#i can draw vincent perfectly like. hes fine. he looks fine. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venicebixch · 3 years ago

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Tempting

smut. this is just something i wanted to write, i’ll be getting the rest of my requests out in the next few days ❤️ i promise. this has a praise kink (of course), tickling (i guess?), masturbation, watching in the mirror, squirting… i think that’s it. enjoy :)

“God, you don’t know how happy I was to hear from you,” Vinnie says, storming into y/n’s room and shutting the door behind him. He makes his way to her bed and plops himself down beside her, quickly leaning over her for a kiss before he stops himself just a few inches from her face.

“What?” She whispers, looking up at him.

He furrows his eyebrows and pulls away from her. “Are you drunk?”

“I had a few drinks,” she says. Her eyes make their way down his body to his hands - god, even his hands turn her on. She reaches out to grab him but he quickly pulls away from her.

“Y/n…” he says, disappointment filling his voice.

“What?” Her voice is almost squeaky, now worried that her intoxication is going to be an issue for him.

“We can’t if you’re drunk,” he sighs and lays back on her bed, covering his face with his elbow as he tries to come to terms with the fact he won’t be getting the relief he was so excited to get a few moments ago.

“Oh come on… it was just a few drinks, I’m perfectly fine to -“

“You smell like a damn bar, woman. You’ve had more than a few drinks,” he cuts her off, looking over at her.

“It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says, climbing to sit beside him as she leans over him. Her voice drags a little but she tries her best to hide it, wanting to appear as together as possible. Her lips hover over his as she gives him a small smile, hoping to soften him up.

He brings his hand to her face, lightly gripping her jaw to keep her at bay as he scans her face, noticing her glazed over eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Forget about it,” he says quietly, kissing the tip of her nose. As much as yearns for her lips, he can’t give in to her. Not when he’s sober and she’s all but wasted.

“Oh, c’mon,” she pouts, pulling her face away from his grip and laying her head on his chest briefly before she gets the idea to nuzzle her face into his neck.

She kisses what she knows is his sweet spot above his collarbone, slowly working her way to his earlobe to bite it gently. She lets her breath come out hot as she exhales, knowing that’s the quickest way to get him turned on.

His body stirs almost instantly, returning him to an even more intense state of excitement than the one he was in when he first got here. He tenses under her as a small groan escapes his lips and a battle breaks out in his mind between the part of him that desperately wants to give into her and the part that knows it’s wrong in her current condition.

With a deep breath and every bit of self control he can muster, he sits up again and scoots away from her on the bed. This doesn’t stop her from going after him, though.

“Vinnie,” she says in the sweetest voice she can find within herself as she straddles his legs and wraps her arms around his body in a hug, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

His hands sit firmly by his sides not wanting to grab her and encourage her, but also not being able to find the will to move her off of him. “Y/n…” he replies in a low tone.

“I promise I won’t regret it tomorrow,” she runs her hands up and down his back, pushing her hips against his to get a better feeling of the hard on in his pants.

“Nope,” he says in a monotone voice, doing his best to keep a stern demeanor against her begging. “I can’t. It’s not right and you know it.”

“I know what I want…” she pulls away from his shoulder, grazing her lips against his. “And it’s you,” she says softly, pursing her lips in a kiss. His mouth stays unmoving, not giving her anything in return.

She huffs in frustration and pushing herself against him harder, making them both fall back against the bed again.

“Look at me, Vincent…” she says, drawing her eyebrows together in her best attempt to fake any sort of dominance. “Look me in the eye,” she keeps her eyes open as she rests her forehead against his.

“I’m looking at ya, my little cyclops,” he chuckles.

Though she’s upset that he won’t give in to her, she can’t help but laugh as she pulls away from him again and runs her hands down his sides.

A small smiles stays on his face as he looks up at her and he can’t help but feel a small wave of genuine affection for her. But his smile quickly fades as the remembrance of their situation creeps back into his mind - friends with benefits, nothing more.

He sighs, pushing the thoughts out of his mind and bringing his hands to her hips, finally giving in to her. Just a little bit. His throbbing cock stays pressed firmly against the warmth between her legs and he watches as she moves her hands to her own waist.

His breath hitches in his throat when he realizes she’s about to take her shirt off, scared he won’t be able to keep his hands off of her if she’s exposed in front of him.

“Y/n,” he whispers.

She looks at him with a small pout on her face. “Are you uncomfortable?” She asks.

“No. I’m not uncomfortable,” he reassures her.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to keep going but I need you to stop because nothing can happen between us right now and you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he says quietly.

She smirks at him a little bit as she continues to lift her shirt over her head.

His eyes instantly move to her chest and his grip on her hips tighten as he feels his cheeks flush and his cock twitch a little at the sight of her.

He clears his throat and swallows hard, finally peeling his eyes away from her chest and back to her face. She gives him a coy smile, knowing she’s wearing him down and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra.

Her tits rest against her body, now fully in the open for him to see but his eyes don’t move from her face. The throbbing between her legs is almost painful at this point as she looks down at his pretty face and red cheeks.

“It’s not like we haven’t fucked plenty before,” she says softly, leaning toward his face and placing another small kiss to his lips. This time, he returns the kiss. It’s only a small one but it counts.

If they had never been together before, she would understand his hesitation - in fact, she might even be grateful for it. But they��ve been friends for a while and they’ve been physical more times than she could even count.

“And every time you’ve been sober,” he says against her lips. Despite his better judgment, he can’t help but let his hands wonder further up her waist.

“It’s not like I’m black out drunk right now. I’m coherent, I can still think for myself. I want you when I’m sober and I want you now,” she says, kissing him again.

He lets out a breath as he realizes he’s not winning this battle with her. And if she keeps pushing him, he’s not going to win the one with himself, either.

“How about… how about you get yourself off. And I tell you what to do the whole time,” he says, bringing one hand from her waist and brushing her hair behind her ear.

His plan surprises her. She’s not sure how she feels about it at first but the idea quickly becomes exciting.

“Really?” She asks, sitting up again.

“Yeah,” he nods. “That way you get off and but we don’t actually do anything together.”

“Okay… but I feel bad about you,” she says, looking down to his waistline and grinding her hips a little to draw attention to his erection.

“I’ll be fine… maybe we can do something in the morning if I stay the night,” he smiles as the plan comes together. This way, he also has an excuse to stay the night with her without it being too obvious that he really just wants to spend a little more time with her.

“Okay. But first thing in the morning, we’re getting you off too,” she says, moving off of his lap. He sits up again to stand and walks over to her dresser, searching through the top drawer.

“What are we going to do?” She asks.

“Where’s your vibrator?”

“In the nightstand beside the bed,” she points.

“You moved it?” He asks, making his way to the other side of the room and opening the nightstand’s drawer.

“Yeah… well, I was using it a little bit ago but you sounded a whole lot better so, you know,” she smiles and shrugs.

He chuckles, shaking his head and climbs back on the bed. He rests his back against the headboard and opens his arms, inviting her to sit between his legs. “C’mere. Sit with your back against me.”

She nods and eagerly makes her way into that position, resting the back of her head against his shoulder.

“Step by step, follow my commands,” he says quietly. His breath right against her ear sends tingles down her spine and makes her hair stand on end as she nods in agreement.

“Take your pants off.”

She quickly obeys him, sliding her pants off her legs and tossing them to the side. He hands her the vibrator and then points to the mirror on the wall directly across the bed where they can see themselves perfectly.

“Look in the mirror and don’t look away,” he says. “Spread your legs.”

She nods and does as he says, resting her feet on either side of his legs, leaving herself wide open. Seeing the look of lust for her in his eyes through the mirror is already pushing her beyond excitement and into a whole new level of desperation. She feels almost animalistic for him as her heart starts pounding in her chest, anticipating the next few minutes between them.

He bites his lip looking at her and takes a deep breath to gather himself before speaking again. “Turn the vibrator on and bring it to your neck.”

She’s a bit confused at his demand, but turns it on. The moment it touches her neck, a small and breathless laugh escapes her from her mouth as her whole body tenses and feels electrified under the vibration.

She realizes where he was going with this and take a moment to appreciate him in her head. One thing she loves about Vinnie is that he knows exactly what to do to get her going - things she’d never even think of for herself, like this.

“You like that?” He asks softly, smiling as he rests his chin on the shoulder opposite of where her vibrator is.

“Yeah,” she nearly squeals as she squirms a little. She starts to pull it away but he taps her thigh.

“Keep it there until I say to stop,” he says.

“Okay,” she nods, keeping the vibrator in place as she lets out another small laugh mixed with a little discomfort. The feeling starts to become almost too much as goosebumps form across her body and her breathing becomes more difficult with her body staying in that tensed state for a little too long. But him… he’s elated watching her struggle a little against it.

“Vinnie,” she whines out.

“Just a little longer,” he smiles and pulls away from her a little bit to give her room for his next instruction. “Move it closer to your back, around to your shoulder blade.”

She nods again, closing her eyes to brace with the feeling as she drags the vibrator around from the crease of her neck, past her ear then to her back. The feeling is even more intense than it was on her neck, causing her to recoil slightly under the hum of it.

“Hold it,” he says, seeing her reaction and knowing she wants to pull it away.

She can’t acknowledge his words in any other way than to do what he’s telling her, holding it there. Just as she’s afraid she won’t be able to take it anymore, he finally speaks again. “Move it down to your tits.”

“Okay,” she breathes out, happy to finally get a little relief. She drags it down to her chest, running it in small circles over each of her nipples as she pushes her back against his chest again, returning the back of her head to his shoulder.

She lets out small moans as her nipples become harder under the stimulation. “Feels so good.”

“I know baby,” he says softly, fighting his urge to massage her tits himself. His cock is so strained against his pants at this point that it’s actually painful, and he knows he’s going to have to excuse himself to the bathroom as soon as she’s finished to quietly relieve himself. He’s not going to be able to wait until the morning.

“Move it to your clit,” he says, gripping the sheets beside him as he braces himself for the most exciting part of it all.

She nods and eagerly moves it to her wet core. The second it touches her clit, a loud moan erupts from her throat and her whole body starts throbbing against him.

She closes her eyes, melting into the pleasure and he brings his open palm to her face, laying a light smack to her cheek. “Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he demands.

She opens her eyes again, quickly shifting her gaze back to the mirror in front of them.

“Good girl,” he smiles. “You see how your perfect little pussy pulses like that?”

Her eyes shift down from his face, to the sight between her legs. “Mhmm,” she moans.

“I fucking love that. That’s how I know I’ve got you right where I want you,” he smiles, kissing her shoulder. “Wrapped around my finger… usually literally.”

She lets out a small giggle and another moans comes from her throat as she struggles to keep her eyes open against the pleasure.

“I want you Vinnie,” she whines, turning her head to look at him. She craves the feeling of him inside of her.

“You’ve got me, baby. I’m right here. Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he kisses her forehead. “So good for me, I love this.”

“Can… can you take your shirt off at least? I wan - wanna feel you against me,” she stutters.

“Yes, I can do that,” he says. She leans forward, not moving the vibrator from her clit as he slides his shirt off. Though she can’t see him fully, images of his physique fill her mind and she relaxes back into him again, feeling his warmth against her back.

His arms come and grip her waist as he speaks against her ear again. “Put it inside you.”

Chills from his breath roll through her body again and she slides the vibrator into herself with ease, giving her a whole new sensation.

A groan escapes his lips as he watches the way she wraps around the toy, wishing more than anything that it was him inside of her. He even goes as far as to scold her in his head for inviting him over while she’s drunk, but he can’t stay mad at her for it. He’s truthfully just happy to be here with her, despite the torture she’s putting him through.

He smiles against her skin, realizing he might even like this type of frustration, however mind numbingly crazy it drives him. “Start thrusting it.”

She turns it up to the max speed as she pulls it out of her and pushes it back in again and again. Her eyes start to close again but she catches herself and moves up a little bit to keep herself alert. Every thrust of it send waves of ecstasy through her entire body, from her hands to her feet.

“Go faster,” he says, biting her shoulder just enough for her to feel it.

She picks up the pace instantly, making her hips lift off the bed a little as she pushes against the toy, loving ever bit of the way it feel inside of her and the way he feels against her back.

“You think you can squirt for me, baby?” He moans, moving his hands into his pockets to keep himself under control.

“Yeah!” She moans, already feeling the pressure building.

“Of course you can, my good girl can do it all,” he kisses her shoulder. “Keep thrusting just like that, a little faster if you need to. Pull it out fast when you think you’re ready, just we like always do.”

She nods, unable to speak through her pleasure and moans. She picks up the pace, and her free hand grabs his knee as she squeezes it for dear life. The pressure builds and builds before she finally pulls the vibrator out of her, watching in the mirror as the clear liquid soaks the bed in front of them.

The both laugh a little and she goes right back to thrusting the vibrator in herself, moving quickly again to try and get one more round of this. The pressure builds almost instantly and she does the same thing a second time, soaking herself, his pants, and the bed.

“God, that’s perfect baby! You got it. Making a mess all over the place, my pretty girl,” he groans against her skin. His right hand leaves his pocket, instinctually reaching for her pussy to finish her off but he stops himself, balling his hand into a fist.

He mutters a few expletives under his breath at himself as the same battle as before wages in his mind. “Move it back to your clit,” he says fiercely at her, getting legitimately frustrated at this point. “Now.”

He wants to touch her so bad, he almost can’t even stand it. But he decides to just grip her throat instead. At least it’s just her throat.

His palm wraps around her neck and he takes careful note of the tightness of his grip, not wanting to accidentally put too much pressure on her in the heat of his own desire.

His hand on her sends her close to the edge as he throws her head back against him, moaning and whining through the powerful sensations ripping through her body.

“I’m gonna… cum!” She finally squeaks out.

“Not yet,” he says, moving his other hand from his pocket and gripping her thigh, letting his nails dig into her just a little.

“But…” she moans again, unsure if she’s going to be able to hold back.

“You can do it, baby. Just a few more seconds,” he says, completely entranced by the way her body is grinding. He just wants to savor this last bit of her before she releases.

“I can’t,” she groans, inching closer and closer to her peak.

“A few more seconds. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1,” he finally releases her throat, letting the blood rush back to her head and sending her off into euphoria. “Cum baby, you deserve it. You’re so good for me, made me so proud holding back until I said so,” he moans, resting his lips against her neck.

Her orgasm hits her hard, and her eyes roll back with her legs shaking. Her moans and the sound of the vibrator fill the otherwise quiet room around them as she rides her high out.

“Mmm, fuck,” he sighs, happy that she finally got her release and relieved that she won’t be tempting him anymore tonight.

Once her high passes, it takes her a minute to come back around to reality as she tries to catch her breath.

“What do we say?” He smiles, brushing her hair back off her sweaty forehead.

“Thank you for letting me cum,” she smiles, finally calming down again.

“Good girl baby,” he kisses her forehead. “Now, I gotta pee. Get comfortable in bed and I’ll be right back. We can clean up later.”

She nods, still dazed as he gently lifts her over his leg, laying her beside him. He gets up and nearly trips over himself trying to get into the bathroom.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, he desperately pulls his pants down just far enough to expose himself and sits on the edge of the tub as he begins to stroke his cock.

All he can think about is her and what she just did - the way her moans were vibrating against his lips on her neck and the way she begged for him the whole time.

He looks down sees the release of her squirting still soaked through his pants resting against his thigh and almost instantly gets hit with his own orgasm. He throws his head back, biting his lip to keep his moans quiet as he cums against his stomach.

Once he’s done he takes a deep breath and stand up, walking over to the sink. He turns the water on low, wiping himself clean and washing hands then takes a moment to gather his thoughts before pulling his pants up.

He walks over to flush the toilet and turns the sink on a little higher so she’s not suspicious of what he’s actually doing in here.

Once he’s sure he can face her again, he turns the sink off and opens the door to make his way back to her bed, still a little lightheaded.

He lays next to her, pulling her against him and she looks at him, immediately noticing the flushed look on his face and the fact that his erection is gone.

“Did you just jack off in there?” She asks in a serious tone. The look on his face when he realizes he’s been caught makes her laugh and she rests her head against his chest.

“Was it obvious?” He asks, chuckling with her.

“Just a lucky guess,” she smiles and kisses his cheek.

“I’m still gonna rail the hell out of you first thing in the morning,” he smirks down at her, gently rubbing his hand across her head.

“Ugh. I can’t fucking wait,” she smiles.

#vincent hacker #vinnie hacker #vinniehacker #vinnie #vincenthacker #vinnie fanfic #vinnie x reader #vinniehackerfanfic #vinniehackerimagines #vinniehackersmut

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lebenspurpur · 3 years ago

Note

date headcanons? as in like where the slashers would take u for a date/what takes place? idk how to word this i’m sorry😭😭😭

AN: I gotcha, no worries.

Warnings: Cursing, mention of weed, cigarettes, and alcohol, mentions of NSFW but nothing acted on, not really proofread

Wordcount: 2256 words

(Just a reminder that I usually write for RZ Michael unless requested otherwise.)

🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸🕷⛧🕸

Michael Myers

Okay, so, Michael hates going out.

He'd rather stay in, watch a splatter movie, stuff like that.

Outside is an enemy, he has to be someone else out there to not get caught and he hates it.

What he secretly loves is when you just cook for him and you both eat outside on the porch. Even better if autumn's just approaching and it's just warm enough to sit out there without freezing. And even if you freeze, Michael will gladly wrap his arms around you if it means staying out here a bit longer. It feels like a temporary escape. From himself, from this world and he treasures these times like nothing else.

If you don't have time or motivation to cook, that's fine. He'll get take-out from one of these greasy fucking shops downtown and then you two can watch a horror movie and relax.

Most of the time, his "dates" happen in the most unholy times ever. Be prepared to wake up to pizza at 3 am.

Michael gives me such weird metal-head stoner vibes and I'm here for it.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wants to be romantic so, so bad. I mean look at him. Vincent is the definition of a simp and I love him so much for that.

He hates himself for not being able to go out with you.

He works really, really hard to make it up to you.

His favorite type of dates are going out late in the night, stars sparkling on the warm summer sky over Ambrose. He'll take a blanket with you, one of Bo's, scratchy and itching your soft skin but you couldn't care less. It's him, you know. You'll lay there, maybe with a few cigarettes, snacks, red wine, whatever you want, enjoying how silent, how ethereal it is. Maybe he'll draw you, maybe he won't. Sometimes you wish he would, just to feel his fingers ghost over your skin, shaping your body with his hands. They're so cold, making you shiver but his touch is smooth and tender like always and it just fits so perfectly to the ambiance, to the tranquility, it makes your heart swell with love for your boy.

On other days, he tries to cook for you which most of the time, fails horribly. But hey, it's the thought that counts. The candles and classical music are still a delight, even if you're eating microwaved left-overs with the smell of burned food lingering in the air.

Bo Sinclair

Bo really wants to be a gentleman but most of the time, he fails at being one.

Even though he hates the outside world and its people, he does enjoy taking you out.

I can see Bo going to one of these steak houses whose names already sound greasy. I hate it, wow.

Anyway, dinner is always something he enjoys. It's relaxing and he can spoil you.

Another thing you wouldn't expect from him are amusement parks. He hides it a lot, but Bo loves being a little child again, just running around and having fun. Amusement parks are one way to do that.

He'll buy you candy that'll make you sick but none of you cares as you rush through the crowds, hand gripping onto his sleeve as you tug him to one of the bigger rides, a childish grin on display. Bo can't help but laugh, the charming sound making him look 10 years younger as he forgets about his struggles for a while, occup[ied by your smile, your hand in his.

Lester Sinclair

Okay, Lester's dates are top tier.

They're quiet, sure, and most of them are completely improvised but he's so sweet and adorable, you can't help but adore them.

He'll plan a picnic at one of the lakes around Ambrose. Jonesy with you in the car, he'll blast that horrible country music and sing to you, voice all wrong and out of tune but he's grinning anyway because he can already see you giggle at his performance. During the picnic, Jonesy keeps trying to steal food and Lester gets adorably annoyed at it. He tries to catch her, maybe leave her in the car while you're eating but she just runs away and it ends with the dog pushing him into the lake.

Thankfully, there's a blanket in the car and so you wrap it around him, cuddling up to your favorite trash boy to warm him up. He's grumbling under his breath but you can't help the chuckles escaping your lips. You stay there for a while, enjoying the warmth and the fuzzy feelings inside each other's bodies.

Baby Firefly

Baby surprisingly doesn't have any experience with dates.

She usually met people in bars downtown, greasy, dirty, dim-lit places. Approaches often led to quickies in stained bathrooms, encounters leaving her satisfied yet filthy, it was enough to please the lust, the adventurous lifestyle inside of her.

With you, she tries her best to change that. Not everything happening between the two of you is adventurous, it's intimate, it's even romantic sometimes. She wants to accentuate that, show you that you're different from the one-night-stands, the people she met before you entered her life.

She loves cute little dates. Doing your makeup and taking you out for example. Maybe you could visit the new coffee shop that opened down in the city? Go eat ice cream? Maybe have a walk in the park?

She's very traditional when it comes to dates but it's Baby, you know. She always manages to make even the most normal things a special event.

Otis Driftwood

Otis hates every single thing that could be considered normal. Dates are one of those things. His mission is to make something original, create something fun for both of you yet doesn't remind him of the cursed society around him, the masses of people he hates so much.

His favorite thing to do with you is something creative and chill. Maybe share a blunt, paint something, if you're down for that, even with blood.

Or drive around in his filthy truck that smells like cigarettes and vomit but it's alright because he is there, joking around while he threatens to drive the car off the road. You'll stop at your favorite liquor store, ready to just fuck around for a few hours, forget all about responsibility and problems.

He'll take that to his grave but he loves your chuckles, your laugh, the bright, blinding grin you send his way. It makes him dizzy from all the fuzzy feelings inside his chest, he swears he won't ever allow himself to lose you.

Billy Loomis

I imagine a lot of people think Billy is a very classic person when it comes to dates. He's really not.

Billy is a giant nerd. I don't think people really pick up on that. In the movies, his entire personality rotates around the horror movies he's watched.

Therefore, his favorite date would be a movie marathon. While horror is his favorite genre, everything is fine as long as it's not romance. He can't take that.

He'll get snacks, some drinks and oh, he'll be so giddy, so excited to talk about all his favorite actors, his favorite scenes. He's that one person that stops the movie to explain a special scene to you.

The whole excitement makes him tired too, so the marathon will likely end with him falling asleep in your lap, face scrunched up in delight. Too obsessed with his adorable state, you often fall asleep in a more or less terribly uncomfortable position, that leaves your neck hurting for days after the date.

To make it up to you, he makes pancakes to wake you up. Walking towards you, he rips you from your dreams with a kiss that tastes like maple syrup and mouthwash, his unshaved cheek scratching yours as he smiles into your skin.

Stu Macher

Stu has a pretty playful personality.

Therefore, it's not much of a surprise that his favorite kind of dates are spontaneous ones, that kind where you just drive away, with no idea where you're going, feeling excited and free, like two teenage runaways.

You never know where you'll end up.

Sometimes it's in another state, sometimes it's in some kind of underground bar. There have been times where you nearly got into trouble, situations where your feelings threatened to overspill, fear and aggression taking over but Stu's always there to calm them, make them seem like weak little problems that you shouldn't care about. Even after nearly being shot because you witnessed something you shouldn't have, Stu succeeds in making it better with his adorable grin and his adorable laugh.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is a virgin when it comes to dates. How can you blame him? Poor boy hasn't interacted with anyone but his family and victims in over ten years.

He's happy to be in your presence, doesn't matter where it is or what you're doing.

Thomas doesn't have the time nor the interest in doing something that's super adventurous and spontaneous. He enjoys sweet little dates, cute and adorable events that leave you both with delight and warmth.

Picnics are something he often surprises you with. He might not be the best cook but Luda often helps him organize the food and drinks so he can focus on choosing a place.

Finally being there he just enjoys leaning back, finally relaxing from his rather stressful schedule. He won't ask for it but if you start cuddling up to him, he'll just melt into your touch. Thomas adores your touches, your fingers against his cheek as he gazes into your eyes.

Josef

Josef is a very outdoorsy person. Hiking, swimming, crafting things outside, just makes him happy.

Even if you're not a very sporty person, he'll manage to drag you outside. Most of the time, it'll be super spontaneous too.

Still, his favorite dates are the ones at night. A blanket beneath your bodies, pressed against each other to save warmth while you gaze up at the stars, astonished at the brightness and number. Josef's hands will softly intertwine with yours, big rough fingers encasing yours as he softly looks at you, stars long forgotten over your pretty side profile.

Another great thing to do is cooking for you. Josef loves cooking and he loves it even more if he can do it for you. He'll turn on your favorite songs and hum the familiar melodies as he dances around the kitchen, long hair in a bun. You're sitting at the counter, smiling at his movements. Every now and then he walks up to you, holding a spoon up to your mouth, feeding you a small sample of his cooking which always manages to surprise you.

Amanda Young

Amanda likes to pretend that she hates dates. Which is a lie. She really doesn't hate them.

Though her schedule is pretty tight, meaning she rarely has time to offer, time she could spend with you. When she does, she always tries to make it special. She'll give you gifts, something you talked about a week or two ago, maybe a few of your favorite snacks on top of that.

Amanda cooks for you, surprisingly well at that, she even lights candles and puts on your favorite music.

After dinner, she draws you a bath and even though she keeps reminding you that this is about you, you manage to get her to join you inside of the hot water. She isn't really difficult to manipulate, considering your body is so close, so warm, and only a few meters away.

If you're not sleepy afterward, she'll gladly put on a shitty movie, cuddle you while you keep laughing about the horrible film she's chosen. She'll kiss you to sleep, lips lingering on your scalp, so warm and noticeable even in the trance state you're currently in.

Jason Vorhees

Dates?

He is cursing himself for never thinking about that.

After all, what are his choices, here, in the middle of nowhere?

Soon, he grows to love simple trips to the lake. Especially in summer, he likes to fish, swim, just random things in the water. He won't admit it but seeing you in your swim clothes also adds to his preference. He doesn't even think about it in a dirty way, he just loves seeing your body.

Another great idea for a date is a hunting trip. Now, that might sound boring, but to Jason protecting you is very, very important. Spending time with you while showing you how to survive in the wild without him? A jackpot.

Asa Emory

Asa loves spoiling you. He has the money to do so, why wouldn't he?

He is the typical "expensive dinner" guy. He just absolutely adores seeing your pretty body, your pretty smile in a rich and aesthetically pleasing setting like that, no matter the cost.

Expensive dinner, overpriced wine, horrible snobby people all around you, the thought just amuses him and he can not get enough of it.

While you're there, why not make fun of the people around you? He likes the way your eyes crinkle when he mentions how the old couple next to you doesn't exchange a single word with each other during the time they've been in the restaurant.

After that, he'll go on a walk with you, fingers touching your waist just high enough to be tolerable in public while you strut along the closed shops, neon lights flickering above the two of you.

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slasherhaven · 4 years ago

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okay okay, now I REALLY gotta ask: following up on the art s/o request, how would the boys feel if they've found LEWD drawings of themselves in their love's sketchbooks 😏😏

The Slashers reacting to their S/O’s lewd sketches of them:

Thomas Hewitt

Honestly...good for his self esteem. The sketches are definitely surprising to him, he wasn’t expecting them and he supposes it’s a way of reminding him why he shouldn’t go nosing around in your belongings. He’s definitely flustered but you must think rather highly of him to draw these...and looking at himself through your eyes, he can see himself more positively.

Still very flustered though. You drew these...adding all those details. Yeah, he’s extra thankful for the mask right now because he’s blushing. When you catch him with your sketchbook in hand, he’s even more flustered, and very apologetic. Will blush every time he sees those sketchbooks.

Michael Myers

That usual stoic expression as he presents you with them. He places the open book down in front of you, lewd sketches of himself on the pages. You look up at him with wide eyes, unable to tell what he was thinking or feeling, as usual. He just looks between you and the pages, like he wanted an explanation. So you gave him one, even if you stuttered once or twice.

Silently teases you about it. He is admittedly curious about the images but more amused by your reaction. He doesn’t need to speak to tease you. Hiding the sketchbooks so that you have to ask him for them, randomly placing one of your drawings in front of you, sometimes you even know what he’s thinking just from the way he’s looking at you. And he never fails to get a reaction from you.

Jason Voorhees

Feels like he shouldn’t be looking at these. Even though they’re of him...he feels like they’re private to you. He’s certainly flustered and even more so if you catch him. He won’t approach you about it, that’s all your business, but he isn’t going to hold it against you either. Just maybe blush a bit whenever he sees you for a little while.

It’s a little...freeing. If he had stumbled across these when you first got together, he would be freaked out and probably distanced himself from you for a long time. But now, now that you already have an intimate relationship, that you’re close and you trust each other. It’s actually a little freeing because it’s all the more convincing that all of this is nothing to be ashamed off, something that you’re still trying to help him with.

Brahms Heelshire

Super smug. Look at how good he looks in these! You must really like him and must be really attracted to him to make and keep all of these. He’ll have them spread out around him as he examines each other. He didn’t realise you thought so much about his nude body, he’s going to have to bring this up to you! He has plenty of compliments, not really stopping if you’re flustered by his discovery.

Could you, maybe...do some of yourself? These are nice and everything, very flattering, but he would much prefer having some lewd sketches of you than himself. Oh! Better idea! How about you do some sketches of you both together? He would love those and some would definitely go ‘missing’.

Bo Sinclair

Not sure whether to be smug or freaked out. He just isn’t sure how to feel. It definitely feeds his ego and makes him even more cocky than usual but he also thinks it’s a little strange. He knows you’re an artist and everything but...would a photograph just be easier? No offence, Bo just does understand the artist process. All he knows if he would rather have a picture of you rather than a sketch.

Will tease you about it. Despite all of that, he knows what this means. You just can’t get enough of him, can you? Something about him must enthral you so much that you just have to spend your free time sketching his nudes from memory. That also makes him smirk, you’ve memorised every detail of his body. You’re feeding that ego and it’s your own fault!

Vincent Sinclair

Very flustered under the mask. That mask might be pale but his face his bright red. But does that stop him from flicking through your sketchbook? Not at all! He’s...curious, sure, that’s the word. All of these sketches of him. The artist in him admires the talent and detail. The normal guy in him wonders what you are doing drawing his body. Similar to Thomas, it probably builds his self esteem just a little.

Is more likely to show you his own. Of course he has done plenty of sketches of you, even before you were dating. You inspire him. He might have already shown you one or two but only ever the innocent ones. The more inappropriate ones he didn’t dare share with you. It felt wrong to make them but he loved them, loved you, so much. But you clearly have the same artistic inspiration so...maybe he should show you some of his sketches of you.

Lester Sinclair

Has to double check. Are these really of him? They really look like him. Do you really think he is worthy of drawing and of drawing like...this. Everything was so...accurate. You must have done this from memory, you must know his body better than him at this point. And he found something about that both flattering and...exciting.

Mutual embarrassment. You’re embarrassed because he found your sketches, he’s embarrassed because you just walked in on him flexing in the mirror. He was trying to see what you see! He’s just had an ego boost! He’s honest with you though, you don’t have to be embarrassed. He’s very flattered and they’re really good. And, well...you don’t have to stop drawing them.

Bubba Sawyer

This is him? Of course it’s him, it looks exactly like him, and who else would you be drawing in these...situations. He’s a little flustered but any of that is wiped away by his curiosity. He’s able to look past the lewdness of it all, just so proud of your talent. Then he focuses back on exactly what it was you were drawing and blushes ten times harder.

Let’s just hide these a little better, yeah? They’re very good, very impressive, and he likes them. But he couldn’t even imagine the teasing both you and he would get from his brothers if they found any of these. You both agree that they’re just for the two of you.

Billy Lenz

Naughty, dirty, little Y/n...As soon as he sees the first one, he’s grabbing the book and heading for the attic to properly relax and examine them. Muttering to himself the whole time about how naughty you are for drawing these. And when you get home, he’s scurrying to meet you, forcing the sketchbook into your hands. Wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear all about your pretty drawing.

Maybe you should do more of these...including you. Really, he thinks they’re wonderful, very talented, very detailed. You should do more! But do you know what might be better? If you did some more of him that included you, wouldn’t that just be so much better, Y/n? Will keep his favourites up in the attic.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Teases you about it. He just likes seeing you flustered, that’s it really. And this is the perfect opportunity. He’ll be sitting in the lounge, them spread out on the coffee table, two in his hands as he examines them. They’re good, he will give you that, but the look on your face when you find him like that is even better.

Becomes determined to make these sketches a reality. Asa now sees this as a challenge almost. Whatever fantasies you have put to paper, he wants to make them real. Every position, location, whatever it is, you will both work your way through them. Not that it feels like work.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Appreciates the art form. He prefers videos but he appreciates your preference for drawing. He particularly appreciates your art when it paints him in such a positive light. So you have these drawing of him...can he have some videos of you?

He’s not bashful about it. He’s flattered! He sees your talent and compliments you on it. But his new favourite thing to do? Taking one of those drawings and placing it down in front of you, making you look up at him, wide eyed and flustered. But it gets the message across just fine, this is the sketch he would like to recreate tonight. You’re pretty sure he only does it to make you flustered though.

Otis Driftwood

Is surprised but will tease you about it. He definitely wasn’t expecting this but it’s better than anything he could have guessed you liked drawing. It definitely inflates his ego that you’re drawing him at all and the fact that most of them are so lewd is even better to him. He doesn’t think they’re any need to be embarrassed or ashamed, they’re really good! But he can’t resist teasing you about your infatuation with him.

Will definitely show you his own (if he hasn’t already). It’s perfectly possible that he’s already showed you his pornographic sketches of you, and he has a lot of the. But if he hasn’t, this will definitely get him too. You show him yours and he’ll show you his, it’s only fair even to him. Plus he hopes it will encourage you to share any future sketches with him.

Baby Firefly

Is flattered and think you’re cute when you blush about it. She’s honestly just flattered and impressed. They’re good! You’re so talented! But if you’re embarrassed or blushing about her finding them, she will both compliment and reassure you while teasing you just a little. You’re too cute to not tease at least a bit.

Will pose for you in future. Baby doesn’t really have any embarrassment about this kind of stuff, and she clearly has nothing to be ashamed off if you keep making these. So of course she will pose for you, she might even get more into it than you.

Yautja (Predator)

Are these for...science? No? When he first finds them, he believes them to be studies of his anatomy. He is curious about your race and it makes sense that you’d be interested in his, wanting to learn as much as you want. But as he kept looking through the sketches, he could see that these were not scientific.

Flattered. He’s not going to get flustered, this type of stuff doesn��t really bother him. He feels a sense of pride that you admire him so much to put your time into these, he’s also impressed by their accuracy.

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

Text

Melting Wax, Crawling Vines: Part 11 (Vincent Sinclair x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering, cum-eating, trauma, blood/gore, hypersexuality as a way to cope my dudes

Word Count: 3846

The smut chapter I promised is finally here

It had been a month and you'd been thinking about it. You knew you shouldn't have. That it did nothing to help you. That going over the events over and over in your mind would only bring back more pain. But, like a wound on the inside of your cheek, you couldn't help but touch it.

You were pouring your cup of coffee, thinking about the blood. The gore. The broken face and his final cry. You thought about what he'd been trying to tell you, what he'd been trying to get at. The wax bodies all over town. He'd mentioned your type, and, for a moment, you wondered if you really were just attracted to crazy. You shook your head. Vincent wasn't crazy. Bo on the other hand. Maybe. But Vincent was lucid. And he still did the thing he did. You bit the inside of your cheek. Okay, maybe your track record wasn't amazing. And maybe if you'd listened to him-

"Shit." You said, feeling the hot coffee touch your hand. Your thoughts had gone elsewhere for too long, to the point where you'd overfilled your cup until the coffee spread across the counter and down onto the floor. You were quick to grab some paper towels to clean up your mess, and Vincent was reaching over to help you. He quickly signed,

"You okay?" And you gave him a nod. It wasn't a lie. Physically, you hadn't been hurt more than a minor shock of the initial burn. Mentally, however? That was another story. You ended up dumping out a little bit of your cup, just so you wouldn't end up spilling it on your way down to the workshop.

You spent all of your time with Vincent. You went down to his workshop with him, carrying your coffee and your breakfast. You were going to spend some time reading, maybe take a nap, and try your best to hold onto your slipping sanity. Vincent, despite his hobby, was a big help. He understood that the whole event was traumatizing, and your hesitance to really leave the safety of the workshop. It was away from the rest of the world, perfectly hidden and the perfect place to recoup yourself. He would let you lay in his bed, reading, sleeping, or even prepping for some more lessons for the others.

But, after you finished eating, you couldn't find it in you to pick up the book you'd left on the side of Vincent's bed. You knew you could try your hand at drawing, as Vincent had offered to let you use any of his notebooks and had given you some of his own lessons. After a moment, you asked for some of his pencils and he was quick to offer you a variety of drawing tools. Charcoal, pencils, pens, markers. You almost wanted to ask if he had crayons. You chose a simple pencil, before you reached for one of his notebooks and began flipping through the pages. Vincent always let you use whatever you wanted. He had plenty of notebooks, plenty of tools. It was rare that he'd ever need all of them, and he always told you that it was all at your disposal.

So, you hadn't expected to find what you did. You knew that Vincent drew you. Hell, you'd posed for some of his drawings. But this was not the usual portraits you found. You flipped further, quickly figuring out that this notebook seemed to have one specific purpose. Part of you wanted to just tuck it away and pretend you never saw anything. And another part of you wanted to tease him ruthlessly for it.

Finally, you decided on the former. You tucked that particular notebook away, looking for a different one for you to begin sketching in. As much as you just wanted to draw whatever came to mind, you found the only thing that came to mind was Vincent.

You and Vincent had kissed and done some light touching, but your original path had been undoubtedly slowed by what happened with your ex. Vincent didn't want to push, you knew. So, the most you'd done was a few light kisses that you'd initiated, and it was always nothing more than something to relieve some of your stress or to bask in the comfort of the early morning. You were aware that Vincent was inexperienced, but it was almost reassuring to see that he did desire you. Even if he planned on keeping it to himself.

You stared at him for a moment. You watched the way his hands moved, how they moved with the utmost precision and certainty. How his movements were both gentle and sure, like a well oiled machine. The muscle you knew he possessed was covered by a sweater that hung off of him, and his long black hair was tied back at his neck. You wished for this morning to return, wished that you'd spent more time running your hands through it. Well, you knew you'd get to play with it when you settled for bed.

You drew him until Vincent was done with his pet project, a lamp for the upstairs bedroom. When Vincent came over to peek at what you'd been drawing, you thought you could see a crinkle in his eye and you watched the way he played with his hands. He was embarrassed, you could tell, and, after a moment, he signed,

"Me?" And you gave him a smile and a nod. He turned away, busying himself by fixing his ponytail. But you knew he was pleased. You smiled to yourself. Even if it wasn't as good as Vincent's, he still liked it. He grabbed the lamp, holding it with one arm. You were quick to say and sign,

"You're going upstairs?" And he gave you a nod. After a moment, he moved it in his arms to comfortably sign,

"You don't have to come." He said, and you bit your lip. You knew that he knew you liked to avoid the House of Wax as much as possible. After everything that happened there, he understood. You frowned. It had once been your favorite place in all of Ambrose. You glanced down the hallway. But you didn't really like being alone in the basement either. You sighed, deciding that you'd rather face your issues than stay alone in the basement.

"It's fine. I'll come." You said, and you pulled on your slippers and one of Vincent's sweaters over your pajamas. You couldn't ignore how Vincent seemed happy, even if he wouldn't say anything. He held out his hand for you, and you took it and gave it a squeeze.

He guided you through the underground tunnels, even if you'd been going through them long enough to know where to go. He walked up the steps, and you absentmindly reached out to touch the faces carved into the walls as Vincent walked in front of you. You were following him like a lost little puppy, your mind elsewhere as you tried not to let memories of what happened the month before flood your mind. Surprisingly, you were able to find a pretty good distraction.

You thought about the images that Vincent had drawn, all the positions he must've imagined. Even if he was inexperienced, he definitely had quite the imagination. As Vincent guided you and you trailed behind him silently, your mind flooding with different images of all the ways Vincent could take you. On your back, one your stomach, on your knees. You tried not to blush as you thought a particular angle that made it clear Vincent had been imagining something slightly more self serving.

It made it so you could completely ignore all the terrible reminders of what you'd done, up until you were in the wax bedroom Vincent had created. You glanced at the bed, immediately imagining Vincent in-between your legs. And then you in-between his . It was almost unfair. Vincent seemed to know about every little dip and curve you had, how he knew that you'd figure out another time, but you had barely seen anything. A couple of flashes here or there, but Vincent was shy. He kept his clothes on even when you did some experimental touching. You bit your lip, just before Vincent signed,

"You okay?"

***

Vincent knew this was a bad idea, but he didn't want to force you to stay in the basement. Any time you came up into the House of Wax usually didn't end well, and his nerves only grew as your silence stretched on.

He watched how you bit your lip, refused to meet his eyes. How you seemed far off and in your own head, millions of miles away from him and where you were. He thought the flush on your cheeks was just from the heat of wearing his sweater. Why would it be from anything else?

Even when you nodded and assured him that you were fine, Vincent didn't believe you. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew he should've just waited until you went to take a nap. Then, he could've slipped away and been back before you ever knew the wiser. Instead, he'd brought you here and now you were- His self deprecating paused as you reached a hand under his sweater.

His hand instantly went around your wrist, but he didn't pull it away. It was out of surprise more than anything, but his grip quickly relaxed. Still, his bigger hands circled your wrist as your hand moved. It was just the lightest of touches, your fingertips barely brushing against his skin. You were touching the flesh of his side, before your hand was sliding up and you were moving your palm across his abdomen. Feeling his happy trail, before teasing the edge of his sweatpants. He stared down at you, watching as you gazed up at him. You were still biting your lip, your cheeks were still flushed, but he finally noticed the way your pupils had blown out and- Oh . Vincent wasn't the most experienced. It's probably why it took him this long to figure out what you'd been thinking about. Or what he assumed you were. A quick thought told him he was being silly, that you couldn't possibly want that.

Even as you leaned up to nip and kiss at his collarbone, as your hands pushed his shirt up further and felt the expanse of his chest. Even as you leaned forward to suck a hickey into his chest, leaving him practically trembling. He didn't believe you could want him like that up until you whispered,

***

"Vincent, can I touch you?" You watched as a look of surprise was quick to flit through his eye. He gave you a nod, almost a jerk of his head compared to his usual slow movements. You gave him a grin, before you were sliding your hand under his pants. You'd never been so bold before with him, but you couldn't help it. You wanted to know. Wanted to feel the weight in your hand. On your tongue.

You barely had to brush your fingers against the front of his briefs before you could feel that he was half-hard already. A few more light brushes and he was straining against the material of his underwear. Vincent let out a soft noise, the sound of a puff of air hitting his mask. You had barely touched him, but he already looked half-wrecked. It occurred to you then that Vincent probably wouldn't last long, and it was strange to you. To hold power over someone.

You pushed his sweatpants down his narrow hips, sinking onto your knees in front of him. He practically jumped when he realized what you were doing, and you quickly asked,

"Is this alright?" But he was quick to nod. He leaned back, resting back on the dresser he'd made. He motioned for you to continue, and you smiled up to him as you leaned forward to nuzzle the crotch of his pants. Your nose bumped along his clothed cock, before you were giving it an experimental lick through the fabric of his underwear. You heard him sigh again, and you watched as he tightened his grip on the edge of the dresser. "You're so handsome, Vincent." You whispered the praise, kissing along the waistband before you were tugging his underwear down. You looked up, seeing that his flush was heading down his neck and towards the tips of his ears. Once again you asked, "You're okay, right? You'll tell me if you want me to stop?" He'd started to fist his sweater, to bring it up to hide his face. He gave you another quick nod and you pulled him free. You gave him a few experimental pumps, leaning in to lick along his shaft to lubricate your hand. You watched how Vincent shivered at the feeling of your wet appendage, and you had to bite back a satisfied grin. After that, you didn't waste any time wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock.

You sucked him off slowly, flattening your tongue against the underside as you bobbed your head half-way. He was big, as big as his height and the size of his hands may have suggested, and thick. Even if you were more experienced than him, you found it difficult to fit him completely down your throat.

His hands tugged and pulled at the fabric of his sweater before one of them was cupping the back of your neck. He tilted his hips forward, rocking his hips ever so slightly with every bob of your head. This was the most noise you ever heard Vincent make. He let out little groans and sounds, half-keened whines and breathless gasps. He shivered and trembled with every flick of your tongue. You held his hips, thumbing them as you stared up at him through your lashes. He was keeping his head tossed back, his eye firmly closed from what you could tell. But when he'd finally looked down at you and made eye contact with you, you practically felt his resolve snap.

His hand moved from your neck to the back of your head. He only pressed your head down farther for a few thrusts, ones that practically slid his cock all the way down your throat, before you felt him tense. He held your head, doubling over as he slid his cock down the back of your throat. You could feel his cum hitting the back of your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow around his cock. You could feel tears in the corners of your eyes, and you tried to blink them away as you focused on trying not to gag. He let out a strangled sound, no doubt feeling the muscles of your throat work around his cock. His hips stuttered, before he was pulling out with panting breaths. He leaned back against dresser, his head falling back and strands of his hair falling out from his ponytail from where he'd gripped at it. You almost wished you could take a picture.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, watching him as he calmed himself down and you helped him tuck himself away. You lifted yourself to your feet with his help, and he signed a simple,

"You okay?" And you nearly laughed. Vincent seemed to ask you that at least five times a day.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" You asked, prodding his chest. You heard him laugh, a soft and raspy sound. He gave you a nod, even if it still seemed like he was collecting himself. He reached out, running a hand through your hair before settling his palm against your cheek. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, running over the sensitive skin. You hummed, parting your lips and sucking his thumb into your mouth. You barely realized what you were doing before you did it, but you gave his thumb a slow suck as you ran your tongue over it. You watched as his eye darkened once more, and you squeaked when he pulled his hand away and tugged you up like you didn't weigh a thing.

You squealed and laughed when your back hit the wax mattress, which, despite looking comfortable, was only slightly less forgiving than if he'd shoved you against the wall. But you barely had time to think about that. Vincent was quickly pushing his mask away from his face and you shut your eyes out of habit. You felt his lips clumsily press against yours, and his confidence was either from the month of practice or from the rage of desire that was flooding his system. He boxed you in with one arm, his other hand quick to trace all the parts he'd already memorized. You giggled. You couldn't help it. You'd never felt Vincent so eager, so confident . It sent the rush of a thrill through you, and you were wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest against his to get him as close as possible.

"Touch me, touch me, touch me," You practically begged, your legs curling around his hips and drawing him closer. He groaned at the press of his front against yours, undeniably sensitive from before. He drew his lips from yours, mouthing down your cheek to your jaw until he reached your neck. His fingers weren't moving fast enough, and you pressed your chest against his hand to urge him further as he fondled you through your shirt. Even as he slipped his hand underneath, teasing and gently twisting your nipples, you knew it wouldn't be enough. You rolled your hips against his, trying to get any sort of friction as you tugged on his black strands of hair. He moaned against your skin, before his lips were attempting to clamp back onto yours. You begged for more, and Vincent wasn't one to keep you waiting. His hand rubbed you through the fabric of your bottoms, and he swallowed the moan that left your lips. He traced your heat through the fabric, pressing hard enough to feel his touch.

It wasn't enough until his hand was slipping inside, slipping past your panties and running his bare fingertips through the folds of your cunt. You whined, gripping his shoulders and bucking your hips against his hand. Vincent pulled away from the kiss, but you were too distracted to care as you guided his fingers over your aching clit.

***

Vincent was watching you, memorizing the expressions you made as you screwed your eyes closed and gasped. You gasped and whined, bucking and practically throbbing against his hand. When he dipped his fingers inside you, he found feel your walls sucking his fingers up. Trying to drag them deeper and swallow them in your warm, wet heat.

His cock was already heavy and hard in his sweatpants again, but he fought the urge to grind against your thigh as he fingered you. This was about you. He pressed the heel of his palm against the spot you'd lead him to, watching the way you shuddered and trembled underneath him. He drew everything in, only muffling your sounds when he needed your lips against his.

He kissed you anywhere his lips reached, trying to silently tell you how beautiful you were. How precious you looked. Everything that he couldn't sign to you with your eyes closed and one of his hands down your pants, his fingers buried and thrusting inside of you.

***

You whimpered as he pushed you further and further, your hips jerking as Vincent listened to every word you told him. He moved his fingers just so, seeming to even listen just to the way your voice would change. You'd been touched before, either by yourself or by your ex, but you couldn't remember a time you'd been listened to so eagerly before. Had someone that could reach the spots inside you that you couldn't.

"Right there, Vincent. Ah- Just like that." He rubbed that spot over and over until your hips were jerking. Whether to get closer or farther away you didn't know. But Vincent pulled back almost completely. You could feel his weight shift, and then you felt his other hand holding you down by pressing his large hand flat against your stomach. So you couldn't move and so you were forced to feel . "Oh, Vincent ." Your voice went up an octave. You tried to fist the sheets of the bed, but all you did was scrape your nails against the wax. You tried to move your hips, but you couldn't. You tried to shift away from the intensity of the pleasure, of how he'd shifted from using the heel of his palm and instead circled your clit with his thumb, but he was relentless. Persistent with his pleasure.

You felt close to tears, a stream of cries and praise leaving your lips before you could feel your thighs start to shake. Your abdomen start to tense. You reached to hold onto his forearm, your nails biting into his skin as the other gripped your own hair. You came around his fingers, a cry of his name leaving your lips as you arched your head back. He didn't stop, even if his actions slowed. You shivered and trembled through the aftershocks, twitching before you finally begged him,

"Open." And you knew that you hadn't been mistaken. It was rare that you heard his voice. You were almost sure that it had been the first time. You knew he didn't speak simply because it pained him to do so, and you knew that he wouldn't do it unless he was absolutely sure. So, slowly, you peeled open your eyes and looked into the half-scarred face of your lover. Your hand glided over the smooth, untouched side of his face. One that was identical to Bo's. You didn't dare touch the scar tissue, as you didn't want to potentially hurt him. But, still, your eyes glided over it as if there wasn't a blemish there. Softly, you whispered,

"Okay, okay, okay, enough. Fuck- Vincent, I can't-" And he finally drew his hand away. You panted and relaxed, slumping against the solid block of wax and waiting until Vincent told you he was ready for you to look. Instead, you felt the plushness of his lips press against yours. It was soft and short, before he was kissing you again. And again, and again. You giggled, running your fingers through the strands of his hair and kissing him back each time. He kissed your cheek and your forehead, before he pressed soft kisses to the back of your eyelids. They nearly fluttered open, but then Vincent did it again. You made a face, questioning if you thought he was telling you to do what you thought he was. Then, he did it again and you heard the raspy whisper of the word,

"Hello, handsome." And you finally got to watch him blush properly.

#house of wax #house of wax (2005)#house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair

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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years ago

Text

Okay so @ashintheairlikesnow refuses to give Vince someone who loves and respects him and his trauma so I am giving him one.

None of this is Canon (unless Ash gives our boy some love) so this is just me giving Vincent Shield a boyfriend out of spite.

Vincent Shield belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

Dmitri I am putting in the public domain.

Tw: implied noncon (from Vinces past with Owen), Owen Grant, self depreciating thoughts.

Vincent throws his legs over the side of his bed. The feeling of silky velvet brushes against his skin like sunlight across spring lilies. Vincent pulls a little at the hem of his shirt, the faint smell of familiar cologne sits into the fabric of his shirt. He stretches and turns off his alarm, the ringing dances around his skull for a few moments before settling.

Today is the film photoshoot for the premiers.

Vincent groans to himself. The one day out of filming any movie or TV series that he did not like. Throwing on clothes, Vincent starts down the stairs. He blinks as his hand curls down the stairs to the kitchen.

Vincent’s eyes wash over the living room. Pillows and blankets were folded nicely onto the coffee table. He can almost feel the absence through the carpet. He turns the corner and sees the coffee pot running softly.

Leaning on the counter, Dmitri sits glancing out the wall window above the kitchen counter. The window is open just a crack letting in a warm, gentle breeze into the house.

“Good morning, Dmitri.”

Dmitri looks over at him and gives him a welcome smile, “Mornin’ Vee! You know how your brake pads were singing yesterday, I ran down to the shop and picked up the pads and replaced them. Coffee should be done soon, do you want pancakes?”

Vincent blinks and shoots a glance over at the clock, “Dmitri… it’s 6:43 in the morning.”

“Yes?”

“How did you do that so early?”

Dmitri shrugs and he hands Vince a mug, “I usually get up between 4:30 and 5 so.. I just got it done.”

Vincent takes it and grabs the coffee pot and pours himself some coffee, “I thought you didn’t have work today?”

“I don’t,” Dmitri says as he takes a sip, “Just used to waking up before dawn.”

Vincent takes a sip of the coffee, the sounds of songbirds float in through the window. A few flutter past, their songs catching through the crack in the window.

Dmitri holds a bag of chocolate chips up and says, “I got some pancake mix and some chocolate, might as well make your morning bright if the rest of today is going to be dull.”

With a smile, Vincent leans in and gives him a small peck on the cheek, "Thank you."

Vincent sits at the counter as Dmitri sprinkles chocolate into the batter. Dmitri, with a voice as smooth as butter cream, asks, "So what's on your agenda today?"

"Get into a latex costume for eight hours and pose for photos," Vincent rolls his eyes as the batter sizzles against the pan, "Cover photos are today."

"Ah," Dmitri says as he fills a pancake, "All day?"

"Yup, the first two hours are just getting into costume. The one thing I hate about this movie is theater suits we have to wear under the costume pieces. Walking sauna when you're under light all day."

Dmitri nods as he pulls off a pair of pancakes from the stove top, "You sent me a photo of you wearing one the other day, it really is skin tight. Do you want some strawberries with your pancakes?"

"And you just saw my upper half, and yes please."

Dmitri cut up some strawberries and poured syrup across the warm cakes, "For you sweetheart."

"Thank you!" Vincent beams back before he takes a bite. The fluffy cakes nearly melt in his mouth, the chocolate sitting across his taste buds. Everything Dmitri makes tastes the best. Something about how he cooks makes food feel like unlocking the answers to it all.

Southern Charm, he called it.

Vincent looks across the counter into Dmitri's dark, thoughtful eyes.

The same eyes you pushed away from last night.

He did nothing wrong and you just had to ruin it all, didn't you Vince?

Why can't you just let that time die, Owen isn't even here and you're still freaking out about it.

"Vincent?" Dmitri asks as he examines Vincent's face. "Are you okay?"

Vincent snaps back to reality, his knuckles staring through his skin as he clutches the mug. He nods as he takes another bite of pancakes. Dmitri looks at Vincent, concern in his eyes.

You refuse to tell him and you've been dating for months now. What happens when he runs out of patience. What will you do then?

You're a coward and he'll figure it out eventually.

Hands wrap around his and squeeze, panic rises in Vincent's throat for a moment before he realizes the skin is too dark to be Owen's.

"Hey, tell me five things you can see."

Vincent looks up, "You, the window, a blue Jay, the pancakes, the counter."

"Four things you can feel?"

Vincent shifts his fingers under his grip, "You, the coffee mug, the chair, the table."

"Three things you can hear."

"The birds, the stove, you."

Dmitri smiles, "two you can smell."

"Chocolate and pancakes."

"Taste."

"Syrup."

Dmitri let go of his hands and sits back down, "Are you okay Vee?"

"I'm sorry," Vincent says as he takes another sip out of coffee. Guilt falls from his eyes like dusk across a valley.

Dmitri cooks an eyebrow and shakes his head, "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong."

Vincent puts his head in his hands, "I'm sorry for last night, I shouldn't have lead you on."

"Vee," Dmitri says as he takes a bite out of his own food, "You didn't lead me on. You just don't want to go all the way."

"I shouldn't have freaked out though---"

"Vee," Dmitri says with solid sterness behind his voice, "You have boundaries, you tried to push past them and then decided you didn't want to, and that's perfectly fine. Don't kick yourself because you set boundaries. I am perfectly fine with waiting."

Vincent shakes his head, "But I keep trying but then pulling back, it's not fair to you---"

"Vincent."

"Mhm."

Dmitri sighs and leans in, "Remember when you told me when we first got together that someone had broken your trust when it came to intimacy."

Vincent nods shakily, "Yes."

"And how you told me you weren't ready for that kind of intimacy with anyone yet."

"Yes."

Dmitri leans back, "What did I tell you after taht."

"That you wanted to wait until I was ready."

Dmitri nods and finishes up his food, "You weren't ready yesterday."

"But-" Vincent goes to interject. A feeling of both want and worry swirling in his gut. A butter churn of emotions twist his insides in uncomfortable ways.

"No Vee, do not start thinking that you owe me anything, you don't," Dmitri states as he finishes his coffee, "You don't need to give me anything and if that means I have to wait decades I will."

Vincent shifts in his seat nervously. Meeting Dmitri's eyes for a moment, he puts his head in his hands.

Why don't you just tell him, coward.

Dmitri glances back at Vincent. "Do you want me to bring you lunch today, there is this Italian place near my apartment taht makes the best garlic bread I have ever tasted?"

Vincent nods, grateful for the distractions from his own thoughts, "Yeah, I'll let Michael know your coming in so he doesn't yell at you again."

Dmitri laughs as he puts the dishes into the sink. "Yeah you probably could have heard him from half a block down last time."

Vincent draws up a smile, "Trust me we heard it inside, what are your plans for today?"

"Run arrands mostly, I got paid the other day and I need to stock my fridge. Also I need new work pants since my old ones are so oil soaked it's not even funny."

"If you need anything I can order it for you," Vincent says as he stands up and walks his dishes over to the sink.

"Nah, I got cash," Dmitri says as he turns to face Vincent. Vincent looks up at him, eyes glossing over him for a second before roaming to the window.

"Could you drive me to work today?"

"Sure," Dmitri says as he gently places the dishes into the dishwasher.

When Dmitri stands up, Vincent envelops him in a hug. Dmitri slowly embraces him and the two stand close for a few moments.

"Thank you," Vincent mumbles into his chest. Dmitri smiles and places a kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you too."

#vincent shield #owen grant should be castrated #whump #whump community #owen grant #let my boy live in peace dammit #Dmitri #Vincent deserves love

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Text

The Bachelor

A birthday gift for @bellafarallones. Part 3 of the TAZ Amnesty Bachelor AU (sternclay and indruck were the first two) AKA what Vincent was up to. Apollo is from my Amnesty Super Hero fic

The entire United States to choose from and this is the best the producers could find? He’s going to win this thing with his eyes closed. Then it’s a hop, skip, and jump to some endorsement deals, his own spin-off, and then a prime time hosting slot.

Oh, and a marriage. But that should be easy; any guy would count themselves lucky to have him.

God, that pool will be great for Instagram shots. Luckily the producers knew their biggest draw when they saw him and agreed to let Indrid continue his work as Apollo’s personal photographer and assistant. He may be a disappointment to the Cold name, but he’s good with a camera and has no interest in being recorded for the show. And if, god forbid, Apollo comes down with a cold during filming, someone will be there to bring him Day-Quil. After all, if he lets anyone see Apollo in a vulnerable state, Apollo will just have to send their father an email about Indrid’s latest failure.

“It’s times like this we should be grateful for our genes. I know I am.” He glances at his twin, pausing his gaze on his silver hair and tattoos.

“You dye yours too. And I think there are more than a few handsome men here, so don’t get cocky.” His attention shifts for a moment as a man dressed like Smokey the Bear passes them.

“Oh come on, even with those pretentious glasses you can see I’m a cut above.”

“If you say so. And if you want to do shots of you in your suit, we need to start soon, so kindly find your room so we can get on with it.”

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

Not only is this easy, it’s fun. The cameras love him, and most of his fellow contestants yield to him after one remark. He’s been watching Vincent, the bachelor for this season, closely during group interactions, and it’s clear he’s already developing favorites. Annoyingly, two in particular--Joseph and Duck--are more inclined to push back at him. But it doesn’t matter; everyone has weaknesses. He’ll find theirs soon.

Tonight is his first formal date with Vincent. They’re at an Italian place with good lighting, and Vincent is perfectly nice to look at in his lavender dress shirt and silver tie. Apollo’s done his research; Vincent is ten years his senior, took an early retirement from a position in the department of defense and now runs two consulting businesses; one for banks and museums and one for domestic violence shelters, health clinics, and other places where doing good draws enemies. The first business subsidizes the second. Vincent enjoys tennis and running, has no Instagram presence, and is an only child.

Apollo has his plan of attack; the trouble is, Vincent isn’t interested in sitting there and being flattered (though he does blush when Apollo says the tie makes the grey in his hair look all the more distinguished). He wants to know about Apollo.

“When you’re not taking photos, what do you like to do?”

He doesn’t correct him about who takes the pictures, smiles, “I, ah, I go to the gym.”

“I have to say it shows.” Vincent winks. It’s so corny, but Apollo can’t find it in him to hate it, “any sports, or just things like weights and cardio?”

‘

“No, but I played football in high school. I was star running back.”

“I played my freshman year, but baseball suited me better. So when you're not ‘pumping iron’, what do you do for fun?”

There is no answer that won’t make him look too shallow or too...no, he can’t even think about that option. Damn it, he must have a normal hobby. He hedges with the truth and hopes the editors cut it for time.

“I like movies. I, ah, I’ve been working my way through the Criterion Collection of the birth of cinema and it’s fascinating. Did you know there was a silent film heartthrob who predates Valentino?”

“Sessue Hayakawa?”

“You know about him?” He leans forward.

“I read a biography of him last year that was riveting. I still have it if you’d like to borrow it.”

“Yes, yes absolutely. We, we could even watch some of his films together, and the ones they inspired, you know they, they…”

Fuck, he’s acting like Indrid, bumping the table and yammering about things that will get him nowhere. He sits back, grabs his wine and sips to cover his error.

“I’d like that.” Is all Vincent says as they’re entrees arrive.

“Enough about me. I was reading about your business and, ah, well, how do you even do something like that?”

Vincent describes his process, how he picks clients and what he considers when evaluating a space. Apollo fully intends to zone out with a smile.

He hangs on every word. All too soon, Vincent is asking for dessert.

“Is your meal okay?”

Apollo looks at the plate of spaghetti carbonara he’s been poking at, not wanting to be caught in an ugly expression while eating, “Yes, it’s delicious.”

Dessert arrives in the shape of a chocolate lava cake with sparklers, a detail which delights Vincent. It’s such a ridiculous thing to smile over. Apollo smiles back, and let’s his date feed him a bite of cake.

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

Was the beach trip self-serving on Vincent’s part? Indeed. Has it also given him valuable intel? Yes, yes it has.

He now knows who’s going home next; Nico is such a fraternity-bred asshole that he should have sent him packing weeks ago. Honestly, all his comments about Barclay this morning were awful. Barclay is masculine and sweet in a way Vincent adores. He even helped Joseph during the cliff dive, which bumps him even higher in Vincent’s eyes.

Joseph stealthily knocking Nico’s hat from his head with a frisbee was also a high point; goodness, Joseph reminds him of men he used to work with who he never, ever, admitted his feelings for (they were often his subordinates, and he prided himself on keeping a safe department).

Then there’s Duck. Vincent would like an award for not spending the morning asking to rub sunblock on those arms. He’s been treated to a closer view of them the last half-hour, Duck sitting next to him in a Hawaiin shirt that shows off his biceps. The ranger just now excused himself (“gotta give the other fellas a chance to impress”) to go keep Indrid company during dinner. Polite and friendly to the core, that’s his favorite bear.

And then there’s-

“Hiiii Vincent.” Apollo slides into the spot closest to him on the restaurant deck.

Were Vincent choosing for an evening, Apollo would edge out even Duck. He suspects getting the younger man under some comfortable sheets to praise and fuss over him would be very nice indeed. Apollo may posture and insist to the others that he’s the dominant one in the bedroom, but this isn’t Vincent’s first go around; he knows someone who longs to be spoiled and submissive when he sees one.

But he’s here to choose his husband, not a hook-up.

He initially assumed he’d send Apollo home after their first formal date. He knows these shows sometimes attract people who want their fifteen minutes of fame, and Apollo is one of them. But then his meticulously built image cracked, just a little, as they talked, and Vincent is so taken by what he saw that he can’t bring himself to send him home yet.

The older man slides the younger one an oyster, “try one, they’re local.”

There’s no appealing way to eat an oyster on camera, but Apollo lifts a shell and downs one. He does an excellent job masking his grimace.

“Another? Or would you like one of the grilled scallops instead?”

He watches him run a calculus. Then he slides his sunglasses down, “Scallop, please.”

Maybe there’s hope for him yet.

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

“Indrid, Vincent hates me!”

Indrid blinks at him.

“One of the other contestants got them to show him a bunch of footage of me putting the other men in their place and now he hates me.” Genuine panic rises in his chest as Indrid gives him absolutely no expression to work from.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Talk to him, tell him that I’m not-”

“What you actually are? Vincent is here to choose a spouse; he has a right to not choose you.”

“Fix. It.” Apollo snarls.

His twin stands, regarding him from across the rug, “I will speak to Vincent, on one condition; you do not go after Duck ever again.”

“Traitor, you should be on my side, not his.”

Indrid shrugs, sits back down and picks up his book.

“I’ll, I’ll tell father you’re sabotaging me.”

“You think he’ll like to hear you’re being out done by his inferior son?”

“....Damn it. Fine, fine. I’ll leave Newton alone. Now go.”

His brother has the audacity to grin at him, “I will, right after I finish this chapter.”

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

He’s sitting with Duck and Joseph, asking their opinion, when Indrid enters the living room.

“Did Apollo send you?” Vincent picks lint from his cardigan.

“Yes. He’s asking me to intercede on his behalf since he thinks you hate him.”

“Oh dear, I don’t hate him. I just said I was disappointed in him.”

“Ah” Indrid perches on the arm of Duck’s chair, “That’s our father’s code for ‘I hate you.”

“Jesus.” Duck mutters.

“I suspected he was exaggerating. That’s why I agreed to talk to you; I’ve learned it’s best to verify anything he tells me. In truth, I can’t do much for him. If it’s not obvious, he takes after our father and our father is...not a good man. We each survive him in our own way; Apollo chose to mold himself into what he demanded we be. That does not excuse him. But perhaps it puts him into perspective.”

Vincent knows he’s not sending Apollo home this week; it’s still Nico’s turn. And his heart that taps his chest to ask, “Do you think he could change?”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is keeping his mouth shut, but his frown suggests his answer.

“This is not to defend him but” Joseph looks at Indrid, “you grew up under the same conditions and chose not to replicate them. That suggests it’s possible.”

“I just didn’t want to end up like him.” Indrid murmurs.

“And ‘possible’ don’t mean probable.” Duck adds.

Vincent rubs his temples, “You’re right. All of you. I...I think I need some time to decide how many chances to be the person I think he can be I ought to give him.”

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

Apollo isn’t sure what to expect. The last time Vincent asked to see him, it was to scold him. Three guys have gone home since then, and he’s been fighting back his impulses to torment and gloat, focusing instead on making Vincent like him instead of undermining the competition.

The door opens on a room with a bed, lots of candles, and…

“Is that whale song?”

“Yes. I picked a ‘soothing’ playlist to fit the mood.” Vincent is in linen pants and a button up short sleeve, pats the bed with a smile, “I thought a nice massage might do you good. Non-sexual, of course” he tips his head at the camera.

Apollo isn’t shy. His thirst traps are legendary. But he lays on his stomach the instant he’s down to his underwear. Vincent hums as he starts on his shoulders, checking in now and then about pressure. It would be nice if Apollo’s skin weren’t starving for gentle touches. He keeps letting out pathetic sounds, almost like chirps, as Vincent rubs him down.

Then the worst thing happens; he gets hard. At first he tries just keeping his hips still but no, just Vincent’s touch is enough. So he tenses in hopes of not giving it away.

“Is it too hard?”

“No, I’m fine.”

The hands leave his skin and he whines like a kicked dog.

“Would you gentlemen let us do the rest in private? I’m sure the viewers get the point.”

There’s shuffling feet and shutting doors, and then a gentle hand rolling him onto his back.

“Apollo, what’s really--oh. That explains it.”

He scrambles to sit up, tucking his knees to his chest, “I’m sorry, you said you didn’t want it to be sexual, I didn’t do this on purpose, I swear-”

The bed squeaks along with him as Vincent sits, “Sweetheart, I’m not going to get angry with you for this. If, um, if it helps to know, the feeling is very much mutual.”

It should feel like a triumph, but his cheeks burn and he hides his face against his knees.

“Does that bother you?”

“No! No, not at all. I wouldn’t be wooing you on T.V if I didn’t think you were attractive. Blech, I sound like one of Indrid’s romance novels. Not, not that there’s anything wrong with Indrid...liking...silly things.”

Vincent cups his face and he leans into it, wants to glue his cheek there, “Apollo, I’ve noticed you’re trying to be less...unkind since our little talk.”

“I’m trying. It’s just so very, very hard.”

“I’ve also noticed you’re letting your persona go now and then. That means a lot to me. I’m not interested in the man you think you should be; I’m interested in the man you might become, the man you are when you stop trying to be better than everyone. I like that man, I’d like to get to know him more.”

Apollo shivers as Vincent kisses his forehead, “I’ll do my best.”

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

“The nerve of Joseph to say things like that to me!”

Indrid doesn’t look up, “It’s a genuine concern; Vincent is older, there will likely come a time when you’ll be the one caring for him. Are you certain you’ll have the patience for that? Be willing to put your needs and wants on hold for the sake of someone else?”

That’s really what would happen? He, he could do it for Vincent, he’s certain. But could he? What if it’s hard, without glory or gain, does that make it foolish?

He chases those thoughts in dizzying circles for fifteen minutes until they crash into the solution.

“I solved it! I don't have to worry about taking care of Vincent as he ages because he'll divorce me once I reach thirty-two.”

“That is the bleakest possible conclusion.” Indrid flips his sketchbook closed.

“Just let me have this!”

“I hate that I even have to say this but Vincent is not our father.”

“Father said he was doing what any sensible man would do.”

Indrid levels him with an unusually firm stare, “Do you not want Vincent just because he’s over thirty-two?”

“Of course not! He’s great! I, brother for goodness sake just tell me how to care for him.”

“I literally cannot do that. You have to figure it out for yourself what care looks like for you.”

He’s about to repeat his demand when his phone rings.

“Hi, Vincent.”

“I'm so sorry, but I have to break our date tonight. I was out for a run and twisted my ankle. I just got back from the doctor; he says I sprained it, so I might be on bed rest a few days.”

Perfect.

“Oh no, I’m glad it’s not too serious. Would, ah, would it be alright if I came to see you?”

They agree on a time. Then he remembers the problem that preceded the phone call.

“What do I do?”

“What do you want to do for him? Or, if your positions were reversed, him to do for you?” Indrid asks flatly.

“Call you so he doesn’t see me looking frail.”

“assume I am dead and thus no longer dealing with your nonsense”

“That’s not fair.”

Indrid flops on the bed, “I'm dead, Vincent is the only one who is coming to take care of you, what do you want him to do?”

“Tell me it’s okay and spend time with me and…”

Indrid grins, “And?”

“And watch PBS in bed.”

“It’s a start. Now please get out of my room.”

An hour later he pokes his head into Vincent’s bedroom; the older man is reclining, reading a John Grisham paperback in a robe that makes him look very suave

“How are you feeling?” He sits next to him, rubs his knee. .

“Oh, I'm fine, just feel a little silly. It used to be I could twist an ankle and come up fine. Aging is quite the adventure.”

“I, um, I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I, I don't like the thought of you getting hurt. Bot that you'd be bad if you did! I accept that we are all very fragile beings trying not to die.

(Too dark, Cold, pull it back).

“I mean, um, is there anything I can do to help?”

“I'd be happy to have you stay awhile.” Vincent takes his hand, let’s him lean on his shoulder as they talk. They’re midway through a discussion of famous film disasters when a small burst of black and red lands on the windowsill. He doesn’t catch his excitement in time and Vincent asks him what made him perk up.

With a courage he did not know he possessed, he points to the bird.

“Oh! How beautiful. What kind is it?”

“Scarlet Tanager” he mumbles, “they’re not common here.”

“Do you know a lot about birds?”

He nods.

“There are some feeders just on that balcony. And I think the binoculars a friend gave me last Christmas are still in the closet, if you’d like to use them.”

“I would” he stands, heart bubbling with terrifying warmth, “thank you, da--ah, dear.”

Mischief sweeps across Vincent’s face, “Is this where you tell me you’ve had lots of older boyfriends?”

“No. I, ah, I’ve made out some but I never dated.”

“Not even a highschool sweetheart?”

“My father made it so no teenager wanted to go near our house. Or us.” The binoculars are magnificent, the best money can buy, “I always wished I had a date to homecoming. It looked so fun, asking someone or getting asked and then having matching outfits and going out to dinner and taking pictures together. I even picked out an outfit just in case someone asked. I think Indrid snuck out to meet his burnout--, um, meet his friends. I just sat in my room.”

“You could have asked someone yourself, couldn’t you?” Vincent makes room for him on the bed once more.

“And risk getting rejected in front of the whole school? No thank you.” He stares at the binoculars, afraid of what he might see if he turns, “I'm sorry, you don't need to hear all this. I’m supposed to be here taking care of you.”

Vincent opens his arms, pulling Apollo into a hug, “You know care can go two ways at once, right?”

“Not really” he mumbles into silver silk.

“Oh, sweetheart.” A kiss on his cheek, hands running soothingly up his sides, and those weak, silly noises slipping from his mouth.

“I want it to be, I’ll be so good, I’ll take care of you, just please...please say you’d do the same?”

“Of course. That’s what love is.”

He tucks his face against Vincent’s neck, “Will you make fun of me if I say I’m frightened?”

“Never.”

“I don’t know how to do so much of this. I don’t know how much of me can change.”

“Are you willing to try?” Vincent kisses the shell of his ear.

“For you? Yes.”

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

“I choose…” Vincent looks between Apollo and Jonathan. Apollo cannot wait to spring into his arms.

“I choose neither.”

“What!” Ned yells off camera.

“I’m sorry to both of you but I simply can’t. Jonathan, you’re a very nice man, but our connection is ultimately lacking. Apollo” Vincent meets his eyes and he forces his gaze to stay placid, “I care for you more than words can say. I know you’ve worked so very hard to change. I also know that people can easily revert to their old, cruel ways under pressure or difficulty. Marriage often involves those things, and I’m not sure you can be the man I need you to be. With those misgivings, it wouldn’t be fair to propose to either of you. I hope you understand.”

They both say the do, shake hands, give hugs. And he does, he truly does understand. He understands that Vincent made the choice he had to, that even though he got better he is still a rotten, cruel creature who doesn’t deserve him. He was taught he deserved the world; some good that did him. It lost him the only person who might make the world a less miserable place.

“Apollo!” Vincent jogs after him, catches up to him in an empty hall, “Apollo I-”

His heart is breaking; his old ways twine like vipers around it, “I, I’m glad you didn’t choose me you, you boring, pathetic man. No wonder you have to pay people to go on dates with you! I don’t need anyone, least of all you!”

Vincent steps back, face falling as Apollo storms off. The last thing he hears is, “And here I thought I made the wrong choice.”

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

He deletes his Instagram. Gets a job as a personal shopper. Goes to therapy because he will not let Indrid outshine him when it comes to unlearning how they were raised.

It helps. Three months after the disastrous finale (for him, not for the network) he’s feeling, if not better, like he might actually try dating someone soon. He also writes two apology letters; one to Indrid and one to Vincent. Then he tears them both up and just tells Indrid that he’s trying to be less of an asshole and that he’s sorry for all the time he was one. He leaves Vincent alone; if he doesn’t want to see him, the least he can do is respect that.

It’s migration season, so he’s hiding in his favorite, super-secret birdwatching spot. It’s near a pond, so lots of birds come to drink and bathe, and he’s seen several on his list.

Branches crack, sending nearby jays into a flap. Damn it, he’s never seen someone else here; the only person he ever told about it was-

“Hi, Apollo.”

“Vincent!” He almost falls off his stump, “how, why?”

“I’d been meaning to explore this spot ever since you spoke about it. But I, um, was also hoping I might see you in the process. Pathetic, as you might say.”

“I did, didn’t I.” Apollo stares up at him, clutching his binoculars so hard they might become disparate spyglasses, “Vincent, I am so, so, so very sorry for how I acted when we last saw each other. I was hurt, all I want is to make someone else hurt more so I stop feeling so vulnerable and powerless. I, I’ve been working on it in, in” he winces “therapy. You said once that you wanted to meet the man I might be. I realized I wanted to meet him to, to be him, not to win some show or even to get you to like me but just because I don’t want to be the other Apollo anymore.”

Vincent sits next to him, “You don’t give up, do you?”

“I, I just want to un-fuck what I can. I, how have you been?”

“Doing lots of thinking. I still know I made the right call not proposing during the finale. And that I’m ready to start dating again.”

“I hope whoever you go out with knows how lucky they are.” He says without any motive but the truth.

Vincent plucks a late-blooming wildflower and offers it to him, “It’s not a rose, but then again, this isn’t a proposal. It’s just a date, if you still want one.”

“So badly.”

The older man leans in, kissing him softly as his spine turns to soup, “I’m looking forward to meeting the, um, latest version of you.” He snickers at his own phrasing.

Apollo pulls him into a second kiss, “Me too.”

#bachelor au

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emeraldtawny · 5 years ago

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IkeVam Headcanons: Meeting MC’s parents for the first time

Fluffy Friday tiiiime~! More IkeVam headcanons, this time of them meeting MC’s parents! We’re just going to assume that they followed MC to the future and also we’re going to completely ignore that they are famous historical figures otherwise these poor parents will have lots of questions gnreiknerdh

Napoleon

Golden Boy number one. Despite being a little nervous, he’ll be calm and prepared to face your parents.

He has waged war and almost conquered Europe. How hard can meeting your parents be?

He’ll be pulling nervously at his collar as you both walk up to the front door, but after a quick deep breath, he’ll look completely normal and ready to face anything.

“Hello, and Bonjour. My name is Napoleon Bonaparte. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your parents will be blown away by his politeness and that magnetic charisma of his will have them hooked. He’ll keep conversation with them perfectly fine and the way both of your parents smile seems to suggest only good things.

When dinner is over, he’s on his feet ready to help clear away the dishes, asking your parents about the food and any recipes they used.

Of course, when embarrassing stories of your childhood are brought into the mix, he’s trying but failing miserably to contain his laughter and everyone else is laughing too, both at the stories and at Napoleon’s contagious laughter.

Throughout the evening, he’s well-behaved in regards to touching you, but he still sneaks in a peck to your cheek when some of your dessert misses its mark. He’s grinning at how flustered you are, but your parents just find it super sweet.

They don’t have a single bad thing to say about him and you can’t help beaming in pride for him. As the night ends and as soon as you close the door to your parent’s house, he sweeps you up into a hug and sighs out how that was the hardest thing he has ever done in his life.

You grin and tell him he did wonderfully and he just laughs exhaustedly into your hair before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You both walk back to your home hand in hand with your parents’ approval lightening the air around you both.

Mozart

This one will micromanage until the moment his knuckles rap against your parents’ door. He’ll be close to interrogating you on what your parents like, dislike, conversations to avoid; anything to ensure this goes well.

You tell him that this isn’t like meeting the lords and nobles from his past and that he just needs to be himself. While he doesn’t seem convinced, he sighs but agrees on the condition that he can keep holding your hand when he needs to draw strength.

When the day finally comes, you’re almost convinced a stiff breeze could knock him over. He’s clutching your hand like a lifeline as he knocks on the door.

“Hello. I am Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Your daughter has told me many things about you. It’s a true pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

His ‘speaking to nobility’ switch will be on while his guards are up, but he’ll still be able to make polite enough conversation. However, as soon as your mother asks about his profession as a musician, he comes into his own element and instantly relaxes as discussions of his concerts and experiences go back and forth.

You’ll notice how his grip on your hand loosens more and more as the night goes on, but he only lets go when dinner is served (and your parents are completely floored by his exemplary table manners) and even then, he returns to holding your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours.

When Mozart excuses himself for a moment, your parents ask if he’s always this clingy, to which you giggle and say he’s just nervous. They add onto it saying he has a wonderful smile when he looks at you and they know he’ll treat you right.

When the night is over and you’re both making your way home, Mozart squeezes your hand tight and asks if you think he won their approval. You grin and tease him saying you don’t think so (to which he almost deflates) you KNOW so because they told you. Breath returns to his lungs and he scolds you for scaring him before he squeezes your hand again, more tenderly this time, seemingly unaware of the relieved smile on his face.

Leonardo

As soon as you bring up that your parents want to be introduced to him, he just kind of shrugs at you, saying all will be fine and nothing can go wrong.

No matter how much you want to believe him, you aren’t convinced. And after some rather forceful pleading, he relents and agrees to do whatever you tell him to be the “model boyfriend”.

He still complains when you take his cigarillos away from him...and wonders how the hell you managed to convince Comte to help you with taking away every single one, even those he thought were hidden and only known to him.

On the day of the dinner, you’re still nervous wondering if you did enough to ensure things will go well. Leonardo pats your head and sends you a grin, telling you in his usual easy-going way that he’ll convince them he’s the one for you. You practically feel your heart drop as your parents open the door.

“Good evening. Leonardo Da Vinci. Piacere di conoscerla.”

You blink and gape at the formal greeting and how he makes it seem like it’s his usual way of speaking. When your parents ask you what’s wrong, you can see Leonardo’s shoulders shaking trying to hold back laughter.

In his usual fashion, he’ll make himself right at home (on the couch, thankfully), his legs crossed and an arm around your waist pulling you close. You’ll get an eyebrow raise from your parents but nothing more.

They’ll be impressed by his odd mix of maturity and open-mindedness, some interesting ethical and scientific conversations coming up throughout the evening with one of the fathers of the Renaissance.

He’ll even notice and offer to fix the broken clock on the wall, but not before squeezing your waist and dusting a kiss to your temple. You watch him dubiously, but can’t stop your smile forming as you watch him in his element. Your parents can see the light in yours and Leonardo’s eyes as you sneak glances at each other all night and they know you’re in good hands.

As the night ends and you make your way home, his shoulders collapse with his sigh and he rubs his head, saying you have to repay him for making him suffer through withdrawal for this. You smile as you wrap your arms around one of his, just happy that the evening went so well.

Arthur

You are genuinely nervous to introduce him to your parents. He basically radiates playboy energy and you don’t want your parents to see him and immediately disapprove because of his past reputation.

He assures you that he will be on his “very best behaviour”, but you still warn him to be civil and to keep his frisky hands where they can be seen.

When the day comes, he’s as calm and composed as ever and as soon as the door opens, he slips his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close.

“Good evening to you both. I’m Arthur Conan Doyle. It’s wonderful to finally meet the people who brought ___ into this world and into my life.”

His charming grin doesn’t stop your parents’ eyes from narrowing a little and you sigh under your breath, knowing you have your work cut out for you.

The evening goes smoothly enough, conversations being lively and non-stop with no shortage of grins from the Brit. He gives book recommendations to your parents and all seems fine.

When the dreaded question of his past antics is brought up by your father, you visibly tense. But Arthur is quick to take your hand and declare that he wouldn’t dare break your heart and that he’ll prove his words to be true with his actions by loving you with all he has.

Both you and your parents baulk, but he quickly laughs off the serious atmosphere and restores the calm conversation.

When your parents move into the kitchen to clear away the dishes, he suddenly reaches for your hand and you notice how shaky he is.

“Th-this is going well, right? Do you think they like me? Because the last thing I ever want is for the people who raised you to disapprove of our relationship. I...well, to be frank, I don’t think I could take it.”

You sigh and give him a quick kiss to his forehead and whisper to him that he’s doing amazing; all whilst your parents stand in the kitchen having heard every word, and smiling in silent relief that the man you love isn’t as bad as his past suggests.

Vincent

Golden Boy number two. You actually call up your parents beforehand to warn them about him and to be prepared for cavities.

He’s genuinely excited to meet your parents and he even prepares a couple of small landscape paintings to give to them as a gift.

On the day itself, he will be nervous, especially standing in front of the door. You give him a kiss on his cheek and tell him that he has nothing to worry about and he instantly relaxes like magic.

“Ah, good evening. My name is Vincent Van Gogh. I hope I can show you just how much love I have for your daughter, and that you can give me your blessing to keep making her happy.”

Your parents very quickly realise just how right your warning was. When he hands over the paintings with a smile like sunshine, you have to laugh at your mother trying not to coo over him.

The evening goes so smoothly, you’re almost convinced it isn’t real. Your parents were slightly concerned about his profession as a painter being a bit too unstable, but he assuages their worries with talks of his latest exhibition and ones upcoming. Vincent gushes about how he can still be with you even when you travel for your work because his work usually lets him travel as well, and the pure love in his voice when he says that leaves you a blushing mess and both of your parents smiling at how happy you seem.

When they ask about his family, he turns slightly bashful and says that the close family vibe he feels between you and your parents wasn’t a luxury he experienced growing up. He adds that he doesn’t wish to steal you away from them and only wants to make you happy.

“We all love her...so as people who love her, let's do our best to make her happy" (credit to @snow--blanket for this lovely line~)

Ending the night with Vincent receiving a handshake from your father and your mother whispering into your ear that he’s a keeper and he’s welcome back anytime, your steps are practically weightless as you both leave.

When Vincent pulls you closer and asks in a hushed voice if you think it went well, you throw your arms around his neck and say it couldn’t have gone any better. His breath catches before he laughs in relief and hugs you back.

Theodorus

He’ll brush it off as no big deal, but on the inside he is just...screaming.

He knows better than anyone how abrasive he can be, and the absolute last thing he wants is to get on your parents’ bad side from the very first meeting.

Will he tell you this? Of course not. He’ll just casually hang around you when you’re on the phone to your parents to pick up on any clues he can.

Does he call Arthur and ask him to collect information on them in exchange for him paying the next drinking tab? Who knows...Arthur certainly doesn’t ;3

On the day he’ll be his normal self, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as you walk beside him. As he rings the doorbell, you jokingly tell him not to call you hondje or knabbeltje for the whole night, to which he only scoffs at.

“Hello. Theodorus Van Gogh, but just Theo is fine. Hope we can get to know each other better.”

Whilst a little crude, you’re still impressed at how polite he sounds compared to what you’re used to. As you walk inside, you freeze as he slips your coat from your shoulders without so much as a word and hangs both yours and his coat on the coat rack. Your parents hardly seem to notice, but you’re suddenly frazzled at this new polite image of the usually grouchy yet kind Theo.

The night continues in the same way. No teasing of wanting a treat, no dog-related nicknames; at this point, you were almost convinced he’s been replaced. Your suspicions heighten with how easily he seemed to be getting along with your parents as well.

As soon as they leave to clear away the dishes, you cup his cheeks and pull his face to look at you, your eyebrows furrowing further when he doesn’t even try to retaliate like normal.

When you ask him what he’s doing and why he’s acting so weird, he just sighs deeply and admits that he has been worried of what your parents would say if they heard him calling you a dog so he decided to tone it down.

You smile and kiss his forehead, telling him that, while you admit the dog nicknames would have been a weird discussion, your parents would see how clearly he loves you, and how you love him. He grumbles under his breath as he moves his hands to place them over yours.

“I did it for you, mangy hondje. Just enjoy letting me pamper you for tonight, but you best be ready for extra teasing to make up for today.”

That only makes you laugh and as your parents walk back into the lounge, you both pull away from each other and return to the evening’s calm conversations, you stealing glances at how awkwardly adorable your loving boyfriend is.

Dazai

You sit him down and take a deep breath, staring him square in the eyes. You say nothing, only handing him your phone so he can read the texts on them. He blinks once he finishes reading and you cross your arms over your chest.

“I have one thing I would like you to promise me, Dazai. I will do anything you want, just, please, use the door to enter AND exit my parents’ house...please?”

He smiles warmly and says he wouldn’t dream of it. The glare you shoot him dulls his smile none. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for the no doubt weird day to come.

As you’re both walking to your impending doom, your grip on his hand is tight. He squeezes your hand just before you move to press the doorbell and smiles at you - a real smile that freezes your movements yet drains the gnawing worry from within you. He presses the doorbell in your stead and you just stare at him, wondering how he’s so calm.

“Why, good evening to you. My name is Dazai Osamu. I am truly happy to finally be able to put faces to the people who brought this lovely woman into my life.”

The sight of you blushing like mad with Dazai holding your hand and grinning without a care only makes your parents chuckle.

Dazai is his usual self, his odd yet charming aura drawing your parents in as you all speak about a wide variety of different things. When your mother asks about his career, he looks at you and slips an arm around your waist and says that his job is making you happy. You grumble that he’s actually a writer, but he insists that the job he said is much more important.

You’re shocked at how sweet he’s being, even using your actual name when addressing you. Your parents don’t notice your internal crisis and by the end of the night, they’ve been won over by your eccentric, quirky boyfriend.

As you say goodnight and start making your way home, you twine your fingers with Dazai’s and thank him for using the door. Weirdly, he doesn’t laugh like you expect him to. Instead, he stops walking and pulls your hand softly so you look at him. You’re taken aback by the sudden serious look in his eyes.

“I’m aware that I don’t make an effort to be serious in most things I do, but that’s because I haven’t found anything I’m this serious about until I met you. I’m pretty sure I would do anything to keep you with me.”

His name ghosting from your lips is stopped by his lips sealing yours shut with a gentle kiss. When you open your eyes, his usual smile is back on his face as he whispers, “Or something like that.”. You stroke your thumb gently over his own, wondering why you ever doubted him for a second.

Isaac

Anxious sigh.mp3

This poor boy will be mumbling to himself like he’s trying to discover the ultimate secret of the universe, questioning everything from what he should wear to how he should stick his hand out for a handshake. You show you shouldn’t find his panic so endearing, but you can’t help it.

You’re constantly reassuring him that he’ll be fine and you’ll be right beside him the entire time. He mumbles out that he knows and that he really loves you for that, though he peters off at that last part so you don’t hear it.

On the day, he is sweating bullets and questioning every life decision he has ever made. You hug his arm and give him a peck on his cheek, whispering that you’re right here. You feel his tension dispel a little bit, even if he still looks petrified.

“Uh, um...hello. I’m Isaac Newton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He bows his head, the movement stiff and forced. Your parents can practically feel his nerves, but you’re quick to drag them all into the lounge to stop the awkwardness settling in too much.

Despite the bumpy start, the evening starts flowing more calmly as it goes on. At the dinner table, your hand rests on Isaac’s on his lap. You squeeze his hand whenever he fumbles his words or just freezes under your parents’ questions and, just like magic, he finds his words instantly.

You’re worried when your mother asks you to help clear the plates, but Isaac’s soft nod is enough for you to believe in him. Sure enough, when you come back, he’s deep in conversation with your father about some of his most recent research efforts, and you have to laugh at how it just flies over your dad’s head.

As the evening concludes, your parents smile at this awkward yet intelligent and caring man and it takes everything within Isaac to not immediately collapse with relief. You say your goodbyes and as soon as the door shuts behind you, you’re pulled into his arms and he buries his face into your neck.

“Oh, thank God and everything that is holy. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You keep your grin to yourself as you wrap your arms around him to return the hug, letting him recharge a little before heading back home.

Jean

“I’m not sure meeting your parents is the best idea, ___. What if I scare them?” Jean pls.

It takes longer than you’d care to admit to convince him that your parents do want to meet him and that he won’t scare them. The build-up until the day is spent with him asking how to best approach this. He seems perplexed when you tell him to be himself, but he can’t bring himself to argue you and your smile.

If you believe in him, then surely it can’t be that difficult, right?

As you both arrive at your parents’ house, Jean clears his throat and bows formally at the hips, his hand over his heart.

“Bonjour. My name is Jean D’Arc. It is an honour and a privilege to meet you and I wish for us to get along.”

Your parents just kind of freeze at Jean’s formality and seriousness, but you just smile as you take his hand and tell them that’s just the man you know and love. He turns red in an instant, but thankfully your parents don’t seem to notice as you all make your way inside.

Conversation is not the most abundant throughout the evening, but it’s by no means awkward. When he’s asked about his time in the armed forces, you quickly step in and ask for lighter conversations, aware of Jean’s usual reluctance to broach the subject. His eye softens and he smiles a soft smile at you, but it disappears a second later. Your parents notice, however, and share a smile of their own.

As the evening draws to a close, Jean bows again to thank your parents for the evening. They simply smile and say that they’re happy their daughter has found such a lovely devoted man. He completely freezes but you just blush and sidle up next to him, smiling with a hint of pride.

He seems in a daze as you both return to your home, unbelieving that they accepted him so easily. You smile up at him and move to wrap your arms around his waist and tell him that him just being himself was all he needed to do. He sighs out a laugh and strokes your hair, smiling with equal parts relief and awe.

Shakespeare

You can’t lie to yourself, you are more than a little nervous to introduce this one to your parents. His aura is distinctive, to say the least, and you’re worried about how your parents will react.

He chuckles at the way your eyebrows draw together and kisses your forehead, telling you that he will do his utmost best to win over your parents.

You’re wringing your hands together anxiously as you both walk up to the house, but Will dusts a quick kiss to your temple and whispers to you that all will be fine.

“A fine evening it is. My name is William Shakespeare, and ‘tis a true pleasure to maketh thine acquaintance.”

Your parents just blink at his manner of speaking; a reaction you expected. But you have to laugh at your father saying “Oh. He’s a theatre man, I see.”

Will simply smiles at his words, saying that he works as a playwright for the local theatre. He pulls out two front-row tickets to the newest show and hands them over as a gift - an extravagant gift if your parents are theatre enthusiasts.

The rest of the evening is...vibrant. Unusual conversations come up asking about Shakespeare’s career and where he draws inspiration. He admits that once he spoke of tragedy being his driving force, now he finds romance and love to be equally as stimulating. Cue you blushing and grinning like a fool as he gazes sweetly at you.

While not entirely convinced, your parents can’t deny that you both love each other and that they see no reason not to support your relationship. You breathe out a sigh of relief as Shakespeare shakes their hands and wishes them a pleasant night.

You’re smiling happily as you make your way home, saying you’re glad that it went well. Shakespeare smiles as he rests his hand on your hip to draw you closer, saying that he has to try harder to win them over so he can propose to you all the sooner.

You’re practically steaming the rest of the walk home.

Comte

Golden man Boy number three. When you broach the topic with him, he’s more than happy to set aside his schedule to meet with your parents.

You get suspicious when he starts asking about your parents’ taste in aesthetics and furniture and tell him that just a simple bouquet of flowers should be plenty if he’s wanting to bring a gift.

You walk up to their house on the day, your arm looped comfortably through his and his free hand holding a bouquet of pink roses. As you knock on the door, you both exchange smiles and any nerves you may have been feeling vanish instantly.

“Bonsoir. I am Le Comte de Saint Germaine, but I realise that’s quite a mouthful so just Comte is fine. It is wonderful to finally make your acquaintance.”

As gentlemanly and amiable as ever, he hands the bouquet of pink roses to your mother, its meaning of appreciation and gratitude apparent if your parents know of the language of flowers. Either way, they’re a nice centrepiece and have already earned your boyfriend brownie points.

The evening is filled with pleasant conversation, Comte’s sophisticated and mellow nature allowing everything to flow smoothly.

You tense slightly when they ask what he does for a career, but he shoots a quick wink your way before saying he’s an “entrepreneur of sorts”, which isn’t exactly wrong. You giggle silently to yourself at that.

They might be slightly wary of your relationship considering how much older Comte may appear compared to you, but Comte is quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders and, though he understands where they come from, he vows to love you with his entire being because he has never felt this strongly about anyone in his entire life; words that hold a different meaning to you, considering you know that he’s immortal.

In the end, they can’t condemn your boyfriend in any way, though your dad wonders why he looks like an aristocrat from the 1900s and you have to hold back the look of shock from showing on your face at how accurate he doesn’t realise he is. As you both leave, you heave a sigh and say that went better than you expected. Comte only chuckles and offers you his arm again, ready to escort you home like the ineffable gentleman he is.

Sebastian

He just blinks at your phone as he reads the texts before slowly raising his eyes to look at you. You ask him if he’s comfortable meeting your parents and he assures you that after meeting his historical idols, nothing and no one could ever fluster him again.

You giggle at that, but then immediately turn serious as you look at your boyfriend. He raises an eyebrow.

“I have one condition for the evening, Sebastian. When they inevitably ask about what you do for a job, your answer should be no longer than five minutes’ worth of talking.”

He grins wryly but agrees. He knows as well as you do how excited he gets over his career, and doesn’t want that of all things to scare your parents.

The day arrives and you’re not as nervous as you thought you would be. Just before he rings the doorbell, Sebastian brings your joined hands up to press a quick kiss to yours before he reverts back to his usual serious self.

“Good evening. My name is Akihiko Satou. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He shakes your father’s hand and bows his head respectfully to your mother, the smoothness of his actions reminiscent of his butler days. He removes his jacket and moves behind you to remove your own, folding them neatly over his arm before hanging them on the coat rack. Your parents already look impressed and you just smile.

Old habits die hard for Sebastian. He pulls your chair out for you to sit at the table, but you can see out of the corner of your eye how antsy he is in wanting to help.

The night continues calmly until the dreaded career question comes up. You click your phone to life to check the time and, like it’s his cue, he begins gushing about his job as a historian with a focus on European history (carefully leaving out details of him meeting said historical figures).

As soon as five minutes pass, you reach up and flick him on the forehead (a little payback). Your parents baulk, but Sebastian is quick to step in, saying that if you didn’t stop him he’d keep talking until the new era.

The evening draws to a close, and your mother whispers to you how you found such a straight-laced and lovely man. You just grin and say it’s a long story.

#ikevam #ikevam headcanons #you guys do not realise how hard this was not to make semi-crack bgrekdgrnrd #hope it's floofy enough ^w^#ikevam napoleon #ikevam mozart #ikevam leonardo #ikevam arthur #ikevam vincent #ikevam theo #ikevam dazai #ikevam isaac #ikevam jean #ikevam shakespeare #ikevam comte #ikevam sebastian #fluffy friday

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halo-jpeg · 4 years ago

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Could you by any chance, do slashers with a shy, twink SO?

I love this yes!!! I FINALLY finished this, jeez!!! This took a looong time. All my asks all for all the slashers I write for so it’ll take a long time for me to get the content out! Sorry for the wait!

Slashers with a Shy Twink S/O

Michael Myers

He’s a sucker for height differences, so a short guy is absolutely his type. He’d hold you close at all time, sitting you in his lap and never letting you get up.

You’re shy? That’s perfect, who needs to go outside into society anyways? He’d much rather keep you at home where he can make sure you’re safe, so don’t worry about having to go talk to people other than him.

Will protect you until the end of time. He’s super paranoid that you’ll be hurt or attacked for any and all reasons, so he’ll be close by no matter what, making sure no one makes you even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Whether it’s comforting or unnerving to know hes always close by, it’s the undeniable truth. Just shout for him and he’ll be there. Dip momentarily into a quiet place and he’ll be there. Talk aloud, he’ll hear you.

Jason Voorhees

Right away he knows you’re different from other campers. You’re short, fragile, and completely afraid to be out with the other teenagers. You aren’t as overly-confident and obnoxious like they are so that grants you bonus brownie points.

Again, you’re fragile and small, along with the purest babey in the world. The forest is dangerous; even before you know Jason is there he’ll be protecting you.

After you actually meet and get to know each other, he’ll be at your side no matter what, even if trespassers need to be dealt with. If it makes you happy he’ll do whatever you want him to.

He’s pretty shy himself, when he isn’t killing of course. He understands the whole ‘not too keen about attention’ stuff, so he does his best to keep trespassers away unless you want to be with them- until they’re killed.

Brahms Heelshire

He L O V E S Y O U. You are the cutest most adorable little thing hes ever seen and he will 100% love and cherish every single little thing about you.

You’re so tiny compared to this tower of a man and he LOVES to tease you about that, leaning his elbow on your head and purposefully placing stuff just too high for you to reach.

He’ll curl his entire body around yours like some human cocoon and you’ll be stuck there until he says otherwise.

Will always want to have tea parties and is always saying you’d look good as a doll, like his mini-Brahms self. Has scoured the internet for a custom-doll maker.

Billy & Stu

Protectprotectprotectprotectprotectprotectprotect-

Billy likes to tease you for being so small and shy when he’s generally outgoing, and finds it almost weird that you’d go for someone like him. After all, you’re basically polar opposites.

Stu makes you feel loved every second of the day, making sure no one makes you uncomfortable and always asking to hold your hand.

Both boys are so glad to have someone like you tolerate them and their stupidness. They don’t know how they got so lucky.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is a big man, and he loves tiny little you and your nervous personality.

He’s always afraid that you’ll get hurt if you leave the house, so you rarely do, and only when he’s with you, glued to your side like a protective tick.

He’ll pick you up and seat you on his shoulder, carrying you around like a parrot or something. Tommy loves to take walks with you like that.

Any and all teasing from his family will result in him punching them. Hard. He won’t take anything, not wen it comes to you because you’re his S/O and no one gets to tease you >:(

Bubba Sawyer

Another sucker for height differences!! He’s TALL, so he’ll always want to compare heights, seeing if you’re going to grow as tall as him some day. Even when you tell him you won’t, he still has hopes that you’ll grow as big and strong as he is.

No matter what Drayton says you are NOT doing any chores that are even remotely dangerous. If you ever try to help hunt trespassers or use a saw or hammer, Bubba will erupt into a series of panicked whining, and then he’ll drag you away into the safety of home.

Even though you’re so small he still likes to be the little spoon sometimes. It makes him feel even more loved and valued than ever. On days where he’s the big spoon, he loves that too, because then he knows you are feeling just as loved.

He’s shy too, so he knows how you feel!! He’ll take you on walks through the sunflower fields if guests ever come over, or if you want to get away from the shouting of his brothers.

Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson

Twink? Y E S. Danny is pretty twink-y himself, so you go perfect together. Everything about your personality is entrancing you him.

Will teach you how to use your height and weight perfectly; if you’re short, you’re harder to spot, and you can learn how to walk silently no matter your weight.

Danny is the polar opposite of shy, but he absolutely respects that you aren’t as confident around people as he is. He’s a natural attention whore, so he’ll absorb it all and keep peoples eyes off of you.

Some days where you’re really reluctant to go into public he’s perfectly content with chilling at home with a movie.

Billy Lenz

Will 100% call you Twink. All the time. Every day.

Makes fun of how short you are even though he’s pretty short himself, doing whatever he can do sabotage your daily life while still being convenient for his own- a lot of things are going to be placed just out of your reach.

Shy? Good, you don’t get to go outside anyways. It’s always attic time for Billy, and attic times means him, you, and the rocking chair, much too small for two people.

The ultimate little spoon. Cradle him in your arms or suffer 😡

Leslie Vernon

He’s a very outgoing, loud person; your polar opposite, so he can be a little overbearing. He draws a lot of attention (and loves it all) as well, so you’re often put out when you don’t want to be simply because he doesn’t notice that you’re uncomfortable.

He always makes it up to you with cuddles and love, feeling bad for making you uncomfortable.

Short? Okay. That’s fine, he doesn’t tease you or anything, you’re too good for that.

His favourite thing EVER is planning out his little hunting games. He usually lets you pick out the group (after he’s chosen his final girl, of course). You always think up different ideas than he does.

Vincent Sinclair

L o v e l o v e l o v e

He will cherish every single little thing about you because he’s never seen anyone as naturally perfect as you are.

Models 80% of his wax figures after you!!! There’s a lot of different mini figurines with your features, even if he tries not to let you know that.

He’s so shy, so he doesn’t ever want to go out of the basement. Now, you don’t ever want to leave either, and he loves it. Your personality is so easy to handle, it’s not overwhelming in the slightest and he loves you.

Bo Sinclair

Endless teasing. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this nasty texas man.

He’ll randomly rip things out of your hands and hold them too high for you to reach, laughing all the while.

He can be soft though, and he’s softer around you than anyone else. He’ll cuddle you and tell you how he’ll keep you safe no matter what.

He locks you in your room whenever people stumble across Ambrose. He won’t risk getting you hurt.

Lester Sinclair

You’re just the cutest to him!! Compared to his brothers he’s tiny, so he loves that you are too!

He’ll bring you with him on his work rides, cranking country tunes through his old tinny radio and singing along loudly.

It’s nice and secluded all throughout the work day, so you won’t have to worry about much social interaction.

On the day Lester runs into someone he intends to lure back to Ambrose (like offering a ride) he’ll make sure he takes all the attention, talking non-stop so you didn’t have to talk if you didn’t want to.

Norman Bates

He himself is pretty twinky if we’re being honest. You’d totally click personalities.

He’s shy too, so there would never be the problem of having to talk to other people. The two of you make do with simply being around one another.

He’ll read you books and make tea, along with constantly buying you flowers. He’s so in love with you.

The most gentlemanly gentleman on the earth. Absolutely no teasing from this guy, and he’ll beat anyone who teases you to a pulp.

Pyramid Head

S m o l b o i = p r o t e c t

Super territorial and constantly worried about you. If you ever leave his sight he’ll flip, his anxiety blasting through the roof. He’ll spend hours tearing the town apart to find you.

He’ll pat your head as his main sign of saying ‘I love you’. If he could speak he’d shower you with endless praise.

He’s so big and strong and brutal, but when it comes to handling you he’s so careful and gentle, like two different sides of a coin.

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lebenspurpur · 3 years ago

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Jealous otis sinclair smut???

bestie who the fuck is otis sinclair/hj

Anyway you're getting NSFW headcannons with the Sinclair brothers and Otis because why not.

ᴠɪɴᴄᴇɴᴛ ꜱɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ

Vincent has a pretty high sex-drive but he doesn't show it. He's scared that you don't want him and so he keeps on ignoring his urges.

We all know Vincent has a few dirty drawings laying somewhere. They're really good too since he knows quite a lot about anatomy.

Vincent literally doesn't care what you look like. Bodies are just instruments to him, no matter what shape they are.

Please pull his hair. Especially when he goes down on you. It awakes such an animalistic urge inside of him, it's astonishing.

Don't ask him for cockwarming because that man has patience. He has no problem sitting there for hours, maybe reading, maybe sketching, who knows.

He might never admit it but the thought of his twin hearing the two of you arouses him more than anything else. Vincent will try his best to make you scream to let his dreams come true.

Vincent is pretty much down for everything you want to try, except inflicting pain on you. Him receiving pain? Depends on the pain but he might be down.

Very big fan of cumming inside of you. It feels like he's claiming you with his seed.

Loves tying you up. Especially when it looks aesthetically pleasing.

ʙᴏ ꜱɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ

This horny, horny man. Bo has such a high sex drive, he can literally take you all day, every day.

An ass man through and through.

Loves doggy-style. The animalistic side of him comes out and the fact that he's 100% in control just arouses the shit out of him.

Very open with his sexual life. The amount of information that Vincent had to listen to is... really astonishing.

Fucking you to Marylin Manson in the gas station? Yes.

Doesn't care if Vincent listens. Kind of wants him to. Will definitely whisper You want Vince to hear us? in your ear when you're loud.

Teasing motherfucker. For someone so spontaneous and childish Bo has quite the patience.

I am so sorry but he gets horny when he's drunk. We all know drunk sex is not it. Have fun with that.

Sex outside is a must. Bo doesn't really care where exactly, he just wants to be outside.

He will also fuck you in front of victims, especially if they make him jealous.

ʟᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ

Lester is often perceived as a sweetheart but he probably has more knowledge in the romantic apartment than both of his brothers. That being said, he's not innocent.

Also an ass man. Loves your bottom, no matter what it looks like.

This was always a headcannon of mine and idk why but Lester has the best rhythm. He's empathetic enough to be slow and aroused enough to be fast and that somehow works perfectly.

Suck him off while he drives. Maybe not in his truck because yk, full with dead animals but still.

Shower sex. Need I say more.

Very fucking kinky but no one expects that. Let's not forget that this boy has trauma too.

Totally fine with tying you up for the day and just let you wait for him.

Frustrated sex? Hell yeah.

Lester can be both, rough and loving. It really depends on his mood.

ᴏᴛɪꜱ ᴅʀɪꜰᴛᴡᴏᴏᴅ

Oh boy. Get your seatbelt on because this is gonna be one hell of a ride.

Necrophiliac. And a very committed one. He'll fuck you with a corpse lying next to you.

Everything about Otis feels like a fever dream. Sex is very interesting as well. If you're both not high as fuck, you might not be fucking Otis.

Always down for a threesome as long as he can kill the other person later. The more people, the more pleasure as he likes to say.

Extremely into outside sex. Especially when he knows that there are other people outside.

Very degrading, especially if you're a woman. Thrives if you cry.

Will slap you if you're down. Is also very big on spanking.

Want to get fucked by another person while Otis films it? He'll obviously kill the other partner later and fuck you in front of their dying body but still.

A little finger action at the dinner table with the family is one of his favorite daydreams.

Otis has his own porn stacked somewhere. And yes, he'll fuck you while watching it.

Never wears any kind of protection and that will never change.

#otis driftwood #bo sinclair x reader #vincent x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #otis driftwood x reader

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eunahfmdarchive · 4 years ago

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painting - partial lyrics + partial composition credit. date: early january 2020 / may 2020. word count: 834, excluding lyrics. mentions of eunah’s ex from last year. also, i almost forgot but there’s a reference to the climb in here, yeehaw. ALSO CW: some minor allusions to eunah’s eating and body image issues, and some discussion of sex ( totally non-explicit ). so sorry, i am very tired and forgot to say this in my haste to post.

she should still be enjoying mezzanine and its title track’s success, and a successfully wrapped set of promotions, but eunah can’t. instead, she listens back to the mini-album and feels bittersweet about it already, cringing as she hears the cheery notes of i’m not in love with you’s intro play. the title and the lyrics were supposed to be tongue in cheek, poking fun at their slowness to admit their feelings to one another. now, the title is just simple fact. she’s not in love with him. that’s fine, the feeling is mutual.

still, she can’t get him off her mind. eunah wonders why she didn’t dedicate this much time to thinking about him when they were together. is she too cold? is it because of her hyper focus on her album? is it because of her body? anything but that. she’d like to believe all the sweet things he said were true. that’s how she wants to remember their time together.

eunah’s no artist, but she still doodles something that looks a little bit like him in the margins of her notebook.

at a misty dawn i paint you the clouds that i painted with a brush make me remember you i paint you again ... the moonlight is coming in i open my eyes and quietly be with you again

‘painting’ sounds nicer than ‘drawing’, as far as she’s concerned. the scenes she imagines, the memories she conjures up when she recalls their time together look better as paintings too. eunah imagines them moving through life animated like they’re in loving vincent.

when you call my name when you stroke my hair the memories of you and me i’m falling down i can’t tell you, please love me come to me and hug me yes, i’m afraid there’s no one here

her thoughts and feelings look so dramatic written down, almost erring on the silly side once she’s read them over a couple of times. eunah sniffs back a tear, shutting her eyes tight for a second before leaning back on her window sill perch and laughing. she wonders, does she really care this much about this guy? about this relationship that couldn’t make it through one promotional cycle? that obviously means that they ended for the best, right?

or does this mean something more? would any relationship be able to withstand her busy schedule? eunah’s had her fair share of lovers, more than she thought she would. ( the total is three. ) but either it’s never gone past the stage of purely physical and friendly motivations or the earliest stages of real feelings. even this had only lasted a couple of months.

eunah figures she’s probably a dime a dozen. it wouldn’t take long for a guy to find a girl like her who isn’t so busy, or who isn’t so sad. a girl like her, except she’s more willing to put out. that’s okay too. eunah wishes she could be a bit more like that girl, wherever she is, and a little less like the sad sack sitting with her head against the windowpane.

when you call my name when you stroke my hair the promises between you and me i’m falling down i can’t tell you, please love me come to me and hug me yes, i’m common i’m just a common girl

discouraged in spite of her recent emotional progress, it’s months before eunah revisits the song. she’s not so cut up anymore, and has her sights set on someone else. she cringes at how raw she’d apparently been back in january, but she sees potential in the pages nonetheless. she’s been thinking lately, how she’d like to write something simple that’s still an ear worm, something that builds upon itself as it goes. sitting at her piano, eunah fiddles around with the words of the lyrics for a handful of hours so that they line up better with the melody she’s trying to create, until the syllables fall perfectly into place. by the time her phone alerts her to say that it’s three in the morning so she should get her ass in bed, for once, eunah can say with no doubt in her heart that she is quite pleased with herself.

it’s comforting to think that even her worst experiences can turn into something useful. eunah never expected for her road to recovery to be an easy one, and she always knew there would be setbacks, but to come out of one mostly unscathed feels better than she’d expected. there’s no mountain she wouldn’t climb now, not like before when she shied away. it doesn’t matter how fast she gets there, or what’s on the other side. she can only assume there’d always be another mountain. isn’t that how life goes?

eunah smiles as she drifts off to sleep, satisfied and proud. not just because of the song.

the next day, while her good mood is still leading the way, eunah finishes the melody for what she thinks will be the chorus of a song. she enjoys playing around with it, using her and lux’s home studio to record herself singing it a few different ways. softer, more like a whisper. then, powerful, belting out the woes within. they’re not her own worries anymore, and singing them doesn’t hurt her at all. like she’s rehearsing for a musical, eunah gets into character for her final recording take.

she’s a girl, looking out at the snow on a winter night, and she’s afraid she’s unlovable, maybe even cursed.

and when the recording is over, eunah is a girl wheeling back and forth in an office chair, smiling to herself as she anticipates a good summer.

#tldr: eunah ): but then eunah (:#fmdverification #also i'm gonna get back to emssages asap LOL i just wanna focus on these verifications!!!#sorry i promise i'm not intentionally ignoring everyoneee ily #* / 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ⇨ self para !#eating disorder implied tw

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indescribablechoices · 5 years ago

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let this moment be the first chapter

Pairing: Sir Luke Harper x MC (Jess Woodmire)

Word Count: 1618

Listening Suggestion: That Would Be Enough - Hamilton

Fic Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @kennaxval @scalpeljockeybrycelahela @nazariobae @cora-nova @missameliep (the next few I’m tagging is because you liked or reblogged my signal boost post, but didn’t say whether you wanted to be tagged, so I did it anyway, my apologies if this wasn’t what you wanted, and I can untag you) @rain18rain @pixieferry @watamidoing

Synopsis: Jess and Luke visit Luke’s estate together for the first time after its completion and their thoughts turn to the future. (warning; my likely historical inaccuracies)

“So, Sir Luke of Harper Hall… how things have changed since we first met.”

They looked at each other as they stood on the front step to the estate, the subtly sweet scent of the surrounding flower fields carried on the wind.

He took hold of her hand and pressed a tender kiss to it, “They have. To think, the first time I held this hand I was helping Miss Woodmire from her carriage. And now… it belongs to my wife, Countess Jess of Edgewater.”

“Not bad for a Master of Horse and the bastard daughter of a seamstress.”

He let out a soft laugh, “Not bad at all.”

“So come on, dear husband of mine, give me the tour of your estate,” she insisted.

He pulled a key from his pocket and used it to unlock the door, but before she could take another step, he swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold as she let out a breathless squeal of surprise. She threw her own arms around his broad shoulders, their grins matching as he carried her into the front hall, now fully constructed since the last time she had been here.

Since the wedding things had been hectic, having been away for their honeymoon and then returning to Edgewater to full take her place as Countess. Luke had been overseeing the construction of his estate when he could, but ruling Edgewater at his wife’s side took most of his time. Though, things were beginning to settle down, and for the first time in a long time Jess believed that they could now get along with the next part of their lives.

She leaned in closer and stole a soft kiss from his lips before he set her back on her feet, the both of them looking around the still empty hall.

“The building has been finished for a week now,” he told her as they wandered in a little further, hand in hand, “But it still requires furnishing. I’ve been told that the essentials have already been put in; the kitchen, a basic study and the beginnings of the master bedroom. Enough so that business can still be conducted here whilst the rest of the house is finished.”

She began peeking her head into every door she could, imagining the potential for each room before she looked back at him, “I can think of no one more worthy of a chance such as this.”

“A chance?” he asked.

“I will cherish the legacy that has been passed to me through Edgewater, but this is the chance for you to begin your own legacy. Harper Hall, and the Harper name will become an example for anyone who doubts that a good person with a good heart with humble beginnings can make their mark on the world. This will be your chapter in history.”

“Our chapter in history,” he reminded her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close, chest swelling with affection for this woman, her words truly setting in, “You are the Lady of Harper Hall, after all... My wife,” he added, quieter, softer.

“Your wife… I don’t think I will ever tire of hearing you say that,” she admitted.

“And I will never tire of saying it,” he murmured before kissing her.

She leaned into his embrace, returning the kiss before she smiled against his mouth, “Why don’t we take this tour upstairs, husband?”

He gave a soft hum of laughter, “Upstairs, hm? And which of the rooms is it that interests you?”

“The empty guest rooms, clearly,” she smirked, slipping out of his arms with a teasing glance before she headed up the stairs.

Their laughter echoing off the walls, he gave chase, the skirts of her dress billowing out behind her, her dark curls loose around her shoulders. He loved to see her hair down. It made her look more like the country girl she had grown up as rather than the elaborate updos that she wore once she arrived at Edgewater, particularly during her engagement to the now Mr Richards. But now that they were married, she wore it freely. She liked to style it on occasion, but it was her choice, not an expectation.

He watched her look at the ajar door at the end of the hall that clearly led to the master bedroom and she instead slipped into one of the empty rooms. He followed her, leaning in the doorway as she began to pace the edge of the empty room, her footsteps echoing off of the wooden floor, “So what is to be done with this room?”

“A guest bedroom most likely,” he said, “I admit I haven’t given it much thought. I have never had need of an extra room beyond the essentials before.”

“There is one essential you have forgotten, sir.”

“There is?” his eyebrows raised, “But our bedroom is already prepared and there is a study downstairs and-”

She paused and watched him getting flustered with a smile, “Well you are obviously woefully unprepared for this to be our home away from home, unless you intend for your wife to never visit you here,” she said teasingly, then started to walk the room again.

“Perish the thought,” he said, trying to desperately think of what he had forgotten.

“We will have a bookshelf here,” she traced her fingers along one wall before turning slightly, “And a rocking chair in this corner by the fire…” she stood in front of the window, the morning sunlight capturing her face perfectly, “And here… we shall have a crib.”

She glanced at him, watching as the realisation began to dawn on his face, “A crib?”

She tilted her head playfully at him, “It is the main feature of every nursery.”

“Jess,” he said her name softly, strained almost, disbelieving.

“Yes, Luke?”

His voice shook, “Are you…? Are we…?”

She stepped closer to him, taking hold of his hand and pressing it against her stomach, biting her lip to control her grin, “I’m with child. Our child.”

He let out a hard breath as tears sparkled in his eyes, “Our child…”

“Are you happy?”

His eyes met hers and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as he drew her into a kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, “Happy doesn’t begin to even cover the amount of joy I am feeling in this moment.”

“Truly?”

“Jess,” he held her face in his hands, “You wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman… I truly am the luckiest man alive to have you in my life, and we are going to have a family together. We’re having a baby...”

“The first of many, I hope,” she said.

He let out a joyous laugh, tears slipping down both of their cheeks, “As many as you want, my love. We have two estates to fill with children.”

“Then we should take the moments we have alone together whilst we have them,” she giggled before she leaned up on her tiptoes to press a tender kiss to his mouth, “Take me to bed.”

His eyebrows raised a little, “Can we…? In your condition?”

She nodded, kissing him again, “Briar assured me that we can. Her mother told her it was fine when she found out she was pregnant a few months ago.”

“Good,” he groaned softly, drawing her into his arms to carry her to their bedroom.

He laid her on the bed, then turned to close the door. He knew they were alone in the house, but right now, he didn’t want to think about anyone or anything else outside of this room that wasn’t his wife or the precious life growing inside her.

As they lay together in the tangled sheets later, lightly dozing and drawing idle patterns on the other’s skin, Jess rolled onto her front, resting her chin on Luke’s bare chest.

“Boy or girl?” she asked.

“Well, if your plans are anything to go by we shall have plenty of both,” he smiled, reaching to brush her curls behind her ear, “But for our first? I always pictured us with a daughter.”

“You pictured it?”

He nodded, “Even before we were engaged, I allowed myself idle fantasies of what our life would be like if we could be together. She would have your curls, and my eyes. Mr Sinclaire would bring her endless books to read. Prince Hamid would tell her tales of his travels and promise to take her with him one day for an adventure. Mrs Marlcaster would be more than happy to take her on many hijinks. Miss Parsons- Well, soon to be Mrs Chambers, would teach her piano and how to paint. I would play my fiddle every evening for you both to sing and dance to. You would teach her every song your mother taught you, and she would be so good with the horses. She would be so loved.”

Jess didn’t realise she had been crying until she felt Luke’s gentle fingers wipe away her tears. She smiled at him, “She will be loved like that. I can’t wait for her to get here so our lives can begin together.”

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her fully, pressing a kiss to her hair, “The time will fly by, my love, I have no doubt. But as you said, we should take these moments whilst we have them.”

She settled into his arms, tilting her head up to kiss him, “I love you, Luke.”

“As I love you, Jess. Forever.”

In the years that followed, they were blessed with four beautiful children; Daisy Annabelle Harper, Mary Briar Harper, Vincent Ernest Harper and Edward Hamid Harper. They were all raised with the unconditional love of their parents, and the affection of all of the extended family they were named for.

#desire and decorum #luke x mc #luke harper x mc #sir luke harper #sir luke harper x mc #jess woodmire #writing

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thenickelportrust · 5 years ago

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First Kiss Shorts: Vincent

11/12

“I can’t believe you’re still single. This has to be a new record, yeah? I mean, you’ve gone, what, a whole week without breaking someone’s heart?” She grinned cheekily as she stared down Vincent, one brow quirked ever so slightly. He just rolled his eyes, which was a gesture far more for show than it was for any real irritation behind it.

This was just how their conversations went and, frankly, why he still kept her around. She was one of the few people who could really keep pace with Vincent’s quips and lifestyle. She didn’t balk down from a challenge. He liked that about her. And even better, she sought out challenges herself. And that was why Vincent had latched himself to her side. Things were always interesting when she was around, and as truly fantastic as he is at seeking out adventure, it does help to have someone else take up the burden of finding something new to entertain the dulled mind every once and a while.

Plus they worked well together. And together, Vincent found, they were able to do things far grander than he could on his own. After all, it was perfectly acceptable to steal candy from the local gas station where the cashiers were too apathetic to notice a teenager shoving chocolate down the sleeves of his hoodie. But it was an entirely different thing to go to the confectionery store and have one of them pull a distraction while the other loads up an old paper bag, nearly identical to the ones the store uses, with the best of the best. Dark chocolate rich with real cocoa instead of gas station brand imitations. Victory sure was sweet.

Even if the two of them were debatably not.

Vincent, now feeling he’s given all the appropriate sass in a response befitting her teasing, turns it around on her with a smirk. “So says you. Ever since you broke up with Skipper you’ve been single. Not quite so charming now are you, hm?”

“Oh shut up.” She boxed his shoulder, “... Hey. Wanna turn it into a competition?”

“A competition?”

“Yeah. Whoever gets a date first gets sixty percent of the next payload, instead of our usual fifty-fifty.”

Now Vincent was always up for a bit of good competition. It kept things interesting and, well, since that was always his goal, it made sense to agree. But, there was a fine line between competition that benefitted the situation… and the knowledge that neither of them were particularly good at losing.

Which he didn’t really see as a downfall, frankly. If you were good at losing you were comfortable with it. And to be comfortable with losing… well, it certainly means you’d win less and less, no?

But that being said, she’d spent the last half hour batting him around with her teasing, so whats to say he can’t get a little bit of… payback? Teeth bared in a grin, Vincent pressed his hands beneath his chin, drawing out his words like he were singing a song. “Alright, then, friend. You’re on.”

She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward over the lunch table with her elbow braced against the cheap plastic folding tabletop. “Oh no, I know that look. You’ve got some shit up your sleeve, Bayer, and I ain’t about to be involved.”

Vincent pulled back, a hand pressed to his chest as he huffed out a scoff, “Me? Conniving? Never! Frankly, I’m hurt you’d ever think such a thing of your dearest friend!”

“Uh huh.”

“Besides, you’re the one who made the bet, backing out so soon, hm?”

“Look just because I dealt the hand doesn’t mean I gotta pick it up if I know the game’s a loser.”

“Oh just admit you’re a coward-”

In a minute her hands were on the collar of his shirt, dragging him forward as Vincent braced his palm against the side of the table. Her face was just inches from his, eyes narrowed and lip curled in a half-snarl, “Take. That. Back.”

He just snickered, and soon enough the downturned corners of her lips failed in their intimidation and began to try and press upwards. There was amusement behind the fierce fire of her eyes. He knew the look well by then. “I’ll take it back when you take up your bet.”

“Tell me what you’re planning.”

“Nothing! Well, nothing that wouldn’t be in our mutual benefit, as always.”

She just furrowed her brows, watching and waiting, her hands still dug into his shirt.

Vincent sighed and managed to pull one from his collar- she was going to wrinkle it if she kept up like that. He slipped from her grip and pushed his hair back into order, “How about we tie, then? No winners, no losers.”

“What? What would even be the point of the bet then?”

“The fun of it!”

“And how would we even tie?”

“I can show you, if you’d like.”

“What the fuck are you planning, Bayer…?”

“I said I could show you, not tell you.”

She drummed her fingers against the tabletop. He could see the calculations moving behind her flickering gaze, lips pressed together in contemplation. Eventually she sighed and let her hands fall still on the surface of the table. “Alright, Vin, show me what it is you got planned.”

His grin grew. “Close your eyes then.”

“... Trusting you is a mistake.” But she obliges and lets her eyes fall closed. Vincent hesitates just a moment more, then he leans forward and, ever so lightly, ever so quickly, brushes his lips to hers. Pulling back with a smirk.

Her face is bright red as her eyes fly open once more. Speechless. Vincent smirks. “There!” He chimes, “Now it’s a tie.”

#shorts #vincent bayer #v bayer #model citizens unmasked

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