#bo sinclair x self insert

[f1nalboys]

You're Mine - Bo Sinclair x Self Insert

Bo Sinclair x Self Insert

PLEASE READ WARNINGS!

WORD COUNT: 2661

WARNINGS: SELF INSERT GUYS. this is NOT x reader. my name is mentioned legit once and i dont think i described myself physically very much but its not x reader!!!!, nsfw, yandere!bo, canon typical violence, canon typical murder, slight dub-con elements (i wrote it with full consent but considering the circumstances and certain things bo says, using that tag as a safety thing), degradation, creampie, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, outdoor sex, evil yucky bo :3, self harm scars mentioned, bo cuts over pre-existing scar, bo makes SI lick blade clean, predator/prey dynamics, uhhh i think thats it, not proofread,

“And thanks again, Bo, for letting us stay here for the night while you fix the car up! We really appreciate it!” She says with a smile and for a second it’s enough to make Bo forget that Nick was just behind her, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking his shoes off. She was smiling for him, for Bo, and just him. He knew that. He knew since he saw her get out of Lesters shitty truck that she was meant to be his. 

“No problem, sugar. I feel much better having you under my roof.” She blushes at the nickname, at the clear declaration of love, and he nods his head at her, flashing a grin. “You have a nice night, alright, sweetheart?”

“You too, Bo.” She shuts the door and Bo makes his way into his bedroom, closing the door tightly, kicking his shoes off, and shutting the light off. He can feel his way around the house completely blind so making his way to his bed, sitting in front of the two-way mirror, it was almost second nature. Bo sits on the edge of his bed and watches with bated breath.

Nick had finally gotten into the bed, shirt off and thrown into a heap on the floor. She, however, was taking her time to carefully undress, folding and placing each item on top of each other. She was undressing like this for Bo. She had to have known that the mirror was two-way, that he could see every curve and fold and scar on her body with how close she was to it. 

With a soft sigh he grinds his palm onto his lap, hissing at the friction and at the sight of her ass as she bends over, slipping her pants off. “C’mon, get into bed,” Nick says and Bo scowls; he had forgotten he was there. Nick was covering his eyes, per her request, and she scoffs, pulling on a pair of thin leggings and slipping her bra off. God, her tits, Bo thinks, head tilting to the side slightly.

She had shown up in a tank top and jacket zipped all the way up but the Louisiana heat got to her in the garage and, in what felt like slow fucking motion for him, unzipped her hoodie. Bo dropped the god damn wrench he was holding, the tool clanging against the concrete floor, and for the first time he felt himself blush as he bent down to grab it. She had laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, but she wasn’t laughing at him, he knew that. She wouldn’t do that.

Bo tunes back into the present and sees that the other bedroom is dark now, though he can still make out their bodies in the bed from the light pouring in from under the door. “C’mon, don’t you want to?” He hears Nick say, can see the man's silhouette reaching a hand towards her. She giggles. “We can be quiet.”

“You can be quiet,” She retorts quietly but Bo can hear her sigh and he knows that Nick is touching her. “I have a hard time doing that, remember?” 

“Mhm, it’s cute, though. Besides, that creep totally has a thing for you. Why don’t you put a show on for him? Bet he’s watching us right now or some shit.” Bo’s mouth goes dry at the mention of him. Nick had been giving him the stink eye every time he would try to make conversation with her, but he had casually asked if the two of them were together, not that he cared. ‘Nope,’ she had said with a blush and that’s when Bo knew he had her. 

“Oh, stop! He’s being nice, lettin’ us stay here; he’s not a creep.” She sighs again and, now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness more, he can make out her hips moving underneath the blanket. “But we can screw around a bit if you want, j-just, shit! Just need to keep your hand over my mouth.”

Nick laughs and Bo removes his hand from his lap, anger rising in his chest. He was touching his property right in front of him. Knew he was watching and was trying to prove something. Bo stands quietly, eyes trained on her, and can hear her barely muffled moans. She was his. He was supposed to be the one drawing those noises from her, to feel her tighten around his fingers, to hear the wet squelch of his cock plunging inside her. Not Nick. And he wouldn’t, Bo decides as he slips his shoes on and grabs the knife placed onto his dresser. Not anymore.

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

The woods were a maze. She ran as fast as she could, trees and shrubbery cutting into her bare arms. The thin top and leggings she wore were doing nothing to help protect her from the temperature - which had dropped considerably - or the foliage which seemed to reach out and scratch and cut and slow her down on purpose. Her shoes were covered in mud as were her knees and hands when she had gone sprawling just moments ago.

He was chasing her.

Bo loved the chase. He loved running after the victim, hunting them not unlike a predator in the wild, letting them think they had finally escaped him only to crush their hopes in an instant. But she wasn’t a victim. Didn’t she understand that? He runs after her, far more graceful, jumping and dodging over fallen branches and prickly bushes, always right on her heel. 

Nick was dead, bleeding out on the streets of Ambrose. She was covered in his blood. After Bo had stabbed him once, twice, three times in the chest and he had crumpled to the ground, she had attempted to stop the bleeding with her hands, screaming and crying, begging him not to die. Bo let her grieve, though he found himself getting annoyed fairly quickly. He had gotten rid of the only other thing keeping her away from him and she wasn’t acting grateful. And then she looked up, looked at him with tear-filled eyes, fear coursing through her veins, and ran.

Her foot catches on a large gnarled root and she falls, holding her hands out to catch herself. The wind is knocked out of her when she lands, slamming into the rock-covered ground, one stabbing into her stomach. She already can’t breathe and now it feels like there’s no oxygen left around her and she can hear the sound of Bo’s approaching footsteps. She knows it’s over.

Forcing herself to flip over she sucks in a raspy breath, eyes widening at the sight of the man approaching. He towers over her, his coveralls darkened with blood, the knife still in his hand. She watches a single drop of blood fall from the tip. Nick’s blood. “Please,” She says, cringing at the way her voice cracks. She was terrified, completely at the mercy of some lunatic she had thought was safe. She had even defended him when Nick called him a creep and now Nick was dead in the streets of an abandoned town and she was stuck in the woods with the man looming over her with a sick sadistic grin plastered onto his face. 

But underneath the fear, underneath the disgust, lies something else, something not quite dormant. She can’t tell what it is.

“Please what, sugar? Use your words.”

“Please don’t kill me.” Please make it quick if you do, she almost adds, but then he laughs. He laughs at her and takes three large steps forwards until he's directly over top of her and she does nothing to stop him or to keep him away. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He repeats with a raised eyebrow and her thighs squeeze together subconsciously and she can suddenly pinpoint the feeling she was having. Want. She wanted him, even after everything he had done, even as Nick's blood dried onto her skin. Nodding she bites her lip, swallowing heavily. “Pull your pants down.”

Bo watches completely enamored as she does what he asks, yanking her leggings down, her eyes on him. She doesn’t blink, she doesn’t move, she barely breathes as she waits. She was uncomfortable on the forest floor but she knew better than to complain. Putting the blade of the knife in between his teeth he shoves his coveralls off of his shoulders, the white shirt underneath stained red. 

“Heard him touchin’ you,” Bo says, shoving the coveralls down past his hips just enough to pull his already hardening cock out and grabbing the knife from his mouth. His grip tightens around himself as he stares down at her, so helpless. “Heard all those fuckin’ noises you were making. Teasin’ me like a whore, knew I was watching and listenin’ and had to act up, didn’t you?”

“You… you were watching? How?” 

“Mirror. Don’t act like you weren’t doing it for me.” He spits and she flinches, hands grabbing at the bottom of her shirt to pull it down over herself. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Bo snaps and her hands let go instantly, balling into fists at her side. They were at the edge of the woods somehow, streetlights from Ambrose illuminating her body on the ground. She thought she had been further away from town but she must have gotten confused, fallen and jumped back up ust to run in the wrong direction. 

Still stroking himself, Bo bends down, dragging the blood-soaked knife up her bare legs gently. She whimpers and Bo grins at the noise; He knows she will be making more noises like that soon. “What are you going to do to me?” She whispers, her sobs silent now but the tears still streaming down her face. Bo tsks.

“Better question is what ain’t I gonna do to you, sugar.” She closes her eyes, lips pursing. “You do this to yourself?” Her eyes open and she sees him staring at her thighs and she swallows heavily; she had forgotten about her scars. They were littering her right thigh, pale, almost gone from how long it’s been. She hadn’t even thought about them.

“Yeah, a while ago, though.”

“I see.” Bo’s striking eyes catching hers. For a moment she wonders if he feels sorry for her but then he’s digging the tip of the knife into her flesh, right over one of the existing scars, dragging it across all while never flinching. She hisses, tears pricking at her eyes but she tries her best not to move, worried about how much deeper the knife would go if she did. “Good girl, Brooklyn,” Bo purrs, removing the knife and bringing the blade to her mouth. Nick’s blood was still covering the metal, now mixed with her own. He places it against her lips. “Clean the knife up, wouldn’t you?”

His voice was thick with desire and his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, wetting it just as hers tentatively pokes out, swiping across the blade. Her face screws up at the metallic taste but she continues licking, keeping her eyes on him. The blood pouring from her thigh was warm and she shivers. Bo moves the knife away, finally, and she waits with bated breath to see what else he was going to do, to see how else he was going to touch her. 

Why was she excited? Why did she want to see what he was going to do to her? She should be trying to run off, whether he killed her or not no longer mattering; he was dangerous. She knew that, saw it with her own eyes, but yet there she lay. Patiently. Obediently. “Spread your legs.” Bo commands and she does so, a blush crawling up her neck when he whistles. She can see his cock twitch, the streetlight bouncing off of the precum collecting at his tip and she wants to sit up and taste him. “Fuck, so wet. Can’t even deny how bad you want my cock in you, can you, sugar?”

“N-no, I can't...” He grins wildly, clearly having expected a fight. Bo was used to a fight, but he didn’t want her to give him one. “I…” She squeezes her eyes shut, mind reeling over the fact she was really about to say this to him. “I want you to fuck me.” No sooner are the words out of her mouth than he is slotting himself in between her spread thighs, knife held at her throat.

Bo doesn’t say anything, just pulls her underwear, which were thoroughly soaked through, to the side, lines his cock up, and shoves himself inside. She howls in pain at the stretch, grabbing at his biceps with her nails digging into his flesh. “Fuck, so god damn tight-” Bo groans, his hips pressed against her ass, fully seated inside her. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy, just let me right in, though, didn’t it?”

She curses as he begins to move, the knife digging into the soft flesh of her neck ever so slightly, the sting of pain making her feel dizzy. There were so many sensations that it was beginning to be overwhelming; the rocks digging into her back with each thrust that sent her body jolting, the blood cool on her thigh, the sting of the cuts and bruises that littered her body, the ache in her cunt from the lack of time to adjust to Bo’s size, and Bo himself. 

He was all over her, tossing the knife to the side, just out of her reach, in favor of wrapping a hand around her throat. His other hand was moving up and down her body, slipping up her shirt and pawing at her tits roughly, dragging his nails down her flesh, grabbing her hips to slam her down onto him harder. Bo was kissing her roughly, too - it seems everything he did was rough -  lips dragging against her own and littering her face, hot breath and curse words covering her skin. 

“Cl-close,” She groans, shocked at how quickly she had been brought to the edge. It never happened this fast, not once in her life and yet she was quickly approaching - no, more like barreling towards - the hardest and fastest orgasm of her life in the woods, being fucked by a murderer. “Fuck, Bo, I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” He says, hips snapping forwards harshly, his grip on her throat tightening ever so slightly. He moves his head back, lips swollen from kissing her, and Bo stares at her with such an intensity she can feel herself being dragged even closer to the edge. “Fucking cum for me, slut. Show me how bad you want me to fuckin’ fill your tight little cunt up. Go on, bitch, milk my cock.”

Her mouth opens and she cums, the wind knocked out of her completely. Without even meaning too she wraps her legs around Bo’s hips, forcing him deeper inside her, his pelvis flush against her. He barely has enough room to flex his hips and fuck he could die like this, buried to the hilt inside her while she came, her arms wrapping around his neck and tugging at his hair. 

Bo cums soon after, head buried in her shoulder, letting go of her neck in favor of holding her hips as tight as he could. “Fuck, there we go,” He says, laughing against her sweaty skin. Bo stays inside her as he looks down at her, surveying her face. She was bruised and a little bloody, his hand covered in the blood from her thigh which trailed up her body, covering her throat and was smeared across her face, but she looked beautiful. “You’re mine.”

“What?” “I said,” Bo’s hips flex and she gasps, overstimulated and exhausted. She can feel him getting hard inside her again and she realizes with both fear and arousal that the two of them weren’t done here. “You’re mine.”

[bluecoolr]

Lester Sinclair Sketch Dump!

Shameless self-insert art

I love my stinky roadkill man ✨️

[slasherlouvre]

POV: you forced Bo to remain pent up before finally taking him in your mouth, and letting him release for the first time in a week

[bosinclairenthusiast]

Bo Sinclair x AFAB reader (NSFW)

You’re tangled around Bo, legs tight against his hips and arms almost holding his neck in a choke hold. You’re crying and gasping, vision whiting out with every deep thrust he makes. Sex had never been this good before Bo, every guy has just pumped, dumped and left as soon as they could. But Bo? He works you over like a well oiled machine, he knows exactly how to bring you to the edge every time. He fingers you for what feels like hours beforehand, eats you out as well, always so happy to give you what you need while bending on his knees. When he finally, finally gives into his own needs he fucks you within an inch of your life. You hadn’t been more satisfied in years.

You hold onto him, crying into his ear as he snakes a hand between you and him, fingers finding your clit easily, a defeat for most men, and rubs you until you bite his neck from pleasure. He’s getting close, you can tell in the way his brows are furrowing and his hips start to stutter, you’re begging in his ear to cum, please Bo, please cum in me when you hear footsteps out the door. Bo mustn’t hear, normally he has ears like a hawk but he’s seeking his pleasure from you, that’s all he’s thinking about. But you hear it, hear the door squeal open quietly, you expect Jonesy to be pawing at the door, the old girl normally comes in for her dog toys or to lay in her bed under the sun but your heart races when you see Vincent standing there, his mask is gone, it had broken earlier after an incident with some college kids and you can see the side of his face that isn’t a gaping hole. He looks exactly like Bo of course, being conjoined identical twins and all. He’s staring at you, watching as Bo fucks into you. You whimper when you see Vincent’s hand move towards the front of his pants, his shoulders are hunched but you can see how heavy he’s breathing. Bo still has no idea what’s going on, still lost in the heat of your pussy. You’re close, watching as Vincent keeps rubbing himself and hearing Bo spilling obscenities against the shell of your ear. You’re so close, so fucking close.

“Cum for me darlin’.” Bo begs, fingers working you right over the edge.

You scream out your release, body shaking and convulsing around Bo’s dick. He cums in the next couple of thrusts, groaning your name loudly. He drops on top of you, resting his head on your breast, you watch as Vincent starts shaking, he grips the doorframe as he cums. You see his knees bend with the force of his orgasm, it sends a thrill down your spine. Bo grunts as he starts to get up, Vincent flees out the door and you turn back to Bo. He hands you his shirt and you clean up as he grabs a cigarette from his side table, you cuddle up to his side as he smokes, thinking about the way Vincent had shaken as he saw you cum. You’d have to talk to him about privacy tomorrow, for now you lay next to your husband happy to be enjoying his warmth.

[slashwhores]

Welcome to another installment of every artists hell like game... *drumroll*

[Crowd]

Which

Art Style

Will

I

USE

TODAY!!!

*crowd applauds*

[sketchbook-of-shadows]

💕Cuddling Slashers Headcanons💕

(x reader, all sfw🫶)

I finally finished the cuddling headcanons!! I wanna say thanku to @sprite-real as I based this off their slasher cuddling headcanons post they very kindly done up for me so please go read their HC's first to show them some support and also for context! (this is not a request, everyone give Sprite love and say ' thanku Sprite' 🔫) I'll also be putting these in the same order they did😚💕

Thomas Hewitt

I didn't use a pose ref for this one but I still really liked how it turned out, still getting used to drawing 2 figures close to eachother without it looking awkward at this time because it's the first one I drew

Bubba Sawyer

Struggled a little with his mask and hair on this one but overall I really like the pose

Lester Sinclair

I'm gonna be honest, I almost waged war on Lester because it took forever to get his face even remotely similar to how he looks in the movie (I still feel it doesn't but if I spent longer on this it'd probably be out in Jan), I adored drawing Jonesy though (puppyyyy)

Bo Sinclair

This pose was a little awkward for me to do up so I ended up tweaking the ref I made a couple of times because his head looked weird

Vincent Sinclair

Definitely my favourite one, favourite brother, favourite pose and overall favourite drawing out of these

Michael Myers

Looks a little awkward but trust me, it's meant to look like that. Also if you zoom in a bit I drew his eyes under his mask but I mostly shadowed them out because it looked off

Jason Voorhees

Posing here was a little sus but I love it regardless

Also buttcheeks hehe😛

I made these poses (aside from Thomas's one) in Magic Poser, if you'd like to use the same ref for an oc or a self insert or whichever, I can upload the poses to the Magic Poser gallery and share them there or post the exact angles of the ones I used, just ask and u shall receive🫶

OH ITS 1AM

[visceravalentines]

If this is too much don’t answer but I always wonder how the significant others of people in tumblr fandoms feel. Does he know? Or like read your writings etcetera. I just know that any of my past GF’s would’ve flipped a lid, but I don’t know. Im just curious how that works.

my hubs knows that I write kinky self-insert porn that I post on the internet, yes! and he has read some but he himself does not want to be bo sinclair's attic wife so it doesn't really hit for him. he's very supportive although he does not understand the appeal in the slightest lmao.

to me, writing explicit fanfic, whether x reader or self-insert or otherwise, is similar in some ways to watching porn or even creating sexual content a la onlyfans, etc. what I mean by that is, if your partner is uncomfortable with it, that should probably trigger a larger discussion about fidelity, insecurity, and what fandom entails and represents to you. but just because they are uncomfortable with it does not make it inherently negative or morally reprehensible.

it's kinda like body hair--some people like it, some people don't, but whether or not you like it and whether or not you have it is objectively fine either way!! it's most important to make sure your partner feels heard and respected and you do too. that's healthy relationships, baybee.

[vampiremillk]

☆. if you aren't 17 years old or older, then please stay off my account and do not interact with my nsfw posts unless you'd like to join the many bots i have in my block list. blogs that do not contain a profile picture, header, title and any posts will be automatically assumed as a bot and blocked as well.

☆. for the full and best experience on my blog ( and on tumblr in general ), i would suggest that you go into settings and enable everything in "content you see", especially to be able to view some of my writings. here is how you do so.

☆. i'm not one to put up with petty drama, nor will i participate in discourses, especially with strangers over the internet. i don't entertain anonymous hate, so you might as well save your breath, save both of our time and simply scroll past my posts if you don't like them, or better yet, block me. i promise you i could give a billion shits less.

☆. spam likes, spam reblogs and stalking my account are all validdd! happy scrolling!

☆. i write for my female horror whores with pretty pussies. 🖤

☆. requesting anything with bo sinclair or thomas hewitt will earn you immediate smooches. those are my main honeys.

☆. i create all of my writings for dark-skinned black women, and they are always labeled as thick/chubby. do not come in my inbox requesting otherwise. even if this is the case, anyone of any ethnicity and body type is welcome to read and insert themselves. if i've been stomaching skinny, white-described plain janes in fanfics for most of my life, then you can handle "y/n" being a little different from you, too.

☆. i have every right to decline any request i want. if it doesn't follow the rules or if i'm simply not feeling up to doing it, etc. then the request will be deleted. writer's block and how busy my life may be at the moment can also play a factor. in addition, if my requests clearly read 'closed' and you still send me one, it will also be deleted without hesitation.

☆. my inbox doesn't just have to be for requests, but curious questions, thirst, favorite horror films, opinions, freaky shit, etc. are all more than welcome to be discussed on my blog! i love meeting new people in the same fandom and my messages are always open!

☆. i have a masterlist for if you want to read for a specific character, but if you want to binge all of my writings, then they all go under the hashtag "slashersimp$entral". just type it into my search engine and get to scrollin'!

☆. ©vampiremillk. do not plagiarize, distribute or translate any of my work without my permission. i'll fuck you up. <3

i DO write for the following topics: female!reader , black!reader , short!reader , chubby!reader , shy!reader , bratty!reader , breeding & father/mother au , femdom , bdsm , non-con fantasies , piss play , comfort , fluff , angst , headcanons.

i DO NOT write for the following topics: male!reader , character x character , real killers , suicide & self-harm , incest , pedophilia , scat , racism , disorders , animal cruelty .

[slasher-lovers-blog]

I wanna be hoisted over his shoulder 🤤😳

[f1nalboys]

Flower Fields - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x SI

WORD COUNT: 3749

WARNINGS: THIS IS A SELF INDULGENT AND SELF INSERT STORY, NOT X READER!!!! idc if u find this cringe! if u do just move past it, please and thank you! fluff, brief mentions of bo's childhood trauma, brief mentions of being alone as a kid and just some sad litle tidbits from bo and i, could be ooc bo bc hes kind but again i do not care <3, actually kind of sweet stuff hehe, cringe nicknames galore, sorta proofread.

Bo’s truck sat a few yards away, tucked off onto the side of the road, tall weeds trampled down into a makeshift trail. The two of them were further into the field, past the bushes starting to bloom with fruit that Bo had pointed out tasted disgusting to him as a child, settled into a patch of wildflowers. The day had been relatively cool, the sun warming them just enough to keep the two of them comfortable.

They had laid out a large checkered blanket on the ground, their shoes on one end to hold those corners down and her bag and the picnic basket on the other corners. Bo was in jeans and a t-shirt, one she had picked out for him and said it complimented his eyes, and his hat while she wore a yellow sundress that seemed just a little too short, not that Bo was complaining, a silver necklace on to match the rest of her piercings.

The food had been good and she had complimented Bo with a mouth full, hand over her mouth, though he could see she was smiling from the way her eyes crinkled together. Bo had waved her off with his hat, still not used to the genuine compliments even after all this time. “S’nothing,” He had said, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth and grinning at the small sound of disgust. “Still don’t get how you like ketchup and hate tomatoes, though.”

“They’re completely different!” 

“It’s made out of tomatoes!”

“Ketchup isn’t soggy.”

“Neither are my tomatoes.” He wiggles his eyebrows at the accidental innuendo and she rolls her eyes. “‘Don’t matter anyhow, because I don’t want you eatin’ anything outta that garden.” He grins at her scoff; the only reason Bo had gotten the damn garden fixed and kept up with it was so that she’d have something to do that kept her out of the house and not cooped up inside. It was just a plus that she seemed to enjoy it and it was a huge plus that some of the plants she was growing were fucking delicious and saved him some money when he had to head into the next town over to get groceries. 

She’s sitting criss-cross next to him, facing towards his outstretched body, and she takes a second to enjoy how relaxed he looked. Bo laid on his back, one arm under his head and the other over his stomach, hat placed over his chest, one leg outstretched and the other up, tapping away to some invisible song in his head. His brown hair was slightly damp from sweat (how he was always perpetually sweaty, she wasn’t sure) and the ends curled in around the nape of his neck and his forehead. 

“Like what you see, peach?” He drawls suddenly and her eyes snap back to meet his blue ones, crows feet evident now more than ever. A shit eating grin was on his face, head tilted to the side to get a good look at her. She can feel the heat on her face instantly and she shakes her head. 

“Nah, just trying to figure out how I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah?” His grin grows even wider. “You can’t kill a bug but you’re gonna kill me?”

“You’re more annoying than a bug, Bo.”

“You hurt me, you know that, darlin’?” He says winking at her and looking back up towards the sky. The sun was lowering every minute and the two of them would have to pack up and head home soon. “How’re you gonna make it up to me?” His voice is light and she grins, hands fidgeting in her lap. Bo’s eyes are closed and he takes in a slow, deep breath, letting the smell of the flowers around him soothe his soul.

His eyes flutter open at the sound of rustling and he grins when he turns his head to look at her. She was picking off flowers and leaves from the plants behind her with a sense of determination, her back to him. He says nothing, just watches as her fingers grab onto each bud, surveying it, before either plucking it or continuing on to the next. When she faces back towards him, she has a large pile of flowers collected in her arms. 

“I’m gonna make you something.” She states matter of factly, letting the flowers fall onto the blanket in a heap before she settles back down and begins to… do something with them. Bo watches, eyebrows furrowing together as time goes on, watching her weave stems of flowers together with the confidence of someone who had done it hundreds of times before. “What’re you looking at?” 

He blinks, looking up from her hands, which had stopped moving, to her face. “Just trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing,” He responds, sitting up onto his elbows with a grunt. She shrugs, going back to work, and he finds himself getting sucked into the overall gentleness of her weaving. “So? You gonna tell me?”

“It’s a secret,” She teases, snapping off an excess part of the stem from one of the flowers, tossing it into the growing pile beside her. “Learn to be patient.” Bo scoffs slightly; he was many things but patient was never one of them. Her fingers pause and her blue eyes snap to his own, eyes narrowing into a glare. 

Bo flashes her an apologetic smile, leaning over and nudging her knee with his hand. “M’sorry, bobcat.” Her scowl breaks instantly, lips curving into that smile he loves. She bumps her lip piercing with her top lip only to pull at it again with her bottom teeth, repeating the motion a few more times.

“I hate when you call me that.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You hate it so much you’re smilin’ for me?”

She forces a short-lived frown. “I didn’t say I hated the way it sounded.”

“Aw, bobcat, you like my voice or somethin’?” She shakes her head with a soft laugh, focusing back on the task at hand. Bo had taken up calling her bobcat about a year ago. She was confused when he did it the first time and he gave her a wild grin, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. “Ya just remind me of one when you’re angry at me, s’all.” He had whispered against her lips, laughing when she pulled away with furrowed brows. “Look beautiful but are downright terrifying if they’re comin’ at ‘ya.”

She can feel how antsy Bo was getting with each passing minute, his fingers drumming against the blanket in a soothing rhythm. “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you.” She says suddenly, nearly finished with it anyways. She holds it up to him, curling it around into a circle. “It’s a flower crown.” 

“A flower crown? You think I’m a hippie or something, Brooklyn?” His eyebrow is cocked and she shakes her head, the braid of flowers falling into her lap. He watches for a second as she begins to work on it again, instantly noticing how her fingers are working slower, how she’s pausing after each braid made, how she fell silent. “I’m just teasin’ you, honey, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She says, looking up from it for a quick second to smile at him, though it falls the second she looks away. Bo can feel the mounting panic in his gut at the realization that he had blown her off, had said something that bothered her. Sighing, she looks back up at him and gives him a sad smile. “I know you were just teasing, Bo, honest. M’not mad or anything. Just… it’s so dumb.”

“It ain’t dumb. C’mon, peach, tell me while you finish.” 

Nodding carefully, he watches as she swallows heavily, her fingers picking up speed. “I used to do this a lot, back when I was younger. Make flower crowns and daisy chains and shit. Sometimes I’d just braid blades of grass together for, like, hours.” She smiles fondly at the memory but Bo can see the sadness twitching at the side of her lips. “I was alone a lot when I was growing up, y’know?”

“Don’t you have siblings?”

“Yeah, but they didn’t really want to hang out with me growing up, especially back in Georgia. I was too young to understand that they just wanted time to themselves; I always figured they hated me.” She chews at the inside of her cheek for a moment, shaking her head. “Anyways, back there on the army base - you remember me talking about that? -  there was this random wild-flower patch behind my house that I would go and hang out in.”

Bo sits up fully now, turning his body to be facing hers, sitting to match her. He lets her continue talking, eyes going from watching her fingers adding in new flowers to the crown and then up to her face which had begun to soften. “I’d take my favorite blanket, which kind of looked like this one, and a big bag of my favorite books and I’d spend all day out there. I’d only go inside to piss and to grab something to snack on and to drink, seriously. 

“But when I was out there, I learned flowers and their meanings. Well, I tried,” She grins, eyes flickering up to Bo’s and then down just as quick. “I kind of had a shit memory so it was really just looking up whatever flowers I saw and seeing the symbolism and shit. But I also learned how to make daisy chains and flower crowns and stuff, and when I’d give them to my siblings or parents they’d call it cute or whatever and then it would end up in the garbage.” She sighs once again, shaking her head to get the memory to go away.

“M’sorry for making you feel like that, Brooklyn,” Bo says carefully. “I was just tryin’ to tease. I aint throwin’ anything you give me out, don’t worry about that.” She laughs lightly and he reiterates. “M’serious! Might just ask Les about saving the flowers. Pressin’ them, or whatever. We can even have ‘em in one of those shadow boxes and hang it up. Alright?”

She nods, meeting his eyes and giving him a thankful smile. Her shoulders relax and he lets out his own breath; he had gotten through to her, let her know that he wasn’t gonna toss away her shit like they did. He’d treasure it far longer than she realizes. “And…it’s…done.”

Bo raises an eyebrow as she holds the flower crown up at him, grinning. There were multiple colored flowers in there but most noticeably were the bright orange flowers that seemed to take over the entire crown. They were familiar, and Bo is transported, for just a second, back to when he was younger, sitting behind the church, watching butterflies land on top of the petals gently.

“Thank you, peach,” He says softly, leaning over and allowing her to place the crown on top of his head. Even a year ago he would never have let this happen, something so soft and domestic, but he knew her and she knew him. He was willing to let himself have this one if it meant she’d keep smiling at him like she was. “I love it.”

“It looks beautiful, really.”

“So, ya’ gonna make yourself a matchin’ one?” She nods her head, picking up two more flowers and beginning to weave them together again. “What’re these flowers meanin’, anyways? You’re not breaking up with me or tellin’ me I stink in flower language, are you?”

She snorts before shrugging. “Well…”

“Hey!”

“Kidding! Uhm, honestly, I don’t know what all of them mean but the orange ones, they’re milkweed, mean joy, happiness, dignity, and freedom.” She looks up at the sky, wracking her brain to see if it meant anything else, before nodding. “Yup! And I think it’s very fitting. Plus, you look cute.”

Bo hums, feeling a blush crawl up his neck. Cute was not a word people used to describe Bo Sinclair. Handsome? Sure. Sexy? Definitely. Monster, inhumane, freak, idiot, fuck-up? Time and time again. But cute? Never. Not until her. “You’re just tryin’ to make me blush.”

“Is it working?”

“Sure is, peach.” She grins and the two fall silent. Bo watches her as she makes her own matching crown, eyebrows furrowing together ever so slightly. “Baby?” She hums, not looking up. “What’s your favorite flower?”

She doesn’t have to think. “Snap dragons or pansy violets.”

“What do those mean?”

“Pansy violets mean love and romance, so it’s very fitting for us,” She says, looking up for a quick second to toss a wink and an eyebrow wiggle his way. He grins. “And, if I remember correctly… snapdragons mean deception and graciousness. The deception is because concealing one supposedly makes you look fascinating and cordial. Or whatever, somethin’ like that.”

Bo hums, trying to think of what those two flowers look like. She talked so fondly of them, of her time spent in the wildflower field of her old home. Bo realizes she talks about her past easily now. Before, not that he could blame her or even judge, she used to keep it to herself, mentioning small things in passing. Now she offered things up like a piece of candy in her palm, holding it out to him to take and savor. He hopes he’s able to do that with her soon.

She finishes her own crown and grins, placing it on top of her head and when she meets Bo’s eyes she’s grinning, eyes squinted, but then she’s looking at his crown and her mouth is dropping into a gasp. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” 

“What? Why? Don’t tell me theres a fuckin’ bug, Brooklyn, I’ll freak-”

“No, there’s not! Just don’t move a muscle for me, Bo, alright?” His lips thin out in a frown and she stands, slipping her shoes back on. “I’m serious! Not a muscle! I’ll reward ‘ya if you listen.” He rolls his eyes as she disappears but begrudgingly does as he’s told, keeping still and staring ahead at where she had been just moments before. He hears her rummaging in the truck and his eyebrows furrow, mind racing at what she could possibly be doing. He left the keys in the car. She could be leaving right now, he thinks, she could have been lying all this time about loving him and had found her opening. Right when he is about to whip his head around, she calls out to him. “Coming back! You didn’t move, right, baby?”

Her approaching footsteps ease his racing heart and mind just a bit. “Yes ma’am,” He confirms, unable to hide his toothy smile when she walks back into his line of sight. “What’re you doin’ with that thing?” He asks as she bends down, polaroid camera in hand. She doesn’t say anything, just holds it to her eyes and takes a photo after a pause. He tries to keep a smile on his face, but he frowns when she pulls out a phone. “What’re you doin’ with that?” 

“Oh, relax, grumpy. Just keeping some memories, that alright with you?” She takes a photo and then sits down beside him on the blanket, smooshing her face beside his, and grinning. “Say cheese!”

“No.”

“Bo, c’mon! Say cheese.” He sighs, a smile tugging on his lips. “I’ll kiss you if you do!”

A moment of silence. “...Cheese.” She snaps the photo and when she looks at the photo, much to her surprise, Bo has a wide and easy smile on his face; one of his real ones. “Now can you tell me why I wasn’t allowed to move, miss bossy?”

She kisses his cheek and rests her head on his shoulder, the flowers on her crown tickling his skin, but she shows him the now-developed polaroid. “Cause you had a few butterflies on your head.” Bo makes a surprised noise, carefully taking the photo out of her hand. He sat there, criss-cross with his hands in his lap and a smile on his face. On top of the crown were two monarch butterflies. One sat just above his left eye, wings outstretched boasting off the vibrant colors. The other was mid flight, flying away from Bo back towards another flower somewhere else. 

“I love monarch butterflies.” Bo says with a soft sigh, handing the photo back to Brooklyn. “Les, Vince, and I used to hang out behind the church a lot where the garden used to be. That’s where we had a buncha these flowers, the orange ones, and these little guys,” He taps at the butterfly in the photo with his finger. “They would lay their eggs in ‘em. We watched ‘em all hatch and then they’d sorta… flutter around and shit. Used to love watchin’ ‘em when I’d be staying out of the house.”

Brooklyn grins, moving off of his shoulder and grabbing his hand with hers. “You know something? These are my favorite butterflies too. The monarch ones; back in school we did a unit on them and they were my favorites. They symbolize change, transition, and hope.” She brings Bo’s large, calloused, murderous, hand to her lips and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles, ones that hadn’t been split open by someones face or covered in another persons blood in months. “Guess they knew the two of us would change, right?”

“You believe that?” He asks, tone soft and light, followed by a laugh when she nods. “I ain’t changed a bit since I was a kid. Still an asshole, still a fuck up. You though, I’m sure you changed.” She cocks an eyebrow at him and he isn’t totally sure if it's at his own negative self-talk or the implication that she had changed since she was younger. “No way you were this cool as a kid.”

“Oh, I was, trust me. Biggest goddamn nerd around, baby! Always had my nose in a book.” Her smile falters ever so slightly and Bo gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You weren’t either of those things as a kid, though. You were just a kid in a bad situation.” It’s her turn to reassure him, ground him there in the field of flowers, remind him he’s not back home strapped to his high chair. When her fingers wrap around his wrist, it’s gentle, doesn’t bring back the same burning pain that it used to. “But if that’s what you think of yourself back then… then you did change. You let yourself grow, that’s all.”

Bo swallows thickly and nods. He didn’t know if that was true. Sure, he knew he was a kid, knew he didn’t deserve what had happened to him, knew deep down that it wasn’t his fault, but when the people who raised you made it their mission to tell you that it was true, it was hard not to believe it. But being here with her, listening to her say it so earnestly just in front of him, wearing the flower crown she had made him out of nothing but love, it was a little easier to stomach. 

“Alright, alright, too sappy.” He says suddenly and she smiles, kissing his cheek, understanding. He tries to play it off as a joke but she knows that he hears her words, he just can’t tell her that himself. He figures one day he’ll be able to. Bo stands, taking care to keep his crown on his head. “Now, you wanna pack up and head home, honey? You owe me that reward for sittin’ still, remember?”

She rolls her eyes but nods, holding her hand out to him to help her up. “Who said it was that type of reward, perv?” He gives her a look and she grins. “Yeah, dumb question. What’re you staring at my hand for?” Bo can feel his cheeks heat up at being caught and, after he’s sure she’s up and steady, he drops her hand. 

“Nothing.”

“Bo, cmon!”

“Fine! It’s dumb, but… was just thinking you’d look good with a ring on ‘ya, that’s all.” 

Her face instantly morphs into a love sick grin and she wraps him into a hug, head resting on his shoulder. Bo wraps his own arms around her and leans his head onto her own and the two stay there, clutching the other, for just a moment. It was silent, but it was a good silence, the kind where everything, including his ever-racing mind, was still. “Now you’re definitely getting that reward.”

He laughs and she can feel it rumble in his chest. “Fine by me, peach. Let’s pack up and head home, okay?” That night, after everything was packed away and they had gotten home and they had their fun, they both laid in their bed, him on his back and her on her side. He stares up at the ceiling, looking over at his bedside table and grinning at the flower crown that laid there. He had already sent Lester a text message asking how to press flowers and had gotten back a ‘I’ll show ya!’ text. “I love you.” He says and she rolls over in an instant, throwing her arm over his bare waist.

“And I love you, Bo.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Y’know, I thought of a new nickname for you.”

He looks down at her and grins. “Yeah?” She hums, nuzzling further into his side. He briefly recalls when they first slept in the same bed together, how she stayed on her side with her back towards him, how she tensed up whenever he moved. Now, she clung to his side, ear pressed to his chest, his heartbeat in her head. “And what is it?”

“Butterfly.” He scoffs and she giggles. “It’s good! And fitting in my professional opinion. Way better than bobcat, that’s for sure.”

“Hey! Watch it, peach!”

“Aww, m’just teasin’, butterfly. I love all your little nicknames for me. They’re cute.”

“Like me?”

“Exactly.” She grins and leans up ever so slightly and he leans down, lips connecting and Bo finds himself shocked at the electricity he’s still able to feel when they do. It was always like the first time with her.

Bo lets her roll over and curl into herself with a small grin. “Goodnight, honey.” That night, he dreams of a butterfly field, the two of them in the middle.

[scarychica]

[bluecoolr]

Earlier, I told @rottent33th about this idea I had of Art Student!Vincent falling in love with Y/N in the Louvre.

Something something surrounded as I was by all that ancient beauty, I could see only them. I know for a fact that, to me, their beauty transcended even the most coveted masterpiece.

I had to make it a self-insert but here's the Y/N version:

[slasherlouvre]

thinking about the essay really messed/is messing me up, having mean thoughts about myself and that inevitably bleeds over into my usually supposed to be comforting daydreams and fantasies

my brain loves to tell me that Bo would think I'm pathetic and a waste of resources lmao

that Vincent would either not think I'm pretty at all or grow bored with me

and Lester also just lose interest (people always do)

+ just general annoyance/irritation about me doing hardly anything and needing meds

I'm tired and one have like 1.5 hours left

This could not be further from the truth, love. I'm gonna be a real hypocrite right now because I have the same exact bitch of a brain, but:

Open for some Sinclair self-love reminders 🖤

Bo thinking you're pathetic??? A waste of resources???? That's never even once crossed his mind. He'd literally kill someone if he ever heard that being said to you, hell, he'd even die for you without a second thought because you mean that much to him.

Expectations can be unfair, and life can be overwhelming- no one knows that better than him, so he also knows how admirable you truly are.

You're nothing like him. You're strong, and you've kept your kindness despite it all. Maybe you've stumbled along the way, been shoved around- everyone has, often even, but you've never completely given up. You're resilient in a way he never could be. And he knows you struggle to see that, the same way he struggles to see anything worthwhile in himself.

Sometimes it's hard for him to be verbally vulnerable with you, he's working on it, but he loves you. I mean he really loves you. He could spend his whole damn life trying to put what you mean to him in words, and it still wouldn't be enough.

Please treat yourself with the same loving patience you've always had for him. You're not pathetic for being tired and wanting someone to lean on. You're not pathetic for doing things at your own pace. You're not a waste for just existing. You're human and he is so proud of you. If he has to remind you every damn day of that, he will. Don't ever forget how far you've come; it's okay to be proud of yourself too. You should be proud of yourself.

•

Do you grow bored with the moon because you see it every night? Is it no longer beautiful on the nth time you look up to admire it?? Do you not consider all phases of the moon to be beautiful despite their distinctions???

To Vincent you are, and always will be, the most beautiful part of his life.

To have you choose to remain at his side evermore is a gift, not a boredom,- and certainly not a burden. Can't you see that your constancy only makes you cherished all the more?? That losing you would bring about the death of what you salvaged of his heart? He can no longer live without your light now that you've rooted yourself so deeply within him.

You are physically beautiful too. You are. There has never been a moment in which he's ever thought otherwise. It's simply not possible.

In a way, he understands how you feel. It took him a very long time to believe you genuinely loved him and were still attracted to him after seeing the real him beneath the mask. But unlike his prominently marred visage, he doesn't actually see any of the 'flaws' you think you have. He just sees you.

And you are what he loves. It's not possible for you to be anything less.

Please be kinder to yourself when you look in the mirror. If you have to, look at yourself with his eyes in mind. Don't treat what he loves so cruelly, especially when you'd never fault him if he were to have the same traits.

What you look like doesn't make you unlovable; beauty has never been singular in its definition despite what anyone may try to make you think. You've proven it yourself by loving him, haven't you?

•

Lester losing interest in you?? He'd honestly laugh loudly thinking it was a joke. And it is! The thought itself is ridiculous, don't you see?

People lose interest, but those people aren't Lester Sinclair.

He's been torn down with mean words and disgusted looks more times than he can count ever since he was a kid, so he never actually believed you'd choose him. But you did. And now you're the reason he can say it was all worth it in the end. A love like this only comes once in a lifetime as they say, and he was fully expecting it not to be in his lifetime. So it's no wonder he looks at you like you've personally hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

He could never lose interest in the love of his life; of the reason for his happiness, and favorite thing to come home to.

You do far more than you think, but even so, your worth is not measured by your productivity- or anyone's skewed social constructs. He's a roadkill driver, there are plenty of people who consider his work 'hardly anything'. Hell, they take one look at him and label him 'bottom of the barrel'. So he knows more than anyone that falling short of what others unfairly deem 'efficient' and 'deserving' doesn't make you meaningless. You taught him that, afterall.

There's nothing wrong with needing medication for your mental health; it's normal and important to take care of your brain just like any other part of your body when it needs some help. It doesn't make you any less of a person, and he could never be irritated or annoyed with you for it- he's far too admiring of you to be anything else, and he wants you to have the support you need.

You've always been understanding of him, so please give yourself that same gentle understanding. Is he stupid for making mistakes? A good-for-nothing because someone else said so? Pathetic for having bad dsys? No. And neither are you.

[calibri-crossies]

Sinclair's little sister,but now she's grew up.

Pfff,Jonesy is such a cute baby!!

[slashwhores]

Carnival

[cheshirefelineart]

Me when Bo is mean to Vincent