#Lester Sinclair x You

[loveandmurders]

love your writing! how do you think the menagerie of murderers would react if their current crush/victim/hostage refers to them exclusivelly as "Mister [lastname]" even after they know their first name? would some prefer it that way? get off to the power synamic implied? would some insist on being called by their first name? would they not gaf? asking for Tommy Vincent and Brahms specifically but if you can do more i'd love that~

Hello there! I don't take request anymore but my mind instantly knew how each character you mentionned would react, so here a quick answer for you! (I added Bo and Lester)

I hope you'll enjoy <3

Warning: absolutely no proof reading, mentions of murders and violence, mentions of sexual desire, nothing else I think

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy would be confused as hell at first. Why would you call him "Mister Hewitt"? The man has never been called that way in his entire existence.

Of course, he understands you're trying to be polite, and it's better than being insulted... But he has a secret little crush on you (he thinks it's a secret but the whole family can tell) so it hurts him quite a lot that you are not calling him by his name. For him, it is as if you were putting barriers between the two of you. He wants you to be more intimate with him. He needs it actually or he is going to lose his mind.

He definitively asks his Mama (he is too shy to ask you directly) to tell you to stop calling him that, and to start calling him "Thomas" (which makes him feel so hot when you do) or "Tommy" (which makes him melt with pure love for you).

Bo Sinclair

Bo has tied you up on his chair and he is ready to toy with you in the nastiest way possible.

But he stops dead in his track when he hears you call him "Mister Sinclair" as you plead with him to not hurt you. He can't recall the last time he has been called that way and for an instant he doesn't know what to think about it. He asks you to repeat your words, which you instantly do, hopeful you might have found a cheatcode.

As he repeats the words inside his head over and over again, he moves his tongue over his dry lips and starts to understand he actually likes it a lot. It sounds even hotter coming out from your pretty mouth. Ok, you win, he won't hurt you as long as you keep calling him that way. God forbid he is getting hard from such a simple way. Also, he is losing it if you start calling him "Sir" as well.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent instantly liked you among your little tourist group and this is why you're still alive, currently wandering around in the house. In your point of view, you're some sort of hostage, without really knowing what the brothers want from you.

But Vinny doesn't see it that way. You're his muse.

At first you don't know you are alive thanks to him; you even feel like he seems to avoid you as much as possible. Actually he is just watching you from far away. When he finally gathers the courage to be around you, he is so surprised to hear you call him "Mister Sinclair". He definitively enjoys the politeness of it. It also reminds him that he isn't his "mama's boy" anymore. He is a man. It makes him want to take care of you like a "man" would take care of you. But after a little while, he really needs you to call him by his name or even better by a nickname to show him you like him (even just a little).

Lester Sinclair

Lester is very happy you aren't calling him a "freak" or insulting him, despite the current situation (all your friends are dead and you're alive because Lester pleaded with his big brothers).

He is even astonished you are still so polite to him, like the first time you met on the dusty road of Louisiana. He isn't used of people being polite to him, and he is a little bit worried you are actually just scared of him. He really doesn't want that.

In addition, he HATES with burning passion you calling him "Mister Sinclair". Mister Sinclair was his father and fuck he hated that man and all the awful things he did to him and his brothers. So no, please, call him Lester, call him Les, call him anything you want, but not Mister. Even "Freak" would hurt less in fact. He doesn't really like "Sir" either because he doesn't feel like that. He is just "Lester".

Brahms Heelshire

For Brahms, it is normal and even expected that you call him "Mister" and that you are all polite and nice around him.

Your are his new nanny, you are stuck with him now and you better respect the rules and respect him.

But he can't deny that the way you pronounce those words instantly does things to him. If you are gently greeting him in the morning, he is promising himself he's going to be a good boy to you today. If you are scolding him because there is mud eveywhere in the living room, he gets sad and helps you clean up instantly. If you say this in between kisses, he is absolutely going feral for you.

"Mister Heelshire" used to be a way to show him some respect, now it is some sort of spell that wraps him up all around your little finger.

[rapturously]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m��truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[small-sinclair]

Emergency Glass

Whumptober 7: Only for Emergencies, Prompt Idea

Lester Sinclair x Vampire!reader

Tw: starved reader, blood mention, hints that the reader was tortured

Prompt Idea: In need of Blood

When he found you, you were barely hanging on to life. Your eyes were glazed and lost in the murky waters, and your hair was tangled like broken vines from a willow. Your shirt was torn and shred from some animal he didn’t know; he’s never seen claws that big before. Whatever took you out and left you for dead wasn’t in a hurry; it took its time with you as if you were a plaything to its own muse.

Lester was gentle as he scooped your body in his arms and cradled you like a child. You were too light in his hold, and he could see the outline of your bones and veins under your skin and how they connected like a spider’s web. Your cold form shivered as his warmth kept you awake and relaxed. Your eyes fluttered then rolled as he removed you from the hellish waters and twisted tree limbs. You struggled a breath, and he hushes you like a mother towards a frighten child. In a way, you were a frighten child after the past few days in a hunter’s den. You were torn apart then stitched back together in an unforgivable fashion. You felt violated and stripped of what little you had left of yourself, of the line that separates you from monsters. Now, a stranger, kind and true, was carrying you out of the swamp and placing you inside his track with carefulness.

With the rumble of his truck, it roared to life, and he drove down the rough, beaten road to poorly done gravel road. The bitter smell of decay and dried blood was enough to make your mouth water, but you bit your tongue and clenched your jaw. You’re hearing wasn’t the best, but you knew the stranger was speaking to you. The voice was too muffled and quiet due to your ears ringing and buzzing like a light. Hunger was starting to set in, and it was burning a hole in your chest. You don’t attack humans; only animals. But the driver...you could smell his blood from under his skin and it flowed like a clear river. It was enough to make your stomach rumble and your fangs to grow. You felt your eyes change colors to a deep red. Even in his eyes, you saw your reflection and how it made him shiver once he realized who is in his truck.

Lester’s heard stories about what lurks in Louisiana shadows. He’s heard about the string of attacks in the cities and how there seemed to be a hive somewhere. Finding you out in the middle of the swamp after he was done setting up traps for gators should’ve rung alarm bells. But the claw marks on your body and the scratches that marked your body, making you look like a map of tortured and torn souls, should’ve made him run off for his shot gun in the back of his truck, but it only would’ve made things difficult. His hands aren’t as clean as Bo’s or Vincent’s, but it wasn’t as stained or darken by rich blood. It wasn’t as messy as the twins and their twisted artwork.

He saw you as a hurt deer, something that can be nursed back to health and let go into the wild after tending to your needs. He was Whatever called him to stay and help you...whatever possessed him to look after you, he’ll be as helpful as he could be. Besides, it’s his southern hospitality kicking in along with his nature to give a hand. He was always too kind, and it never scared him until the points of your fangs glowed in the starlight.

Lester swallowed the rock in his throat, his Adams apple bobbing like a toy boat down a rocky stream. The smell of his blood was intoxicating, and it drowned you in your own thoughts. If you had a taste, just a nibble, what harm would that do? He may be thin, but he had enough meat on his bones and blood in his system to serve you well and good. Only for emergencies, you bite humans. Only for emergencies, you feed off their blood and hang on their necks like a vise. The worry gleam in his eyes didn’t call you away or scare you; he knew what you needed.

The truck began to slow down until it stopped. He threw the car in park and turned off the engine, killing it with ease. He stayed in the driver seat as if he was reflecting what his next move would be. You watched as he closed his eyes and let out a soft breath.

“I’ll help you,” he said after a while. “I’ll help you, vampire.” His puppy brown and blue eyes looked down at you. “At least lemme getcha in the house before ya bite me, yeah?” When he saw you nod slowly, he unbuckles both himself then you and hops out of the truck. It wasn’t long until he was holding you once more in his arms. “You’ll be a’right, little vampire.” Why did the words make you blush? Why was the nickname repeating in your head over and over? “Les’ll make sure you’re alive after dis.”

Going into his house and heading to his little guest room by the back door wasn’t a long walk. From what you gathered from his little walk, his home wasn’t that big, but it wasn’t too small.

“Oh, I’m Lester, by the way,” he introduced himself as he laid you down. The mattress and cold sheets under your touch was soft like a moss bed, and he watched as your tensed body unfold like a blooming flower. “There you go,” he praises in a hushed voice. “I’ll get a rag; don’t know how long you were out there and—”

His voice trailed and stopped as soon as your pearly white fangs showed through your lips, plumped and bruised. Lester closes his mouth and swallows a thick, awed gasp. To him, you looked just as right as rain. A part of him hopes you drain every drop of him and turn him into a husk of a person. The way the moonlight laid over you like a blanket made you look like royalty. “Right, you need blood, little vampire.”

Lester lowered himself on the bed and awkwardly shifted you to be on top of him. He rubbed your back and turned his head to expose his neck until. You could practically feel it in your mouth even though you haven’t bitten down. You could taste it and feel it flow over down your throat ever-so-smooth and slick. His comforting warmth and slow circles on your back only made you feel more relaxed.

He almost felt like home.

Only for emergencies, you can break down and shatter the glass to that safety case. Only for emergencies, you can feed off humans and drink deeply in rich and sweet blood. Only for emergencies...just until your hunger is gone.

[thewolffairytaler]

The Angelic Sinclair's first word - part 2 | Sinclair brothers x little sister reader

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Summary: The seventeen month old baby had already learned to crawl and comprehend who the people in her little world were, but she hasn't uttered a single thing yet. Making her parents, Trudy and Victor, worry that there was something wrong with her. However, the baby girl proved them wrong once she started uttering a name at the dinner table.

There was always something going on in the Sinclair home, albeit in a rather chaotic way. In the midst of the twins' childhood tragedies, Bo and Vincent, and the constant din of parental worries, a quiet but alluring presence presided over the scene: young Sinclair. A small gremlin wrapped in a bundle of soft, pastel-colored clothing, she was still a mystery at seventeen months. The tiny girl remained firmly silent, communicating only with expressive eyes, playful gurgles, and the occasional piercing cry of displeasure, while other children her age would be babbled a symphony of incomprehensible syllables.

Her quietude had become a source of increasingly anxious whispers between Victor and Trudy. Victor, a man of practical, almost clinical thinking, was beginning to worry, a furrow deepening between his brows with each passing day. He spent hours going back to his mental studies, his gaze fixated on articles and forums, his unease growing with each new symptom he read. He couldn't help but notice the way the girl interacted – or didn't interact – with the world around her. Her gaze often seemed unfocused, lost in some internal world. She didn't always respond to her name, and her playful interactions were often fleeting, sometimes bordering on aloofness. The possibility of autism, a word he had initially dismissed as alarmist, now weighed heavily on his mind. He found himself watching her with a scrutinizing intensity, searching for any clue, any sign that might either confirm or allay his fears. He had brought it up several times with Trudy, who, while sharing his worries, seemed to hold onto the hope that perhaps the lass was just a slow talker. Trudy would brush back her blond hair with her fingers, a tired yet laid-back smile playing on her lips, and remind Victor that "every child develops at their own pace." She would cite her own childhood, saying that she had been a quiet baby as well, only starting to talk properly when she was around two years old.

However, despite her concerns, Trudy had noticed that there was one person who consistently could light up the baby's face. That person was the youngest brother, five-year-old Lester. Lester, with his boundless energy and earnest attempts at slapstick humour, had a peculiar gift for extracting giggles and peals of laughter from his normally reserved little sister. He would make silly faces, pull funny voices, or engage in exaggerated physical comedy, often resulting in the lass's small, round face crumpling into a smile, followed by a delighted, high-pitched giggle. These moments, though fleeting, were precious, reminding Trudy that, despite her silence, she wasn't devoid of connection, of joy, of an understanding that transcended words. She would often find herself watching their interactions with a sense of relief, a reminder that she was, in fact, a very happy little girl.

Bo and Vincent, the seven-year-old twins, were less involved in the day-to-day care of their youngest sister, their lives consumed by the usual daily activities that were either forced upon them, or that they wanted to be left alone for a while. While they found the little angel endearing in her own quiet way, they were often distracted by their own concerns. Vincent, pragmatic and analytical, would often observe his sister with a detached curiosity, wondering what went through her tiny, still developing mind. Bo, the more impulsive and emotional of the two, was content to give her a quick pat on the head before disappearing back upstairs to their room. They weren't particularly worried. They acknowledged that their youngest sister was a little 'weird,' but that was what made her unique. However, they did find themselves silently annoyed with how much attention she got from their parents, especially Trudy, which made them start to realise how they were once the centre of their parents' universe.

The family’s dynamics seemed to coalesce each evening during dinner. The family gathered around the large, cheap metal table, each member of the family settling into their usual place. Victor sat at the head, his gaze often drifting to the baby seated in her high chair beside Trudy. He would watch her, meticulously searching for some kind of improvement, any changes in behaviour. On the other hand, Trudy would do her best to try and interact with her daughter. She would present different foods to her, speaking to her gently, hoping for any kind of response. Lester, ever the enthusiastic entertainer, would sit opposite to the baby, often making funny faces or blowing raspberries, always ready to elicit a giggle. Bo would eat his meal in silence, occasionally exchanging a look with his twin on his right. Vincent would attempt to get Trudy's attention in order to tell her his growing skills in wax sculpure. The dinner conversations usually floated around them, a comforting background noise to their meals.

One particular evening, the atmosphere at the dinner table was thick with a familiar blend of unspoken worries and nervous anticipation. Victor had brought up the 'autism' discussion again, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the baby as she munched on a piece of softened carrot. Trudy, unable to meet his gaze, busied herself wiping a bit of pureed food from her chin. Bo and Vincent had tuned out the conversation – they had heard similar discussions too many times in the past few weeks. Lester, however, seemed to sense the shift in mood, his light-hearted antics abruptly ceasing. He glanced between his parents before setting his sights on his baby sister, giving her a small, endearing smile.

Then, as if the heavens themselves had opened up, the silence shattered. Her small, wide eyes fixed directly on Lester, let out a tiny, barely audible sound. The room went still. The clinking of cutlery halted. The hum of the refrigerator seemed to fade into the background. Every eye was on the baby. She took a breath, her chest rising and falling in tiny movements before uttering the words again, this time a little louder and more clear: "Les...ter." The name, though still fragmented, was unmistakable. It was her first word.

The room fell silent as a group. All members of the family were frozen, barely daring to breathe. Victor looked at her as though he had never seen her before, his countenance a mix of shock and relief. Trudy gave her daughter a lot of praise right away, telling her simply that she did a fantastic job and should keep doing so. She felt a surge of feeling, a strong blend of relief and thankfulness, as though a burden had been removed from her chest. Lester didn't think twice, his heart swelled with a mix of incredulity and ecstatic delight. He carefully unbuckled her from the baby chair, his hands gentle as he scooped her up, cradling her close to his chest. Her small body felt impossibly light in his arms, the weight of her first word, however, a treasure he would carry forever.

The twins, Vincent and Bo, looked at each other with wide eyes, a look of astonishment mixed with amazement on their features. The sibling rivalry and angst briefly subsided in favour of pure amazement. But underneath all of the relief and happiness, a faint undercurrent of something else started to stir. Despite their sincere joy for their sister, Bo and Vincent couldn't help but experience a twinge of jealousy. Lester's name had been her first word, the first indication that she was speaking to the world. Even if it wasn't the objective, it was evidence of the unique link they had that seemed to exclude them. They had been relegated to the role of silent observers, watching as the baby sister who they had merely treated as wallpaper in their home now had somehow managed to express herself, her first word being the name of their younger brother. It was a subtle jab to their egos, a reminder of their place in the family hierarchy, the unspoken truth that Lester, for better or worse, seemed to hold a special place in their litte angel's heart.

Victor relaxed, the worry lines around his eyes softened, finally letting himself enjoy the moment. Lester constantly fussed over her, ensuring the baby knew how happy he was, whilst also teaching her to say a sentence with his name. Bo and Vincent, on the other hand, would retire to their room earlier than usual, both trying to process what had just happened in their own way. With their complicated relationships, the Sinclair family had just gone through a period of great importance that served as a reminder that even the smallest voices may have the greatest impact, even in the middle of commotion and noise. Despite that the youngest member of the family had spoken, the sibling rivalries and hidden conflicts had nevertheless surfaced, further complicating the already tumultuous family dynamics.

Author's note: I don't know if you're enjoying this or not, but I am planning on writing good/conflicting memories with the brothers before a big event occurs. So not only will you read about their childhood, but also moments where it will make sense when I write about the current timeline of the House of Wax film/movie.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Lester Sinclair Would Include:

He'd be extremely possessive, obsessive, and clingy to the person he's interested in. He would stalk you to the point of knowing every aspect of your life and using that information to manipulate you. He'd be extremely jealous and aggressive towards anyone who even looks at you. He'd constantly want to know where you are and who you're with, and he'd probably get overly violent if you tried to leave him or if someone flirts with you. His entire life would be dedicated to obsessing over and controlling you.

And if you were to reject him, he'd probably just force you to do what he wants anyway, and he'd be very manipulative and controlling in the process. He wouldn't care about your feelings or your boundaries, as long as he gets to keep you to himself.

He might even go to the extreme of kidnapping you and holding you captive in a secluded place where no one could find you, or force you into a relationship with him through blackmail or violence. He'd use any method necessary to get what he wants and to keep you under his control.

He would also have a tendency to isolate you from your friends and family, as he would want to be the only person in your life that matters. He'd try to manipulate your perception of him to make you believe that he's the only one who truly loves and cares for you and that everyone else is out to get you.

He'd likely be very emotionally abusive, using guilt, shame, and gaslighting techniques to keep you feeling like you can't function without him. He'd be constantly critical of you and would put you down to make you feel worthless and inferior.

In front of others, he'd likely act like a charming, charismatic, and friendly person. He'd be very convincing and deceptive, trying to come across as a good and trustworthy person, especially if he's around your friends and family. He'd go to great lengths to hide his true nature from others, so he could keep up his act. He'd probably even go so far as to act protective and caring towards you in front of others, to keep up the image of the perfect partner.

He'd want you to believe that he's the only one who truly understands and appreciates you and that you're the center of his world. However, behind the scenes, he might be extremely insecure and constantly doubt whether you're truly loyal and faithful to him leading him to need a lot of reassurance.

He'd likely use rewards as a method of keeping you under his control and to reinforce your dependence on him. He might give you things you like or want as rewards for behaving the way he wants or for doing things he approves of.

Punishments would likely be very harsh and extreme. He'd use various forms of punishment to make you feel guilty, scared, or ashamed, and to make you do things he wants. He might punish you through physical means like physical violence or confinement, or through emotional means like guilt tripping, emotional manipulation, or shaming. He might even use threats to keep you in line.

Fighting with him would likely be a very manipulative and emotionally exhausting experience. He'd probably start arguments over small and trivial things, and he'd use emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping to make you feel like you're in the wrong even if you're not. He'd likely keep the argument going for as long as possible, not letting it go until he gets his way or until you give in. He'd probably try to make you feel guilty and remorseful, and he'd likely use past mistakes or incidents against you to make you feel worse.

He'd likely be very affectionate towards you at times, and he'd probably shower you with physical and verbal affection to make you feel special and loved. He might give you hugs, kisses, and other forms of physical affection as a way to demonstrate his love and possessiveness towards you.

His brothers would likely be aware of his behavior and his tendencies, as they have lived with him for a long time. Over time, they would probably become used to his behavior, though they might still try to caution him from time to time but nothing more nor would they attempt to help you.

He would likely kill for his darling if he felt like it was necessary to keep you safe or to protect you. He'd probably kill anyone who he felt was a threat to your relationship, including your friends, family, or any other potential romantic interests. He'd consider it his duty to keep you safe and to keep you all to himself.

He'd try to manipulate and gaslight you into believing that he's the only one who truly loves and understands you and that everyone else is out to get you. He'd likely try to control your thoughts, emotions, actions, and behavior, and he could become violent and aggressive if he felt like he was losing control over you.

He'd likely be very paranoid about losing you and he'd be very protective and possessive. He'd likely have a constant fear that you will leave or cheat on him, and he'd do everything in his power to prevent that from happening, even if it means using extreme measures.

Marriage with him would likely be a nightmarish experience. He'd likely rush into a marriage with you as soon as possible, as he'd want to make sure that you are completely tied to him and that you can't easily escape. He'd likely use marriage as a way to keep you under his control, and he'd use it as a way to possess and control you even more than before. He'd likely still be extremely possessive and controlling after marriage, and he'd likely use his wedding ring as a symbol of his ownership over you.

Having children with him would likely be a very stressful and uncomfortable experience. He'd probably want to have children as soon as possible, as he'd want to tie you to him even more and make it harder for you to leave. He'd likely also be very overprotective of you and the child, and he'd likely be extremely possessive and jealous of anyone who tries to come near you and the child.

If you didn't want or couldn't have kids, it would likely cause a lot of tension and conflict in the relationship. He'd likely try to convince you to change your mind and try to get you to agree to have children, as he'd want to fulfill his desire to have a family and to further tie you to him. He'd likely use manipulative and emotional tactics to try to change your mind, and he'd likely become angry and resentful if you refused to give in to his wishes.

"You're mine, and mine alone. I can't bear the thought of sharing you with anyone else. You're the most important person in the world to me, and I would do anything to keep you by my side. I would go through hell and back for you, just to see you happy and safe. No one else understands you like I do, and I won't let anyone come between us. You're the brightest star in my sky, the flame that burns within my heart. I love you more than anything, and I always will. You're my everything."

Bondage and Restriction - Securing you with ropes, chains, or restraints allows him to exert total control over your movements and sensations. Knowing you're helpless to resist his advances only amplifies the pleasure he derives from dominating you.

Breath Play - The delicate balance between oxygen deprivation and release is a thrilling high-wire act for him. Watching your face contort in a mix of fear and euphoria as he restricts your airflow is a sight to behold.

Temperature Play - Exposing sensitive areas to extreme temperatures, such as ice or scorching heat, can elicit a wide range of reactions from pleasure to pain. He enjoys pushing your limits and witnessing your responses to these stimuli.

Forced Orgasms - Making you climax involuntarily, often through relentless stimulation or coercion, is a potent display of dominance. The helplessness and surrender on your face as you're forced to come undone under his control is intensely satisfying.

Sensory Deprivation - Blindfolding, gagging, or otherwise restricting your senses heightens your other senses and leaves you completely dependent on him for stimulation and guidance.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Slashers when you succumb to Stockholm syndrome part three

So part one and two are really popular so I thought I would make a third part with more characters. These are kind of shorter because there's more characters but I still hope y'all like them.

Includes: Bubba Sawyer, Harry Warden, Asa Emory/The Collector, Lester Sinclair, and Danny Johnson/Ghostface

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation kind of, possessive language, Asa compares reader to a butterfly, petnames used

Bubba Sawyer

It's time for breakfast and Bubba gets up out of bed. He looks down at you with a smile. You've been staying with the Sawyers for almost a month and you've given up on fighting and screaming and trying to run away a week ago. But today when you stretch and wake up you look at Bubba with a smile.

"Good morning Bubba. I hope you slept well," You tell him. Bubba smiles and goes back over to his bed. You sit up and he pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back much to his delight, "I'm hoping there's something I can do to help out today, I haven't been pulling my weight around here very much."

Bubba doesn't understand your change but he's so happy you love him that he's able to look past it. He presses a kiss to your forehead and goes back to getting ready for the day. Your smile stays wide on your face as you get ready with him. He's also happy that you're comfortable changing in front of him.

"I'm really grateful that you've been taking care of me like this. I honestly needed this for awhile. I love you Bubba, I really do." Your smile stays genuine and you hug him again. He hugs you back with a delighted squeal.

When you're both done Bubba takes your hand in his and walks with you downstairs. He can't wait to tell his brothers that you're officially in love with him.

Harry Warden

Harry was stalking you for weeks before he finally professed his love for you on Valentines day. When you rejected him and tried to run away he had no choice but to take you back to his house and keep you there where you'll be safe with him.

It's been a few weeks since then and Harry's coming back home early in the morning. He gets in the house and goes into the room he keeps you in. He finds you sleeping on the mattress he gave you. He walks over and lays down next to you. You sleepily turn over and wrap your arms around him with a sigh.

Harry is caught off guard but he soon returns your affection. You run your hands over the material of his coveralls and rest your head against his chest.

"You know I was so scared of you before. But I know that you never meant to hurt me. You just love me, and I love you too." You tell him. Harry is overjoyed to hear this news. He holds you tighter against him and runs a hand over your hair. He has a suspicion that you're experiencing Stockholm syndrome, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is that you finally love him back.

He starts to think about the life the two of you can live together now that you're in love with him. It doesn't matter if it's manipulated or not, you're his and that's all that he wants from you.

Asa Emory/The Collector

It's eight pm and it's time for Asa to check in on you again. He's been keeping you at the hotel for a month at this point. You stopped trying to escape and scream for help your first week here. Asa also gave you a journal to write in. Of course he checks it every day. Today the check in started normally.

Asa unlocks and opens your door. He steps in and finds you sitting on your bed like he's told you to do when he comes to check on you. He spends a few minutes looking around the room and gives you a pat on the shoulder when he sees that you've kept it clean and haven't tried to hide anything from him.

He picks up your journal and flips to today's page, where he finds you outright admitting your love for him. He saw the beginning of your Stockholm syndrome developing in your journal entries and actions a week ago but now he sees that you're fully in it now. He slightly smiles as he reads your entry and shuts your journal. He sets it back on your dresser and walks over to you. He looks down at you and caresses your cheek with a gloved hand.

"I hope you know I'm keeping you here because you're like a beautiful, rare creature. You're my prized possession, the rarest butterfly in my collection. I'm happy to see you've accepted your place here with me." You smile up and him.

"I'm happy you think I'm so worthy of being yours." Asa lets out a soft chuckle and pats your head. This is going to be a very fun experiment for him.

Lester Sinclair

Today is the first day that you've had free roam of the house while Lester was out. He has his ways of making sure you stay at the house. He's been out all day but he's periodically had Vincent check in on you. When he got back home and smelled something cooking concern grew in his body. He made his way to the kitchen and found you peacefully cooking.

It hits him that you've reached Stockholm syndrome after he puts together your recent affectionate behavior and now you're cooking like nothing is wrong. He can't deny the guilt he feels in his gut. You look over at him and smile. You set down your wooden spoon and walk over to him, giving him a hug.

"Welcome home Lester. I hope you're hungry. I'm making dinner tonight." You walk back over to your bowl and look down at an old cook book you found. Lester can't help but smile at your affection. That part of him that feels guilty starts to shrink as he watches you happily cook.

"Well I'm glad you're happy here peaches," He says with a smile of his own "If you keep acting like this I won't have to keep you locked up all the time ya know?" He walks over to you and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and looking over your shoulder.

"Really? I'd love that Lester. I feel like I need to start pulling my weight around here. Since you've been taking care of me for so long." He nods and presses a kiss on your cheek.

"Of course peaches, of course."

Danny Johnson/ Ghostface

After stalking you for weeks Danny finally took you to his cabin. He had to spend the first few days watching you and proving to you that there's no escaping him, no matter what you do. After a few weeks of living with him you started to exhibit signs of Stockholm syndrome. He recognized this and kept track of it.

It's early morning when he gets back to the cabin. He walks into your room and watches you tossing and turning in your sleep. A few moments later you sit up in bed panicking. Tears fall down your cheeks and you rush over to hug him. He hesitates briefly before he hugs you back.

"I was having an awful nightmare and I couldn't wake up! I was so scared I felt like I was going to die!" You sob to him. He can't help but smile to himself as you hold him for comfort.

"It's alright, it's alright. I'm here now, don't worry Y/N I'm here for you now," He runs a hand over your hair and looks down at you through the mask, "I'd never let anything bad happen to you doll. I promise." You sniffle and look up at him while you're still holding onto him.

"You promise? Do you love me as much as I love you?" You ask him. Danny smiles and nods his head. He knows you're not really in love with him. That this is just Stockholm syndrome. But why should he care? You don't know the difference at this point.

"Of course doll. I love you too."

[dolliestfairy]

Dolliest 🎀

PART 2 Bo sinclair, Lester sinclair, Billy loomis & Bubba sawyer with Chubby!fem!reader who dress like a Doll.

ᜊ Request : You've probably already answered this but...would you be willing to do a sequel to Dolliest with Billy Lenz, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Billy Loomis and Bubba Sawyer?

ᜊ A/N : sorry for not making the billy lenz part, i'm not really that bond with him and i'm scared i will gave you something that is far from his personality so i just done the rest :)

ᜊ Warnings : Pet names (princess, doll, ect), thinking of murdering someone & implied wanting to gouge someones eyes out, implied slit someones throat, killing, and maybe some misspelled words. this is a Poc friendly reader.

gifs aren't mine.

ཐིiཋྀ Bo Sinclair

• Omg look at you!.

• thinks you annoying at first, but as he knows you further he start to fall in love quick.

• although he would never admit it anyway.

• he really love how when you step into the room, the whole people would stare at you with such admiration, makes them think that they can have you when you're completely his.

• but if someone talks down or look down about you, you'd best believe they will be the next person who will exist in the News because of something terrible thing that has happen to them.

• what? do you think bo made the terrible things happen to them? of course ye- of course not.. why would you think like that? he only does that because he loves you..

• calls you "princess" or "babydoll".

• depends on his mood. if he's feeling more like a bad mood, he sometimes called you "princess" in a irritated tone.

• but we know this man has some major anger issues or some shit so yeah, not so surprised isnt?

• one of the things about this man is that, if you have a stretch marks, he loves to see you in a clothes who will show & compliment your stretch marks. he thinks you look really adorable, espesially if its pink!

• if you dont have stretchmarks, but if you do have a navel piercing, he also love to see your piercing gets it shows & compliments.

• but if you dont have both? its ok honey, this man will still love you regardless. (but he would rather die than admitting this)

ཐིiཋྀ Lester sinclair

• A goddess. thats what he thinks of you.

• man he fucking loves you & literally worship you so much sometimes you caught him staring at you for hours nonstop, had to slap or bump him or not he would for sure not stop staring you.

• calls you "honey" or "my goddess"

• really love how the pinks really compliment your features, and your bellies!!

• he fucking adores the stretch marks that traced over it. eveytime sometimes he likes to track his finger into it while showering you with compliments.

• and another thing about this man is that he would die to have cuddles with you.

• he really loev cuddles. after he had done his work, he goes straight to you to ask cuddles.

• if someone talks bad about you, he would gave them the nastiest death stare you'd ever imagine.

• he doesnt care what your skin is, pale, beige, brown, dark, whatever, you still beautiful, you're his chubby goddess, and he would -- of course, worship you to death.

ཐིiཋྀ Billy loomis

• really proud, no shame.

• just like bo, this guy loves when people think they can have you, when little did they know -- you're already off the market.

• he would rather die than admitting this, but he really love cuddling with you. your soft plush is literally much better than any pillow he ever bought.

• thats why he always lay his head on your belly. he really comfy there, dont push his head on the side or he will be grumpy.

• calls you "baby" or "doll"

• really love seeing you compliments yourself in your outfit omg! he fucking adores it, would die if that means he can see you compliment yourself again.

• he would not hold back to slit anyones throat who dare to talk down on you.

• no need to talk down actually, a nasty stare is enough to make him want to gouge out their eyes

• need Have to hold back this guy intentions before he really does gonna kill them all.

• and after he killed those shit? he goes back to you -- clinging over you, and cuddling you to death will not minding any fucks about those fuckfaces that he killed.

ཐིiཋྀ Bubba saywer

• this big boi..

• everytime you walk in on room he always cheered up, like everytime.

• no matter if he is sad, or angry or just having a bad mood.. if he sees you walking into the room he will be back to his cheered self.

• love the pinks omg! those pink nails and those vanilla strawberry scent perfume of yours..

• you're a very intoxicating woman to this guy, and he loove every single of it.

• and we all know his family are literally tease you both to death lmfao..

• they always called you both "love birds" and everytime one of his family sees you or bubba alone with no each other of you companying, they will start to annoy you with questions like

"where are the love of your life?"

"where are your birds-mate?"

but they do it all because they are just really curious lol and that family is actually -- hoping that you can stay together forever with him. running around in the house with your pink personality & outfit..

• with how your vanilla strawberry perfume scent filled the room..

•and with how your love to bubba, and bubba's love to you is filled in to the house.

[ninakuli]

Nightmare

Idea come from @small-sinclair here

Hope you guys enjoy :)

Bo Sinclair:

It's middle of the night and you been wake up by Bo.

He keep gentle shaking you and keep call your name softly "Y/N? Y/N? Y/N wake up? Are ya okay? Are you still alive? Y/N..."

You wake up and sleepy answer "What's wrong honey?" you look up to meet his eyes.

He be quiet for a moment and his eyes never leave you for a second.

He bury his face into your chest, hearing your heart beat and feeling your smell, he sigh slightly for relax and hug you tightly.

"Have nightmare again? Want to talk?" You whisper.

He was silent for a while then he hug you more tight and slowly whisper "I...I dream about that I kill ya, just...want to sure you still alive."

You little shock and gentle stroking his hair and say "I'm alright darling, I'm here, ain't going anywhere." You keep comfort him until he fall asleep again.

"I love you Bo." You whisper and kiss his forehead slightly and enjoy him to sleep.

You will keep remember this because this is so rare that he show you his weak but you won't tell anyone about this.

Lester Sinclair:

You woke up by a crying sounds, and you find out Lester sleep next to you and he sweating and crying then suddenly he wake up and still crying.

He restless to look at you and he bury his face to your shoulder and cry, he hug you tightly.

"Hey hey sweetie you have a nightmare? Want to talk?" You gently pet his head.

"I..I dream about Bo being crazy...and he...he kill ya!!!" He cry out, his trembling body snuggle closer and grabbing you tight don't want you leave any inch.

"Shhhh... I'm here! Don't have any scars or wounds, I'm alright, I won't go, and no one can hurt we even your brothers okay?" You cradle him.

"K..." He sobs and try to calm down when you keep saying something and petting his head to let him relieved.

When he calm down and feel tired you whisper "Let's go back sleep okay? I'll make sure all that bad dream won't bother you again, I'll protect you okay?"

He slowly nod and gradually fall asleep.

You kiss his forehead slightly "Nighty and love you Les." Then you fall asleep again.

Vincent Sinclair:

When you go to your shared room and climb on bed to sleep Vincent still in his basement and working.

He glance to the time and decided to take a little nap at his workbench.

He wake up and fall down to the floor from a nightmare that about he turned you into a wax.

Even he knew it's just a nightmare but he still feeling uneasy so he decided to check on you that you're fine.

He slowly go into your shared bedroom and try to not wake you up.

He walked to you and slowly sit next to you, he gently brush your hair and kiss your temple slightly, he staring at your sleep face and smile.

When he leave the bed decided to go back the basement you suddenly grab his hand and pulling him.

"Don't go... let's sleep together tonight... okay?" You groggy said.

He look back to you and take off his mask put on the bedside table, he climb back to bed, he hug you tightly more than usually.

You notice and whisper "What's wrong honey? Are you okay?"

"I dream about that I turn you into a wax." He sign to you.

"I'm here, you take so good care to me, I'm alright, I won't leave or go." You slowly kiss his cheek.

Then you two snuggle with together and peacefully fall asleep.

[bennyb0i0]

I come with more Lester Sinclair x Evelyn banks content

ITS SO BAD BRO OMG SOMEONE HOLD ME

That’s my Ted talk bye guys!!!

[dootys]

Random cute and tender moments with slashers - part 2

I'm already thinking about part 3 (but it will take a while), so if you want me to draw someone specific, let me know 😊

(part 1 is here)

-----------

Slow dancing in the music hall? Absolutely! This is a new rule on the list. Brahms is sucker for romance he has read about in his books. And he can't be happier when you ask him to dance one day after dinner ❤️

Oh, did I say tender? Sorry, that doesn't apply to Bo, this motherfucker is scared to death to be vulnerable and if you ask him for cuddles, well.. you shouldn't have provoked him 🤭

Vincent is always over the moon when you show your interest in his art, especially when you ask him to teach you how to paint. You haven't even finished the question and he alreay has new apron in hand. Every few second you catch him staring at you with adoration, and everytime he gets embarrassed and starts blushing 🥰

Lester is the biggest sweetheart of them all. He loves every minute he spends with you, the cuter and goofier, the better. He always finds a reason to give you piggyback ride. But don't be surprised if he gets carried away by fooling around and both of you end up in the water, with Jonesy happily running around you 🥰

BONUS

I was just kidding. I have soft spot for Bo and I know, that he can be affectionate with his s/o, because deep down he craves tender touches and the sappy romantic shit.. So when nobody is around, he can be very soft ❤️

🩷Taglist: @sketchbook-of-shadows

[toescratches]

The Sinclair brothers have work to do. A couple of tourists adventure into town. But unfortunately after they've been hunted down and cleaned up, the brothers come across more work and more problems. That being the now abandoned baby in the car. (SHOULD I CHANGE THE SUMMARY AT THIS POINT?!?!?!)

Tw: Bo is Bo, they're slashers what do you expect, they won't kill the baby obv, the baby is a girl or AFAB, Vincent is here 😱, Lester bbg is here 🤭, they're conflicted, timeskipping cuz I'm lazy, lots of cursing, prolly awkward and cringe but idk, sorry this is short

tags:@wheresmyson @kitty11sstuffig @swaggbella @imnotevenherern00100 @kait0sicecre4m @peyton-peyton @wildaces @small-sinclair @santa-carla-boardwalk-1987 @number1120 @blurrymango

—————————————————————————

{timeskipping to toddler age😨}

Bo sipped his beer as he sat on living room couch and watched TV. The thunder loudly rumbled outside and made it feel like the whole house shook.

He took another big swig out of his bottle, in the background, the television kept making loud noises of the show playing.

Suddenly his attention is stolen by the sound of little feet, coming down the stairs. Bo looks to his right, up at the end of the staircase.

"Y/N? You know you're supposed to be in bed." Bo yells at the staircase as he turns down the volume of the TV.

A loud, pitiful and annoyed whine sounds down the stairs.

Bo sighs and stands up. He turns off the TV and walks to the bottom of the stairs. He spots the little girl, sitting at the top of stairs with a pout.

"C'mon baby... You gonna go to bed or do I have to take you...?" Bo asks with hands on his hips.

Y/N whines again. "But Daaaddyyy–! It's scary!" She pouts.

"What scary, sweetie?" He softly questions and begins to mske his way up the stairs, towards his young child.

She points down at the window.

"Oh, the thunder?" He coos at her.

Y/N sniffs and nod her head.

"Well how about... I'll take you back to our room and I'll help you sleep? Okay?" Bo asks with a raised eyebrow.

She nods her head with a frown and reaches her hands up to Bo, wanting to be picked up. Bo chuckles. He reaches down to hus daughter, picking her up by her armpits. He places the little girl on his hip and kisses his forehead.

A loud thunder sounds from outside and scares Y/N, making her flinch. Y/N curles up against her father's side and Bo softly smiles at this.

"You sleepy, baby?" He asks and caresses her head. He gets a nod as a answer.

"Okay, let's go to sleep." He sofly smiles and walks up the stairs, and to their room. Bo gently pushes the bedroom door open, and steps inside, with his daughter on his hip. He puts her down on her bed, next to his own.

"There you go..." Bo whispers and tucks her in. He puts the soft blanket over her, handing her, her teddy.

Y/N tightly hugs the teddy bear. and turns to lay on her side, to look at her father.

"I don't like the storm..." She whispers to him. (how do toddlers speak💀)

"Oh me neither, baby... But don't worry. I'll be here so you can go to sleep..." He whispers down to her and caresses her cheek.

She nods with a yawn. Bo smiles softly at her and leans down to kiss the girl's cheek.

...

Bo waits, sitting on the side of her bed, till she falls asleep.

—————————————————————————

Im so sorry I didn't write anymore, I was so bored 😭

PLEASE SUGGEST ME SUMMARIES AND IDEAD ETC!!!

i didn't know what else to write

[zapreportsblog]

❝forgotten memories❞

✭ pairing : Lester Sinclair x reader x Bo Sinclair x Vincent Sinclair

✭ fandom : slashers

✭ summary : whiles out hunting Lester comes across a beaten and battered young lady in serious need of medical attention so what does he do? He takes the little lass back to his hometown to get treated by his brothers, but she happens to wake up and at first they expect her to freak out since she’s surrounded by three men but the only thing on her mind is why can’t she remember anything but her name

✭ authors note : art work by @kasiawoe found it on Pinterest also this was requested by @shadowraven-02 you sent this in to @fandomnationwhore a while back and I’m here to fulfill it since I’ve taken over doing some of their top requests :) if at any moment you wish to be untagged, do inform me as I have no problem with it I just thought I’d tag you and let you read what you sent in

✭ slasher masterlist

Lester Sinclair had always found solace in the woods. The dense canopy of trees, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of woodland creatures were a symphony of tranquility. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the demands of his hectic life and find a sense of peace.

On this crisp autumn morning, with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, Lester set out for a hunting expedition. He carried his rifle with practiced ease, each step taken with a careful consideration of his surroundings. His brothers, Bo and Vincent, would join him later, but for now, he relished the solitude.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, Lester's keen eyes caught sight of something unusual amidst the fallen leaves. There, sprawled on the ground, was an unconscious young woman. Her clothes were torn, and her face was marred by a bleeding wound on her forehead. It was a sight that sent a jolt of concern through Lester.

Kneeling beside her, he carefully examined her condition. She was still breathing, albeit shallowly, which was a relief. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face, revealing her pale complexion. Concern etched his features as he noticed the deep bruises marring her arms and legs. It was clear that she had been through some kind of ordeal.

Lester's instinct to help kicked in immediately. He knew he couldn't leave her here, injured and alone in the woods. Carefully, he reached into her pocket and found her wallet. Opening it, he discovered her identification. Her name was (Y/N), a medical student still in college.

With determination in his eyes, Lester decided to take action. He scooped her fragile form into his arms, cradling her gently. She was surprisingly light, making it easier for him to carry her. As he began to make his way back to his pickup truck, he couldn't help but wonder how she had ended up in such a dire situation.

The journey back to his home felt like an eternity, the forest passing by in a blur of green and brown. Lester's mind raced with questions, but his primary focus was ensuring (Y/N)'s safety. He knew his brothers would be just as concerned as he was when they saw her.

When he finally reached the old, rustic house that he shared with Bo and Vincent, Lester carefully carried (Y/N) inside. The warmth of the living room enveloped them, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air outside. With great care, he laid her down on the couch, his worry deepening as he took a closer look at her injuries.

Bo had been planning to join Lester for the hunting trip, but he arrived later than expected. He pushed open the creaky front door of their rustic home, a cheerful greeting on his lips. "Lester, you out here, buddy?" he called, stepping into the warm and cozy living room.

His voice trailed off when he laid eyes on the unexpected scene before him. His gaze fixed on the unconscious girl lying on the couch, her disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the familiar surroundings.

"Who the hell is she?" Bo blurted out, his voice tinged with some kind of emotion though Lester wasn’t sure what.

Lester turned toward his brother, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and confusion. "I found her out back in the woods," he explained, "She was unconscious, and there are bruises on her, and she had this nasty wound on her forehead."

Just as their argument started to brew, the connection between the twins kicked in. Vincent, who had been working away in the basement workshop, felt Bo's growing frustration through their twin link. He abandoned his tools and made his way upstairs, his face a mask of concern. He signed, asking if everything was alright.

Bo's agitation was clear in his voice as he responded to Vincent's silent inquiry. "No, Lester here is putting us all in danger."

Lester frowned at Bo's accusation. "How am I putting us in danger?" he retorted, his voice rising in frustration.

Their argument continued, voices escalating, as neither brother noticed the subtle movement on the couch. (Y/N) began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked in confusion, disoriented by her surroundings and the voices she heard. Her vision was blurry at first, but gradually, the room came into focus.

Vincent, who had been watching the argument unfold, suddenly noticed her awakening. He took a step back, positioning himself between Bo and the girl, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to observe her reaction before drawing attention to her presence.

As (Y/N) began to regain consciousness, she felt a dull ache in her head, which sent a wince across her features. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the room, and as she sat up, she couldn't help but notice the three men now staring at her. Their expressions ranged from concern to curiosity, and she blinked owlishly at them, her confusion evident.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

Lester, the one who had found her, stepped closer and replied, "You're in my home. We found you in the woods unconscious, and you had some injuries, so we brought you here."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, trying to piece together the events leading to this moment. "How did I get here?" she wondered aloud.

Bo, ever the standoffish one, folded his arms and said, "That's exactly what I'd like to know too."

Vincent, who had been observing silently, stepped forward and signed a question, his hands gracefully moving through the air. However, (Y/N) was caught off guard by the unfamiliar gesture and simply responded with a confused "Huh?"

Lester quickly intervened, introducing his brother. "That's Vincent," he explained, "He was just asking if you're okay."

Still somewhat disoriented, (Y/N) nodded uncertainly. "I think so?" She winced again, a hand gingerly touching the bandage on her forehead. It was clear she had many questions, but her priority was trying to make sense of the situation and her surroundings.

“So how did you get out there.” Lester asks, he watches her brows clench and that’s when his concern deepened as he watched (Y/N) struggle to recall her recent past. He leaned closer and gently asked, "I mean do you remember how you ended up out here in the woods? You're pretty far from town."

(Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to summon any memories that could explain her current situation. However, her efforts were in vain, and her frustration grew as she shook her head, her voice trembling as she admitted, "No, I don't remember."

Bo, always quick with a sarcastic remark, couldn't resist but quip, "Does she even know anything?"

(Y/N), taking Bo's question more seriously than intended, felt panic start to creep in. She tried to think back to her life, her home, her studies, but everything seemed to be shrouded in darkness, leaving only her name as a lone beacon of familiarity. Tears welled up in her eyes as the realization sank in that she couldn't recall anything else.

Vincent, noticing (Y/N)'s distress, reacted impulsively. He smacked Bo on the arm and then swiftly signed at him, "Look, you made her cry."

Bo's temper flared. "I ain't do a goddamn thing to that girl!" he retorted, defensive.

Lester, always the voice of reason among the brothers, interjected firmly, "Enough, you two! We need to help her, not argue." He moved closer to (Y/N) and spoke in a soothing tone. "Hey, it's okay. We'll figure this out together. Take a deep breath."

He reached out to offer her a comforting hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease her panic and bring some clarity to the situation.

Lester gently held (Y/N) in his arms, offering her a comforting embrace as she cried out her fear and confusion. His heart went out to her as he whispered soothing words. "It's okay, (Y/N), you're safe here. Everything's going to be alright. This is just a hiccup in the road. You'll remember, I'm sure of it."

She clung to his words, her sobs gradually subsiding. In his arms, she found a flicker of solace amidst the storm of her lost memories and newfound uncertainty.

Meanwhile, Bo's frustration had not subsided. He was growing increasingly impatient and wary of the stranger in their midst. He couldn't shake the feeling that (Y/N) was a threat, not just to Ambrose, but to all of them.

In the quiet of the kitchen, Bo took Lester and Vincent aside, his tone hushed but determined. "We need to get rid of her," he declared, his voice filled with urgency.

Lester frowned deeply, appalled by his brother's suggestion. "Bo, we can't just... get rid of her. She's clearly in trouble, and we need to help her."

Bo's eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. "She's a danger to Ambrose, and she's a danger to us all. We don't know who she is or what happened to her. We can't trust her."

Vincent, ever the voice of empathy and caution, hesitated. He signed his thoughts, "We need to be careful, but killing her? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

Bo was unwavering. "Think about it, Lester. We have no idea who she is or what she's involved in. We can't risk our safety, or Ambrose's."

Lester shook his head firmly. "No, Bo. I won't do it. We'll help her, keep her safe until she remembers. We can't resort to violence."

The tension in the kitchen grew palpable, as the three brothers faced a difficult decision that would shape their future and the fate of the mysterious (Y/N).

Bo's frustration reached its peak, and he reluctantly conceded. "Fine," he grumbled, his jaw clenched. "But she's your responsibility, Lester."

With those words, Bo turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind him. Vincent, sensing his twin's anger and knowing that arguing further would only escalate the situation, hurriedly followed, hoping to calm Bo down and find some common ground.

Lester was left alone in the kitchen, his thoughts swirling as he watched his brothers leave. He knew that taking care of (Y/N) was a responsibility he was willing to shoulder, even if it meant facing uncertainty and danger. She needed their help, and he was determined to be there for her, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

[small-sinclair]

But like kissing Sinclairs before they leave for work. You can read this as poly! x reader:

Bo leaving to work down at the shop, so you follow him to the door and kiss him twice: first to remind him you love him and second to say goodbye. But it sometimes ends up with him kiss your neck, jaw, lips, cheeks, so you gently have to pushes on his chest so he’s not late. His eyes shine down at you and leaves you with a kiss.

Vincent finishing his coffee and getting his sketches ready. You kiss him on the cheek then on his lips before he goes down. Signing, he promises to be back for dinner, but he takes your hand. His thumb smooths over his skin and he smiles under his mask at you, but you can see it in his lone eye. He kisses your hand and leave for the basement.

Lester running late on his run, but you already made his lunch and coffee in his thermostat (the one with the animal stickers :3 ). He gives you a quick kiss, but it’s not good enough. So you pull him by the waist and give him a real kiss, passionate and all. After pulling away, you tell him to drive safe and be home soon. Lester has never worked so hard and fast in his life every time he gets a kiss like that.

[thewolffairytaler]

Can i pls request slashers react if child/teen! Reader got shot(Not fatally, but they lost consciousness.) yk, similar to the walking dead scene when Judith got shot. I really want to see Sinclair brothers react to it

The brothers reacting to their offspring getting shot | Sinclair brothers x Gender natural reader

_____________________________

Summary: Whilst the brothers are trying to hunt down a tourist, Y/n sees from a distant how the tourist managed to get a hold of a firearm and tried to shoot their father at a weak spot, realising a simple shout would not be enough, they rush in yelling: "I won't let you...!"

Author's note: This is my first time writing a headcanon, and it may not be perfect, but I hope you liked it regardless. Also, I've decided to write the brothers in a way where they are fond of the reader. They have a deep connection to them. So that is why they are acting out this way.

Vincent Sinclair

In that exact moment, the icy, controlled façade Vincent had built would crumble. He would be struck with undiluted anger at the sight of his offspring, who he could only see as his baby right then and there. He would probably respond with startling speed, viewing the tourist as a barrier to his daughter's safety rather than a threat. With ruthless efficiency, he would disarm them without hesitation, his moves nearly robotic in their accuracy. The anger would then shift inward, leading to self-blame. He would carefully examine his child/teen for the wound while secretly scolding himself for allowing them to suffer harm. Even though there was chaos going on beneath the surface, his touch would be surprisingly soft. He would carry her to safety, maintaining his clinical focus until she was absolutely safe. His deeper feelings would only come to the surface when he was by himself. His sorrow was not overt or audible; rather, it was a silent, fervent vow to never again place his child/teen at risk. To keep their spirit alive till they woke up again, he might even take up their interest or art.

Bo Sinclair

If Bo truly cared for his offspring, then I believe he would respond with a passionate, unfiltered outburst of fury. It'd be like flipping a switch to watch his son or daughter collapse. The barely restrained violence would seethe to the surface as his animalistic side took hold. He would simply respond without thinking, rushing at the tourist with frightful force and speed. His instinct to defend his offspring would drive him to aim for the throat rather than the pistol. Bo's energy would be frenzied after the tourist was dealt with. With his big arms shaking, he would pick up his child/teen and repeatedly call their name in a terrified voice. He would look for the wound, his touch rough but desperate, and he would be at a loss for what to do but hug them close while muttering apologies and threats of vengeance. He would accuse himself of lacking the strength and ability to better defend them. He would hardly ever leave their side as the shock subsided, even after they were awake and doing well, out of fear that they would vanish if he turned his back.

Lester Sinclair

I believe the most unpredictable response would come from Lester. He would most likely initially freeze, his short body shaking as he took in what had happened. Then, he would reach for his child/teen and let out a high-pitched, terrified shriek. His face would be marked with a mixture of uncertainty and anxiety. In contrast to his brothers, Lester would not act aggressively; instead, his dread would change form, most likely into a strong desire to restore his loved one's well-being. In a desperate attempt to assist, he would hover around them, frequently getting in the way. He may begin to murmur, without much meaning, about not taking them away and that they were too innocent. Despite their perplexity and his own dread, he would be the one to try to calm them by humming them his little songs. Although Lester wouldn't be able to feel the same level of anger as Vincent or Bo, his fear would show up as a feeble desire to assist, frantically asking his family if he was to blame or if there was anything he could do to make things better. Since he believed that this was the only way to ensure his child/teen's safety for all time, he would most likely attempt to keep them away from Ambrose forever.

[indigosuvi]

Making Him Things

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 287 | Read it on AO3

Summary: S/O loves to make him things. Featuring: Vincent, Lester, and Bo.

Vincent Sinclair absolutely loves everything that you make him. He would have all of it on his desk. Displayed in the museum with "do not touch" signs. He'd have some of it in his bedroom. Sometimes, he frequently moves your stuff from the museum to his room. He wants to display it for the world to see, but at the same time, he doesn't want them ruining it, and so sometimes your stuff is there, sometimes it isn't. He would also make you items and display it in the museum or give it to you.

Lester has a full room of your stuff. He started off by putting it in his room, but over time, the stuff became more and more, so he placed all the things that couldn't fit in his bedroom into the spare room. He leaves the door open because sometimes he just stands in the doorway and admires the things that are there. He gives you anything cool that he can find or anything that he finds that reminds him of you. He wishes he could do better, but he knows that he isn't a great artist - he'll never be Vincent.

Bo loves the things you make him. He has it everywhere. His room, the shop, and various places in the house that he frequents. He enjoys seeing your work and adding to his collections. He would ask Vincent to make you items and then Bo gives them to you, as if he bought something for you or maybe even made it for you. He can't make things. You both know that. The best he could do is fix up a car and give it to you, but he wants something more special.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @fluffy-little-demon, @queendeeshorrorimagines, @eli-chris / Join my tag list here!

[holy-hysteria]

I’ve seen a lot of headcannons on the Sinclair brothers in high school and here’s my take on them:

Bo Sinclair

I don’t think Bo was popular AT ALL.

He’s the kid that gets in fights all the time, disrespectful to teachers + peers, and just doesn’t give a shit whatsoever about anything.

He’s super smart though. He never does his work but he understands what’s going on. I think he was a naturally gifted kid, didn’t have to try in school to get good grades, probably could have been in the top of his class. He probably tried to use his grades when he was younger to get his parents attention but when that didn’t happen, he just gave up.

Along with being smart, I think he’s also pretty good at art too. I feel like if Trudy gave Bo as much attention as she gave Vincent and his art, Bo could have been just as good as Vincent. But since Trudy neglected Bo and his interests, he kinda gave up on it. Thought that it really wasn’t good enough.

His favorite class was probably math. I know most people would think shop but i really think he’d like math.

I think he did play sports in high school, or at least tried to. His temper got him kicked off most of the teams. Out of all the sports he played though, I think he probably enjoyed wrestling. It was a sport where he could get on the mat and all he had to focus on for a few minutes was getting a pin and scoring points. No thoughts about home or his parents, just the sport.

He probably didn’t have many girlfriends in high school. I feel like his whole demeanor in school kind out girls off so he didn’t get much action till high school was over.

I think the one teacher to actually like him was the librarian. The librarian probably knew about how Vincent was favorited and they felt like he was misunderstood. He probably ate lunch in there too since it was quiet and no one was around. He’d even help shelf books and things like that.

I don’t think Bo really had friends. Sure he’d hangout with the douchebag jocks, but it was never more than being friendly and cracking a joke here and there.

Probably started smoking bc of them.

Wanted to be an electrician and would read any books he could find on it while eating lunch in the library. ( That’s why the town still has power and everything works electrical wise down there. )

Vincent Sinclair

I’m gonna say it, Vincent was probably popular. He’s the kid that’s nice to everyone, teachers love him, and he’s always willing to lend a hand.

He was on student council. He helped make decorations for the dances and design the class shirts.

He did get bullied a little in school, only by certain kids, but I feel like he got through school pretty unscathed.

Like Bo, Vincent really didn’t have any true friends. Sure he was friendly with people, and would eat lunch with them sometime, but they weren’t super close.

Vincent had a lot of pressure put on him by Trudy. He always felt like his every move was being watched. As the “gold child”, Vincent felt like he had a lot to live up to.

Vincent was average in school. He wasn’t terribly bad but he wasn’t a child prodigy either. He had to study, things didn’t come easy to him, but he got good grades.

He HATED high school art. When he signed up, he thought we he’d be able to create whatever he wanted, but when he got into class and realized he had to follow assignment rules and didn’t get to have as much creative liberty as he would like, he dropped the class.

His favorite class would have to be English. I can see him liking the classics they had to read in class and would often go home and draw the scenes from the books. His favorites are To Kill a Mockingbird and Mice of Men. He cried while reading both of them.

I’m guessing Bo and him went to high school during the 80s/90s? But i think they both dressed somewhat similar, in that twin way that most parents dress their young children. Probably band t-shirts, pearl snap shirts (since they’re from a rural small town), and jeans. Vincent would have a turtle neck or sweater thrown in there somewhere though.

Vincent wanted to be an art teacher, so that kids wouldn’t have to get projects with little room to take creative liberty.

He drew comics for the school newspaper.

He took french. Just look at him. He DEFINITELY took french.

Also like Bo, he’s very awkward with girls. Not as much as Bo. He’s just shy and i think he doesn’t realize when someone hits on him.

Lester Sinclair

He’s no different than he was in the high school.

He was very much the class clown. Cracked jokes in class all the time and definitely planned the senior prank.

Unlike his older brothers, he had lots of friends. He had one or two super close friends but he got along with everyone.

No one was a stranger to him. He got along with people so well that when a new student came, he was asked to show them around.

He’s also very much like abi when it comes to school. He’s super smart but plays himself down to make people laugh.

HATED math class. Didn’t like the material, didn’t like the teacher, thought he was super creepy bc he flirted with all the female students.

Wore Vincent and Bo’s hand-me-downs.

He played soccer in school. I can see him play forward/striker. He���s super fast and very aggressive.

Unlike his brothers, he’s a ladies man. Always had a date to dances, always had a girl fawning over him. He’s funny and nice, true southern gentleman.

Favorite class was science. Loved learning about how things work, why things are the way they are.

If you looked in his senior yearbook, he’s on almost every page.

Wanted to be a park ranger. I don’t have to explain why, it fits him so well.

Went to parties all the time. He was the life of them too. He smoked pot a couple times too. Still does to this day just to relax.