Imagine Somehow Finding Yourself In The Arms Of Leon And Luis In The Most Inopportune Times.

Imagine somehow finding yourself in the arms of Leon and Luis in the most inopportune times.

“Yeah, no. I don’t know about this, guys.”

“It’s not that big of a drop. You can do this.”

“Easy for you to say, Leon!”

“Calma, my fine friend. Just close your eyes and remember not to lock your knees.”

“Luis, you are not helping.”

You turn your head at the sound of shouting. Further in the distance, a mob of plaga-infected cultists are sprinting towards you three with torches and pitchforks.

Luis walks forward, waving at you to move. “Go! I’ll take care of them.” Not giving you a chance to protest against this reckless idea, the Spaniard bravely rushes straight at the mob with a stack of dynamite in hand.

Seeing no other option, you approach the edge of the cliff. Just seeing how high up you are and how low the lower ground is was enough to make you hesitate and quake in your shoes. The fear of hurting yourself in the fall outweighing your fear of being mauled to pieces by angry villagers.

“I-I… I can’t-”

BOOM!

The thunderous blast along with the violent tremors beneath your feet shocks you so terribly that you practically leap off the rocky edge with a horrified scream. You realize then that you didn’t position yourself properly. You were free falling with your head facing the sky, hurdling towards the ground without any means to cushion your landing. Anticipating great pain, your eyes shut tight. An involuntary, terror-stricken yelp escapes you when you no longer felt the rush of wind, awaiting your back to harshly collide with the hard ground.

The pain doesn’t come. You didn’t feel any dirt and grovel, but still felt yourself pressed against something hard and firm. You are also suspended, to your surprise, your weight supported by a steady hold beneath your shoulders and knees.

A husky voice calls out to you. “You okay?”

You didn’t realize that you still had your eyes closed, opening them to see a familiar blond gazing down at you. The icy color in his eyes flash with genuine concern. Piecing together that Leon broke your fall by catching you in his arms, your cheeks burn a tinge of pink that does not go unnoticed.

The agent throws you a small grin at your silence, “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t worry, not going to let anything happen to you. I got your back. Literally.”

There is an unmistakable warmth in his expression, a magnetic glint in his eyes that you couldn’t tear yourself away from. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You want to thank him but found yourself at a loss for words. Leon’s gaze switches from your eyes to your mouth then, bright blues lingering. The way he is looking at you, it is like he is placed in a trance. Whether it was done purposefully or he was subconsciously driven to readjust your weight in his hands, the man tightens his hold on you, bringing your chests tightly together.

His lips open slightly, mimicking yours, and it is then did you notice just how close your faces are. You feel yourself falling under the same spell, your senses becoming dizzy from his musky scent and it is as if his entire being is enveloping you. In a way, you are completely surrounded by him. And he seems to be moving closer to you yet, his lips slowly inching forward…

“¡Oye, Yanqui!” Both of you look up in alarm to see Luis yelling, the dark-haired man still at the top of the cliff above. It seems the mob that was pursuing you three no longer posed as a danger as you didn’t hear or see any furious monsters behind him. Luis must have also been observing the interaction between you two as he had an amused expression on his rugged face. You almost swore that you can see a bit of green in his grey eyes. “What about me?”

Leon merely gives the Spaniard a deadpan look. “What about you?”

Luis rolls his eyes, gesturing with arms wide as if what he was hinting towards is obvious. “Would be nice to have a certain Prince Charming break my fall too.”

The blond scoffs. “Sucks to be you,” he retorts, promptly walking the other direction and purposefully moving further away from the cliffside.

You watch intently as Luis’ shoulders slump, the man visibly heaving a deep, defeated sigh before analyzing the height of the drop. He jumps off with a running start and a worried gasp rips from your throat when he doesn’t stick the landing, tumbling about in a not-so-graceful fashion before finally coming to a rest on his side. Your ears pick up the Spaniard groaning curses in his native tongue.

“I think Luis hurt himself,” you comment aloud.

Leon doesn’t bother looking back, his steps maintaing a brisk pace. “Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine.”

The desire to argue with the blond about this was strong, but was quickly dismissed when you spot Luis rising back up to a stand and dusting off his pants. He seemed none the worse for wear. You sigh, a relieved smile easing onto your lips. It drops when you finally register that you are still being carried.

“Uh… Leon?”

The stoic agent acknowledges you with a hum.

“…Think you can put me down?”

You guess that Leon didn’t realize that he was holding you longer than necessary either, the tips of his ears a deep red as he hurriedly helps you back on your feet. He utters an embarrassed apology almost too low for you to hear and you give him a shy thanks in turn, casting your eyes to the ground so that he wouldn’t see your blush blooming again. You didn’t catch the way he beheld you then.

Fortunately, the awkward moment disperses before it could permeate.

Unfortunately, it is because of a gargantuan monster bursting out from seemingly within the mountainside. Upon seeing the three of you, it releases a terrible roar that shakes the very air.

“¡Gigante! Run, amigos!” Luis shouts, catching up to you and Leon. Without warning, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you close behind him as he sprints away.

The giant plaga chases you all through the area for what seems like an eternity. After some time, you feel your lungs and legs start to give out, your feet staggering with each step. Sensing you struggle to keep up the pace, the Spaniard stops abruptly.

You heave with ragged breath, “Luis, we can’t stop-”

He wordlessly sweeps you into his arms with a strength that astounds you. At your surprised expression, the dark-haired man flashes you a toothy grin before running off again with the same quickness he had before. Not once did he stumble or falter.

If the situation wasn’t so dire, you would have berated Luis for his arrogance and him taking on the burden of literally carrying your weight without so much as giving you a say in the matter. However, you were too exhausted to argue. This moment of respite was not relished for very long, though, as the two of you come to a sudden stop once again. The two of you are overlooking yet another high cliff.

You groan in tired exasperation. “You have got to be kidding me!”

Panic grips at your heart, you glance over Luis’ broad shoulder with fearful eyes to see if the monster is still in pursuit. To your astonishment, you see the large beast distracted in one spot several paces away. Distracted by a certain blond who was firing at it relentlessly. Leon was unleashing hell upon the plaga without fear, but the shells seem to only bounce off its hard skin. Despite how ineffective the attacks appear, it is apparently enough to hold the giant’s attention. For how long, you were loathe to find out.

Catching you staring, Leon yells over the gunfire. “What are you two waiting for? Jump!”

Jump?!

You peek back over the edge. There’s a body of water below and terror-filled thoughts ran frantically in your hyperactive mind.

Are the waters shallow? Are they deep? You swear that you can see sharp rocks too. There’s no way any of you can do this and live to tell the tale.

A firm squeeze on your side pulls you from the depths of your increasing panic. You turn your head to see Luis smiling patiently. It is not the playful smirk he often wears but rather it is one that offered nothing but sincere reassurance.

Luis speaks up softly, the seriousness in his thick accent even and irrefutable, “My friend, do you trust me?”

His question didn’t need an answer. You knew what he was implying. And although you were scared out of your wits, you found comfort in Luis’ confidence. There is an unwavering determination is his grey gaze, a silent promise that your safety is assured with him.

His bright smile widens at the sight of your nod and he returns it with one of his own. “Hold onto me.”

You follow his order, wrapping your arms tight around his neck. For the second time, you shut your eyes, bracing for another long fall.

A moment passes.

Two.

Nothing.

You don’t hear yourself being carried further away from the sound of Leon’s gunshots. You don’t feel the rush of wind against your face or your body and clothes submerged in water. Overwhelmed with curiosity, you open your eyes and discover Luis still staring down at you. There is an intense emotion in his silver gaze that you couldn’t place.

“Luis, what’s happening? What’s wrong?”

He tilts his head. “Nada. Was just thinking that at a time like this,” he begins to say slowly, the tone of his voice dropping to depths that sent flutters into your heart, “we could use a bit of good luck. A favor shared between a knight and his intended. What do you say?”

You were going to ask what he was going on about, but the question becomes stuck in your throat when you see his face dip down to yours. Your noses bump at the tips and he inches closer still. You didn’t realize you stopped breathing until your lungs forced you to suck in much needed air, the taste of his breath warm upon your tongue.

Your heart was pounding loudly against your chest, blood pumping through your veins so fiercely that you thought you would faint right then and there. Your mind becomes totally blank and all you can process is the faint brush of Luis’ lips…

Bump!

“Ugh-!”

“Ahhhhh!!”

The sudden jolt of your body rushing forward brings you back to awareness. You’re falling. Again! But it isn’t you that is screaming now. It’s Luis. He’s falling next to you. In the corner of your eye, you catch a pair of gloved hands grasping on both of your forearms.

Three bodies plunge into the chilly waters. You were flailing about, unable to regain equilibrium, and you thought for certain that you were going to drown. But luck was on your side yet again as you’re pulled to the open surface by strong hands on your person. Sweet air then returns to your lungs.

“¡Loco hijo de puta! Were you trying to kill us?!”

“Don’t give me that, I told you two to jump.”

Leon and Luis already had their heads above the water by the time you regained your wits, the two of them arguing back and forth. You tuned out their squabble in favor of searching for the gigante. The monster peering down high above. With a furious roar, it retreats back from whence it came, leaving you three alone for good, and relief washes over you. Looking around, your eyes then find a stretch of land that the three of you could swim towards. You made a move to start paddling to safety, not wanting to linger in case there were more terrors treading about below. Or at least you tried to.

You couldn’t move. Your body was quite literally pressed in between the two men. Their arms circled around you, keeping you afloat and securely in place. You could feel every inch of their hard muscles pressing against your front and back. Despite the freezing chill of the water surrounding you, your body felt like it was lit aflame. The handsome agent and the dashing Spaniard cease their bickering when they hear you gasp.

Leon, who is behind you, looks at the back of your bowed head. His hardened expression softening to that of worry as he called your name. “Are you hurt? We should get you out of the water fast.”

Luis, who is in front of you, observes you with a knowing smirk. His teasing, cheeky demeanor returning tenfold. He was about to say something, but you silence him with a deathly glare.

You totally miss the look of confusion on Leon’s face when Luis starts busting out laughing. Being close to these two is a new kind of dangerous.

<3

I know you reblogged a moots colour ask game, but I ain't reading all that XD

BUT

If you were a frog, and I was a frog, I'd come sit next to you on a log, maybe, probably...☺👉👈

Hey, Robin!

God PLEASE, to be two creatures sat on a log together…

I know this is about Bo, and I loved it, but I'd keep every single bad taxidermy statue from Lester, name every single one and learn to sow so I could give them little outfits 😍🥺

Bo Sinclair Relationship Headcanons (m/f)

He isn't usually a touchy-feely sort of guy, but around you, he's all hands on deck. He's certainly rough with you, but loves to call you sweet names like "babydoll", "sweetheart" and, "darling."

He loves to pick you up and throw you around, spinning you in the air. He's a strong man, so no matter your size, he'll be sure to toss you around.

He's not much of a cook, but he'll try for you, learning new recipes from the ancient cookbooks left in Ambrose.

He's what you'd call... Experimental, constantly wanting to try new kinks with you, especially if you enjoy them. He'd never push you too far without your consent, but he definitely wants everyone to know that he owns you.

Every time new visitors come to Ambrose, you and Bo pose as husband-and-wife, even if you aren't officially married.

He shows you off to his siblings, bragging about how he owns such a "beautiful darling woman".

Music is extremely important in your relationship, with Bo sharing the songs that he likes (mostly nu-metal), and you sharing yours. He's always open to new suggestions, and takes every one as a gift, claiming it's "our song".

He loves grabbing you and tossing you around, leaving bruises all over your body. Just another way to mark you.

You quickly became a part of the Sinclair family once Bo expressed his attraction to you, the siblings treating you as their own.

As an honorary Sinclair, the three siblings always get you little gifts. Vincent giving you little wax sculptures, Lester giving you... Poorly made taxidermy statues, and Bo giving you little artifacts that remind him of you. Some of these include pretty flowers, shiny rocks and crystals, and the snacks that you love.

Bo loves sharing his childhood memories with you, even if some of them are less than savory, they always bring you a little bit closer to him.

He is extremely possessive of you, and would do anything to protect you, including murder. Especially murder.

When you feel insecure or sad, he makes sure you know how beautiful you are, on the inside and out, just like the "precious gems you always love so much."

Did you watch the new Wednesday TV show? What did you think about the Younger version of Gomez? I loved him, he's so fine 😍

Hi! I haven't seen it yet, but I'm familiar with the show, because my sister likes to watch it a lot, so I haven't seen it, but I basically know what's it about XD And tbh, my favourite character is Enid so far, but Gomez is always charming, as well as Morticia. I love the younger version of him as well as the older one <3

Never Leave

Dad!Bo x preg!fem reader

Tw: nightmare, blood, death

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

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

“Stay with me? Love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then an idea hits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what a promise that makes him whole.

Slasher with an S/O who self-harms

Included: Billy Loomis, Hannibal Lecter, Rusty Nail, Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair

Tw: Mentions of self-harm and blood

Billy Loomis

Billy had been out with Stu as Ghostface quite late into the night. He figured you would be asleep. Still, on the off chance that you weren’t, he made his way to your house. Realistically, even if you were asleep, he was just going to join you in bed. 

He got to your window to find you were up, sitting on the edge of your bed with your back to the window. He was happy to see you up because he wanted to spend time with you, but it wasn’t really usual for you to be up quite this late. He snuck in quietly, planning to try and give you a scare, and got about halfway to you before he noticed a few more details he had missed.

You were incredibly quiet, the silence of the room feeling a bit suffocating at the moment. Your head was hung low and you had a blade in one of your hands. Your arms were bleeding. You were… bleeding? What the fuck?

Billy closes in on you, achieving his original goal of giving you quite the jump scare in the process. He didn’t care about that right now. Before you really know what was happening, you’re in the bathroom, sitting while he pulls out medical supplies. Billy was silent and methodical as he cleaned each wound, making sure they weren’t too deep before wrapping your arms in gauze and medical wrap. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you.

He’d sit you back down on the edge of your bed, standing in front of you in silence. Even considering he didn’t really like to talk that much, he was too quiet. It put you on edge and made you worry. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried, and his face wasn’t giving anything away.

You avoided eye contact for what felt like an eternity before you came to the conclusion that you’d have to be the first to talk. “Billy-“ You couldn’t get anything out before he dropped to his knees in front of you and hugged your waist, burying his head in your stomach. You could hear him sob quietly into your shirt, and his hold on you was tight.

He cried for a while before he could gather himself enough to talk. Even then, all he said was “Why?”. He’d kill anyone responsible for making you feel this way. Point blank. No Stu, no Ghostface, no teasing or foreplay. It would be him, them, and his knife, and it would be messy. If it wasn’t that simple, he’d listen to everything you told him, anything you’d be willing to share. When you finished, he’d stand up to hold you properly and to talk in your ear. He couldn’t bring himself to talk anywhere above a whisper at the moment. 

“I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. I love you so much-“ It was the first time he had told you that and you couldn’t ignore the sting created by having him say it in this moment rather than during something happy and romantic. “I need you here with me. Anything you want I’ll help you with. I’ll do anything to make you feel better, just say the word.”

Eventually, he’d get you to lay down with him and he’d hold you tight as you both slept. From now on, he’d keep a closer eye on you and anything your body language would tell him about how you’re feeling. Sometimes, when he’s really tired and you’re asleep, he’ll run his thumb over your scars and think to himself about how he’d missed the signs and what he can do to keep this from happening ever again.

Hannibal Lecter

The dinner party really wasn’t supposed to start like this. Hannibal had bought you an outfit he’d seen while he was out, and it had reminded him of you. It was a sweet thought, and you couldn’t deny it looked amazing, but there was one issue. It had short sleeves. You’d been able to get away with wearing long sleeves up until this point because of the weather, which was cold, but each day was just a bit warmer and it was to the point where it was too warm to add a jacket to an outfit. So here you were, looking at the outfit laying neatly on the bed, tears in your eyes as you thought about your arms and how Hannibal was going to react. Would he think you’re weak? Imperfect? Valueless? Would he think you were trying to damage his image?

Hannibal, who had been around for nearly twenty minutes, was growing concerned about how long it was taking you to get around. He knocked on the door, calling out to you and asking if everything was alright. You responded, saying everything was ok, but he could hear the distress and shakiness in your voice as you spoke. Of course, he could. He thought about his options for a second before announcing that he was coming into the room. You didn’t want him to but there was no way to keep him out. You knew that.

“What’s wrong, my love? Do you not like the outfit?” He knew it wasn’t that, but he’d rather you tell him what was really wrong rather than him having to figure it out himself. “I can take it back if it’s not to your liking.” You’d have to choose between acting as if you hated the outfit he’d gifted you or telling him about your self-harming. You hated sounding ungrateful, especially when Hannibal was always so gracious. You had to tell him.

And when you did, he goes quiet for a moment. He’d known something was wrong but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t noticed. How hadn’t he noticed? He’s panicking internally but refuses to let it show at the moment. For the first time in a very, very long time, he’s feeling fear, sadness, confusion, and anger toward himself.

He’ll do whatever is needed to make you feel comfortable. If you want to cover them, he’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to, he’s more than supportive and will shut down anyone who would dare say something about them.

Once dinner is done and the guests have left, he’ll question you. In that moment, you don’t have Hannibal, you have Dr. Lecter. He will want to know how long you’ve been struggling with mental health, how long you’ve been self-harming, what triggers you, how can he help, etc.

He’ll pay close attention to you after he knows. You and sharp objects, that is. He won’t lock away knives or anything of that sort. He knows that will only make you feel worse, but he’ll make sure to remember exactly where sharp objects are and how they’re positioned. He’s going to know if you do it again. Once he knows, it’s impossible to hide it. Point blank. Still, he’ll be gentle about it. He doesn’t think you’re wrong or damaged; he just thinks you need a bit of structure and help.

Rest assured, you’ll get the best care with Hannibal. He’s a psychiatrist after all, and one of the best at that. However, he might use this as a way to subtly manipulate you into sharing his… unique food tastes. After all, why harm yourself when you can take all of your emotions out on others?

Rusty Nail

Rusty is gone A LOT, that’s no secret. But, that means you’re left with a lot of time to think, and thinking leads you to, well, the predicament you’re in now. You didn’t think he was supposed to be home for another day or two, but he’s early. He’s early and your arm is leaking fresh blood. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also hadn’t heard him (you were too wrapped up in your thoughts) until he was opening the bedroom door.

“Darlin’?” He’s walking towards you slowly, like you’re an animal that could lash out if he moves too quickly. Gently, he takes your hands and holds up your arms to give himself a better view. He wipes his thumb across a drop of blood to convince himself that this is real, and not a sort of twisted hallucination. “Darlin’.” He says it softly, this time.

He’s incredibly gentle as he guides you to the bathroom to tend to your wounds, quiet too. You’re sat on the side of the tub and he’s kneeling before you. As he finishes, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at you before circling his arms around your waist and burring his face into your stomach. His hold is tight, and this lasts for quite a while.

When Rusty gathers himself enough to look at you again, he’ll pick you up and carry you to bed. You don’t feel like arguing. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was right, you were tired and you weren’t going to fight him on it. Even if you wanted to, the shattered look in his eyes acted as a foolproof deterrent.

As you nap, he cooks a meal for you. He wakes you up after a while to eat and draws you a bath after you’re done. He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t know what to say. For every moment he can, he’s going to take care of you like your royalty. Gradually, as the tension loosens, he’ll talk more and so will you but there is still a heavy sadness and tension in the air around him.

He’ll ask you quietly in the morning, as you two laze in bed, why you do it. Whether or not you tell him, he respects your choice. If you do tell him, he’ll want to talk through the issue. If it’s a person, he’s already thinking up ways to draw as much suffering from him as possible. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s ok. He’ll hold you close and whisper things about how much he loves you and what he would do to prove it.

When he’s on the road, he’ll call you every afternoon. Talk to him about anything, he just wants to hear you speak and get insight on your day. He wants to make sure you’re ok, as well. 

He’d take you for a drive if you wanted. He absolutely loves having you in his passenger seat, riding alongside him in his rig. It makes him feel happy and possessive. One night, when he’s not on the road, he’d stock his truck with snacks, drinks, and blankets. He’d drive you out a field and stargaze with you late into the night, possibly until you fell asleep. If that happened, he’d carry you back into the truck so he could drive home.

Michael Myers

Micheal knew something had been off for a while, but assumed you’d come to him when you were ready to share. He’d grown impatient though, and decided to watch you while you thought he was away, to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

He’d caught you in the act and was shocked. Well, he felt as much shock as he was capable of feeling, which is far more than he is used to but not like a person might normally. Still, the pang of emotion was something he didn’t feel often. He’d suspected something was up but he hadn’t suspected this. Not in the slightest.

Of course, he’d seen people self-harm before. He had his time in the hospital to thank for that. He remembered how the doctors would react. Restraints, heavy surveillance, taking away anything even slightly dangerous, frequent and consistent check-ins, and medication, loads of medications. He also remembered how much the patients hated it. He had a few hours before you expected him home, which meant he had a few hours to think.

When Michael came home, you greeted him as you always did. You were cheery and excitable. It put a weird taste in his mouth and a feeling like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It didn’t sit right with him and made him very unhappy.

He was still for a moment longer than normal, catching your attention and causing you to ask if something was wrong. He responds by pointing to your arm, confusing you. He grabs your wrist and pulls up one of your sleeves, and you freeze, looking at him in the eye holes of his mask in shock. 

Michael would give you the materials needed to take care of your wounds and watch as you patch yourself up. He’d teach you if you didn’t know how. After, he’d lay on the couch with you and watch movies until you fell asleep. Only after you’re asleep would he leave a kiss on each arm. A promise to you and himself that he’d do what he needed to make you happy.

Michael will be around more after he finds out. Not in an overbearing way, but he realized that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with you. He’ll bring home little gifts that he thinks you’ll like and will make you masks that he thinks fit your personality. You might even sucker him into cleaning the house or cooking from time to time.

Bo Sinclair

It was WAY too hot for long sleeves in Louisiana. It was the middle of summer, and mid-day at that. Bo thought you’d knock more than a few screws loose to be dressed for late fall at this time of year. And to be outside on top of that?

Bo had asked you to come to the church to help with some minor repairs, and you’d been more than happy to come along. Problem was, you’d had a relapse the night before and your arms were covered in fresh wounds. You were practically dying in the summer heat, but you’d risk the heatstroke to avoid Bo finding out. 

“What’re you doin’ with them sleeves? You look like you’re fixin’ to go out in winter, not the Louisiana summer.” You hadn’t really thought of a cover story, which was coming back to bite you in the ass. You’d decided to say you just weren’t feeling too great, causing Bo to look back at you. 

“What’s wrong sugar?” You’d responded and said you felt cold and you were tired, and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he really believed you. He put a hand on your forehead as you looked up at him. “Well, you’re burnin’ up but that’s probably because of them sleeves. Why don’t ya take it off? Certainly wouldn’t mind the view to give me a lil’ work encouragement.” 

You turned him down and suggested that you’d go get some lemonade, to which he agreed was a good idea and wanted to join you. He was at a good stopping place anyway. While you were washing up to serve the lemonade, you’d had to push up your sleeves a bit to avoid getting them wet. You hadn’t accounted for Bo coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. 

He was about to say something when he saw them. When you felt him tense up, you tensed up too. You froze and waited for him to say something, to do anything that gave you an indication of how to respond. After a few seconds, he took his arms away from your waist and grabbed your shoulders gently, turning you around to face him.

“You know… I’ve got some scars too…” It was the first time you’d seen the scars on his wrist. It was the only thing he could think to do in the moment. You started fretting over him, asking what happened, if he was alright, who did this, and other things along that line in a continuous stream of worry. He had to interrupt you and raise his voice to get you to quiet down. He agreed that he would tell you what happened if you told him why you’d harmed yourself. 

In the end, you both wound up having an hours-long conversation about both of your histories and troubles. You both talked until you passed out, holding each other close and feeling leagues closer to him than you had before. It was a rare, bittersweet moment to bond and it would result in a permanent, noticeable shift in the interactions between you two.

After the conversation, you two held each other closer. You were softer when speaking to each other, and arguments often got resolved much quicker and with fewer tears than there used to be. You both understood each other more than anyone else had, and it shows.

Bo would do the best he could to make you feel comfortable showing your arms, no matter what stage of healing they were in. Bo would even show his scars more if it helped, granted that there was no chance of visitors. If tourists said anything about it, they wouldn’t get to be a sculpture. Vincent wouldn’t be able to reconstruct them well enough if he tried. No, they’d wind up in the pit with Lester’s roadkill. 

Bo would kiss your scars in intimate moments if you’d let him. It’s his way of showing that he loves every part of you, regardless of how much you like it yourself.