#no wonder vincent loves his adorable brother so much

[lemorgo]

rereading pandora hearts music inspo [ID: Vincent gently hugs Gilbert, one hand on his back and the other on Gil's head. Gil is embarrassed and a bit sad, Vincent has a warm smile. Everything is in warm yellow and dark blue tones, there are few warm yellow stars. End ID]

[rapturously]

.........some The Lost Boys Marko smut? 🥺🤲

once bitten, twice shy (II).

( paul x fem!reader x marko )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: paul x fem!reader x marko.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested, continuation of once bitten, twice shy.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2K (not sorry!)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), threesome, reader has two boyfriends, bloodplay, violence & gore, vampire antics, dirty talk, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, begging, public sex (on a beach), bruising, blood drinking, biting, hair-pulling, p in v sex, missionary & cowgirl, scratching, voyeurism, making out, breast-play (paul loves your tits), handjob, fingering (f!receiving), ass-grabbing, they smear blood on the reader (not sorry, it was hot), risk of getting caught, there’s probably more ngl

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: technically this is marko smut with a big ol’ side of paul, so ,,,, I am not sorry for this being absolutely filthy, I wish it was filthier tbh :(( anyway, I hope you all have a great holiday and enjoy! there’s so much more content to come!

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

Dusk had steadily become your favorite time of day — you no longer lived by sunrise, anxiously awaiting nightfall. When the sun disappeared behind the oceanic horizon of Santa Carla, your excitement had always kicked in, accompanied by exhilaration. Instead, you’d become the queen of the night, lost to the shadows and abandoning daylight altogether.

Once the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, giving way to a cloudless, moonlit sky, the boys were up and active. It was like clockwork, something that you’d grown accustomed to as a human. Their circadian rhythm was vastly different, something that took you ages to sink into, even if you weren’t a vampire.

By the time you’d awoken, the cave was eerily silent, swallowed by a certain quiet that only came about when the boys were gone at the boardwalk. Admittedly, you were a little disappointed that you hadn’t seen Paul, but you knew he’d make it up to you later. He always did. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, gently rubbing at the back of your neck.

As your eyes grew accustomed to your candlelit surroundings, there was something sitting at the foot of your bed — a sundress in hues of gold and a vibrant orange, reminding you of a sunset. You rocked forward, gently pushing your sheets aside. The note attached to the bundle of fabric was written in semi-elegant script.

‘Wear this tonight.’ — M.

It was difficult to smother the giddy, excitable smile that stretched across your features as you began chewing at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers brushed across the crumpled piece of paper crudely taped to the dress, gently pulling it aside. You traced your digits over the frilly material, feeling it glide over your hand.

Marko had become your boyfriend, something that Paul was entirely comfortable with. Of course, Paul was your mate — that was a different title and meaning altogether. Even then, Marko had learned to settle; live with the idea that you and Paul were bound together by the hip and by heart. He was thankful that his brother let him in to begin with.

Like Paul, Marko had started down the path of gift-giving, finding items that reminded him of you, from a vast array of trinkets to clothing. You savored every second of it, of the doting attention and protectiveness that came with two vampires. There hadn’t been any intimacy yet aside from the instance of them helping you out while you were on your cycle.

Though, with their combined unpredictability, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

You sprang from your bed, clasping the sundress against your chest as you pictured what you would’ve looked like with it on. Paul adored it whenever you wore dresses — he had a habit for feeling you up through the material or rucking it up around your hips. You wondered what Marko would think, considering that he’d chosen it for you.

After cleaning up in your makeshift spring, you put on the dress, twirling around in it a few times, growing used to the liberating feeling of it. It was loose, with thin-strap sleeves and a ruffled bodice. You felt pretty — like any other gorgeous girl at the boardwalk.

The trek wasn’t excruciatingly long — you’d wandered the dirt path down to the shoreline countless times. Your step was spirited, giddy as you made it past Hudson’s Bluff and to the beach. Bonfires stretched across the white sand as far as the eye could see, often surrounded by surfers or partygoers.

As you stepped onto the boardwalk, your boots thudded against the rickety wood of the pier, your gait noticeably happy. You were smiling, on cloud nine — it was strange that you hadn’t found the boys just yet, but you knew that, once Paul and Marko caught wind of your scent, they wouldn’t be far behind.

The cacophony of people that traversed the boardwalk was seemingly endless — there was always a new face, someone you hadn’t seen before, or someone you’d seen a hundred times before. The distant lull of music filled the air, another concert down at the beach with plenty of cheering and crowds to accompany it.

When dusk hit Santa Carla, the boardwalk transformed from daytime hues to neon — vibrant, casting the pier in shades of an obnoxious pink and crimson. Strangers came out of the woodwork to enjoy the eclectic night life that the boardwalk had to offer, including the rancor and excitement of the nearby amusement park. There were worse things that lurked in Santa Carla.

Sometimes, it wasn’t the vampires. People were the enemy at times, not creatures of the night.

Gangs of Surf-Nazis dominated the beach by nightfall, surrounding bonfires that illuminated the shoreline. You always tried your best to keep away, a stark warning issued by David. The boys had a bitter rivalry with multiple groups, and by your association, that rivalry was extended to you.

You continued your search, weaving throughout the crowds that swarmed the pier, looking for the familiar cluster of motorcycles. It was somewhat unusual for it to take you this long — one of them would’ve found you by now. A pair of guys rushed past you, nearly knocking you over when you heard them mention a ‘beach brawl’ in-passing.

Something compelled you to follow, and you did, swiftly making your way down a set of stairs and onto the sand, finding a gathering of people piled up near one of the bonfires. You jogged over, boots kicking up dust as you waded across the soft shore, nudging through the encroaching crowd.

The boys versus Surf-Nazis — you shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Dwayne was locked in a wrestling match with one of them, clearly winning given his vampiric strength. He was the most indomitable of the group too, effortlessly slamming one of the surfers to the ground. Laddie was perched on the back of his motorcycle, shouting a string of words that sounded unintelligible to you.

Marko had already gotten his fill of fighting — the surfer he squared off against was knocked-out into the sand, nose bloodied. His attention immediately shifted to you, huddling near the fringes of the sea of onlookers.

It was Paul that caught your attention — Paul, who toyed with one of the surfers as if he were simply a plaything, all for entertainment. He dodged and skirted around him in the sand, laughing and mocking him all the way. “You’re too slow, bud!” He called out, giving him a swift kick in the chest.

You entered the fold, a mere human, dashing toward Paul without a second thought. You grabbed at his coattails, yanking the blonde backwards toward the bikes. “Paul! What is going on?” You gasped, catching his attention without a hitch. Once your scent permeated the beach, it was all over.

“Just a disagreement,” Paul mused, watching as the surfers began to retreat. His grin was that of triumph, pulling you into his side. “You’re lookin’ fine, baby. Marko’s got a good eye for that stuff.” The adrenaline rush of fighting Surf-Nazis began to settle, allowing him to give you a very sloppy kiss.

“Easy, tiger.” You mumbled, listening to his laughter as he brazenly squeezed at your ass through the dress. “Where’s Marko?” The curly-headed blonde was easy to pick out amongst a crowd given his vibrantly-colored patchwork jacket.

Another hand settled against the small of your back, soft lips pressing themselves against your jaw. “Right here,” Speak of the devil, and he appears. Marko was delighted to see you, feeling a rush of energy from fighting against the surfers, even more now that he was getting to see you in that dress. “You look perfect.” He sighed.

They were pressed snugly against you on either side — Paul on your left, Marko on your right. You were elated, happily providing them with a hand to hold as the three of you skirted down the shoreline. “You guys need to be more careful. You’re always getting into trouble when I’m asleep.” You chided, listening to Paul’s jester-like laughter.

Paul grinned, showering your sweet flesh in plenty of kisses. “That’s the fun part,” He mused, jerking his head in Marko’s direction. “We wanna have those surfer-dickwads for dinner.” His eyes glistened with an unrestrained hunger, coupled with humor. “Do you wanna come with us, baby? We won’t make you watch.”

“It’ll be an appetizer,” Marko added, flashing those rows of pearlescent teeth, which happened to nibble along the worn leather of his glove. “I haven’t eaten yet.” He mused, playfully nipping at your jawline. You tasted like a thick honey, sinking into his very bones.

“Before we get to the main course,” Paul added, letting out a rather exaggerated, theatrical snarl. His ringed hand snatched yours, spinning you around in a circle as the three of you made it toward the motorcycles. “Think Marko wants to give you a ride this time, babe.” He mused, winking at Marko as if he were playing wingman.

You had a feeling that you would be the main course, which made your stomach ripple with a rush of excitement. Anticipation crackled along your spine, accompanied with that familiar haze of desire. You hadn’t watched the boys kill and maim before — they were afraid it’d be too off-putting for you.

Marko smirked, taking you off of Paul’s hands as he hoisted you up over his shoulder. Despite being the smallest of the pack, his strength was just as impressive as that of Dwayne’s. You let out a squeal of delight, smacking at the blonde’s shoulder. “Marko!” You laughed, enjoying the ride as he escorted you to his bike.

Paul caught wind of the surfers’ trail, able to smell their pungent musk of cheap beer, saltwater, and their clothing. He revved his motorcycle, pulling up next to the both of you with a wolfish grin. “Got their trail, Marko. I say we follow.” He nodded, leaning over to give you a kiss once you were situated on the back of Marko’s bike.

With the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, Marko glanced over his shoulder, nudging your jaw with his nose. “We’re going for a ride,” He mused, flashing a grin in Paul’s direction. The two exchanged a look of understanding, intermingled with that pang of screaming hunger. “Hold on, baby.” Marko teased, mocking Paul’s constant use of the innocuous nickname.

You laughed, arms slipping around Marko’s midsection, idly fiddling with the cropped shirt he wore. His flesh was cold and smooth underneath your fingertips, musculature akin to marble. Once Paul sped off to take the lead, Marko followed suit, saluting Dwayne and David in a mocking fashion as they passed by.

The cool, evening breeze was on your side, accompanied by the saltwater draft wafting from the ocean. Marko drove fast, likely to keep up with Paul, who was swaying all across the shoreline as he tracked the scent of the Surf Nazi group. You felt like you were on top of the world, leaning in to give Marko a few sly kisses along his neck.

Santa Carla’s vibrant carnival began to disappear into the distance, the further you drove along the coast. Paul occasionally wove around, slowing to drive alongside you and Marko. He whistled at you, weaving just a little closer to make things more exciting.

The surfers had moved down toward the old fishing shack, now fashioned into a shoddy party-palace. Old beer bottles and cans were scattered around the rickety wooden half-dock at the shack sat on top of, littered in graffiti. A bonfire glistened in the distance, partially obscured by an outcropping of rock.

Once the thrill of the hunt began to settle in, basic instinct began to override logic — Paul and Marko were no better, submitting to the desire to feed above all else. Paul steered toward the rocks, parking his bike somewhere out of-sight. Marko followed suit, making sure that you were situated before nudging the kickstand out.

“Stay here, yeah?” Paul cautioned, gesturing toward the patch of soft sand. The rock provided something of a barrier — visually and physically. The last thing that either of them wanted was for you to get in the crossfire of a feeding frenzy. “It’s dinnertime, bud!” He howled, pressing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss.

Marko grinned, like a shark drawn to blood in the water, caressing your cheek before giving you a kiss after Paul had his turn. “We’ll be right back.” The two were wickedly fast, swift with inhuman reflexes, hopping over the rock as they made it down the incline.

There were four of them — three guys, and one girl. The girl, a redhead sporting a one-piece swimsuit, was strewn across an oversized beach-blanket, paying little to no attention to the three men drinking around the bonfire. The other three were well on their way to becoming absolutely smashed, sashaying through the sand.

Curiosity got the better of you, shuffling forward through the white sand, soft around your knees as you peered above the rock. Paul’s posture was that of a seasoned predator, mirroring Marko’s coiled stance, like two lions prepared to strike. You shouldn’t have been watching, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Paul was the first one to move, flying up and into the fray, striking at one of the surfers from the cover of darkness. You could hear the cacophony of screams, the terror and fear that permeated the air, causing goosebumps to coalesce along the length of your spine. You shuddered, unable to tear your eyes away from the brutality of the scene before you.

Marko was ripping into another man, rending flesh from bone, muscle and sinew no match for his talons and teeth. Their laughter was partially drowned out by those shrieks and cries of fright. He bit into his jugular, cruor and crimson ichor spraying violently into the night air.

You shrank down beneath the rock, able to smell that coppery twang of blood, intermingling with the salt from the ocean. The breeze was enough to carry it all away, but you could still hear struggling and scuffling in the sand, followed by the girl’s hapless screams and pleading for help.

They were strangers — you couldn’t involve yourself in their lives. Even if the sounds were garish and macabre, you would be like them soon — a vampire. This would be your eternal existence, hunting down locals by nightfall, gifted with immortality, never to die. Paul once told you that it was easier to make it all fun and games, to disassociate whenever he killed people.

To the boys, people were playthings — no singular being was above becoming a meal or toy to them, all except for you. For that, you considered yourself lucky, fortunate to have two vampires that loved you enough to keep you around and not on the chopping block.

Your heartbeat slammed against your chest, humming erratically beneath your collarbone. You decided to look again, breath catching within your throat as Paul tossed one of the now-drained corpses into the bonfire. He looked terrifying, but part of you found it to be wildly attractive.

The bloodless bodies of the surfers were being discarded, tossed into the bonfire as crackles of orange flame flickered into the starry night sky. Marko licked his lips, now full and satiated, one of the better hunts he’d had in some time — outside of you, of course.

You steeled yourself, moving out from behind the rock and toward the slope of sand, skirting downward until you reached the very bottom. Paul’s hair looked like the untamed mane of a lion, eyes still glinting with gold as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both of them were steeped in gore, crimson splashed across their faces and bodies — clothes that they hadn’t bothered to change in years, you were sure. As you approached them, Paul grinned, leaping toward you with a sense of giddiness, wrapping you up within his arms.

“There she is,” He purred, groping at your curves through the thin material of the dress. Paul kissed your jaw, chin red with blood, not caring if he got you dirty in the process. His mouth searched for yours, lips tangling together in a feverish embrace. “Baby.” Paul’s words lowered to an alluring lull.

A gasp ripped through your throat, able to taste that sanguine twang that permeated his mouth. His body felt so solid and immovable when pressed against yours, like the unyielding form of a statue. Paul’s tongue swept against the inside of your mouth, hands greedily squeezing at your ass.

Marko stepped in behind you, caging you against his body, keeping you for himself. Warmth radiated from you in waves, but the chill of his form kept you from feeling overheated. His fangs scraped across your neck, teasing you as he soothed it all with kisses, sucking hickeys into your flesh without warning.

Your voice soon dwindled into a simpering moan, trapped between the immovable objects that were two vampires. A yelp tore past your lips when Marko’s teeth grazed across the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “H—Hey,” You protested, sighing when Paul’s hands groped at your haunches. “What if somebody sees?”

“Then we’ll just have ‘em for dinner.” Paul’s tone was animated, wrought with a roguish charm as he kissed you hard, which rocked you back into Marko. “Loosen up, babe. Let us take care of you, yeah?” His lips curled into a gregarious smirk, lips reattaching themselves to yours without an ounce of hesitation.

A cold hand began to slither underneath your dress, gathering the material within one fist. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Marko’s voice fluttered from behind you, like fire and ice, making your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You want us to make you feel good.” You hated that he was reading your mind.

Paul cackled, cerulean hues replaced with a blazing fire, pits of gold ringed in a blood-orange, like a halo. “Yeah she does.” He sneered, pressing kisses all along your jaw and neck, licking over the hickeys given to you by Marko. His hand dug into the meat of your thigh, snug enough to leave behind faint imprints. “I can smell her.” He teased.

They were both insufferable at times — able to sense your arousal through scent alone, impish smirks and scanning through your mind. It was easier to let them look, to think freely. There were plenty of things that you wanted them to do to you.

Marko coaxed you close, leading you towards the outcropping of rough stone, bathed in the glow of firelight. In the gloom of the rock, the curly-headed vampire guided you over, back against the outcropping to protect you from the jagged edges. Paul was locked in behind you, hands tangling themselves at the hem of your dress.

“I’d rip it off, but you look beautiful in it,” Marko purred, watching as you preened underneath his praise, hazel hues flickering ravenously across your body. Goosebumps coalesced from the nape of your neck to your spine, excitement panging to the apex of your thighs. “Come here.”

His command was softly-spoken, but you knew better than to defy him. Marko was beautiful — angelic, like some cherub on the ceiling of a Renaissance painting, but beneath the heavenly facade, he was a little demon. You stepped closer, feeling his hands run across your curves, lips crashing into yours.

It was an explosive kiss, wrought with an edge of pent-up aggression and lust. His hand cupped your jaw, pressing into the side of your neck as the other gripped your hip. You moaned into Marko’s mouth, feeling Paul’s ring-adorned digits begin to yank your panties down, erection pressed into the swell of your ass.

Paul made short work of your panties, ripping them somewhere along the way, fabric torn asunder as he nudged a knee in between your thighs. His mouth languidly pressed across your neck and shoulders, licking at your sweet flesh as if it were blood. “Fuck, baby,” He growled, reaching around to push his hand between your legs. “What’s all this?”

It was difficult to ignore his playful, cajoling tone of voice as his fingers grazed over your cunt, swiping at the oozing warmth present. His rings were like the bitter sting of ice along your thighs, digits drawing slow, deliberate circles around your clit. The remains of your panties lay scattered in the sand.

You moaned, caught in Marko’s mouth as he kissed you again and again — all tongue, teeth, and desire. Your palms clamored toward his cropped shirt, dragging your nails across the taut plane of his muscled abdomen. “P—Paul,” You managed to whimper between the intense barrage of kisses. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck, you’re soakin’ wet, sweet thing,” Paul snickered, biting down on the sensitive skin of your neck as he began to rub two fingers back and forth along your cunt, thumb grinding against your clit. “Bet you taste even better.” He laughed, smacking a palm against the pliant flesh of your ass, chin perched atop your shoulder.

Marko grinned, eyes devious and full of mirth as he hastily shoved his hand between your thighs, having to smack Paul’s hand away in order to touch you. Your whimpers and moans were like music — saccharine, strung-out with bliss. He placed two fingers into his mouth, sucking away your juices.

“You’re right, Paul. She always tastes good,” Marko mused, chin still stained with crimson. The front of his chest was unceremoniously splashed with spatters of cruor, and he swiped at it with his palm, smearing it across your chest. “You mind, beautiful?”

Having the blood of a stranger painted across your flesh might’ve been unnerving if it wasn’t for the context of your situation. You immediately shook your head, feeling Marko’s dexterous digits unhook your brassiere, and his mouth was on your collarbone before you could get another word out.

Marko lapped at the sanguine ichor that stained your skin, tongue tracing all over your chest. Normally, that would’ve been Paul’s preferred spot, but he was busy grinding his cock against your ass, ring-clad fingers beginning to bury themselves into your tight cunt. He started off slow, letting you adjust as he circled your clit.

Your fingers grasped at Marko’s curly tresses, scraping your digits through his golden mane as you tugged and pulled. His lips traveled towards your breasts, mouth trapping a nipple between his teeth as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive mound. Paul’s hand was relentless, pistoning his fingers in and out of your cunt.

The scent of copper, decay, and stale cologne stung your nostrils — you’d grown more accustomed to the smell of vampires, but sometimes, it was a little jarring. Paul attempted to conceal it with too much stale cologne, and Marko simply smelled like blood — no getting around it.

“Marko,” You whined, nails digging into his scalp as you attempted to stay upright. Paul was right there to steady you, massaging at your hip as he continued to caress your clit. Marko’s sharp teeth nipped and bit at your sternum, leaving behind a rather unsightly trail of bruised bite marks — his love bites. “Wanna touch you.”

“Don’t be shy,” Marko crooned, guiding your hands toward his waist, right to the leather-studded belt buckle. He showered you in kisses, some far more intense and overwhelming than the others. “We’re all yours.” He leaned back against the rock, letting you use him as your perch — you’d definitely need it.

Paul snickered, laughter akin to the heckling of a hyena as he sank down onto his knees, hands grabbing at your haunches. He had a picturesque idea of what he wanted, neck and chest still smeared in now-dried blood. With a shrug, Paul shed his overcoat into the sand, following the scent of your arousal like a bloodhound.

“Don’t mind me, babe,” Paul mused, wedging himself between your legs, tongue greedily lapping at your slit. “I’m gonna help myself.” Another snarl escaped him as he bit at your inner thigh. You felt awkward, contorted into a strange position as Paul began to eat you out from behind — not that you were about to complain.

Your body felt as if it were burning, being consumed by a flame called desire as it crackled along your flesh, sparking at every nerve ending. You moaned, letting out a wanton cry as Paul’s hands encircled either side of your hips, rings leaving behind indents as his mouth went to work. His tongue split past, right to your weeping cunt, tugging you wherever he pleased.

It was difficult to focus, your motions feeling jagged and robotic as you pried Marko’s belt off to the best of your ability. “Paul’s got you feeling dumb, doesn’t he?” Marko purred, clutching your wrists between his hands, leaning forward to kiss you again. It stole the very air from your lungs, leaving you breathless.

With a whine, you nodded — fortunately, Marko had a rather ingenious idea. Those blood-orange hues ensnared your eyes, hypnotizing you for just a moment. It had gotten you to concentrate, your thoughts no longer safe, nor were they yours. “M—Marko,” You stammered, listening to his fiendish laughter as he stroked your chin. “What was that?”

“Something to help you focus.” He mused, feeling your silken palm wrap around the length of his cock. A growl rippled throughout his throat as you began to stroke him off, aided by his bout of hypnosis. It wasn’t exactly fair, but it certainly got you to compose yourself. It was threadbare, a weaker hold — you were still a mess.

Paul lapped at your cunt as if he were ravenous, a man starved, happy to suck at your clit. He was grinning, attempting to steady you as your poor, feeble legs quivered around him. It didn’t slow him down in the slightest, tongue flicking along your slit.

Marko’s lips returned to yours, grunts muffled through the heated entanglement of saliva and tongues. You whimpered, pumping your hand along his cock, stroking the pad of your thumb across the swollen head, collecting pearls of precum in the process.

Entranced, Marko kept you ensnared, feeling your body convulse and shiver from the pleasure. You looked tortured in the best way possible, mouth parted, moaning and babbling strings of incoherent words. You wanted to collapse, and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

“Don’t make her head melt, Marko. We aren’t to the best part yet.” Paul reminded his brother from between your legs, licking his lips as if he’d had one of the best meals in his eternal lifetime. His cock throbbed within the tight material of his jeans, desperate to be inside of you. He kissed and nipped at your thighs, returning to your sweet cunt once more.

Hypnosis was always a dangerous slope — do it too much, and you run the risk of making someone a mindless husk. Marko smirked, kissing you again and again, hands sliding all along your body as you continued to stroke his cock. Your sounds were heavenly, trembling and high-pitched as he grabbed at the base of your skull.

Paul was messy, greedily lapping at your slick, tongue occasionally circling around your clit. You were shaking like a leaf, all wrought with ecstasy, pleasure blistering all throughout your body. Another hapless whimper escaped you, consumed by Marko’s kiss, his hand squeezing at the base of your throat.

You withdrew from Marko, still connected by a glistening tendril of saliva, your lips puffy and swollen. You quivered, trying to keep yourself semi-composed as Paul devoured your cunt. “P—Paul!” You squeaked, feeling yourself begin to approach your climax.

“You’re hogging her, Paul,” Marko quipped, brows furrowing together. “I want a taste.” His tone was somewhat agitated, though not at you — never at you. The curly-headed vampire gave you another kiss once Paul finally emerged from between your legs, grinning like a wolf.

“Knock yourself out, bud.” Paul chortled, catching you as you slumped back against him, back snugly pressed into his broad chest. He immediately went about kissing you, licking over the numerous bite marks caused by Marko, hands kneading into your breasts. “You smell so good, baby.” He purred, nibbling along your earlobe.

Marko dropped to his knees, abandoning his patchwork jacket — unusual for him, but a blessing for you. One of your hands immediately grasped at his mop of golden tresses, traveling toward the sinewy muscle of his back and shoulders. With strong hands, he spread you open, tongue splitting past, right to your cunt.

Paul rocked himself against you, erection pressed around the soft curve of your backside. His mouth was voracious, licking and kissing every inch of your perfect flesh, gently sucking hickeys into your shoulder if he could. He playfully pinched and massaged at your tits, chest rumbling with laughter when you moaned.

The ravenous vampire whose face was buried between your thighs let out a sonorous grunt, lips pursing around your clit as he began to suck and toy with the sensitive bud. He was relentless, never letting up, never allowing you to have a true moment of peace. Marko was notoriously greedy; covetous when it came to you.

“Where do you want us to fuck you at, babe?” Paul asked, pressing a string of kisses along your back, hands groping and grabbing at your breasts. He was captivated by your pliant chest, continuing to twist and tug at your nipples — it was a torturous form of pleasure. “Right here, in the sand, or maybe back home?”

You could feel Marko’s grin against your inner thigh, tangible and impish, like a brand etched into your skin. He lapped at your cunt again, savoring your taste upon his tongue. “Right here,” Marko piped up, nipping at your legs with devilish laughter. “We have all night.” Your head was bobbing up and down in agreement.

A shudder rolled down your spine, feeling Paul’s hand guide your chin back, mouth hotly connecting to yours in a sloppy kiss. You could taste blood, yourself, the faintest twang of marijuana on his lips. The kiss made you moan, dizzy and delirious from the pleasure you were experiencing.

“There’s a perfectly good blanket,” Marko licked his lips, noticing the blanket left behind by the redhead they’d killed earlier. “Unless you want the ground.” That was certainly food for thought — fucking you right into the dirt and sand like a wild animal.

Maybe he’d take you out to Hudson’s Bluff one night just for that purpose.

Paul’s mild disdain for putting you on the ground was noticeable. “Nah, she deserves something nice to lay on,” He smirked, eyes unnaturally bright as they glistened with desire. “When we fuck her senseless.” With a brief snort of laughter, he squeezed your chin, kissing you again.

You let out another whine, on the precipice of cumming, but Marko was tormenting you, the little demon. “M—Marko, please.” Your stomach felt like a pool of liquid, churning violently as you rubbed your glistening thighs together. “I wanna cum, please keep going!” Your urging came in the form of tugging his hair, but he simply sat there, lips curling into a grin.

“You wanna cum?” Marko inquired, gazing up at you from between your legs, hues shifting to that familiar blaze of burnished gold, countenance akin to that of the Cheshire Cat. When you nodded several times over, he snickered, pressing teasing kisses along your thighs. “I’ll help you out, dolcezza.”

Paul didn’t stop his brother, releasing you from his grasp as Marko flew towards that blanket, bearing now-dried bloodstains on one of the corners. Fortunately, it was protected from the sand, but that didn’t seem to matter much when Marko was crawling on top of you, hungry and lustful.

The taller vampire simply dragged one of the beach chairs over, mane wild and disheveled, chest smeared in crimson as he plucked a pair of sunglasses off of the ground. Must’ve been on one of the heads of the men they’d slaughtered. Paul put them on, lounging in the rickety, woven chair, legs casually spread apart.

“Don’t get too excited, Marko. She knows who she belongs to.” Paul snickered, watching you romp around with his brother atop the blanket. He wasn’t jealous — just impatient, wanting to have his way with you so very terribly. “Be careful with her, too.” He added, not wanting Marko to get too carried away.

Marko had a horrible habit of killing those he slept with. It wasn’t out of malice — just hunger and adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt.

“Piss off, Paul.” Marko growled, knowing not to defy any rules or expectations. He kissed you hard, cock rutting against your slick inner thighs, feeling your hands haplessly grab at his hair. You felt like silk underneath him, warm and feverish as you rocked your hips forward.

Marko’s bloodied body molded itself to yours as he ran the head of his cock against your slick slit, causing you to moan and whimper. “Marko, please!” You whined, desperate for a release of any kind, nearly thanking him when he finally pushed himself into your tight cunt. Paul could be gentle — Marko wasn’t in the slightest.

His initial thrusts were erratic and experimental, not soft or coddling. Marko wanted to find a rhythm that worked for him, and not you. Roughness and brutality were the only ways he knew how, evident in the way he began to move into you. His cock slammed away at your sensitive cunt, feeling you clench and shake around him.

Your hands clamored toward his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he rutted into you, rhythm unyielding and quite rough. You didn’t mind, desperate for the friction, leaving behind indents in his flesh. Marko huffed, biting at your collarbone as he moved his hips forward with the strength of a battering ram.

His cock pounded away at your poor cunt, feeling it clench and throb around his length. Marko murmured something in Italian, teeth raking across your fragile skin, nipping just above your breast as he rocked forward. He was unusually silent, focused on filling you up, fucking you with an animalistic fervor.

Paul was observing — partially for your own safety, the other for his own enjoyment. He cocked his head to one side, watching the way your body trembled with ecstasy, nails raking down Marko’s back as you scratched at his musculature. He adjusted himself within the chair, gripping the arm so hard that it began to splinter.

Marko growled, mouth traveling from your collarbone to the column of your throat, lips gingerly pressing against your jugular. It was a stark juxtaposition to the vicious rutting you were receiving from the hands of the smaller vampire. You were a mess, legs rattling like a leaf as he squeezed at your hip.

“Marko!” You cried out, back arching off of the blanket, nails clinging onto him, hard enough to draw blood. Marko smirked, leaning up enough to grab at your thigh, forcing your legs apart as he fucked you. “M’close!” You huffed, arousal from before carrying over into this.

Your heartbeat was erratic, pounding away just underneath your breastbone, enough to catch the attention of two very riled-up vampires. Marko’s growl reverberated next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine, hips attempting to grind against him. “You feel perfect,” He murmured, kissing your jaw. “My thrall.”

Pleasure rippled throughout your body, sinking into the pit of your stomach, digits threatening to rip Marko to shreds. An impossible feat, but it certainly conveyed your heightened level of desire. “Please, please,” You panted, feeling his cock hit a certain point of depth, rutting back and forth as he lured you into an orgasm. “Marko!”

Being the devil incarnate, Marko fucked you through your orgasm, making your head spin with a euphoric sensation. You moaned, body unable to fully keep up with his brutal pace, shuddering when he rutted into your cunt even still. “Just a little more,” He purred, lapping at the pearls of blood left behind from the bite on your collarbone. “You can handle it.”

Jesus — you were on fire.

Marko was fucking you as if it would be his very last rut, cock slapping away at your cunt. You were quivering from both excitement and from a post-orgasmic haze, stomach churning and rippling with a delightful pleasure. You still held onto him, letting him screw you through your climax, not that you cared. The pleasure made your head go fuzzy, as if you were floating.

Paul frowned, prepared to smack Marko away from you if needed. “You got two minutes, bud. Don’t break my girl,” He uttered. Even if Paul’s demeanor was normally lighthearted and spirited, he could become vicious and downright unhinged. When it came to you, he was rather overzealous at times. “Easy.”

Marko was somewhat ignoring Paul, but still adhered to the side of caution for his sake and for yours. He’d get another opportunity — alone, hopefully. The curly-headed leech continued to fuck you, capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss before he came, pulling out halfway through, painting your stomach with thin ropes of his seed.

You whimpered, feeling messy and sticky, skin heated with a fine layer of perspiration. Marko snickered, biting at the corner of his thumb as he admired you, coated in his cum. It was a mental picture to keep of you as he gave you another kiss. “Good girl.” He sighed, feeling Paul give him a brusque shove.

“My turn,” Paul crooned, deciding that he’d be gentle with you this time around. Marko had clearly fucked your brains out, given the blissed-out expression on your face. “Looks like you did a number on her.” He mused, flinging off the mesh top he wore as he slipped beside you, peppering your face in kisses.

“Paul.” You sighed, soothed by your boyfriend’s sweet, tender kisses. You loved Marko — you loved how feral and unrestrained he was, but you needed something a little more gentle if you were to last another round. They sometimes forgot that you were still human.

Marko grinned, unceremoniously depositing himself into the chair Paul was in moments prior. He liked watching you just as much as he enjoyed participating. Partaking was one thing, but observing helped him study you — what made you tick?

“You got another one in you, babe? I’ll let you get on top. You can give Marko a little show,” He guffawed, settling atop the blanket as you climbed on top of him yourself. Your legs were shaking, sure, but you knew that Paul intended to take it easy on you. “Fuck, you got such a gorgeous body.” Paul groaned, ring-clad hands caressing all over your physique.

Your head began to move, rolling up and down in a lazy nod. “Just one more.” You had the feeling that, by the time this was over, they’d have to carry you back to the cave. Nonetheless, your fingers worked away at Paul’s belt, pushing the snug, white fabric down enough to free his cock. His hardened length oozed with precum, desperate to be inside of you.

Paul kept one hand on your hip to steady you, guiding you up enough until the crown of his cock prodded against your entrance. He let you take your time, feeling you lower yourself, tight cunt swallowing his length, inch by inch, almost painfully sluggish.

One of Paul’s hands skirted upward to massage and caress at your breast, the other guiding you up and down along his cock, keeping a slower pace. “You feel divine,” Paul groaned, your warm palms dancing across the plane of his chest, one hand reaching for his throat. Your digits tensed around his neck, applying a sensible amount of pressure. “You know just what I like.” He purred.

Basking in the crackling glow of the bonfire’s light, Marko admired the myriad of bite marks and hickeys he’d left all along your body. You met his gaze, almost shrinking away until his lips twitched into more of a half-smile instead of a sardonic smirk. A passionate sigh escaped you as Paul lulled you into a more leisurely pace.

The sluggish, deliberate speed of your hips was a much-needed respite from Marko’s near-obliteration of your body moments prior. Paul was more than happy to do most of the work, strong enough to roll you up and down along his cock.

Paul could be unhinged and rough like Marko, but more often than not, he didn’t want to destroy you. He preferred to draw it all out, if he could. Your legs quivered as you let out a soft moan, squeezing at his throat as he let you enjoy the ride. He sat up, enough to get his mouth around your tits again — his favorite.

“Paul,” You moaned, head rolling backwards as Paul’s lips greedily sucked and kissed at your breasts, savoring the silken texture of your chest underneath his tongue. Your hands grabbed at his disheveled tresses in fistfuls, moving your hips with the steady rhythm he provided. “You feel so good.” You sighed.

His cock hit new depths, beginning to lightly push against that spot, opening up a new wave of pleasure. Even then, he kept a gentle speed, not wanting to overwhelm or harm you. With Marko and him combined, you likely wouldn’t be walking around very much. Paul loved your chest, face buried against your breasts instead.

A saltwater breeze fluttered across the shoreline, raking across the perspiration that had dewed up along your back. You shivered, hand gripping into Paul’s broad shoulder as he continued to rut into you, pace still rather tame. “Baby, I’m gettin’ close,” He growled, showering your unattended breast in a flurry of kisses and kitten-licks. “Fuck.” He hissed.

You coaxed him in for a kiss, tasting that amalgamation of blood, marijuana, and a faint wisp of smoke. Paul kissed you with a reverence that transcended a simple relationship — it was the embrace that only a mate could provide. He groaned into your mouth, muscles of his neck flexing underneath your palm.

Marko watched, enthralled by you — his adoration for you had climbed to new heights, your scent buried within his mind, smeared across his body. Of course, it would’ve been better if you smelled like him, marked as something that belonged to him. He chewed at his thumb, dark gaze glued to you, burnished gold dissipating into hazel-greens.

You didn’t care if you came again, simply basking in the attention from your partners. Marko’s stare bored into you, tearing into your thoughts, enough for you to open your eyes and look at him. You bristled underneath his silent appraisal of you, able to detect the overflow of desire and want in his eyes.

Paul bit at your lower lip, effectively tearing your attention away from Marko. His kiss was blissful, blossoming into something passionate and sloppy — it was so very Paul. His lips curled into a grin, palpable and pressed into your mouth, which you happily reciprocated. His hand snaked in between the both of you, thumb circling around your clit as he bucked up into you.

“You’re my sweet little mate,” His voice emerged as a tantalizing purr, teeth grazing along the column of your throat. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Paul groaned, making your head spin from the compliments. A string of expletives escaped him — breathy, soft ‘fucks’ muttered from the mouth of your very aroused boyfriend.

A moan tore past your lips as he swallowed it whole, cock beginning to throb as he came inside of your tight cunt. He didn’t bother to pull out this time, stuffing you to the brim with his cum, tongue swiping at the inside of your mouth. Ripples of pleasure fluttered across your body as he attentively played with your clit.

His ecstasy was enough for you as warmth pooled between your legs, but you were most definitely spent. Paul huffed, smirking like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “It’s like your body was made for me or somethin’, just sucking me right in.” He teased, peppering your hot flesh in strings of kisses.

“Paul,” You mumbled, nose wrinkling slightly. Everything felt so heavy, but you were determined to keep yourself afloat until you made it back to the cave. “Love you.” You whispered, giving him a sweet kiss as you pulled yourself off of him. It was a mess of his cum and yours that painted the inside of your thighs.

“I love you more, baby.” Paul cooed, squeezing your chin as he continued to pamper you in a barrage of kisses. It wasn’t difficult to notice the little sting of yearning in Marko’s eyes — but Paul understood it all more than anything else. You could love both of them.

Marko had collected your clothing from along the shoreline, clutching your torn panties in his hand. “Think I’ll keep this as a trophy.” He smirked, noticing the way you became absolutely flustered. It was hard not to laugh at your reaction, and the curly-headed vampire pressed another kiss against your jaw.

Paul went about kicking a half-eaten arm back into the bonfire, retrieving the sunglasses he’d snatched off of a corpse. He retrieved some of his clothes, draping his tuxedo coat over your shoulders once you’d put your dress back on. Your undergarments were in a state of complete and utter obliteration.

“When will you both stop destroying my clothes?” You sighed, reluctantly climbing onto the back of Marko’s bike as the three of you prepared for the short ride back to the cave.

“As soon as you stop dressin’ up all pretty for us, sweet thing.” Paul snickered, revving the engine of his motorcycle as he took off into the night. He was howling — likely the post-sex and post-hunt excitement beginning to kick in.

Marko was right on his heels, leaning back into you when your arms wrapped around him. He seemed somewhat docile again, having released his bloodthirst and desire to fuck all in one go — the preferred method, really. You pressed yourself against him, chin perched atop his shoulder.

“Hey,” You mumbled, voice a softer hum, close to his ear. Marko was listening, wanting to drown himself in the sound of your sweet voice. “You know that I love you too, yeah?” Your hands gently traced around his abdomen, feeling his cold musculature underneath your fingertips.

That familiar smirk of his made your stomach do flips as he pressed a chaste kiss against your jaw. Marko wanted to hear you say it — but it was just as palpable within your thoughts, and that was more than enough for him.

“I love you more.”

[snailmail444]

Silent Night

NSFW ⭐️ 18+ ⭐️ MDNI

It’s your first winter star with Sam’s family! Everything is going great, except for the fact that you two can’t get a moment of privacy.

For @beet-roots Merry Kinkmas

AO3 Link

“Okay now let’s do Sammy’s girlfriend’s present!” Vincent squirms in your lap with excitement, looking upside down at you. His big blue eyes sparkle with adoration, and you think he takes after his brother.

Sam beside you looks playfully dejected. He pushes out his lip in a pout, shoving his hand into Vincent’s hair and down his face.

“Bro, stop,” he whines, and you think maybe his jealousy isn’t all for show, “you’re rizzing her up too much! She’s gonna leave me for you, dude!”

Sam’s playing, but you know he is at least a little perturbed because Vince can sit in your lap and he can’t. It’s a wonder he’s not climbing the walls right now, all things considered.

With deadly efficiency you use one hand to tickle his ribs, and Sam cringes back in a cry of surrender.

Kent rolls his eyes and coughs to hide a laugh while Jodi giggles. She gives you a sweet smile as she passes over a silver wrapped box. It says ‘from all of us’ in swooping calligraphy, and you know that means it’s from Jodi.

“You wanna unwrap it bud?” You ask, and Sam’s hand twitches out to the package before he realizes you were talking to Vince. Another pout, and you smirk at him while Vince annihilates the beautiful wrapping job Jodi did.

Dutifully, he passes back the unassuming cardboard box and crawls off your lap so you can open it properly.

You pull the top away and don’t delay in pushing back the tissue and removing the deep red nightgown, holding it up to the light to see better.

“I know it’s not very hip,” Jodi says, her voice quiet and maybe a little insecure, “but I—uh, we—just couldn’t leave it. Sammy sent those gorgeous pictures of you and I kept thinking how lovely you would look in it.”

It is pretty, albeit more conservative than you would ever pick for yourself. The gown is ankle length, with sleeves that hit the wrist. Lace and gold beading trim the edges, and you think Jodi has good taste.

You can feel Sam’s eyes heavy on you, on the nightgown, and you have to bite back a grin. He’s so desperate for you at this point, you know exactly where his brain is. Poor baby hasn’t gone over a day without sex since you two got together about four months ago, and with prepping and visiting it’s been a week since he had his hands on you.

“It’s perfect Jodi, thank you,” you say, winking at her conspiratorially before saying, “all of you have excellent fashion sense.”

In a show of good faith you change into it after dinner. Jodi was right—the color complements your complexion perfectly. And while it’s long, and shows no skin, it clings to your curves and drapes in such a way that you still look shapely. You look sexy in a prudish sort of way.

You’re not the only one that seems to think so. The moment you emerge from the bedroom to show Jodi the final product, Sam’s back to staring at you hard. As Jodi ooh’s and ah’s over you with the affection only a mother has, and Vincent stares with big round eyes and tells you you’re beautiful with a nervous little blush, Sam begins to fidget.

A glance at him and you think he might drag you out to his truck for some privacy and rail you in the passenger seat. Your cunt pulses with excitement. Vincent is going to be too distracted with his toys to bother you, and Jodi and Kent are going to take the Mullner’s Christmas cookies, so you’ll have time for a quickie if all goes well.

“And what about you, Sammy, don’t you think that—“ there’s a knock on the door, startling Jodi into silence. She presses a hand against her chest. “Goodness, now who could that be so late?”

Jodi wanders off towards the door and Sam circles in on you like a predator, fingers skimming the fabric where it hits your waist. He leans in close, and his voice is raspy in your ear. “I like this,” he says, giving it a small, affectionate tug, and you know that tone. That’s the tone he uses when he’s going to fuck you like an animal. A shiver of anticipatory arousal claws its way down your spine, and you smile.

“I can't say I approve of you coming all the way out here in the cold so late, but you know I’m always happy to see you Sebastian,” Jodi giggles, opening the door wider and letting in a pink cheeked, crookedly grinning Sebastian. He’s got a small present wrapped in his hands, and his eyes are positively glittering as he stares up at Sam’s mom.

“You know I can’t go a Winter Star without seeing you, Miss Jodi,” he says, savoring the words Miss Jodi. Sam retracts from your space while Jodi giggles and blushes, and he throws up his hands with a groan.

“Dude stop flirting with my mom,” he whines, and Sebastian laughs once before shaking his head and giving Jodi a sweet smile.

“I’m not flirting Sammy, I’m being polite. You should try it once in a while,” he says, and he winks before coming up to you and Sam.

“Why are you here?” Irritation drips off his every word, and you know Sam is properly annoyed. Pent up, desperate, and cockblocked by his best friend who’s also hitting on his mom.

Bad day for Samson.

“Other than I wanted to give you your present? I needed a break from the ‘festivities,’” he makes air quotes around festivities, and you can feel Sam unwind in resignation. “Come with me for a walk?”

“What’s the magic word?” Sam’s already stepping towards the door to his room, presumably to get dressed for the outside, and you feel a tug of disappointment. Maybe it’s not Sam getting cockblocked.

“I’ll say please if it makes you happy Samson.”

Your face must be doing something by the time Sam’s dressed and ready for the cold, because Sebastian frowns apologetically and Sam twists his mouth. Once Jodi finishes fussing over her boys and departs with Kent, Sam approaches with a sheepish smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, and you stare at him hard in a way that hopes to convey your emotions.

“You better,” You respond, and maybe it’s a little more irritable than you meant for it to be because Sam looks like a kicked puppy as he follows Sebastian out the door. You’d feel worse if you weren’t babysitting Vincent alone on Winter Star when you could be getting railed.

It doesn’t take long for Jodi and Kent to get back—an hour said and done—and everyone readies for bed pretty immediately, too exhausted from the fact that Vince woke everybody at the godless hour of five am for presents. Sam still isn’t back by the time you crawl into his bed, and you glare at the air mattress where he should be and hope he can feel the phantom pain wherever he is.

You’re drifting off when a swoop of cold air chills you to the bone. There’s a light commotion, and you hear Sam go “fucking shit ass,” before you fully process that he’s stumbling in the window. You sit back, burrowing into his blankets as he regains his footing.

“Later Seb,” he calls outside with a wave, and you wave too, tight and irritable.

“See you Sammy. If you need me I’ll be in the master bedroom,” Sebastian calls back, and you hear his footsteps recede along with maniacal laughter, a faint call of bye to you billowing in the wind as an afterthought.

“Remind me to kick his ass,” Sam looks at you once he snaps the windowpane shut with a big grin, his cheeks pink and snow dusting his eyelashes. It makes you angry how good he looks right now, how disgustingly cute and charming.

“Sure,” you cross your arms and pout, averting your gaze as Sam comes up and kneels by the side of the bed.

“Baby please, I’m sorry,” he reaches for your hand, and when you don’t give it he settles for your gripping the nightgown, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that it’s right at the apex of your thigh, “what was I supposed to do? Say no to Seb in front of everybody?”

“Yes.”

He buries his face in the sheets beside you and you finally spare him a glance. He senses it and looks up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes he can muster, and you feel yourself melting under his gaze.

“Please, let me make it up to you,” he says, and there’s a little whine in his voice. Desperation, maybe. “I need you so bad, you look so hot right now, please.”

The chill of the room mingles with the sensation of watching Sam beg on his knees and makes your nipples hard, and you decide to go on with it for a minute. “It’s just a shame. I’m not even wearing any underwear, Sammy, because I was so excited to finally get a minute alone with you.”

He whines, shifts, and you can see the excited bulge growing in his pants.

“Too bad everybody’s home now so we can’t do anything. I’m really horny too.”

“No we can, please,” he grabs your hand now, chilly fingers insistent on yours, “we just have to be quiet. Everybody’s asleep. Come on, please?”

You almost break right now, but you hold out. If you can get him that much more worked up, it’ll be worth your while. “I dunno if you’d be able to keep it down Sammy. For your Winter Star present I was gonna let you fuck me without a condom—you know, an unwrapped gift kinda thing.”

It’s something you’ve been saving specifically for a moment like this. Truthfully you know Sam’s clean and you have reliable birth control, and would have let him hit raw months ago, but making him twitch with anticipation has been more fun than anything else.

And oh, it’s worth it to watch the way his eyes widen and his face slackens. He sits up that much taller, and you’re almost surprised he doesn’t clasp his hands together and shake them.

“Baby, I promise I’ll be good. I need you so bad. I really want my present, I’ll do anything.”

You gesture for him to stand, and he does because he’s a puppet on strings, and you arch your eyebrow at him. “You can start by putting your money where your mouth is. Sit at the foot of the bed for me and prove you can stay quiet by touching yourself.”

Sam’s clothes shlump to the floor unceremoniously as he peels off his layers, and you feel a pang of guilt because he’s shivering and flushed since he’s not warm yet. In a show of good faith, you kick the blanket towards him and scoot until you’re rested on the headboard.

It’s alright, you reason, because he won’t be left alone for long.

Sam wraps the blanket around his shoulders, and you watch with enthusiasm as he shifts. His cock is hard and flushed, his nipples pink and pert from the cold, and he’s wearing that shy expression he always has before he truly gets into it. You might be drooling.

It’s hard to tell if he’s teasing you or if he’s warming himself up when he runs his hand down his chest and across his stomach painfully slow. Your breath catches in your throat when he finally wraps a hand around his cock, deliberate as he spreads a bead of precome from his tip down with his thumb.

His teeth sink into his lip on the first stroke, cheeks darkening while his eyebrows scrunch inwards. He watches you watch him, and one corner of his mouth ticks upwards while he spreads his knees that much more and arches his back.

Stage fright gone, Sam’s putting on a show now, and god do you ever watch. You lose yourself in it—in the way his abs tighten and his breath puffs out intermittently like he might’ve moaned in another situation. His head falls back on his shoulders, eyes screwed shut, until finally he tightens his hand around the base of his cock and looks at you with pure desperation.

“Please,” his voice is hoarse when he whispers, and he’s squirming. For just a second you think you should tell him no, keep going, because you’re so into watching him you want to see his come paint his beautiful stomach. But then he’s blinking at you, big blue eyes pleading. “Baby?” His voice cracks when he prods for a response, and you decide he should be put out of his misery.

“Remember to be qui—“ Sam cuts you off in a bruising kiss. He doesn’t waste a second, licking into your mouth while he fumbles between your legs, rucking up the nightgown in the process.

“Quiet,” he pants while he rips the hem up past your breasts, leaving you suddenly cold and exposed, save the places where his fingers trail blazing paths towards your cunt. “Quiet, uh huh, I’ll be so—quiet—“ he nods into your skin, latching his mouth to your neck and sucking while he slips a finger into your eager cunt.

Sam’s fingers are expert, long and dexterous and callused from years of playing the guitar, and you’re the one struggling not to make any noise now while he fingers you open for him. Every glance of his fingers has your thighs twitching and you biting back little wanton moans.

“Shit, I can’t,” Sam withdraws his fingers after barely a minute, still managing a throaty murmur, “I’m so sorry, fuck, I just can’t wait. You’re so goddamn wet.”

And then he’s lining himself up and thrusting into you slowly. Inching in while he huffs air through his clenched teeth. You can tell he’s really trying to hold himself back, to be gentle, but then his forehead drops to your shoulder and he looses a high whine when his hips snap all the way forward seemingly against his volition.

You freeze, heart hammering in your chest as you hold him still and listen for any sounds that somebody in the house has woken up. Sam’s doing his best, but he’s gyrating against your cunt frivolously and begging against your chest.

“Just couldn’t help it, I’m sorry. Sorry, please baby,” he’s much quieter in his whisper now, “you just felt better— ah —than I expected—please let me move, I’ll be good I swear.”

After another moment of nothing, you finally relax your grip, and Sam wastes no time, fucking into you so hard and fast your eyes roll back in your head.

“Thank you baby— nngh —thank you,” the words are spoken against your breasts as he presses his mouth to them, sucking and nipping the skin while he humps you like an animal in heat. “Best Winter Star gift ever, swear. Thank you, oh God.”

You’re actually surprised when his thumb finds its way to your clit. Sam’s one track minded on his best days, and you would’ve thought he’d be too overwhelmed to even think of it.

“Wanna— hah —feel you come. Can you come on my cock baby?”

You go to say yes, you’re right there, and a too loud moan slips from your chest instead when he slams right into your g-spot. Sam’s free hand closes over your mouth, eyes wide and hips stuttering as he tries and fails to still to a stop.

He either doesn’t give a fuck or can’t bring himself to slow down anymore, because a moment later he’s back to absolutely railing you, making little tiny grunting whines as he does his best to keep himself quiet. “Gonna come,” he manages, strained, and that’s what finishes you.

You ride wave after wave of delicious white heat as Sam stuffs you with his come, shaking and muffling himself against your skin. He doesn’t stop thrusting, greedy and prolonging your mutual pleasure as long as he can before he collapses onto you, limp.

When you finally get your bearings back you take stock of the situation: Sam draped over you, cock still inside, nightgown around your armpits, bruises beginning to purple in the places where Sam used you as his silencer. A ripple of perverse arousal trickles through your overstimulated body at the sheer wrongness of it all, and you twitch.

That’s enough to rouse Sam, who kisses your cheek and pulls out of you, lovingly tucking the nightgown back down to your ankles and pulling up the blanket before snuggling into your side.

When you two wake, you’re horrified to find come staining the inside of the nice garment. Sam sees it over your shoulder while you’re changing and packing, and he tugs you close to him, purring into your ear, “I want you to wear that again when we get home tonight. I’m not finished ruining it.”

[adalwolfgang]

Hiiii

Sinclair brothers with high energy S/O!!!

Thank you and have a wonderful day!!💜💜

Sinclair brothers with a energetic s/o

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

Beaugard (Bo) Sinclair 7.8/10

Depends all on his mood. Sometimes he can find it adorable and funny and others quite annoying and frustrating. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll chase you around til you get tired. If he’s tired and all he wants to do is relax with you? Literally will collapse ontop of you to keep you from moving, pinning you down with his dead weight.

Lester Sinclair 9.8/10

He’s also very hyper. Bo can’t keep him around Ambrose long enough without him hauling ass out of town. Lester can only stay in the same place for so long. He has to constantly be on the go or else he’ll go insane. He’ll bring you along on car rides out of Ambrose and drive around other towns that are actually populated and full of activities.

Vincent Sinclair 6.7/10

“(Name) I love you but please try and relax.”

He doesn’t really mind except for when you’re both down in his basement and you start messing with things. He won’t outwardly get mad at you like Bo but will try and give you something to do like molding small clumps of wax or helping clean his workspace. It’s not that Vincent isn’t fit to move, he just doesn’t care to be as physically active like you but overall doesn’t mind too much.

[whumpcloud]

Things End | People Change - Simmering

masterlist

content: intimate whumper, vampire whumper, emotional abuse, gaslighting, reference to past drowning, reference to parental death

"C-Can I get you a-anything?" Vincent stammers, his polite nature getting the better of him until he remembers. "Um, do vampires… drink…?"

Lyfelde is still glancing around Vincent's flat in silence.

Vincent clears his throat. "M-Mr Lyfelde?"

"You're stammering, stop it," Lyfelde says, then waves a hand dismissively. "And yes, we are perfectly capable of drinking, or eating for that matter, there is simply no particular reason to aside from taste. But I would appreciate a cup of tea. However you make it. You wouldn't mind if I lit a fire, would you?"

Vincent wavers for a moment to process all of that information, then quickly nods and slips away to the kitchen. Lyfelde hasn't even looked at him since entering the building. When Vincent returns with two cups of tea, Lyfelde has sat himself down on a chair at the old wooden table.

"Mr Lyfelde?" Vincent says quietly. "Wouldn't you prefer to sit o-on the sofa?"

"No, I'm quite fine here," Lyfelde says. "Closer to the fire. Sit, sit. And remember to speak up, dear."

"Right," Vincent says, quiet again, then he clears his throat once more and raises his voice. "Right. Sorry."

He sits down opposite Lyfelde, and places down the teacups. He doesn't know what to say, what conversation he's supposed to start, so he sips at his tea instead.

"Surely you could've afforded somewhere nicer to stay," Lyfelde says, and Vincent chokes. "You have the manners of gentry, no doubt you have the money."

"I- um-" Stop stammering! "Yes, Mr Lyfelde, I… I just didn't want to be a burden by wasting too much money on a trip. My brother already sends me a generous amount of money for university expenses."

"Your brother?" Lyfelde's interest is clearly piqued. "You hadn't mentioned a brother."

"...I suppose I… saw no reason to?" Vincent awkwardly taps the table. "But yes. I have a brother. Henry. Eleven years my elder."

"Quite a bit older, then." Lyfelde smiles, leaning forward a little. "Tell me about him, dear. I'd like to know more about you."

Vincent is still surprised that Lyfelde cares to hear anything about him, as though they haven't met every few days that night. Lyfelde can tell in the way his mouth opens in surprise and he sits up straighter, as though he's trying to impress Lyfelde. Adorable.

"W-Well, he… he partially raised me," Vincent says. Tap tap tap. "Our parents passed when I was nine years old. He's… always taken care of me. He understands me better than most."

"Is he married, perhaps?" Lyfelde asks, taking Vincent's hand. Vincent sees an affectionate gesture. Lyfelde is simply irritated by the fidgeting. "Any children?"

"Yes, married, no children," Vincent replies. "Though last I heard they were trying. Anise - h-his wife - she's nice, she is, but I don't know her all too well. We only really speak in passing."

Lyfelde does the math. Eleven years older, making Henry Maddox thirty-three to Vincent's twenty-two. Humans die less nowadays. Henry might live until his seventies.

It's then that Lyfelde decides Vincent cannot return to England. Not for at least fifty years. Lyfelde can keep Vincent away for that long, surely. It's barely any time at all.

"They both sound lovely," is all he says out loud.

"They are," Vincent murmurs, then flinches and speaks up. "Sorry. They are."

Lyfelde smiles. Vincent is already being so obedient.

"Apologies if it feels as though I'm interrogating you," Lyfelde says, laughing slightly. "I'm simply interested."

"I… thank you," Vincent says, his face flushing. "Um… do… did… sorry. Is there anyone you consider family, Mr Lyfelde?"

Lyfelde hums. "Not nowadays. I certainly had family before, of course. But no-one now. Friends are also a rarity."

"That… must be lonely," Vincent says, tentatively.

"It can be," Lyfelde says, then tilts his head. "Wonderful that I met you then, isn't it?"

Vincent's face lights up in an awkward smile. "Are we… friends, Mr Lyfelde?"

"What else would you call us, dear?" Lyfelde laughs. So childish. "Now, there is one particular matter I'd like to discuss. Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

Vincent bites his lip, and nods. "Yes, I… have. And… I think… I would like to take it, Mr Lyfelde."

Lyfelde squeezes Vincent's hand. In a room as warm as this, it is the first time that Vincent notices how deathly cold Lyfelde is. Other vampires have laid their hands on him a few times. They're all cold. But Lyfelde's hands feel like ice.

"I was hoping you would," Lyfelde says. His fangs are hidden in his smile, this time. Can't have Vincent backing out now. "May I ask your reasoning?"

Vincent sighs softly, staring into his teacup. "I… I want to be respected. If I'm a vampire… I could be more… like you. I could be something. I have no chance to be anything as a human."

Lyfelde wants to laugh. He's somewhat sure that if he did, Vincent would still stay. But he doesn't, on the off-chance it will put the poor thing off, and simply presses his lips together to suppress it. So naive.

"You do understand what you are agreeing to?" Lyfelde asks, running a thumb over the back of Vincent's hand. "You must live off blood. You will not be able to go out in the sun without being burned. You cannot touch silver. All of the things I have explained to you before."

He's leaving a few details out. But it isn't as though Vincent knows better.

"B-But I won't die. I'll be stronger, I'll-" Vincent's mind goes to being eighteen, to suffocating on the water filling his lungs. "Nobody will be able to hurt me. Ever again."

Lyfelde bows his head to hide the involuntary smile. "I understand. Very well. I must ask, when do you plan to leave?"

"In a few weeks," Vincent replies. "I would like to be home for late August."

Lyfelde's eyes narrow as he looks up. "A few weeks?"

Vincent falters. "I- Is there… a problem, Mr Lyfelde?"

"You would really leave me so soon?" Lyfelde sighs and looks aside. He takes his hand back. "And here I was thinking that you and I…"

Vincent stammers for a moment too long, and Lyfelde stands, stepping towards the fire. He only has to wait for the guilt to begin seeping into Vincent.

"M-Mr Lyfelde, I didn't… mean it that way," Vincent tries. "You could always… always come with me--"

"Yes, because I should be the one to upend my life for you," Lyfelde scoffs.

"Mr Lyfelde, England is my home," Vincent says, a note of desperation in his voice. "I- Of course I would love to stay here, b-but--"

"But what, Vincent?" Lyfelde says, turning towards him, a cold look in his eyes. "It's fine. You can certainly run on home, if you wish."

Vincent is losing Lyfelde with every word he speaks. He stands, clutching his chest over his heart in a silent plea that does nothing to move Lyfelde at all.

"Please," Vincent says, "you have to understand--"

"I understand perfectly well!" Lyfelde snaps, and it is the first time Vincent has seen him angry. Lyfelde takes a step towards him and Vincent steps back. "It is fine. You may leave. As everyone else does."

"Mr Lyfelde--!"

Lyfelde moves much faster than Vincent's eyes can keep up with, and the next moment Vincent is on the floor, hand over his cheek, eyes wide and stinging with tears. The pain burns into his face, simmers under the surface. He stares up at Lyfelde, who has gone very, very still.

"Oh, Vincent, dear." Lyfelde's voice is soft again. "Let me have a look at that."

"N-No!" Vincent gasps, stumbling upright. "You--!"

"I didn't mean to do that," Lyfelde says, hands splayed to emphasise that he is not a threat - not anymore, at least. "Please, Vincent, there's no need to cower. It's only me."

Vincent hesitates, then lowers his hand. It is already stained. A wound has opened under his eye, dripping with blood that Vincent can't help but notice Lyfelde's eyes lingering on.

"Oh, poor thing," Lyfelde murmurs, and Vincent flinches when Lyfelde's hand lands on his cheek. "I must have scratched it open."

The wound is deep. Vincent shudders at the thought that this is a scratch.

"That hinders our plans somewhat," Lyfelde murmurs.

"What do you… mean, Mr Lyfelde?" Vincent asks quietly.

"Ah, I should have explained before," Lyfelde says, gently wiping some of the blood from Vincent's face. "Vampires heal quite quickly, I'm sure you've noticed. But it is a misnomer to call it healing. We simply return to the state we turned in. And that, unfortunately, includes any injuries."

Vincent's face drains of colour. "So… so I will have to wait?"

"Sadly," Lyfelde sighs. "Really, if you hadn't provoked me so, we could have had it over and done with tonight. But I couldn't bear to leave you with an eternal injury."

"I…" Vincent trembles. It sounded as though he was threatening to leave forever, didn't it? How could he have done that? "I apologise, Mr Lyfelde. I… I shouldn't have spoken that way. I- I would hate for you to feel lonely. I care for you, I do."

"...I know you do, dear," Lyfelde says. "Let's clean you up."

Vincent sits patiently as Lyfelde dabs him with a damp rag, doing his best not to wince. Regardless, there's going to be a nasty scar just under his eye once it heals over. And it likely won't heal for weeks. Vincent will have to put off turning until the very last moment.

And, well, Lyfelde hasn't mentioned how long it will take to adjust.

"Ah, I think I missed a little," Lyfelde murmurs.

Vincent freezes at the feeling of Lyfelde's tongue on his jaw. Lyfelde has had his mouth on Vincent more than once now, but this is different. Somehow more intimate than sucking Vincent's life from his neck. Vincent's breath hitches as Lyfelde's tongue curls and licks the last of the blood from his face.

"There we are," Lyfelde says, wiping Vincent's face dry.

Vincent doesn't object to Lyfelde's behaviour. Even as Lyfelde's hand snakes into his hair. There's a power that Lyfelde always feels when doing this, watching someone shape themselves to his will.

"I am so very glad I met you," Lyfelde smiles. Open mouthed. Fangs bared.

And Vincent's little face still lights up even as his eyes show fear.

taglist: @whumpsday @whumpycries @whumpwillow @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @whumpshaped @suspicious-whumping-egg @chiswhumpcorner @melancholy-in-the-morning @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @bloodinkandashes @whump-me-all-night-long @sickophantic @itsmyworld23 @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpdreamz @thebirdsofgay @sonder35 @maracujatangerine

[star-bear-headcannons]

Bachelors: Ranked

Community:

Sebastian

Elliot

Shane

Harvey

Sam

Alex

Bear oh boy:

Shane: His storyline is absolutely beautiful. I also like the fact that he still visits Jas and doesn't just... abandon her. Also BLUE CHICKENS!

Sam: Just adorable. Great brother figure to Vincent. Just a tad to irresponsible for my taste. His loved gifts are also really easy to access early game.

Alex: Wonderful storyline and growth just insufferable and borderline gross if you're a fem farmer in the beginning. Also, doesn't contribute much.

Harvey: Just look at him. Adorable. However, his storyline is a bit to boring for me.

Sebastian: I did not know where he was when I first started playing. Looked all over for him, could not find the emo basement goblin. It's so hard just to get to two hearts with him. The wait is almost worth it because the storyline is good.

Elliot: So dramatic. And his gifts are so hard to get... To much work for so little in return.

[rosekins621]

SORRY I DONT KNOW THAT U DONT WRITE ABOUT LEO, so maybe instead will be Break and Gil?

No worries! I like Leo but I don’t think I could write him well because we don’t spend much time with him in the manga. But I’m happy to do Gil and Break! Break took a lot more reading than I thought but here are the head cannons!

Requests still open! Might take some time with the spring semester starting but I will do my best.

Gil and Break as S/o hcs

Gil

Man absolutely loves you! He gets too flustered most of the time to tell you but when he does it’s stunning!

He likes home dates because he’s the private type but a cafe is nice sometimes

Oz teases both of you but drags Alice out and takes he shopping with Oscar to give you’d guys alone time.

Gil is an amazing cook! He asks you to try new recipes and often surprises you with breakfast in bed. Or lunch on the couch if you can’t eat right away in the morning

He’s the little spoon most of the time. Unless you want to switch with him but he prefers being the little spoon.

Daydreams if he has to be apart from you sometimes. And if you surprise him be prepared for an adorable sight of him blushing and smiling but also Gilbert.exe has stopped working

Often wonders why you like him even if he hasn’t remembered his past yet.

He warns you about Vincent and tries to keep you from being alone with his little brother

Break

Oh boy. He’s very lucky you love him! He will respect if you don’t want him stealing your food. (Neither him or Gil would ever cross boundaries on purpose)

Does his appearing from who knows where and leaves from anywhere but the door.

Keeps your favorite candy in hand at all times! He’s the big spoon like 90% of the time

Date nights are random but he does tell you in advance. He just has no schedule for them and often uses it as a way to procrastinate on work

Reim thanks you for keeping him busy. Seriously he thinks you’re a god send. Reim can finally sleep lol

Break still acts reckless but hates worrying you. Also scared of Sharon teaching you how the Reinsworth family is so scary.

Overall he’s very eccentric yet caring! He’s happy to have found you and you make his day!

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕀: 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent still hasn’t said “I love you,” but he’s being mysteriously nice to Chidi. That includes inviting his brother, Maximo, to stay with them in Italy. But Chidi feels powerless to help either Vincent or Mo, and he's reaching his breaking point.

TW: concussion with headache and nausea, PTSD, discussion of past drug use, drug trafficking, side character death (graphic), Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Author's Note: This chapter deals with the emotional and relational impacts of drug trafficking. This is not something I have experienced personally, but I did my best to portray it with care and I'm very much open to changes that I should make.

Il Palazzo felt familiar to Chidi for the first time. It finally felt the same as the palace that had started to feel so much like home, and even matched the time they had spent in the hospital. Yes, everything was here. Here was Vincent, snuggled in his arms and gently twitching. Here was the comfortable silence of the early morning, as Chidi awoke before his master did and watched the shadows climb along the wall, waiting eagerly for the moment when he could feel Vincent’s wakeful, compelling gaze upon him again. Here were the birds outside the window, which, although they happened to be city pigeons instead of swallows, chattered just the same. Here was the nervous, buzzing ball of urgency that tightened its knot inside him as he gained full consciousness: compassion tied up with adrenaline. Because, above all, here was the old, familiar sense that Vincent was very, very sick, and that Chidi was going to burn to death from the inside out if he couldn’t do anything about it.

What is this feeling, he wondered, while watching Vincent stumble around the room that morning in a miasma of headache and nausea, concussed, leaning on the walls for support, struggling to function. It was hard to look at him, but absolutely impossible to look away. This feeling, that had been present in the hospital, in the attack on Versailles, in every fight between Vincent and his father, and even the first time he’d really looked Vincent firmly in the face and seen him as he was… It was more than love – or else, he’s never felt love before meeting the Marquis. 

It was the little things that twisted him up. The way Vincent rubbed at his head while begging for more painkillers than it was safe to give him. The way he slumped from sitting to laying on the cold bathroom floor, breathing heavily. Chidi offered his lap as a pillow and waited until he felt better, but his own body was flooded over with something almost as dizzying. The doctor said the concussion would last a week at least, but Vincent would heal. Would Chidi last a week? It felt like something was going to snap inside of him, like something was brewing, and he couldn’t tell what.

After canceling the day’s activities, they made their way out to the Tiber for fresh air, Vincent wrapped in a thick coat and Chidi on his arm like a lover. Like a lover, but not a lover, if his silence last night had been anything to go by. That’s alright, Chidi thought, swallowing against another wave of mysterious passion. If it did Vincent any good to hear that he was loved, that was enough for Chidi. And anyway, Vincent felt something towards him, Chidi knew that for certain. Maybe as much as he could feel or could admit to feeling towards anyone, and however much that was, it was enough. There was no need to make him say anything about it. He acted adoring all the time, favored Chidi so much and confided in him so deeply. So much had passed; he’d been trusted more than he’d ever asked for. How could he possibly count himself as anything other than lucky?

Nonetheless, Vincent’s gentleness with him that morning did something to console his nerves. He began to realize how much he had wanted some affection over the past weeks, when Vincent had withdrawn so much. It felt almost ridiculously euphoric when Vincent insisted on buying him a trapizzino from a food cart, saying, “Tu mérites d'être traité quand tu le veux, pour avoir été si gentil avec moi. [You deserve to be treated whenever you want it, for being so good to me.]” He held Chidi’s hand in both of his while they sat on a bench overlooking the river, and closed his eyes against the pain of a bright day. Across the sparkling water, the Vatican’s archways shone in dazzling white and gold against brilliant blue, but Chidi looked at his Marquis instead.

“La lumière du soleil est-elle trop forte pour votre tête, monsieur? Nous pouvons y retourner. [Is the sunlight too much for your head, sir? We can go back.]”

“Non, je vais bien. [No, I’m alright],” he said softly. “Je ne veux pas rester au lit toute la journée. Je veux… [I don’t want to be in bed all day. I want…]” His eyes opened again, and turned on Chidi. “Comment se fait-il que tu sois venu travailler pour mon père? Qui est votre « laisse » ? [How is it that you came to work for my father? Who is your ‘leash’?]”

The sudden change of subject startled him a little, but he was pleased. Vincent had never asked about the person he was protecting, and Chidi had assumed it didn’t interest him. Even after Chidi asked about the fate of the ‘leashes,’ he’d simply affirmed that all the Myrmidon’s families would continue to receive protection under the new leadership, and that they could continue having their scheduled check-in calls. But then, that had been early in the hospital stay – maybe he was too detached to want to know anything more at the time.

“C'est mon petit frère, monsieur. Maximo, ou Mo, c'est ainsi que je l'appelle. Il était… pris dans le trafic de cocaïne. [It’s my little brother, sir. Maximo, or Mo, which is what I call him. He was…caught up in cocaine trade.]” The damn irony stung coming out of his mouth. “Bien sûr, tout cela sous la Table, même si je n’en savais rien à l’époque. J’ai essayé de l’arrêter depuis que nous étions adolescents, mais je n’y suis pas parvenu. Il était lui-même accro, je ne pouvais pas le contrôler… [All under the Table of course, although I didn’t know anything about them back then. I tried to stop him, ever since we were teenagers, but I couldn’t. He was addicted himself, I couldn’t control him…]” Chidi realized how flat his voice had gone. It was odd. He had said this so many times, while trading stories with other Myrmidons, just commiserating. It didn’t make him emotional at all anymore. “Alors j’ai continué, j’ai commencé à essayer de m’assurer qu’il ne meure pas, vous savez? J'ai appris tout ce que je pouvais sur le combat et j'ai découvert que ça me plaisait. J’ai fait du bon travail pour lui éviter des ennuis, je dirais. Je l'ai aidé à survivre à de nombreuses livraisons qui auraient dû être impossibles. Mais cela signifiait qu’il était vraiment efficace, qu’il se démarquait et qu’il se faisait des ennemis… et un jour, il a reçu une offre. Le salaire était énorme, c'était trop beau. J'ai catégoriquement refusé de le laisser partir, alors il m'a laissé tomber et est parti sans moi. Ils l'ont mis dans un avion et personne ne lui a dit où il allait. Venez découvrir qu'il avait atterri en Iran. [So I just went along, started trying to make sure he didn’t die, you know? Learned everything I could about fighting and found that I liked it. I did an okay job keeping him out of trouble, I’d say. I helped him survive a lot of deliveries that should have been impossible. But that meant he was really effective, and stood out, and made enemies…and one day, he got an offer. The pay was massive, it was too good. I flat out refused to let him go, so he gave me the slip and went without me. They put him on a plane and no one told him where it was going. Come to find out he'd landed in Iran.]”

Chidi paused, remembering. “Je savais qu'il avait été piégé. Il allait se faire prendre s’il faisait la livraison, il n’y avait pas moyen… et c’est passible de mort là-bas, pour faire du trafic de drogue. Mais s’il faisait demi-tour, les gens avec qui il travaillait le tueraient pour avoir quitté son emploi. Alors j’ai fait la seule chose que je pouvais faire. J'avais fait la connaissance de certaines personnes à la Table à ce moment-là, et un de ses amis m'a donné un numéro et ce numéro m'a donné un autre numéro et je me suis retrouvé en ligne avec votre père, en lui promettant ma vie au service. En une journée, j’étais en France et il était… quelque part en sécurité, je ne sais toujours pas où. [I knew he had been set up. He was going to be caught if he made the delivery, there was no way…and it’s punishable by death there, to traffic drugs. But if he turned back, the people he worked with would kill him for defecting from a job. So I did the only thing I could do. I'd come to know some people in the Table by that point, and one of his friends gave me a number and that number gave me another number and I ended up on the line with your father, promising my life in service. Within a day, I was in France and he was…somewhere safe, I still don’t know where.]”

The blue sky looked too saturated and Vincent’s grip on his hand had tightened. He was almost crushed between Vincent’s fingers but couldn’t make sense of the look on his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked about this. Especially after their conversation last night. Fucking cocaine. Why is it always fucking cocaine? He found himself scrambling to explain. “Je sais que ce n’est pas bien, ce qu’il faisait. Je ne voulais juste pas qu’il meure pour ça, vous savez? Lui aussi était perdu. J'espère devant Dieu que rien de ce qu'il a boug�� ne vous est jamais parvenu personnellement, monsieur, parce que cette pensée - [I know it’s not right, what he was doing. I just didn’t want him to die for it, you know? He was lost too. I hope to God that nothing he moved ever reached you personally, sir, because the thought of that – ]“

“Oh allez, Chidi, ne sois pas stupide. La cocaïne ne voyage pas du Chili vers l’Italie. Ou la France. Je vous assure que vous n'avez jamais été complice de la tragédie d'un bon moment. [Oh come on, Chidi, don’t be stupid. Cocaine doesn’t travel from Chile to Italy. Or France. I assure you that you were never complicit in providing me with the tragedy of a good time.]” Chidi felt a stinging embarrassment rise up in him, in a way that only Vincent could conjure. The dual implication behind it was clear: you aren’t as important as you think…and don’t be so hard on yourself.

Through his own blush, Chidi raised an eyebrow. “Jamaiscomplice de vous faire passer un bon moment? [Nevercomplicit in providing you with a good time?]”

“Je – tais-toi. Quoi qu'il en soit, je demande parce que je pensais que tu aimerais peut-être le voir. Si vous le souhaitez, je peux l'envoyer chercher à Il Palazzo. [I – shut up. Anyway, I ask because I thought you might want to see him. If you would like, I can send for him to be brought to Il Palazzo.]”

“…Oh.” Was that really possible? After so long? “Bien sûr, j’adorerais ça. Cela fait des années pour nous. Votre père n'autorisait pas les visites en personne. Mais puis-je demander… pourquoi l'autoriser maintenant ? [Of course, I would love that. It’s been years for us. Your father did not allow visits in person. But may I ask…why allow it now?]”

Vincent tsked, and got to his feet. “Tu ne comprends pas le sens d'un simple geste? En haut, nous rentrons, avant que le soleil ne descende directement du ciel juste pour grimper à travers mes orbites jusqu'à mon crâne. C’est déjà en train d’essayer autant. [Don’t you understand the meaning of a simple gesture? Up, we’re going back, before the sun descends directly out of the sky just to climb through my eye sockets into my skull. It’s already attempting as much.]” No, then. You may not ask. Chidi rose without complaint and followed him.

So it was that the very next day, when Vincent was well enough to come downstairs, they met Mo in the entranceway, with a single travel bag on his back. He must have packed in a hurry, but he looked better than Chidi remembered. Healthier. He was still the spitting image of Chidi, just without the brawn and the beard.

They were hugging before he knew what was happening.

When they were both calm enough, Vincent extended a hand. "My warmest greetings, Mr. Osorio." The two got along smoothly. Mo was used to schmoozing when he had to, from his old dealings, and he was genuinely impressed with the mansion. Vincent surely appreciated that. He gave Mo a tour with remarkable energy - if Chidi hadn't known he was in pain, he would never have guessed. But he did know, and made the excuse of wanting some alone time with Mo to let Vincent get some rest. It wasn't just a front, either. It had been some five years since they'd talked alone, with no chance of anyone monitoring the line.

"Es tan raro, [It's so weird]," he said to Chidi, when Vincent had finally gone back upstairs, leaving the two of them in the parlor.

"¿Qué es? [What is?]"

"Verte enamorada de nuevo. [Seeing you in love again.]" 

"Yo - espera - [I - hold on -] "

"¡No, sigues mirándolo! No habías estado tan enamorado desde que éramos niños. ¿Recuerdas a esa niña rica de la escuela primaria que nos invitó a cenar por su cumpleaños? [Nah, you keep staring at him! You haven't been this smitten since we were kids. You remember that rich girl from elementary school who had us over for her birthday dinner?]"

"Preferiría no hacerlo [I'd rather I didn't]," he laughed. "El día más incómodo de mi vida. Pero esta vez no es tan malo. Tú y Vincent parecen llevarse bien. [Most awkward day of my life. But it's not so bad this time. You and Vincent seem to get along.]"

Mo hesitated. "Bueno, es un tipo divertido. Realmente recatado y correcto. Pero, en cierto modo, te conviene. Mírate con tu alfiler y la barbilla en alto. [Well, he’s a funny guy. Really prim and proper. But it suits you, in a way. Look at you with your little pin, and your chin in the air.]"

"Está bien, está bien, ya es suficiente. [Okay, okay, that's enough of that.]" But he puffed out his chest a little, letting the light hit the High Table insignia.

Mo's gaze lingered on it, slowly turning serious. "...¿Qué pasó con el viejo marqués, Chidi? Nadie me lo dijo. ¿Por qué estoy aquí de todos modos? No obtengo ninguna información útil. [..What happened to the old Marquis, Chidi? Nobody told me. Why am I out here anyway? I get shit-all information.]"

"Sí... no se me permitió decirte mucho. Pero el Marqués dice que ahora puedo contarte lo que quiera, así que… [Yeah...I wasn't allowed to tell you much. But the Marquis says I can tell you anything I please now, so…]" And he told him the tale of the past few months, omitting much of Vincent's pain but none of his father's cruelty.

"¿Entonces lo mataste, más o menos? ¿Lo dejaste morir? [So you killed him, more or less? You let him die?]"

"Hice. [I did.]"

Mo whistled. "Maldición. [Damn.]"

"Y en cuanto a por qué estás aquí... no tengo idea, honestamente. Creo... bueno, algo pasó ayer y el Marqués ha sido más amable conmigo desde entonces. [And as for why you're here...I have no idea, honestly. I think...well, something happened yesterday and the Marquis has been nicer to me since then.]"

"'¿Más amable?' ¿Más amable que qué? ¿Te trata bien? ['Nicer?' Nicer than what? Does he treat you okay?]"

"No lo es... mira, sí, lo es. Pero yo... dije algo estúpido. Le dije que lo amaba. [It's not - look, yes, he does. But I...I said something stupid. I said I loved him.]" He stumbled through an explanation of the past days, trying to avoid any reference to Vincent’s addiction or to the parade of strangers while still conveying that someone influential had made a very serious kidnapping attempt. That Vincent had been injured. He thought of his master’s limp body being passed into his arms and felt that rush again.

Mo eyed his white knuckles clutching the armrest. “…Vas a hacer algo, ¿no? No fue suficiente simplemente matar a su padre. Vas a seguir matando y matando por él. […You're gonna do something, aren't you? It wasn't enough, just killing his dad. You're gonna keep killing and killing for him.]”

For the first time, Chidi realized what that feeling was. Anger. Intoxicating, vivid, righteous anger. Anger in the name of love. And he liked it. “Sí. Creo que lo haré. [Yeah. I think I will.]”

“Bueno, te lo digo ahora mismo: no lo hagas. Te estás metiendo con las personas más poderosas del mundo. Ya te has metido en suficientes problemas en nuestros días. Estoy harto de ver cómo te lastiman, ¿de acuerdo? [Well I'm telling you right now: don't. You’re messing with the most powerful people in the world. You’ve gotten in enough trouble already, back in our days. I’m sick of seeing you get yourself hurt, okay?]”

Chidi shifted uncomfortably. "Estoy haciendo mi trabajo. [I’m doing my job.]"

"Mierda. ¿Ese tipo está apuntando con un arma a su cabeza en este momento? No. Pero lo matarás de todos modos, como si fuera... un regalo. Te estás sacrificando. Te estás volviendo codicioso porque quieres tener más responsabilidad sobre él, más martirio y más... más de su vida. Es lo mismo que pasó conmigo. Sabes, no te pedí nada. [Bullshit. Is that guy holding a gun to his head right now? No. But you’re gonna kill him anyway, as like…a present. You're sacrificing yourself. You're getting greedy because you want more responsibility over him, and more martyrdom and more...more of his life. It's the same as it was with me. You know, I didn’t ask for anything from you.]”

“Lo sé. Lo sé. Yo quería hacerlo. [I know. I know. I wanted to.]”

“Sí, jodidamente querías hacerlo. Siempre quiero ser el héroe. Actúas como si fuera desinteresado pero sólo piensas en ti mismo. Ese es exactamente mi punto. [Yeah, you fuckin’ wanted to. Always want to be the hero. You act like it's selfless but you only think about yourself. That’s exactly my point.]” Mo was standing up now, getting heated. Chidi wondered how long this speech had been inside of him. “¿Sabes cómo me sentí durante todos estos sí, sabiendo que estabas arriesgando tu vida por mí? ¿Toda la maldita culpa con la que me cargaste, tratando de hacerte tan importante? No pensaste en mí, no preguntaste si debías dar tu vida por la mía. Sólo querías algo por lo que morir. [You know how I felt, all these yeas, knowing you were risking your life for me? All the fucking guilt you saddled me with, trying to make yourself so damn important? You didn't think about me, you didn't ask if you should give your life for mine. You just wanted something to die for.]” Suddenly he was sixteen again, arguing over whether he could come with Mo on a job to protect him. Only Chidi was no longer a child.

"No. Quería algo por lo que vivir y ahora lo encontré. Encontré a alguien que realmente me quiere tal como soy. Él está tan ávido de mi sacrificio como yo de dárselo. [No. I wanted something to live for, and now I found it. I found someone who actually wants me as I am. He's as greedy for my sacrifice as I am to give it.]” He stalked towards the staircase, turning back just long enough to say one more thing. "Si no quieres mi ayuda, está bien. Pero no hables por el marqués. [If you don't want my help, that's fine. But don't speak for the Marquis.]"

They spent the following day touring the city. Chidi’s protests on behalf of Vincent’s health were no use. He seemed determined to express something by the sheer vivacity with which he could entertain. Though he couldn’t help sagging at times. At the Museo Nazionale Romano, Vincent leaned against a column and gave him a sweet smile as if to say, I’m okay. Chidi returned it as gently as he could and thought, If I don’t get to kill someone for you soon, I will spontaneously combust. The insides of his palms were covered in crescent moons.

He didn’t tell Vincent about the fight with his brother, and he and Mo didn’t talk about it anymore. They talked about Mo’s life in hiding. But it wasn’t any less contentious a topic. As it turned out, there were secrets at both ends of Àlderic’s leashes. In retrospect, Chidi thought he should have known that the elder Marquis would not allow a perfectly good asset to sit idle. “Sí, todavía estoy trabajando. [Yeah, I’m still working],” Mo said in front of a bronze statue of a boxer while Vincent was in the bathroom. “No sobre la nieve. Me dejaron limpio. Dijo que un hombre como yo no puede trabajar en el tráfico, o probaré el producto. [Not on snow. They got me clean. Said a man like me can’t work trafficking, or I’ll sample the product.]” He shook his head like that was ridiculous. “Estoy a disposición. [I’m on disposal.]”

Chidi shook his head right back. “Mi hermano pequeño, limpiando sangre y tripas para Àlderic de Gramont… [My little brother, cleaning up blood and guts for Àlderic de Gramont…]”

“Mi hermano mayor, limpiando los líos de Vincent de Gramont [My big brother, cleaning up messes for Vincent de Gramont],” he retorted. “Para ellos también limpio estos días. ¿O no se dio cuenta de que el hijo continúa el régimen del padre? [That’s who I clean for too, these days. Or had you failed to notice that the son continues the father’s regime?]”

“Oh, me di cuenta, por eso ahora es Marqués de Gramont para ti. Llámalo por su título, incluso a sus espaldas. [Oh I noticed, which is why he is now Marquis de Gramont to you. Call him by his title, even behind his back.]” Mo didn’t and they both went silent.

By some unspoken agreement, they acted like things were fine in front of Vincent. Mo was probably afraid of how he’d be treated if he implied any ingratitude for his visit. And Chidi was…well, he’d like to say he was just trying to show appreciation for Vincent’s gesture, and that was part of it. But the truth was, he was in turmoil. To think that Mo was so resentful about owing his life to his brother…it stung more than he could talk about. What did it take to do something right in this world? What was he supposed to do, if not become a Myrmidon? Let Mo die? He looked carefully at Mo and saw, under his physically healthy appearance, a twitchiness. A constant fear and stress and paranoia that came of seeing too much for too long. He could ask Vincent to free him, (and he decided to do so at the earliest opportunity)…but even then, that wouldn’t take away the pain of things that had already come to pass. 

They flitted through galleries, through historic buildings, through cathedrals, watching each other far more than they watched the play of grandeur in front of them. Trying to understand each other. Vincent taught Mo about the history paintings and what little he dared about life at Versailles. Mo taught him fragments of Spanish and told stories about rock climbing near their childhood home. Chidi chimed in, supporting both their comments, but his mind was elsewhere. On Mo’s tense way of looking at the bodyguards. On Vincent’s occasional sigh and growing exhaustion.

It was for that reason that he forgot to keep his eye on the road behind them.

From the top of the Castel Sant’Angelo, in the gold-spangled night, Chidi looked down on the parking lot. And there, almost up against the bumper of their own vehicle, was a blue Maserati that he’d seen when they left dinner a few hours ago. It couldn’t be a coincidental guest. Vincent assured them that the mausoleum was best viewed at night when they would have exclusive access, so the sun had already gone down and the lot was almost empty.

There was no entourage around it. Its driver, he suspected, had gone off on his own. Gianna was not likely to entertain such behavior, and maybe he intended something too personal for bringing guards. Chidi’s heart did a mad sort of backflip. 

He grabbed Vincent by the wrist. “Sir. There’s someone here. We have to leave.”

A mad descent through the castle followed, back the way they had come. Chidi’s heart was pounding with an utterly uncontainable sort of concern, verging on something…thrilling. Come at me. Come try me.

And he did. He met them on the bridge: a small figure with a massive capelet trailing out behind him in the wind, and a wide-eyed, manic look about his face. He leaned on something behind his back - maybe a cane, but Chidi feared it was a weapon that he was comically failing to conceal.

“Turn back, I will handle this. Go. GO!!” Mo swore at him, but obeyed. Vincent didn’t.

He stepped around Chidi, as if to shield his own bodyguard, hurling a false and tight-lipped smile at Santino across the ten or so paces that divided them. “It seems you cannot recognize good advice, or rejection, when it stabs you in the hand. [Il semble que vous ne puissiez pas reconnaître un bon conseil, ou un rejet, lorsqu’il vous poignarde à la main.]” His voice darkened pointedly. “Je t'ai dit de ne pas me chercher. [I told you not to look for me.]”

“Tu aimes tellement me narguer, Vincent. Mais j'en ai marre des jeux. La dernière fois, c'était trop loin. Ne nous battons plus, hein ? Viens à la maison avec moi. Je préfère ne pas te détruire. Mais si vous n’êtes pas raisonnable, vous ne me laissez pas le choix. [You do so enjoy taunting me, Vincent. But I’m tired of games. Last time was too far. Let’s not fight anymore, hmm? Come home with me. I’d rather not destroy you. But if you won’t be reasonable, you leave me no choice.]” Chidi realized that the massive thing behind his back was decidedly gun-shaped. Probably a grenade launcher. He wouldn’t be much use if Santino got a shot off.  

Vincent seemed completely unfazed. “Comme c'est triste. C'est ce que l'amour peut faire à un homme qui n'a aucun respect de soi. Mais bon, ce n’est pas vraiment de l’amour. Je ne connaissais pas la différence jusqu'à récemment. [How sad. This is what love can do to a man who has no self respect. But then, it’s not really love. I didn’t know the difference until recently.]”

Until recently…but now was not the time to think about that. Chidi broke in desperately, hissing at Vincent under his breath, “Monsieur, s'il vous plaît, partez. S'il vous plaît. [Sir, please leave. Please.]”

“Absolument pas. Je veux regarder l'émission. [Absolutely not. I want to watch the show.]” And he raised his voice again. “Chidi: tour. [Chidi: kill.]” The smile was real this time.

Blinding euphoria. All the confusion fell away. All the self-doubt of the past days had been unnecessary. He wants this. He wants you. You can do something that matters. Kill.

He was on Santino like an attack dog. The man was slight, and the mere impact of Chidi’s hands on his throat slammed him six feet back and into the ground by brute force. The grenade launcher flung from his grasp and tumbled over the railing, into the river.

It was a pure power conversion. Every moment of longing, of compassion, became physical viciousness. There were blows returning his, but they merely enraged him further. See how I love you, Vincent? A hand on Santino’s neck, pinning it against the ground. A boot on top of his arm, crushing bones. The statue of the Archangel Michael, towering atop the Castel, still brandishing a sword in the distance. His pistol, slapping back and forth across Santino’s punchable face until it was crushed beyond all recognition. A final gunshot, through his forehead. And then more, until the clip was empty.

Panting, beaming, with the spray of blood drenching the front of his uniform, Chidi looked up. 

And there, at the end of the bridge, stood Gianna D’Antonio, trembling. The stalker had been followed too, it seemed. Perhaps she’d been trying to stop him. To save him. “Cos'hai fatto? [What have you done?]” she breathed into the raw, ragged silence. “Cos'hai fatto al mio fratellino? [What have you done to my baby brother?]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One - photoshopped together from here (for Mo) and from my own screenshot for Chidi | Two

A source that I found helpful while researching: Harm Reduction International talks about the negative effects of using the death penalty for drug related offenses.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

cu-wip-osity tag game <3

i'm not apologising for the pun. thank you to the gorgeous @pinksparkl for the tag - your wips all sound absolutely WONDERFUL!! i do hope mine don't disappoint - some of these have been burning in google docs hell for, uh, some time... they're vaguely in order of how recently i looked at them, but it's not exactly perfect lol

rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. let others ask questions about the ones that interest them, and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

easy pickings - the follow-up to resist and elongate. vega and warden being their usual, nauseously-adorable, violently-murderous selves while tying the (metaphorical and literal) knot.

solution euphoria - my beloved companion cube au! i read LAB RAT and i was never the same again. what if vindemiator had stayed to help attack the imperial palace?

kiss the ring - imagine if the solaire house had, like, a jewellery shop underneath it. now imagine vincent and lovely wandering around in there and flirting a bit. it's good isn't it

hold 'em - this is the gavin bondage fic i mentioned the other day! there's a chair, there's some rope, you know the drill. i have a note at the beginning that just says "glasses???", but there's nothing in the actual text that matches with that, so i guess he's wearing glasses of some sort...? idk i'll figure it out

slip of the tongue - ngl this is basically my gavin appreciation document, it's kind of just non-stop kissing for a few thousand words. there's a thin pretense of plot but that's really all it is

captive audience - vega and warden domestic bliss: the fic. this is basically a short side story for easy pickings (above), because i wanted to write this particular scene but it doesn't quite fit. they have breakfast, it's cute, until you remember what they like to eat for breakfast and then it's decidedly less cute and more horrifying.

extracurriculum - i think zo put me up to this? lovely and vincent having some alone time in one of the empty stairwells at DAMN. it's exactly what it sounds like.

thicker than water - ooh i have not looked at this for a WHILE! this is much more violent than i normally go in for, but it's basically vincent and alexis beating each other into the floor for a few thousand words. i guess i was having an off day?

rose and cherry red - believe it or not, i haven't TOTALLY abandoned to the egress! - this is part of that series! it's essentially just sam waxing poetic about his life for a bit, i guess. unfortunately, i'm not great at writing sam and i'm not particularly into him, so it's taking literally forever lmao

hometown hero - i'm sure you're all familiar with @sri-rachaa's wonderful southern siblings au, where sam is lovely's older brother, and this is basically an offshoot of that. oh, family left behind.

out of my head - i think alexis deserves to be olivia newton-john every once in a while. also i was listening to the song and i thought she would like it, so here we are.

technicolour - gavin nolastnamegiven meets 'if i only had a brain' from the wizard of oz. i like to think that he doesn't think he's good enough, and then that thought makes me sad, so this exists to remind me that he IS good enough.

no-pressure tags: @zozo-01 @autisticempathydaemon @romirola @lovelylonerliterature @haradasaya @bicyclepainting 💕💕💕💕💕💕

[theredandwhitequeen]

Young royals series finale thoughts I had to wait a few hours because I had to get my haircut, so I’m ready now. I hope Ouch ouch ouch ouch, my poor crying boys Yay Felice is there so he’s not alone. Simon left that night. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 So many fanfics this week included him not staying at the castle Boys in the lake, partying  Simon and Sara, Simon not being able to go to school, because he doesn’t want to run into Wille Hugs Micke leaving the car to his kids, kinda sweet, but also heartbreaking  Class out side Wille asks Sara about Simon They banned Hillerska from operating. Jesus Blaming going on in the dorms, Wille and Felice.  August falling apart. I wonder if he was asked to talk Been warned for 10 years already August, getting cuddled by Nils and Vincent is kinda adorable and incredibly weird all at once since they can still graduate  The school closes at the end of school year. Sara, Simon, Ayub and Rosh Talking of starting over in Gothenburg  Wille the court wants to send him to school in Norway? Parents don’t even care or thinking about him They’re just looking at Queen’s mental health not the son they totally ignore and don’t deserve. I’m old enough to be his mom so I’m taking over.  August tells Nils and Vincent he’s the back up and he’s doing royal stuff and they’re like that’s horrible, before you were in with the family without working. Truth Wille checking books back in, Simon enters without seeing him I feel empty - oh Wille Henry interrupts  Pre partying - doing shots with the house father Felice and Wille’s talk oh my, Party Prince Also telling Malin he’s going and they can follow and watch him, is hilarious  The soccer field and the plastic grass a call back How do you know if you’ve got closure Revolution remix All 4 went to the party on the bikes Wille and Simon from across the room Wille and August Erik loved you, the video wouldn’t have mattered, thank you some one needed to tell Wille that. He needed to hear that his brother loved him  I have feeling for August, but I have bigger stronger feelings for You, for Simon and for me. Oh yes good Felice told the truth to the inspectors. Good for her Got up an hour earlier to straighten her hair and nobody paid attention  Stella being awful to Rosh and Rosh asking Ayub if her gaydar is off, he’s so sweet to her Simon and Wille Nils came out, ahhhhhh Good for Sara, standing up for herself  August using emotional blackmail  It’ll pass, damn girl Oh my god the pain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy hell My poor sad babies Fredricka and Stella, ok then, Felice saw and heard The Song!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The nook 😍😍😍😭 The packing, the goodbyes in the hallway He threw the frog in the trash!!!!!!!!!! 😳😍 Sara’s hair is so cute. Going to graduation  They did Simon’s version of the school song, he was so confused  Boris and Wille  August’s mom and step dad were there for him, also cute picture  The Queen and Duke managed to show up Well damn I wasn’t expecting her to apologize at all. I hope you have a nice summer. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😂😳 Help Oh my god the talk about not wanting to be king is happening. It’s not his choice, none of it has been, his parents are listening to him. Said it’s not about Simon. 😳😳😳😳 In the limo He’s escaping his role and August saw him and his expression read oh shit He ran after the car.😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😍😍😍😍😍😍😍🎊🎉🎊🎉🎉🎊🎼 The reunion was beautiful and Sara and Felice being happy for them is so beautiful  I love this little show so much.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Vincent & Theo by Deborah Helligman is a wonderful biography of the brothers. Theo not only emotionally and financially supported Vincent, but he also critiqued his work and provided him examples of new painters and encouraged him to work outside the ideas of the Dutch masters. When Theo fell in love with Johanna Bonger, who became his wife, she was not interested in him at first. But he wrote her a letter to say, basically, "Hey, we don't really know each other, so here are things to know about me." And his opening salvo was that he adored Vincent and that if Joanna ever decided she loved Theo back, she'd have to love Vincent, too.

Vincent and Theo died within a year of each other. Joanna is the reason we know so much of Vincent's work today. She ended up adoring Theo and adoring Vincent the way he did.

Vincent & Theo Van Gogh 

Hannah Gadsby in Nanette (2018) // At Eternity’s Gate dir. Julian Schnabel (2018) // Loving Vincent dir. Dorota Kobiela & Hugh Welchman (2017) // Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to Theo Van Gogh (1880) // Almond Blossoms by Vincent Van Gogh (1890); painted as a gift for the birth of his brother Theo’s son named after him

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Lily nodded her head "yes~! And I learned many things~, like: anyone can be curious about anything in this world even the elemental creatures~! Whopperflower was wondering about a lot of loud sounds in the village we went to visit~! And four floaty wanted to know something mew about humans and even have their own personalities~! And surely with the amazing abilities of the mountain's Angel,-" she pointed at Ruby with big and sparkling eyes "-we could help two flowers out of danger and have safe and fun time with the other four~! They even went on with us to the other Islands~" she end up with chuckles as the chef Susu helped Lily have a spoonful of the soup was in her bowl after all that explanation, she was taking care of the girl as if she was her own child.

The crew enjoyed the new things they heard so they asked Rubedo "tell us, how was your first time meeting your dad?" "Oh! And how did you know the doc!? He is quite easy to befriended alot of strange creatures and people, but did you met him as whopperflower or the way you look now?" "Did the doc asked you a lot of questions~? He is quite the curious man if I could say, hehe~" "have you ever left the mountain and visited the city of freedom?!" "Can you take any shape you want now since you're enhanced type?" "Was it nice to be around the new environment other than the snowy ground" lastly was the Captain who patted the boy's back gently said "you can answer or ignore any of these questions. This is too much I believe" his voice was calm and gentle not the usual loud and energetic one.

The crew chuckles sheepishly at their childish act and wild curiosity making Lily giggles at them and look at Rubedo with respect in her eyes, knowing her friend is so loved and adored at this moment 'no one will see you as monster, Ruby~. My dear Angel friend~' she thought to herself with sweet smile before having the next bite of meet wrap the Susu prepared for her.

Vincent just chuckles at the brothers "if there is anything you two have rubbed off on me is new knowledge, information and results~. Ruby's flower for example, the chef with Cryo vision helped him the same way I do with my Hydro threads, so this is some new line of research I need to check on later. As if the water still there but also can dry easily at this point, yet the Ice keep the water for a longer period of time" the younger male explained with small smile before he take a bite then added "and don't worry, a lot is on my mind so I feel a little less hungry than usual. You can say this is one of the stress side effect I deal with from time to time." He finished with a sigh but then he smiled and has another bite.

Rubedo reeled at the sudden barrage of questions but did his best to answer them. “I don’t really like to talk about when Papa first created me…” he said. “He was in a really bad place back then, so he wasn’t very nice. And I was just a normal Cryo whopperflower back then that didn’t know anything.

I met Mr. Vincent when he caught me dancing on a frozen lake, and I helped him get close to a lawachurl so he could sketch him. I tried to hide my true form from him while I talked to the lawachurl, but he perked and thought I ate myself, so I had to tell him the truth.

I go to Mondstadt City all the time! Miss Amber taught me how to use a glider, even though I didn’t exactly make the best first impression with her, Bennett, or Miss Eula.

Mm. I can shift into anything thanks to my Papa. I just need to know what it looks like. I’m the new Windtrace Champion because of it~!

Yeah, yeah! Inazuma is so pretty! Even the spookier parts of it like Seirai Island. I made some specter friends there and got to meet an Electro whopperflower!”

“Alright. You’d better clean that plate though. I’ll force feed you if I have to~” Nigredo threatened playfully.

“He will do it,” Albedo said. “I can vouch for that.”

Nigredo merely chuckled.

[soupbabe]

So it’s basically winter where I live and I was wondering if I could get the sinclair brothers, Billy Lenz and Otis Driftwood with an s/o who always has cold hands and try’s to warm them up by touching the slashers? Thank you as always

Touching the Slashers with Cold Hands

Featuring: Billy Lenz, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Otis Driftwood, and Vincent Sinclair

No problem!! Literally the only thing I hate about winter is how cold my hands get 😓😓 Apologies for taking a while to write this, I've been focused on other things

Billy Lenz

- No matter how cold your hands are, his hands are colder

- He revels in your touch so much, like a cat rubbing his head against his owner's hands

- If you're being touchier than usual, he's immediately assuming you want to do more than to just warm your hands up

- might take your hand to other places he wants you to touch him

- It'll take like 3 other incidents for Billy to finally get the hint that you genuinely just want your hands to get warmer

- He's already the kind of guy who wants to be held 24/7, your constant touching is fueling his bad habits of forcing himself in your lap whenever possible

- Though Billy can't help you heat up your hands, it sure does feel good to be cuddled up in your lap by a fire

Otis Driftwood

- Cold hands were the first thing Otis discovered about you

- He loves having your hands all over him, massive ego boost to have your s/o cling to you

- It's just a bonus that he's a human furnace

- With how touchy you are, he also tries to get something more out of it

- Just gets him going when you're with him and your hands drift ever so slightly under his shirt, y'know?

- When you're all over him it's when he wants to be at his most unbothered

- Will throw anything in his vicinity at whoever comes in and interrupts his time with you

Bo Sinclair

- He adores your hands on him

- Bo is definitely a possessive and protective type, having you next to him, hands around his arms always make him walk around with his chest puffed out

- He never liked being touched but you've changed his mind so fast

- Bo would definitely kiss your palms or something if you're cuddling early in the morning

- He's sappy when you're in bed with him, he can't resist

Lester Sinclair

- When you first touched him, you scared him a lil

- You wrapped your hands around his waist once and all that left him was a small shriek-giggle combo

- If you tell him your hands are just cold, he'll just nod and let you drape your arms around him once more

- It doesn't take long for him to recognize that it's a common issue for you and so he gets to plotting

- He knows he can't always be there to help you warm yourself up so he'd go into town and get you a nice pair of gloves <33

- You wear them constantly and it warms his heart !!

- Though you both know it doesn't beat the intimacy of real skin to skin contact <3

Vincent Sinclair

- Oh he's the best person to warm your hands up with

- Not only is he a human furnace, he's always gonna have some lingering warmth from his workshop

- He's a bit skittish, not being the touchy type, but he loves the cool feeling your hands leave on his body

- Head empty only Vincent guiding your hand to touch his real face, the sensation extra warm due to his blush

- He becomes a lot more clingy whenever you're around

- It's not like you'd have a problem with it, right? He knows you'd be complaining about how cold you are if he wasn't there

[slasherhaven]

Do you think any of the slashers could love their s/o enough to stop killing?

Would any of the Slashers stop killing for their S/O? 

Thomas Hewitt would if he could. He doesn’t kill because he wants too, it’s something that he feels he has to do for the family, he does it pretty much because Hoyt made him and now he believes it's something he has to do for survival. It’s not really a matter of whether he loves you enough, he loves you more than anything. Would he stop killing if he could? Absolutely! The thought of a normal life with you would be a dream come true. The issue is that he can’t, not as long as Hoyt has any power over the family. Even then, this is the family's norm now...it might take getting him away from the family altogether for a chance at a normal life.

Michael Myers likely couldn’t stop even if he wanted too. He kills because of an impulse/urge that he can’t control. While he might become less aggressive in general with a loving S/O, it’s very unlikely he would stop killing. Simply because that urge won’t go away, so he wouldn’t be able to stop killing...it’s the whole reason he kills in the first place. Might kill less though if something about his S/O lessens or quietens those urges, but will never stop completely.

Jason Voorhees has the room for some revaluation. He kills out of a sense of duty, which would be very difficult to ‘unteach’ him but maybe not impossible. It would take a long time and a lot of patience and communication but there is a small chance you could convince him that he doesn’t need to hurt the people who come to the camp, that they aren’t actually doing anything majorly wrong. If you can’t deal with the killing, that would be a good motivator for him to revaluate some things but this is still an unlikely outcome.

Brahms Heelshire doesn’t need to kill. It’s not like Brahms has much opportunity to kill, it’s something that will happen if he feels threatened. So yes, he could definitely love his S/O enough to stop killing completely. If you stay in a relationship with him, enjoying you're little isolated life together, Brahms isn't even going to encounter somebody he wishes to harm. He's happy as long as you stay.

Bo Sinclair is...a difficult person, as usual. Bo could probably stop. He doesn’t go out looking for people to kill, he waits for them to come to the town and he can be waiting for a very long time so it’s not like it’s something that he has to do. But he can be stubborn, if he likes doing it why would he stop? So...theoretically, yes. But realistically? No. This is what he does, his duty to Ambrose, and he enjoys it, you knew that from the beginning and that's the end of it.

Vincent Sinclair has a lot of promise. Having somebody who just loves and accepts him does some wonderful things for him. Vincent absolutely adores you and if you really don’t like the killing that happens in the town, it will be a step in the right direction with him. The main issue is that Bo has a lot of control over him, and that type of relationship isn’t something that can change over night, plus this is his normal now. Getting out of Ambrose with him might be his only hope for full rehabilitation, he would stop killing if he left Ambrose but...what are really the chances of that happening?

Lester Sinclair also has a lot of promise. Out of the three brothers, he probably cares for the killing the least. It’s not something he enjoys like Bo and it doesn’t contribute to his art like it does for Vincent, so...yes? Yes, Lester can definitely stop killing and most likely would...if it weren’t for his brothers. He is very loyal to his family, and that’s the main obstacle. He loves you so much...it’s just a difficult situation. Similarly to Vincent, getting him out of Ambrose could do him wonders.

Bubba Sawyer has the same problem as Thomas. Bubba doesn’t like killing, he does it because it’s a job to be done, it's what his family expect him to do, and he is mostly motivated by fear and his family. If he had the opportunity to stop, he probably would with ease, especially if you wanted him to stop. Unfortunately he can’t, not unless it was just the two of you, otherwise he would be expected to carry out his role as usual.

Billy Lenz needs the support. Yes, Billy sometimes has the urge to get a little...stabby. However, these intrusive thoughts could lessen with the soft love and the proper support of a S/O (and some major therapy), as he will have somebody to go to and help him through it. So yes, he can stop killing. Hell, you might even be able to get our boy into some much needed therapy.

Asa Emory (The Collector) couldn’t stop for long. It’s not that he doesn’t love you...he might even attempt to kill less but it’s not something he’ll be able to maintain. He loves you and has come to realise that he now needs you in his life but he also needs his ‘hobbies’. He would simply get bored without it and that has nothing to do with you, it’s just a part of his life that he needs. If you can't handle that well...he can't let you leave.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) is similar to Asa. While he could try to lessen the amount he kills if you have a significant problem with it and while he would enjoy spending more time at home, eventually he would miss his ‘work’. It’s a job but it’s a job that he enjoys. He hopes that a compromise of keeping you as far away from it and out of the loop as possible (without lying to you) will be enough. There is no way he could give up being Chromeskull.

Otis Driftwood isn’t going to stop. It’s just not going to happen. He does love you, he really does but this is a part of who he is. If you can’t accept that (he doesn’t expect you to take part in it) then of course it’s going to be a problem...it might get messy but he’s not going to stop killing. You knew who he was, what did you expect?

Baby Firefly might cut back at most. At MOST Baby will kill less but she’s not going to be able to stop, and she won't pretend that she will. She loves causing trouble so she can technically do that without killing anyone but...well, it’s still fun to her. In the end if you want to join the family, you’re going to have to get on board at least a little bit.

If you're Yautja is a hunter, you'll just have to accept it. Hunting is a huge part of Yautja culture. Sure, there were Yautjas that are more dedicated to technological, scientific, and medical developments and they don't dedicate so much time and energy to hunting. However, if your mate his a hunter, it might be more of a problem. For him, his hunts are something to be proud of. If you simply don't want to see the game from his hunts because you don't have the stomach for it, he will be considerate of it. But he will not stop hunting, it's in his nature. He won't kill any humans if that bothers you, though he likely didn't anyway since they're 'not worthy prey' for the most part.

[realredbanana]

First of all, just putting this out there I agree with 10/12 of these (well, 9 and 2 halves?)

✨🍄🌸 unnecessary elaborations 🌸🍄✨ under the cut

1. Wille is demi and bi and should explore his gender post-canon. I mostly agree with this, I just don’t see Wille as specifically demi and bi. I see him as somewhere on the aroace spectrum and I honestly can’t really think about whether he’d also be attracted to girls or not, maybe I see him that way because I’m vaguely sapphic and aroace-spec (because idk what I am other than ‘I’ve Liked One (1) Girl (whom I was already close with)’) but that’s just my thoughts on it. (And I totally respect any other perspectives). The gender bit though? 100%. He/they Wille my beloved, but I also firmly believe that anyone who feels like maybe experimenting with presenting a little more feminine or masculine should 100% go for it if they can. Even if they ultimately decide ‘nah, that isn’t for me’, at least they can say for certain that they gave it a go because it interested them.

2. Simon does some things wrong and that’s wonderful actually. 100% agree. Let dumb teens (affectionate) be dumb teens! (Also just let humans be human!) He’s my beloved, darling boy, but he messes up sometimes because he’s alive. Living beings make mistakes. <3

3. Dirtbag Erik > Perfect Brother Erik. Perfect people are boring. No elaboration needed.

4. August/Nils should have a lot more fics on AO3 than it does. True~ I personally don’t really care either way (because I personally don’t read many August fics), but I was surprised that there was such a massive growth in August/Vincent fics and not August/Nils, since they were the main 2 out of the 3 that actually had quite emotional conversations (like when they talked about the affect their initiation had on them).

5. Linda deserves to have a life beyond her kids, and being perfect for her kids. This this this. I actually really enjoy Linda as a character because she’s imperfect, and I honestly find her kinda annoying in fics where she’s made out to be perfect all the time (so sorry Linda <3), nobody’s perfect. Also, I wholeheartedly agree with your NaNoWriMo headcanon, I think it’s the little, silly seeming, things that make characters feel so much more real and human?

6. Frida, Malte, and Nikita are the hottest of the Main Five actors. Personally, I disagree (although they are all gorgeous human beings, in fact, I once saw this person who looked just like Frida, and I felt so bad because I just kept looking over at them ever few minutes because, one, they were so pretty, two, they looked like Frida and, three, they were speaking Welsh and I just thought they sounded really cool.) but, I don’t think that’s necessarily because I find Edvin and Omar more attractive so to speak but because a large part of what draws me to people is their personality and talents, and I’ve seen much more of Edvin and Omar (in interviews and stuff) than I have Frida, Malte, or Nikita. (I will say though, as an autistic person, some of the things Frida said in Young Royals Forever had me sobbing. Her saying about how she would’ve loved to see a character like Sara as a young person with her diagnoses, I was sat there like “as an autistic (and probably adhd) young person, she means the world to me. <3”)

7. Platonic salice > romantic salice. Honestly, this is my other ‘mostly agree but not fully’ one, because on one hand I adore their friendship and it means everything to me (especially with the friend breakup and how deeply that affected Felice and just how much they mean to each other without it needing to be romantic), but on another hand, I enjoy salice fics because I’m an autistic sapphic person who deeply relates to Sara and enjoys seeing happy sapphics.

8. Rosh should be shipped with other girls, frequently and creatively. Yes. 100% agree. No notes needed.

9. Oops, Vincent is sympathetic sometimes. 100%. Just because someone sucks, doesn’t mean I want to see them fail because they weren’t given enough/the correct accommodations. I find it 1000x more satisfying to see an annoying neurodivergent character fail despite having all the accommodations required to put them on as equal footing as possible with their neurotypical peers, otherwise I’m just watching a person being failed by the same system that partially failed me – which is more depressing and frustrating than satisfying.

10. Secondary characters shouldn’t have to be wilmon shippers to be likeable. This. In fact, sometimes it makes me like characters less if they nonsensically are like “yessss!! Slay!!! Get together and be cute!!!!!” (as you said) it just feels like I’m reading/watching characters interacting with their favourite ship on tumblr, not characters interacting with their classmates/students.

11. YR does not share a universe with RWRB. I agree, no elaboration needed.

12. The intimacy scenes in s3 (especially the big one) made me kind of uncomfortable, actually. I have so many feelings about The Hallway Scene™️ but, seeing as most of them are subtext related (which I’m so down to explain or redirect people to someone who explains it better than I could) I’m not gonna go into much detail other than: I viscerally was like “something is deeply wrong here” about the hallway scene.

Blue’s Contrary Young Royals Opinions Poll (make your own if you want to!)

Just for funsies, I created a poll about my Contrary Young Royals Opinions. I’m calling them Contrary rather than Unpopular because different things are popular in different parts of fandom, and things cycle in and out of popularity, so who knows what’s popular even? Rather, these are just things that I am stubborn and ornery about. Some of them might be mainstream opinions, but I am stubborn and ornery about them all the same.

You all know that I am an August Enjoyer who obstinately ships sargust, so I did not put that on the poll. I also feel that my sargust shipping and August enjoying sometimes obscures my other contrary opinions because it’s like, my signature trait. So this is a chance to talk about other things!

Please vote and reblog for the sake of fun and interesting data. Add commentary in the tags if you feel like it. Also feel free to create your own Contrary Opinion poll, because I wanna see what other people’s contrary opinions are.

Explanations below the cut. Click if you want to know more about what each poll button means to me in more depth.

Wille is demi and bi and should explore his gender more post-canon. Now, in canon, Wille is unlabeled, and I wanna respect that. So this is more headcanon than anything else. I know some folks read Wille as exclusively same-sex attracted. I do not (although I support people doing such) but I also read him as much more on the demisexual and/or demiromantic end of the spectrum than anything else. Of course I am aspec, so I’m seeing it through this lens. On the gender side of things, well, I just think it would be neat? Wille trying on nail polish and then furiously scrubbing it off breaks my heart. It feels like the royal fam has controlled Wille’s gender expression most of his life and made him present in this more conservative masculine way, and he hasn’t had many options. I also do think Wille’s explosive anger is something he’ll have to grapple with in the future, and I see his anger as tied to a lot of the masculine socializing he was raised in. So having outlets for his feelings that are a little less conventionally masculine could be good. Let Wille wear nail polish. Let him wear skirts. Let him experiment with his hair! I’m of the opinion that even cis people should explore their gender, so even if he played with his gender expression for six months and then decided he’d continue to present conventionally masculine again, that would be good for him. (But in my heart I’m a bit of a he/they Wille truther, not gonna lie.)

Simon does some things wrong and that’s wonderful actually. Let me explain what I mean by this. There is a popular view of Simon where he’s very selfless and makes sacrifices for his loved ones and stands up for what he believes in, while also having to suffer and do a lot of things out of desperation. This is true. There is also a co-existing side of Simon that’s a little less selfless, a little more ambitious, and a little bit more likely to make assumptions about what other people want or need without consulting them. There’s the Simon who feels he has to protect Sara when she clearly doesn’t want him to, and the Simon who hides things from Linda when he shouldn’t. There’s the Simon who calls Bjärstad shitty in a way that upsets Rosh and Ayub at the beginning of season 1, who enlists Rosh and Ayub to help intimidate August in 1.3 without fully thinking about how they might feel about it. Yes, Simon does a lot of things out of selfless care for others and out of desperation, but to assume he only ever does things for selfless, desperate reasons without any selfish impulses or ambition mixed in is… well, it misses some of the most fascinating contradictions in his character. Let Simon be a selfish teenager sometimes! It’s developmentally appropriate and it might one day save his life.

Dirtbag Erik > Perfect Brother Erik. I never really gravitated toward the perfectly supportive headcanon for Erik that was popular in some corners of fandom. I know this is not a radical thing to claim after season 3 and a lot of people are coming out of the woodwork and saying it. I think the point I want to make here is less that Ambiguously A Dirtbag Erik is canon and more that he’s inherently more interesting to me to read about than Saint Erik, Patron of Lost Little Brothers. I’m sort of fascinated by the way that interactions with family members always have layers, and that you look back on past events and uncover more of the layers as you grow up. That’s the shit I live for in fiction. I also don’t love discussions about “what would Erik do if he were alive” because I enjoy sitting in the horrific tension of characters not knowing but having to build a better world in his absence.

August/Nils should have a lot more fics on AO3 than it does. As far as I can tell it has one. One! I ship August with Sara first and foremost but August and Nils have some unexpectedly tender moments in season 3 that made me go “wait, that’s interesting…” about their relationship. Yes, August keeps calling Nils nouveau riche. Yes, Nils finds August’s perfectionism annoying. These are all just tensions to play on to make the eventual bittersweet, conflicted makeout scene more bittersweet and conflicted and hot. If August/Vincent can suddenly gain more fics post season 3, it surprises me that August/Nils hasn’t surpassed them.

Linda deserves to have a life and hobbies beyond her kids, and especially beyond being perfect for her kids. Don’t get me wrong, she does care about Simon and Sara a lot and does what she can for them. And because we’re watching a show centered around teenage characters, we’re mostly gonna imagine her in her capacity as a mom. But I also love seeing the moments in canon where Linda is less than perfect—when she embarrasses her kids, or when she comes down hard on them in ways that are less than helpful—because that shows the human vulnerabilities beneath. That she’s trying to figure things out in the moment, and she isn’t always right. That makes me love her more. And I’d desperately love to see Linda have a hobby like, I dunno, writing a crime novel every NaNoWriMo or something. (I have put this into a fanfic, actually.)

Frida and Malte and Nikita are the hottest of the Main Five actors. I get the appeal of Omar in abstract way, but he looks exactly like the crush of one of my chief OCs in a YA novel I was writing, so I think of him as OC Rose’s crush and feel no draw to him myself. Edvin is a great actor but does nothing for me aesthetically. Oh, aesthetic attraction. So individualized to all of us!

Salice is more meaningful to me as a platonic ship than a romantic one. I am so glad they bring people joy as a romantic ship, and I’m happy to gift the fic ideas I do get for them to the people who love them, but for me they matter more as best friends. When I write them, I draw on real platonic friendships I have had in my real life, ones that matter a lot. Sara breaking up with August to prioritize friendship feels more radical to me. Also sometimes I think I’m a Bad Sapphic for having these thoughts about Salice, but then I remember that Heart and Homeland has so much sapphic content involving Felice and other women, as well as just sapphic content beyond that, and I sleep easier.

Rosh should be shipped with all the other girls, and frequently and creatively. Yes, Madirosh is an overnight fanon sensation we should celebrate that. Yes, Stella/Rosh took us by surprise and by storm for a hot minute, and we should do more of it. But have we considered… Fredrika trying to angrily and messily seduce Rosh because Stella seemed to be crushing on her? How about Rosh and Felice as a glorious butch/femme power couple? How about if Sara is gonna date a tall athletic brunette she dates one who plays a real sport (football) and not a fake sport (rowing)? I hope we all see the vision.

Oops Vincent is sympathetic sometimes. Look, I am not going to deny that Vincent is a bully who sucks. I also think his first year letter was telling. In the letter, Vincent, at sixteen, has just received his ADHD diagnosis. That’s a long time for a rich white boy to go without getting one! That means he’s probably had sixteen years to struggle to pay attention in class—he’s probably acting out and moving around a lot, and internalizing the idea that he Can’t Do School. His parents probably make some “boys will be boys” excuse at conferences. Then he finally gets the diagnosis and gets put on meds. My sense is that Hillerska only cares that his meds don’t make him disruptive in class. They probably don’t care about teaching him alternative study methods that actually work for him, or creating an environment where he feels empowered to use accommodations. And as folks who are knowledgeable with ADHD know, if you get behind in school like that, it takes more than meds to catch you up and help you feel empowered in class. When we see Vincent after his national exams, he’s drawing dicks in the dirt, because he can only envision himself as the class clown who fails academically. He says the academics don’t matter as a self-soothing technique. He’s become mean—mean in a “funny” way—as a way of feeling like he has a “thing” at school. And yes, Vincent will probably be “fine,” he will remain rich and go big game hunting and marry a trophy wife into adulthood or whatever. Again, he sucks! That does not change the fact that Hillerska failed him and his neurodivergences, and that he could actually have a sense of real efficacy and self-compassion for himself as a disabled person instead of just being “fine.” Daddy I don’t love him. But Daddy I would like him to feel empowered to use his extended time on tests. Daddy I would like someone to teach Vincent the pomodoro method as a study skill.

Secondary characters shouldn’t have to be wilmon shippers to be likable to fandom. It throws me out of a fic or a headcanon when secondary characters only are there to support Wilmon being the cutest soulmates ever. I don’t mean when someone like Felice offers a supportive comment to them as a couple, or occasionally thinks they’ve done something cute. I mean when characters sound exactly like shippers in fandom, with similar talking points, and when we as readers of the fic are supposed to sympathize with them because they sound exactly like us. People… don’t talk about friends and family and classmates the same way they talk about fictional blorbos.

YR does not share a universe with RWRB. This idea was more widespread in the old days of fandom, so this Contrary Opinion feels more vintage. As far as what I do think it could share a universe with, I vote for Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad novels, for the class conflict and the incredibly complex characterization. I would also say Ashley Herring Blake’s Girl Made of Stars has a lot in common with YR in terms of how it approaches trauma and family relationships.

The intimacy scenes in season 3 (especially the big one) made me feel kind of uncomfortable, actually. Something about the changes to directing style and how they were filmed. I don’t really want to explain this one right now but maybe I will someday. So this one is also there for folks who viscerally felt that too.

[loveandmurders]

Helloooo, I was wondering if I could request Sinclair sister who struggles with SH?

Hello love, thank you for this request <3 

I really hope you’re doing well and if you need to talk about anything, you can send me a message. Never stay alone if you feel like you’re struggling <3

This request is the most personnal thing I ever wrote on this blog because I did hurt myself for quite a while, and still do sometimes. This is also my darkest post over here. 

Not too sure if I love or hate this work (it had been very hard to write and readproof it before posting), but I still hope you’ll enjoy this in a way that’ll bring you some comfort. <3

And if you needed a sign to stop hurting yourself or not commit suicide today/tonight, this is it.

LET ALL THE ANGER AND HATRED OUT

Warnings: self harming (pulling you hair, bad position, scratching and cuting yourself), self hatred, insecurities, shame, suicidal thoughts, mentions of mental illness, mention of torturing and killing people (the twins’ solution to your SH isn’t a good one but you can’t except more from slashers)

You started to hurt yourself when you were a child.

At first, it was pulling at your hair or taking deliberately positions that would quickly be uncomfortable or hurtful. Thankfully Vincent was always there to stop you pulling at your hair, and Bo was finding way too much comfort in your presence so you always ended up on his lap or close by, that way he was unknowingly preventing you from hurting yourself. And when Lester was noticing how silent you were - which often meant you were going to hurt yourself - he would cheer you up and sleep with you, at night, to look after you.

When you became a teenage girl, you started to understand that you were actually hurting yourself. As a child, it was a subconscious defence mechanism, but as you grew up you realised what you were doing. And if you stopped pulling at your hair and taking bad positions - mostly because you started to enjoy your hair and because you wanted to have a healthy body (so your dad wouldn’t give you some made up painkillers you didn’t know the side effects of), you started to hurt yourself in other ways.

At first, you started to scratch your skin with your nails until you bled. As you continued to grow up in this very toxic family, you started to use a knife or a razor blade on your inner thighs and arms. You always did your best to tend your wounds afterwards, mostly because you didn’t want your brothers to find out. You knew they already had a lot to handle, and you loved to be able to bring them comfort, and not even more burden.

Plus, you felt awful, weak and pathetic afterwards. The more you hurt yourself and the more you hated yourself. It was a vicious circle but you just couldn’t help. It was like a drug. You felt so much better when you were punishing yourself, it felt like you were alive too. But once you were done, you would look at what you did; and you would feel empty sometimes, or you would start crying. Either way, you would mechanically go have a shower and try to patch everything up and burn anything with blood on so no one could know.

You were always putting on long enough sleeves too, because you were ashamed.

More than once you thought about killing yourself too, but you never did for your brothers. You knew how much they loved you, adored you, cherished you. You knew how Bo was always freaking out when you were out of his line of vision, how Vincent always kept an eye on you, how Lester was always looking at you when he made a joke to be sure you were laughing at it. 

So you didn’t commit suicide - to not break your brothers even more than they already were - but you continued to hurt yourself, even in your adulthood. There were better days, better weeks, better months than others. But there were also very dark times. Your lows were awfully low. If you brothers knew you could sometimes feel depressed and unhappy, no matter how much you would always try to hide it behind a smile, they never thought you were using blades against yourself. They always thought they would notice - but they probably were blind by their own insanity and mental illness. They couldn’t imagine that their joyful beloved baby sister could hate herself. How could she when she was the ray of sunshine in their life? When she was the only thing worth living for, even in this bloody and unhappy mess?

It was so easy for you to hurt yourself when you lived in your own flat, you didn’t even have to hide the bloody bandages anymore. But when you agreed to live with your brothers again, a sane part of yourself hoped this would help, hope you would feel better, or hope that the boys would notice something. The bigger part of yourself thought that if you had been able to hide it your whole childhood, you could continue doing it.

But the boys grew up too, they weren’t just angry, vulnerable, violent, desperate, broken teenagers. They were adults who used their own suffering and insanity to find prey, to kill them, to turn them into the main attraction of the town. They also spent several years without seeing you every day, so their eyes on you were more lucid. And if their love for you never wavered, it turned more protective and possessive with time.

That was how Vincent started to notice that some days you seemed to be hiding your arms, or that you were trying to not flinch when Bo would innocently grab you to show you something or have you sit down for a family dinner. He also noticed how long you could stay in the bathroom for a simple shower. Vincent learnt to observe and to stalk people as he grew up, and even though he hated to do anything that could make you feel uncomfortable, he couldn’t let anything happen to you.

He knew something was wrong. 

That day, after lunch, Bo went back to his garage, Lester left for an errand, and you went upstairs for a shower. Vincent stayed in the kitchen, and looked at the clock. 

It was over an hour your were in the bathroom now. 

Deadly silent in there too. 

His instinct was screaming at him to open the door separating the two of you, but he couldn’t do that, so he waited for you right behind it. 

You gasped when you opened the door and found him there, quite surprised and deep inside, a little bit panicked. You still smiled at him “You scared me” you chuckled even though you didn’t understand what he was doing there. You kept the towel you used to stop the bleeding closer to your chest so Vincent wouldn’t see it. You tried to move past him but he blocked you and you frowned.

“What, Vinny?” you asked

Why so long? He signed and your heart dropped. No one ever asked you this, and you didn’t think anyone would notice because the boys were always so busy with everything. When you were a teen, your parents would kick your arse if they heard the water running for too long, but they wouldn’t care otherwise. When you were a teen, Bo was too busy screaming, Vinny being in his own world and Lester trying to get his mother’s attention.

You shrugged “Just did a hair mask, took me longer… Why? Are you checking how long I stay in the bathroom now? It’s kinda creepy, Vince” you replied with a smile, trying to embarrass him so he would leave you alone, but he could see past your lies and noticed how your smile wasn’t reaching your eyes.

You good? What’s going on? He insisted and you bit on your bottom lip.

“Look I don’t know what you’re imagining…” you said as your brother reached for you and you accidentally let the towel fall. You didn’t even look at it, because you knew Vincent would see the blood on it. You looked away actually, feeling so ashamed. Vincent picked the towel up and for an instant he was simply speechless.

He hadn’t known what you were doing in the bathroom, but hurting yourself to the point of making yourself bleed was clearly not what he had imagined. He had thought that maybe you were staring at yourself and hating yourself and insulting yourself, like he often did. But hurting yourself... like that? 

He let the towel go and very carefully and gently he grabbed your arm and he lifted the sleeve up. The sight of the bandages turned his stomach up and down. He had no idea what to do. His heart was breaking. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before either. He should have been smarter for your own sake.

He brought you against his chest and hugged you. You had to resist the urge to cry as you hugged him back.

“I’m fine, Vinny, I’m fine, I swear. I’m sorry about the towel, I’ll go buy a new one” you babbled, as if Vincent was caring about anything else but you. He remembered the hair pulling when you were a kid and he hated how he never thought it could have turned into something worse. “Vinny, please don’t tell Bo” you pleaded. “Or Lester. Please. I’ll stop, I promise” you begged him.

I’m sorry we haven’t noticed before. I’m sorry you never talked to us about it. Vincent replied as he cupped your face. You know we love you more than anything. Tell me what we can do to make this stop. He continued and you started to cry as you shook your head.

“I’m fine. You all have enough to handle with, I don’t want to be a burden. My skin regenerates well, if I put some cream on every morning and night, it’ll be all good soon.” you replied. You didn’t add that you had become quite good at hiding any marks with jewels or clothes.

In your state you hadn’t heard Bo coming inside the house. Vincent did, and even if he understood you wanted to keep this a secret, he needed Bo to watch over you too. Bo heard the two of you talking upstairs so he joined in. He saw the tears dripping down your face and in two big steps he was there, hugging you. He didn’t know what was going on, but he never was able to stand the sight of you crying.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked and you felt like you were going to cry even more. You didn’t answer, and as he was about to ask Vincent, he saw the bloody towel on the ground.

“Are ya hurt?” he instantly asked and he started to check on you with worried gestures and eyes. You gently pushed him away because you felt like you couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t let you do, he brought you closer before freezing when he saw the bandages. With what happened to his wrists, he understood right away. And it felt like a punch in his stomach. His baby sister had been hurting herself all those years and he hadn’t noticed? Like Vincent, guilt instantly creeped inside of him. As your big brothers, their job was to protect you and to make sure you were happy. How could they have failed so badly without realising it? Like Vincent, he hugged you, completely speechless, and you cried even more before pushing the two of them from you.

“This needs to stop” Bo sternly said because he had no idea how to handle the situation, and emotions weren’t his strong suit. You let out a dry laugh that broke their hearts even more.

“Ya think I don’t know that, ya think I’m feelin’ good? It’s been weeks I haven’t needed to, but today I just couldn’t stop. I should’ve been better at work and I haven’t been super nice with Lester yesterday, so I needed to do this. That’s all. I mean we’re all fucked up, so yes I’m hurtin’ myself since I’m a kid, but it’s fine, I survived so far.”

“Love…”

“Ya want to know how bad I can feel? Sometimes I fuckin’ dream I could hurt myself bad enough it would kill me.” The twins’ eyes widened and they both reached for you with pure fear and concern written all over their faces. They couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, and hearing those words coming from your mouth was ripping their hearts from their chests. “But if I never did, it’s because I knew I’d kill ya too. Honestly ya saved me more than once, but I need to hurt myself to feel somethin’, or when I’m angry at myself, or when I feel guilty or stupid or pathetic, or when I’m tired or when I’m feelin’ too lonely.” you explained, and it felt good to be able to say it out loud for the first time in your life.

Your brothers hugged you, lost for words. They both were thinking fast because they couldn’t let you continue hurting yourself like that. After a few instant, something very natural came to them. They just exchanged a look before guiding you to your room, so you could sit on your bed. Vincent sat next to you, stroking your back, as Bo knelt in front of you and he cupped your face in his hands.

“Listen to me, love.” he started and you looked down at him as he stroked your cheeks. “Ya need to let all your anger, your hatred and sufferin’ out, but ya can’t do it on yourself no more. Ya’re important, ya’re loved, and ya’re safe with us. We should’ve seen what ya were doin’ to yourself a long time ago, but now this will change, do ya hear me?”

“How?” you asked as you softly sniffed

“By hurtin’, torturin’ and killin’ people who aren’t ya. I promise ya’ll feel better and we’ll make sure that nothing can happen to ya. Ya know the special room I have in my garage that I never let ya see? There is a chair there, and I’ll tie up anyone ya’d like so ya’d let out everythin’ bad you have inside of ya unto them. How does that sound?”

“I don’t know, Bo…” you weren’t sure you were able to hurt someone else other than yourself. You had never been a bully, and you weren’t a killer.

“Let’s try, love, even just once, okay?” Bo insisted so you looked up at Vincent who nodded. You thought about it for a few moments before nodding and both the twins relaxed. They really hoped it would help like it “helped” them. They also promised themselves to keep a very close eye on you, because you were far too important for them.

And everyday they reminded you that:

You are loved.

You are not alone.

You are important.

You are safe.

You deserve better.

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