mean most of it though; please be patient with him the man is having a tragic epiphany.
Please have aloe vera or something cool to put on it handy.
Will not cry but will definitely tear up.
Dresses/Accessorizes to hide the part that is waxed. He feels a little unmanly. Will definitely freak out at the hair on the wax. ALL THAT?!
Would be very glad once it grows back. Never again doing that.
Will tease you about waxing in the future but it'll be a lot more tame. After having experienced it he has a new respect for you; you're one tough cookie, and he can appreciate the fact.
Would really appreciate if you comforted him, it'd mean a whole lot to him if you did.
(I said I was making a fanfic based on his hoodie; did y'all think I was LYING?!! Have some fluff. PS I tried to make it gender neutral, I think it might have ended up more afab leaning tho)
Warnings: mentions of stalking and violence, some sibling meanness
House of Wax Vincent Sinclair x (GN) Reader
Life in the abandoned small town of Ambrose, Louisiana was interesting, to put it lightly.
The town was not a hotspot for tourist activity, was not a place your relatives would have told you to visit, Ambrose was not a place that had too many attractions.
No, it was a ghost town in many senses of the word.
But that was the furthest thing from your mind as you lay in wait. The sun was setting on a new autumn day within the town, the glow of the sun sinking behind white clouds which slowly began changing colour as night slowly began to descend. A soft breeze rustled the bushes, blowing the evening air scented with the smells of nature, the flower overgrowth of the old sugar mill and surrounding flora to greet you in this lonesome, tranquil hour. The sun was fading from a lordly gold to a gentle lavendar. Directly overhead, the sky was already darkening in hue. Birdsong whistled through the wind, singing a farewell to the ever-returning sun, heralding the coming night.
The brothers had gone out of town, Bo and Lester going to get some supplies while Vincent was charged with another assignment, to check on something outside the town that the twins would take him to after their trip to the local supermarkets further into a metropolitan territory.
They'd taken Vincent with them over 2 hours ago, and had promised to come home as soon as possible, so here you were, waiting for them. You sat out on a porch to the side of the house, enjoying the sunset in the cool weather as you were wrapped up cozily. Dinner was already ready as you figured you could kill time waiting for them that way, and it was left to cool from the excessively hot temperature it was now to cool on the dining table.
The evening star, Venus, shone in the sky, greeting you as if the goddess of love herself wanted to accompany you in your bide.
You and Vincent had met when you'd been on the run from something, or rather someone, and you'd made friends with him very quickly. A part in your car had died, and you asked for some assistance from a stranger in a faded teal pickup who became known to you as your good friend Lester, who politely held conversation to ease your nerves and then helped you to Bo, who helped you out with your car. You'd arrived unexpectedly as Vincent was there at the same time, and you'd only come to know later that he usually wasn't supposed to be there. While Bo helped you fix your car (your sparkplug needed to be fixed), you talked with Vincent, who spoke in American Sign Language, something that you were fluent in due to taking a course in the past for it. You conversed with him for a while and complimented his masterful artwork, and when you both realized how late it'd gotten you both amiably chatted on the way back, hands and mouth awash in stories and words for the simple joy of speech.
Unfortunately, the problem you were running from found you quite quickly and threatened you along with Bo and Vincent, and to add to the shock, Vincent took out dual blades and fought that living embodiment of hell, killing it swiftly and brutally with the skill of an assassin, leaving you reeling at the bloodspatter on your cheek and the dead person lying there.
Vincent and Bo, whom you learned were twins, took the body away to dispose of and got rid of it. Upon talking to you further, they discovered why you were running. To their surprise, you thanked them, and you can still recall their owlish gazes locked on you as you showed them your gratitude. Within hours, you became privy to their macabre livelihood of turning people into wax. While you yourself had some degree of qualms with the practise, you wouldn't deny yourself the satisfaction of seeing that terrible stalker be turned into art, having no peace by the skillful hand of Vincent. It took a while to get used to the Sinclairs, but after they invited you to stay with them, you graciously accepted, having nowhere else to go.
Your beginning may not have been the best, but you'd never trade it for anything else, having friends you earnestly called family.
You smiled to yourself as you fiddled with the promise ring on your index finger; Vincent and you found yourselves falling in love in time, and it blossomed into one of the most caring relationships you'd ever imagined. He was sweet and protective, and when he got a tad possessive it sent shivers down your spine but he was always willing to listen and give you whatever you wanted. He treated you like everyone wanted to be treated. Even when he had work to do, he'd spend as much time with you as you wanted, sneaking around even behind Bo's back. His loyalty to you was undeniable, and you never took advantage of his love, always giving him space when needed in return for fulfilling your needs over his, and helping him wherever you could, be it as simple as a greeting kiss or calming his sorrows.
You sighed as you looked at the sky, realizing in your reminiscence the sky had darkened considerably, more starts peeking out above, some autumn constellations peeking through as the sun sunk even further, a burnished gold and vivid purple turning deep blue overtaking the horizon. It would be dark soon; the birds quietened their song as they prepared to sleep. You wrapped the too-big black hoodie around yourself, zipping it up as it swaddled you in an ocean of warmth reaching past your knees that smelled like candles, a hint of smoke, and gentle cologne-like soap.
You got up from the hammock that Lester made for you, moons ago on your birthday, as the moon overhead began to overtake the darkened sky and paint the world a silver colour, to bring rest to daylight travelers, and lead your dear Vincent home to you.
Vincent fidgeted in his seat, toying with one thumb the promise ring he'd made, one in a set of two. Your rings were made to match, though yours was a bit more elegant as he tried to prescribe as much detail as he could to the ring in which he placed around the finger of the one holding his heart. It became second nature to him to feel the ring whenever he thought of you, of the love you had for him, and now as he drove them home (Bo and Lester were tired from driving) he concentrated on the road while he subconsciously rubbed the ring, eager to see you again.
You were a welcome surprise to Ambrose, desperation rather than circumstance bringing you into the Sinclairs' lives, but he and his brothers would have it no other way. You were a wonderful addition to the family, and Vincent's heart ached any time his mind dared to wonder what if he'd never met you.
After he'd gotten rid of what chased you to Ambrose, he found your demeanor to be much nicer than most, and Lester's testament of you was not incorrect. Even though what he did to the troublemaker and others was gruesome, you took the time to talk to him, to hear him and understand him like a human. You thanked him for his protection even though you were initially frightened, and Vincent knew from then he'd protect you til his dying breath. That sentiment only increased as time passed and you chose to stay with him in Ambrose of your own will, chose to be with him of your own will, loving him and giving his lonely, tortured heart a place where it was safe. You held him when he needed it, you called him out and assured him when it had to be done, you defended him from Bo of all people; you made him feel seen, heard, and safe. Needless to say, Vincent was enraptured by you.
He couldn't wait to see you again. He couldn't wait to hold you in his arms, to pet your head and back or have you do that to him, to immerse himself in the warmth and smell and presence of you again. He couldn't wait to kiss you again, feel you smile against his lips, trail kisses along your skin or feel you kiss his head and neck or any exposed skin that just lights a fire in him-
Vincent quickly swerved before going over the dividing line where a car might have hit him in a few moments if he wasn't more careful. Huffing behind his mask, he concentrated on just getting home alive in order to get back to you.
"Ey! Eyes on tha road! Don' be stupid!" scolded Bo, upset he was awoken from his snorefest in the truck by Vincent's turning. Vincent let out a sigh before hitting the signal with an idle finger and turning the car, the sign of Ambrose in the headlights.
He pushed the gas pedal closer to the floor, skimming the safest yet fastest speed before slowing down and parking the car, drifting it to a stop. The jerking brake woke Lester up, who grunted asked if they were home yet.
Bo groaned and yanked open Lester's door, the groggy man still trying to open the door as he felt his way around the truck door, his own vehicle not this hard to navigate. As Lester stumbled out, Vincent quickly passed by Bo towards the truck bed, grabbing some supplies before he walked over to Bo once more, shoving the keys of the truck into his twin's pocket as he tried to steady Lester before marching towards the house, breaking into a jog to see you.
Taking off his shoes and opting for slippers, he quickly jogs his way deeper into the house where he hopes to find you. He knows you'd have been back inside by now, waiting for him, and he didn't want to keep you waiting any further. Besides, the hammock was empty and if you weren't on the hammock, you were inside, usually.
He wandered around the ground floor, but didn't find you there, and instead found dinner that you'd prepared for them waiting for them on the table, still steaming. The others soon came in, Lester fully awake and Bo thoroughly awake wishing he wasn't, before his brothers spotted dinner and were more than happy to walk towards the dining table. Vincent turned and left them as he walked up the stairs towards where your room was, finding it was also empty, the book you were reading from this morning closed and untouched.
Vincent's heart pounded as he bounded down the stairs, drawing questioning yet exasperated looks from his siblings knowing their lovestruck brother was looking for you. Vincent threw open the door to the basement, the wood clattering against the wall after he swung it out of the way, Bo's faint indignation barely heard over the loud motor of the generator as he entered his workshop, hoping to find his muse where his inspired work was made in your honour.
Vincent peeked around the corner, finding only blankets and empty space in his bed where the two of you would cuddle in the warmth of his studio whilst and after a project. He could still smell the inklings of your scent in the air as he tried to find where you were. Looking around, he hoped to find some trace of where you were because you weren't in any of the checked locations and his heart was about to burst with worry. His black hoodie was also mysteriously gone from the bed. What if someone had come while he was gone and you were in hiding? Was he endangering you with his presence? Did they take you away from him already and that's why you weren't here? Fear began to mercilessly grip and tear at his mind as he checked for signs of you, trying to calm his pitiful heart as he attempted to rationalize where else you could be. His hands shook as he looked about, noticing papers on his desk outside from where they would usually be; he stormed over to see if they held a clue to your abductor or disappearance as treacherous thoughts swarmed his mind.
Did you leave him? He couldn't bear to dwell on that thought; he knew if he did he'd tear out his heart because it beat for you alone.
A note caught his attention, folded and sat atop his other sketches and drawings as he opened the little card and found your familiar handwriting inside. He put the note in his pocket and marched out.
Bo and Lester watched curiously as Vincent climbed out of the basement and back upstairs, wondering why they hadn't heard your voice calling Vincent mushy pet names they secretly envied. Vincent ran up the stairs as fast as he could, before reaching the second floor where he pulled an overhead string down, the stairs to the attic dropping down. He climbed up, finding a window panel ajar, cautiously opening it as he stepped onto the roof.
There you were, sitting with your back to him, before turning to see who had climbed onto the roof. You and him sat upon the roof a few times before, stargazing when you didn't want to go for walks, talking and sketching and enjoying one another's presence. It was a recent development but one you both enjoyed. Your eyes lit and your smile beamed as bright as the Louisiana sun as you turned to face him, moving from your seated position to lunge at him with an embrace.
Vincent met you halfway, his sweater-clad arms open as he jogged towards you, clutching your body against his before lifting you off the ground, delighting in your laugh as he spun you around, happy to see you.
"Welcome back Vincent! I take it you got my note, right; how were things, did they go okay?" you asked, already greeting him and asking him how we was as if you had anything to worry about.
Vincent couldn't bring himself to answer; you looked so beautiful, eyes wide and sparkling as your skin and physique were bathed in moonlight, a silver glow added to your features that made him want to drop to his knees and worship you like the divine providence you were, dressed in something that looked oddly familiar...
He snorted behind his mask as he looked at you, one of his hands coming to touch the material around your neck as he realized it was his missing hoodie. The black zip up was already two sizes too big for him but on you? You looked positively drowned in cotton, your throat to your knees covered in his hoodie, the garment like a dress.
He couldn't help the curious yet satisfied hum escaping his throat as he fiddled with the hoodie, watching you avert your eyes in embarrassment, his one hand moving from the hoodie to caress your cheek, turning your eyes to him as he tilted his head in curiosity.
You realized he must have been asking why you were wearing his hoodie, and with your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you turned to explain it to him and apologize.
"Sorry, Vincent; I was just feeling a little chilly and I borrowed your hoodie. I was also wearing it because it smelled like you and reminded me of you, and I missed you, so I thought you might not mind- I..I can give it back, sorry for taking it without permission-"
Vincent shook his head before plating his wax mask's lips against your forehead, a silent forgiveness before he pulled away to sign.
'I don't mind you borrowing my hoodie; I was scared you were missing. If it makes you feel comfortable, feel free to borrow it any time'.
Your eyes seemed to spark like stars and Vincent was sure you could hear his heartbeat pounding in serenade for you. "Really? You don't mind?"
Vincent shook his head once more, his long dark hair shaking with refusal. 'I don't mind at all. You look very cute, Y/N. I'm glad my clothes bring you comfort when I'm not here'.
You giggled and it felt like the world had dropped away. God, he loved you so much. "It really does, Vincent. Thank you. But if you need anything while I'm wearing it, let me know and I'll give it back, okay?". Ah, ever the pragmatic, ever the courteous one. How is it someone as sweet as you came into his life? He nodded his head, agreeing although he knew he would never ask unless it was necessary. You did give him an idea though...
'You know,' Vincent began signing, 'that since you stole my sweater, I get to steal something from you. It's only fair, right?' he joked.
You snorted a laugh, but nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. "Oh?" you asked coyly, setting his heart aflame, "what would the price be? Pray tell" you giggled, and Vincent couldn't contain the smile behind his mask. His arms lifted you and your legs went around his waist instinctually as he sat upon the roof with you in his arms.
'A kiss, my love. That is the toll'.
You couldn't help but laugh at how cute he was, pressing your forehead against his own. You nodded, and playfully puckered your lips for a kiss.
Vincent's hand caressed your cheek admiring your moonlit face before pulling your lips to his own, the wax getting in between you both but the sentiment still pure enough to make his heart skip several beats.
"Well, was the toll paid?"
'Yes, thoroughly, but you will need to pay every time you take, now'.
"Hmm, I might be in debt, then; what if I prepaid for some now?"
God, if your affection was an ocean he'd drown for eternity and love every moment of it. Vincent nodded and you launched into a series of pecks and kisses along his masked lips as the moon spotlighted you both in its cool light overhead.
Vincent and you spent a good while on the roof; he lay against your body with his back to your chest, cuddling with your head on his shoulder and one of your hands playing with his hair while the other was laced with his, talking about constellations, day activities, hoodies and more in stolen little moments under a starlit, twinkling sky.
Inspired by House of Wax and so many wonderful slasher headcanons and fics, I thought I'd try to make one myself. I don't know about the ending though, left it on a cliffhangar for now but tell me what you think. Reader is afab. Part 2, or just fixing the ending?
Warnings: Violence, Gore, Swearing, Bullying, maybe bad writing
House of Wax Sinclair Bros. x AFAB! Reader
It was supposed to be an easy kill. The idiots were snarky, petulant, arrogant pricks that acted as if the world belonged to them. They never seemed to understand the respect that ought to be given to things, people, and especially seemed to have never heard the word 'no'. A spoiled bunch of children who belonged in Hell, which they'd be taken to after becoming living art for the House of Wax in Ambrose, Louisiana.
But human nature has an instinctual life thrive, and these kids respected neither the living nor the dead, their self-preservation helping them like some cheat code against the premeditative, vicious Sinclair twins.
They were a pack of 4, one girl, three guys, the girl siblings with one, girlfriend to one, and the third an apparent classmate, all three of them not having influence but never stopping their degenerate behaviour. One by one they were picked off, leaving only the girl and her boyfriend behind, the boy severely injured compared to the girl.
When her boyfriend began to fall behind due to his injury, she screamed at him to get up, hurting the ears of everyone around them. Bo and Vincent were determined to silence them, the elder twin already wielding a trusty knife as he stalked towards them from a corner, savouring his upcoming kill.
The girl yelled angrily at her boyfriend, blaming him for all of 'this' happening, and her boyfriend started yelling right back about how she was ungrateful and that they needed to work together to get out alive and she was wasting time. More like a waste of oxygen.
She huffed like a little kid and glared at her boyfriend, turning her head after seeing something in her periphery, screaming bloody murder at the sight of Bo. He smirked sadistically as he quickened his pace, frightening the girl.
In her panic and pure self-preservation, she dumped her injured boyfriend (who honestly was still pretty mobile, just a little slow) and ran away, screaming.
Bo caught up to the boyfriend who was in a small amount of shock, before struggling to get up, his shin stabbed by a screwdriver Bo kept on him. The boyfriend stupidly tried to stand up by forcing his weight on his injured leg, stumbling and costing himself valuable time to fight back. He huffed and tried again, this time using the proper leg. Only it was too late, and Bo kicked his injured leg, sending him falling once more.
The girlfriend ran and got to the centre crossroads of town before Vincent stepped out of the shadows, long black mane trailing behind him as he slashed one of his beloved dragon knives across her body, slicing her hair as she just barely dodged out of the way. Vincent advanced, his boots stirring the sand as the girl whimpered pitifully and tried to run only for him to send a well-aimed kick at her abdomen to send her sprawling on the ground, spine brushing against the dirt as she crawled backwards on her hands, trying to put some distance between her and the artful killer.
You watched from inside one of the apartment complexes, where just underneath the commotion was going on while you were safely tucked away. You were a last resort in luring them there but not in capturing them, as the two men were far more capable than someone new, at least that was the reason; truth was they could never stand you being there in direct harm's way. Luring has no problems but capture? No, they couldn't bring you into the crossfire.
You grimaced as the boyfriend struggled with Bo, who was overpowered by the lean kid due to his sudden adrenaline and testosterone rush that helped him fight, tripping Bo (and you hated to admit it but you might have snorted at that) and wrestling with him for the knife. The kid was quickly losing the upper hand as Bo squirmed and wrenched his hold off enough to nearly stab him before the boyfriend did the one thing no man should do in a fight with another:
Kicked him where the sun don't shine.
Or at least he tried to, but in the dark and atop a moving opponent it would be hard to tell where to aim, but he did knee Bo hard enough in the thigh that the man released his grip on the boy who ran as fast as he could to his now ex-girlfriend.
The girl was struggling, Vincent gripping her head after she kept squirming away and painfully clutching her by her brunette tresses as she pleaded with him to not kill her, yelling obscenities just before Vincent was shoved aside by the boyfriend who had stupidly come to the deserter's defense.
It wasn't a good push but surprising and placed enough that it worked to push the masked man away. Then he swung his knife at the boy, who fell to the ground with blood gushing down his arm.
The girl stood to try and run again, but Vincent caught her once more, and she screamed for help as Bo reappeared, tackling the downed boyfriend. The boy and the girl yelled out pleas and obscenities, the twins not heeding them, as they prepared them for the fatal final blow.
Seeing their end seemed to have flipped a switch.
The boy screamed and launched himself at Bo, who was not only startled by the scream but also taken aback by the boy attacking him, this bleeding ghoul who leapt upon him and bit his arm, his teeth latching onto the jumpsuit as his hands turned into fists and beat his attacker furiously on the head, Bo grunting in pain a few times before yelling out as the boy left a hit that'd surely result in a black eye.
The girl seemed to have taken the same route. The knife glinted in the lights of the abandoned town before she too began screaming like a banshee, her hands reaching out to claw at Vincent, blood running down his hands as the girl's nails pressed at his wrists, paining him until he staggered back and she leaned up, punching him in the throat then kicking him between the legs, screaming profanities at him as she climbed atop him and slashed at his neck, her nails leaving grooves of scraped skin bleeding on his throat, the man behind the mask gasping for air.
You could only look on in horror as the brothers suffered continuous beatings from these children turned ghouls from a horror film, bruises blossoming and making themselves known, cuts and scrapes irritated by the sand underneath them.
The lights of the gas station began to blur as the two fought to keep their heads and regain control, feeling their opponents' attacks lose intensity as adrenaline and blood declined.
The blur of the lights brightened as weights seemed to be lifted off them, first Bo seeing light, and then Vincent feeling cool shadows and claws ghost his skin as light violently entered his one eye.
A dull whack sounded through the air, the rush of wind resistance against something solid as a pained cry echoed from...somewhere, but they couldn't see what it was, only knowing they weren't the ones making those sounds as they struggled to sit up to see what happened.
Another howl of pain followed by a high-pitched screamed curse as another impact sounded, a continuous rhythm that had them muddled and confused. The two blinked the blood and sweat away from their eyes as they watched the scene, their awe turning terror.
Standing in the lights of the gas station was you, in all your glory, swinging something at the two teenagers. The boyfriend yelled and swung a fist which you dodged and struck him in the ribs with some metal weapon, him clutching his stomach and reeling as you used the weapon to pry the dagger out of his shin, leaving him helplessly bleeding. His girlfriend let out a battlecry before trying to tackle you, which ended up with the girl backside on the ground. The boyfriend was somehow up again, and you whacked his head, which sent him falling on his knees, delirious from everything he'd endured before you dodged a clawed hand from the girlfriend, who tried to grab you only to receive a compound broken arm, blood erupting from where the bone poked through the skin. She was in agony, her boyfriend clawing at you in a weak impulse before you slammed your weapon into his neck, slicing through his jugular and killing him in moments, his blood choking his airways as he perished. His girlfriend swiped at you again, scratching at your shin to get you to fall before you turned to her, hair unkempt from fighting as recognition glinted in both pairs of eyes.
"Y/N?!"
"Gretchen?"
Her horror turned to anger as she tried to spew venomous vitriol at you: "Fuck you, you murderous fucking whore, go to fucking Hell-"
She didn't get to finish her sentence as you brought your weapon down, slicing into her heart through brute force alone. She stared up at you, blinking owlishly, as you spoke to her during her last moments: "I'll see you there, but you're going first. Say hi to the devil for me, won't you?" Your voice was calm and collected, your posture the graceful stature of a predator, before you retracted your weapon, her body falling to the ground.
Red pooled at your feet, rivers of blood flowing to the ground as you crouched over their bodies. Bo and Vincent watched you slowly rise to your feet, your weapon in hand, the light shadowed by your presence as you stood in front of it, casting your silhouette in a near-divine glow: You were a god, and these two were your sacrifices.
Your clothing was modest but fair for the Louisiana summer, and there was only a small handprint of dust marring the otherwise clean fabric. There were only light scrapes and bruising on whatever skin you had exposed, which meant you were relatively unharmed. The blood on you wasn't your blood, but it painted you, dripping dark red across the skin of your cheeks, a little on your face and arms, looking both beautiful and terrifying: ethereal.
The brothers stared at you dripping in all your gory glory, into your eyes, and for a moment they flinched.
Your eyes held nothing. The glow in them that you'd usually have in seeing them was gone; they were cold, a bitter winter that promised nothing but the worst.
No emotion, no sense of catharsis- an inhuman blankness.
They looked back at the victims, how horrifyingly bludgeoned their necks were- even with their size and stature compared to yours, you took them down with fierce grace and poise, like a choreographer.
Bo audibly gulped. Vincent trembled.
Your eyes would haunt them in their dreams as you jutted your chin at the bodies before leaving, your weapon, a crowbar, dripping blood upon the earth as you let the boys deal with the bodies.
You helped the twins gather their victims before you drove them home, where you bandaged the twins up, who were steadfast in silence, only grunting and groaning when they were pain. With Lester, they disposed of the bodies while you cleaned things up and went to bed.
The next day, you woke up, startled awake by a knocking at your door, Lester's familiar voice calling out from behind the door.
"Hey Y/N, breakfast's ready for ya! C'mon dow'nstairs!" you could already feel his beaming, polite smile as you groggily woke up, opening the door to smile at him as he chuckled at your bedhead before patting your shoulder, waving you towards the dining room.
Coming down the stairs, the men come into view, Vincent at the stove and Bo setting up the table along with Lester. You quickly padded over to them, rubbing at your eyes, happy to see them. The twins didn't seem to notice you until you cheerfully asked them what was for breakfast.
Vincent spun to face you, his mask barely keeping up as his hair swished harder than a whip. Bo turned to face you at nearly the same time, his eyes widening at you before nodding, seemingly as frozen as his twin before giving a half-smile. "G'mornin', darlin'. Sleep well?" he asked, his Southern accent spilling into every word he said. His eyes regarded you curiously, as though not only waiting for an answer but trying to figure it out before you said it.
"Yeah, I did. And you?" you asked out of politeness. Bo, grunted a low 'fine', a cigarette between his lips as he gathered a buttered roll and a peach as he made his way out to the garage. While Bo's greeting had been curt, you didn't question as to why it might have been, as the result of questioning Bo was too unpredictable and he probably had a bad day from the beatings the kids gave him; the bruises marring his jaw looked terribly painful.
It made you a little more proud of coming to their defense.
Speaking of which, his twin Vincent hurriedly placed breakfast down and walked back to the stove, stirring something around absentmindedly. He was making pancakes, the Aunt Jemima mixture and syrup on the counter next to him ready for storage as he decided he was done making them.
You greeted Vincent, who seemed to flinch before nodding in your direction, not meeting your eye. You reasoned his mind must still be wandering on art he would make out of last night's assailants, which would require quite a bit of thought on the artistic man's part.
Lester kept you company as Vincent placed the pancakes down on the table and left to the basement, the door shutting closed on silent hinges. You talked to Lester, asking about his morning and the things he had to do for the day, which was mostly work with roadkill and some greenery that was usual for his job, before he checked the time and scrambled to get out in time for work. He tipped his hat to you in thanks for helping him prepare, calling out he'd be back for lunch before he hightailed it out of Ambrose.
You took the initiative to wash all the dishes, and to plan something for lunch seeing as the brothers were all a little busy today, leaving you pretty much free reign unless another hapless traveler came by. You started out with the dishes and did some odd cleaning around the house before it was noon, leaving an hour for you to prepare a salad, some eggs and sandwiches for the boys. You figured Lester would come into the house and find his portion, but the twins usually were so buried in their work and didn't say anything about lunch so you'd have to deliver it, and it was not too bad a day for a walk.
You stepped outside, the breeze ruffling your clothes as the sun peeked through fluffy white clouds of the Louisiana summer. Even with it being a deserted town, it smelled really lovely with the flowering bushes dotting the town, a gentle Western gale ruffling the trees to shade your walk from the house.
You stopped at the garage first, a few meters closer than the House of Wax where Vincent would probably be at this time. You walked through the open garage door letting out the near overwhelming scent of chemicals and petrol, where you spotted Bo's shins sticking out from the underside of his truck, hoping to make improvements on the old vehicle constantly. You grinned at the idea of playing a prank but remembered that this was Bo in a not-the-best mood so you'd have to save it for another day.
Rapping your knuckles on the car, you hear a dull thunk and a curse as you stifle your own giggles behind your hand, knowing you'd surprised the man. He wheeled himself out from under the car before catching sight of you, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you standing above him as he scrambles up to retain his dignity. "Well, what're you doin' here?" he questioned low, brows furrowing as he wiped his hands with a rag before cleaning up his tool. "Somethin' wrong?"
You smiled at him and shook your head, lifting a basket into view before leaving a paper bag on his workbench. "I made lunch, I thought it'd be easier for you to eat it here since I know you're probably really busy. How's the truck going?"
"Good, good. Just a few things to fix up" he sighed, looking at you through the corner of his eye before you turned to catch him. Nodding, you gathered the basket as you apologized for taking his time, and hoping he enjoyed his food. You didn't understand why he seemed to be in such a hurry to make himself scarce under his car, consistently cleaning the wrench in his hands.
You walked over to the House of Wax, where Vincent was as you'd suspected him, scoping out another area for the new victims while cleaning up any damage yesterday's victims had done. You grimaced as you saw one of the works, a stunning rose bouquet carved by Vincent ruined on the dining table, fork-like marks in some of the waxed-over faces of the sitting people. It was tragic enough to have the dead encased and displayed but the sacrilege of others never failed to sadden and enrage you further.
Knocking on the door, you called out for Vincent who jumped at the mention of his name. He whipped round to see you, wondering why you were here with a tilt of his head reminiscent of a cat. You smiled up at him before lifting the basket, letting him see the bag inside.
"I made lunch for you since I know you'd probably be busy with a project. It's mostly cooler foodstuffs so don't worry if it gets cold, just please make sure you eat it, okay?" you asked, giving him a smile as he nodded in both thanks and understanding, watching you move the bag into your hands before you seemed to look for something.
"Is it okay if I leave it on the table? I know you wanted to fix it, or I could leave it in the basement for you" you suggested, before Vincent shook his head, using his hands to sign that he'd rather have it on the table.
You nodded and placed the food down on the far side of the table which seemed to have the least damage he'd need to fix, before waving over your shoulder and wishing him good luck. He watched you leave before you saw him through the window, giving him another wave as you jogged back to the house to get out of the sun, basket still in hand as you wondered why he saw you off rather than return to work, but it was still upstanding of him to do so.
You neared the house and caught a familiar smell, rounding the corner to see Lester's truck. While the omen was not the most favourable the company it brought was much appreciated. You stepped through the doors and saw Lester almost finished with his food, munching on a few leftover pancakes in between bites of the sandwich. How he managed to stomach the combination of flavours was astounding, to say the least. You ate with him and asked how work had been, the two of you in amiable conversation before he remembered he had to leave, this time on schedule as he drove back, saying he'd be late returning. With dinner in mind, you quickly whipped out some ingredients and packages and prepared steak with veggies, mashed potatoes and gravy in a style the brothers taught you, before setting the table for 4. Knowing they'd be late you cooked it slowly, and it was 8:30 when you finished, past sunset. You waited until 8:45 for the brothers to come for dinner, occupying your stomach with some snacks before you decided to simply eat and go to bed, tired from the day. Washing your dishes, you turned off the lights before heading off to your room.
Sleep evaded you however, and you found yourself sitting up in your room reading a book in candlelight, hoping the dim lighting would let you sleep better. Unfortunately for you, the book was fascinating and rest remained elusive. In an effort to induce it, you lay down on your mattress, closing your eyes, enveloped in blankets as you laid in wait.
Bo and Vincent slowly entered the house, taking off their shoes and quietly walking in. The lights off, they entered into the dining room to see food was ready for them, and you were out of sight. Bo entered first, taking off his shoes, Lester and Vincent tailing him.
"-they literally slaughtered the kids. Stood over their bodies like it was nothin'".
A pause, before a reply: "Yeah, was like for the first time, they enjoyed killin'".
"C'mon, ya think they'd really fuck around wi' murder like that 'less somethin' happen?" came a calmer, younger voice.
"They attacked us-" "You mean them kids were handin' yer ass back ta ya-" "Shut the hell up Lester or I'll beat your ass for ya; now as I was saying, them kids attacked and Vincen' an' I were fightin' back when Y/N just came the fuck outta nowhere and started beatin' the snot outt'em with a fucking crowbar, and then guess what?"
"What?"
"They slashed open 'em fuckin' kids' necks with the end o' the crowbar. You know what the fuck, how does someone slash open someone's throat wit' a fucking crowbar?!"
"Holy shit" came the awed whisper of someone who was absent.
"Yeah".
A few heavy moments passed between the brothers, silence accompanying the barrage of thoughts in their heads.
"I'd never wanna be on the receivin' end o' that kind, I know fo' sure no one'd make it through that kind o' action" the absentee spoke again.
"The hell ya mean?" an incredulous voice asked.
"I mean, can you imagine how long Y/N'd kept that strength in? If they turned it on us, what'd stop 'em?" the voice scoffed, as though it were a fleeting thought, but it still sent a shiver through the other conversers.
Hands moved with soft urgency. 'Do you think they'd ever hurt us like that?'
"Naw, they wouldn'. 'Sides, Y/N's with us. We can take anyone, even 'em if needed" a shadow of doubt was far too visible in his voice.
A masked man nodded, all three of them deciding to eat dinner that was left over. Only one voice complained about the food having cooled, but it was just put in the microwave to heat up. The brothers ate in silence, conversation neglected where it should be present.
They'd never know how they left you staring up at the ceiling, sleep a perished thought, as the world seemed to crack at the seams between three brothers and a wrathful woman.
Few could say they'd made the Sinclair brothers fear for themselves.
This is me being stupid, inspired, and procrastinating. Enjoy the stupidity.
Also the song in reference: Man Areas by Jonny McGovern (might make a "Slashers React" series)
Warnings: cursing, indirect stripper and sex worker mentions, maybe bad imagery, memes, gore in some gifs
RZ Michael Myers:
Loud, thumping music? Okay, he's heard some thumping like this
Hears its about strippers and it brings a few memories and he feels iffy about it. He knows you don't disrespect them as you know about his past probably, and he questions your song choice, but believes its about appreciation, so no biggie, he guesses.
When the chorus goes then he's more stiff than usual, frozen in shock.
What
Hol' up-
What is this dude singing?
Finds out its about male strippers. Okay...the song is still questionable though
Is confused
Look he likes you marginally a lot more than most people but please, what the fuck
It soon becomes funny to him and he just...enjoys the bass, and the stupidity of the song.
Gremlin giant likes to play it to annoy you. Tables have turned.
Bo Sinclair:
likes the beat; for a pop song it's not too bad
then it gets to the lyrics.
SHUT IT OFF
NO SERIOUSLY SHUT IT OFFFFFF
Will cuss up a storm and look at you like you've grown a new head
What in the actual FUCK
Will yell at you to turn it off
If you don't he'll try to destroy the speaker run away with it, them shits expensive sometimes
He's like the woman who is trying to turn off Nicki Minaj's song on Vine
Is fighting for his life to turn off the speaker
IF you turn it off he'll cuss at you and tell you not to do it again.
IF you don't, it'll lead to a bigger tirade and broken machinery.
You've been banned from music for 72 hours
Disappointed DadTM facepalm
He'll be laughing about it in a few more days' time tho.
Vincent Sinclair:
Not one for pop music as he enjoys the classics and metal, but will let you play your music
The lyrics go on and he's just...confused. What's this about strippers and things? The singer likes strip clubs, like Bo? Okay...why hype them up?
Then it gets to the chorus-
Is frozen for a second
The poor boy just looks so dumbfounded. You could have hit him with a chair and he'd be less stunned
WHAT IS THIS?!
Turn it off, turn it off, please-
He's getting second-hand embarrassment
He's hoping to GOD it doesn't wake up Bo. These are thin floors, pLEASE-
He'll reach for the speakers, silently begging you to turn it off. He cares and respects you and won't touch if you stop him but please he's begging you tUrN iT oFF-
IF you turn it off, he'd be very grateful and then ask a flurry of questions in sign language. His posture and gestures scream 'wHY??'
IF you don't turn it off, Oh lord if Bo hears this, he is never gonna live it down. He'll exile you from the studio for 2 weeks. You're not getting near him with that.
You didn't hear this from me but now every time he makes a male wax figure he has to stop every few minutes and breathe because of the intrusive thoughts that song gives him. PLEASE spare him, his mind is racing more than enough as it is.
Lester Sinclair:
You're blasting it in his truck
At first, thinks its about strippers. Okay, not bad. Cool, so like, women hot, right?
The chorus hits-
As do the brakes.
Will sit there for a full minute, not moving, looking confusedly at the radio blaring that song and then look at you like he just saw a hit deer get up and walk while literally being inches from death.
Wordlessly goes to turn it off.
You stop his hand.
Look, he respects you and cares about you a hella lot but what the hell
He'll ask you one time to please stop the song, then you tell him its a prank
Well two can play that game and he kinda wants to be cool and chill with you, bestie
He'll start bumping to the song along with you, but refuses to sing along if you are
Starts laughing, it becomes his hype song that he listens to in private for shits and giggles
Shows Bo and Vincent, who just tell him to get lost
Congratulations, you've given him enough ammunition to destroy the Sinclair braincells (which are a grand total of 3.5)
Gabriel May:
Vine voice: bITCH WHAT THE FUCK- WhUt ThE fUcK-
Power of electricity: used
Music devices? Shut off
Your music? Cancelled.
You've been banned from music
He actually thinks its hilarious and is gonna use it on Maddy every time she sees a man, be it romantically or just a fleeting glance and thinking they're aesthetically pleasing
He's got a playlist of sus music cause he can roam the internet and its 2021-22, so-
Will never let you live this down. Will make you regret showing it to him.
Menace with a speaker. What have you done?
Freddy Krueger:
Look I don't know shit about this man other than he's a menace and I haven't watched any of his movies yet but with the context I have, he loves it because its so awful and putrid in his opinion that he'll infect everyone's dreams with it and he'll torment any men and women and non-binaries, anyone at all. He will use this religiously. I have a bad feeling about it unless you both like it, if you do enjoy it, you'll be the reason of the Cringe-pocalypse, you dynamic duo.
Gremlin
(I only did these few slashers cause these are all the ones I know so far, but hey, enjoy lol. My bestie made me listen to it so now I must infect you all with it)
Also PSA: I understand that some things mentioned can be triggering, and I am talking about sex work, but if you are not triggered and just an asshole about sex workers and think of them as inferior I will personally invite you to eat my ass cause you eat shit and that apparently fuels your brain. All workers matter here, all professions are valid and deserve to be made safer and sex work is created by demand so if you want people stuck in it to be helped, stop the demand not the supplier who is just trying their best. And no one, NO ONE, dare talk shit about sex workers who enter the profession and enjoy it and like it so much. Fuck off. It's their choice, not yours. Let people live.
I'm yours; I am yours to feast on, yours to taste, yours to hold and mold and use and abuse however you wish. My body is yours and my soul is nothing without you and I would follow you even if it led me to ruin. You could be the devil and promise me eternal damnation and as long as it is with you I refuse to repent.
Please, swallow me whole, steal my breath to replenish yours, take from me all that is mine to give; turn my body into your communion and make me something divine.
