#vincent sinclair x reader

[yourgothfriend69]

Who’s better

Brahms Heelshire

Michael Myers (1978 AND 2007)

Vincent Sinclair

Voting ended on19h

[mythicalcowboyatheart]

Miss Ambrose

Bo Sinclair x reader x Vincent Sinclair

Warnings: Bo's creepy, violence near the end

A/n: I want an escape from my shitty life rn so I'm gonna start rewriting my Ambrose series some of my past works that I don't like too much starting with this one.

Your feet sting, walking for miles in wedged saddles and a sundress did not feel great. what felt like forever went by when down a long gravel road and over a small stream of flood water you reached the small, old, almost abandoned looking town called Ambrose. A place you probably would have never be caught dead in unless absolutely needed, and right now it was very needed. Your shit box of a car had broke down miles back, luckily where your tire popped was close enough for you to see a sign telling you about a roadside attraction.

What the hell even was a wax museum doing in the middle of nowhere?

Passing the sign that welcomed you into town you you see light at an itty-bitty gas station, you had been walking for so long you hadn't even noticed the sun had started to go down. You sigh softly and push the glass door open hoping to find salvation in who ever may be in the store. The bell above the door rang and you see a tall man in a mechanic jumpsuit and a hat. His feet are up on the counter leaning back in his chair at the front of the store. Once he sees you he sits up giving you a lazy smile. "Hello there Darlin' what can I do for you?"

"Hello..." Your eyes flick to his embroidered name tag. "Bo, My car broke down a few miles form here and I need some help..." "Awh poor thing got a flat tire?" He says with his Louisianian twang. You give him a confused look "Yeah actually how'd ya know?" "well darlin' that's just a lucky guess... Plus I assume a beautiful thing like you ain't hiking in that pretty little dress you got on willingly..." He chuckles. "Well.... yeah..." You laugh softly looking at your wedged saddles, pieces of gravel stuck in the bottom of your soles.

"where you headin' Babydoll?" The man you now know as Bo looks you up and down slowly taking in your figure not so subtlety checking you out. "Was just checking out the state..." You answer meekly. "Just travelling for fun?" He asks raising one eyebrow, his gaze lingering on your chest for a few seconds before flicking to your eyes. "Something like that..." you give a tight liped smile crossing your arms in front breasts. Bo smirks, leaning back in his chair again. "well darlin' you're a long ways from any type of civilization." You give a slight ackward chuckle. "So I've noticed..."

Bo chuckles, watching you carefully, taking in the way your dress hugs your curves. Your eyes don't meet his almost hungry gaze. "So... Bo... Could you fix my tire for me? I...i don't really know anything about cars... so I'm kinda helpless." Bo licks his lips and grins, standing up and making his way around the counter. "I can help ya with that, darlin'... ain't nothin to worry bout" He gives you a wink. "why don't you wait here for me while I go change that tire of your's" You nod in agreement, clearly not wanting to be in a car with this hot weirdo.

"Great, I won't keep you waiting for long darlin', make yourself comfortable" Bo smiles, walking past you, looking back to catch a glimpse of your ass before the bell dings as he leaves.

You sigh in relief when you see his truck speed off. As you watch him disappear in the distance you catch a glimpse of the House of Wax.

Surely Bo wouldn't mind if you went to explore the House of Wax would he?

You don't ponder on it too much on it before you exit the gas station and begin to walk up the the hill to the museum. The small unpaved streets are quiet. You reach the front door and open it, closing it behind you, you wonder in to see the wax people sculptures. Your gaze catchs a shelf with smaller scaled wax figures, you smile looking at a octopus lady. You go in further into the museum untill you stumble upon a flight of stairs leading to a lower level. You figure there is no harm in exploring so you descend the stairs and see a man with long black hair working on a wax sculpture. "Oh sorry... I didn't know anyone was here..." You say softly.

The mans hands stop working on the sculpture, his hand grips the carving tool tightly as he turns to you slowly, revealing a masked face. He tilts his head. You awkwardly stand there and to brake the silence you ask. "Ar... Are you the artist h...here?" You ask your eyes fixed on the carving tool in his hand. He looks at you trying to figure you out but none the less he slowly nods his head. "Yo...your very talented..." You say slowly backing up from him like he's a scared animal.

The long haired man watches you like a hawk as you trip on the bottom step, your wedged saddles doing nothing to help you catch yourself as you smack your head on a step higher up on the stairs. Your dazed when you hear a familiar Louisianian twang. "Hey there Darlin' see you meet Vinny..." Your vision blurs in the candle lit basement as you try to look up at him. His silhouette menacingly towering over you. Before you can say anything Bo's boot collides with your head then every thing goes black.

Edit: let me know if y'all want a part two!

[pupsafterdark]

Vincent would love watching you craft, paint, sew. Whatever creative hobbies you do, he’d love to watch as you work. watching how your hands move, over analyzing every inch of you, recording you on a stolen camera for one of the visitors. Saving it for later to jack off to it.

[bunn1-g1rl]

Vincent experimenting with the camera in the bedroom, filming your reactions as he pushes inside you. The pace is agonizingly slow, teasing even. The artist is waiting to film your pretty little sounds, every change of your expressions.

Ი⑅𐑼

[st0ckholmsyndrom]

[st0ckholmsyndrom]

obsessive vincent! who insists you sit on his lap while he works, or tangled around his waist with your head in his neck, holding you with one arm, the other sculpting.

obsessive vincent! who gets you cockdrunk and incoherent, a babbling mess while he heats up the metal tool he uses to carve his name into wax, signing his name under your collar bone while you struggle beneath him.

jealous vincent! who gently slaps his brothers hands away when they touch you, not even letting lester near you without him with how he looks at you.

jealous vincent! who gets offended when your with his brothers too long, signing a sad

but your mine?

his head fell from betrayal, body sluggish as he pulls you out of Bo’s room, you swear it’s nothing serious, and your just talking, but he’s grumbling angry growls.

obsessive vincent! who constantly craves your touch, confused why you don’t want to be there while he’s waxing someone, demanding you at least stay in the room.

obsessive vincent! who tenses every time you leave the bed for whatever reason at night, eyes wide and unable to go back to sleep until your back, tightly secured in his arms. what if a wanderer took you? he’d listen closely to your footsteps until your back in bed.

obsessive vincent! who fills up his sketchbooks with drawings of you, wax sculptures of your face, hands, every part of you filled his room.

jealous vincent! who gets annoyed when his brothers offer making you food, or even sharing theirs, insisting he knows what you like better.

obsessive vincent! who constantly gives you little gifts, things made of wax, flowers he found, little doodles and notes, sometimes animal bones, weird, but thoughtful i guess.

obsessive vincent! who doesn’t let you leave the house without him, following you wherever you went.

obsessive vincent! who’s always staring and admiring you, running his dirty hands over your features delicately, studying all of you.

obsessive vincent! who when not sculpting or drawing, spends his time writing for you, long paragraphs of how he feels. it’s usually dramatic and sad, how he needs you badly when your just sleeping, but doesn’t want to wake you. on rare occasion it’s almost happy, sweet words about how you bring him comfort.

obsessive vincent! who gets tense when you ask about visiting your family, even after years he’s offended you want to see them

why? you have me?

jealous vincent! who pins you to his bed by your wrists after you get too close to his brothers, forcing you to take his too-big cock, spending hours attacking your bruised cervix so you can’t leave his bed, so that you depend on only him.

[st0ckholmsyndrom]

(Vincent Sinclair x reader)

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: your alone and your car breaks down, you get a ride to a small town in the middle of nowhere, but something’s off. someone’s following you.

[tw] smut. porn with a second of plot! mentions of chubby reader, lots of size kink, scent kink, M-oral, PnV, inexperienced Vincent <3. stalking, chasing, obsessive Vincent!

you get out of the odd man’s blood stained truck. he gave you a crooked smile and wave as you crossed the water up into the small town.

it smelt weird here. like burnt metal and wax, but the weirdest thing was how it felt. an indescribable weight loomed over you, like something horrible happened here.

everything was off, even the old woman with curlers opening the curtain to peek out felt robotic. and the birds on the wire were to shiny to be feathered.

you swore you kept hearing noises as you made your way to the dimly lit gas station.

you’d freeze, turning your head to the sound, holding your breath, trying to pinpoint it, like you were stalking a buzzing fly.

but nothing was ever there. was it your own footsteps? you felt as if you were going mad.

you gripped the pocket knife you had, thanking yourself for bringing it.

he saw you the second you walked in. creeping behind you so he could stare at you. you had found little collections of bugs, lizards, etc he made out of wax on ledges and walls, and a little shop with weird creations. inspecting them as you walked through the town. while he followed blissfully in the shadows sketching you, he had found such a precious model.

he didn’t want to kill you, he wished people weren’t so frightened of him, so he could sheepishly try to talk to you, but that would never work.

so he hid, hunched in a bush, or tucked behind a wall, drawing you in all sorts of lewd ways, until you grew bored, and carried on, walking farther away. he followed you like a puppy, until he accidentally got too close.

you heard a leaf crunch that you knew wasn’t under your shoe, whipping your head around and freezing like a deer when you saw him.

a tall broad man, with long black unkempt hair and a shiny mask.

your feet acted before you could think, bolting away from him to the gas station you could lock yourself in.

but fuck, he was too strong, too fast, to eager to catch you for you to outrun him. but you did notice he had no weapons.

he chased you for what felt like ever, you screamed for help as he caught up to you, tears streaming down your face.

little did you know he wanted you bad, the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, he adored you as he stalked you. Bo wanted to be the one to put you down, but he wouldn’t ever let him touch you, he’s too possessive.

he couldn’t wait to sculpt that pretty face, that body.. couldn’t wait to carve his signature into your perfect wax figure when he finished.

wanted to get you back to the house, fill up his whole sketchbook with drawings of you, take pictures of your beauty and hang them all around his room.

you ran up to the unfortunately locked doors. he got excited as he realized he had you now. he was going to knock you out as to not damage any of you, and so he could still kiss your pretty, unconscious face.

he picked you up and gently threw you to the floor, you swiftly pulled out your knife, he kicked you in the side to stunt you and jumped on top of you to steal your knife.

but he didn’t hurt you, didn’t even seem like he wanted to, just stared into your soul as he pinned your hands above your head, eyes capturing your every feature in detail. his gaze was oddly curious and gentle for a creep.

but it was hard to ignore, really, when his intimidating size was clearly turing you on, and not making you fear for your life. but you just couldn’t help it when he lifted your curvy figure like a feather, it made your stomach flutter.

what captivated you was his demeanor, dangerous, obviously cruel yet timid manner. like he’s scared to draw your blood, yet had obvious intent.

what was this? who was he? and why is he so alluring? noticing his big biceps flex as he held you down, muscular shoulders and toned back panting harshly from the chase.

he must’ve noticed your lustful eyes and gaped pouty lips, or maybe it was the way you melted under him and didn’t even try fighting.

he tilted his head to the side like a dog, confused. he’d never ever been looked at like this by a girl before, let alone you.

no, he had to be imagining things. you found him.. attractive? his blood rushed to his cheeks and farther down as he shyly sat up, strong legs still pinning you by your side. a wave of shyness ran over him.

you both awkwardly, lustfully, stared at eachother.

why isn’t he killing you?..

why aren’t you running away?..

in that moment for him, it clicked. Bo always said a pretty lady would waltz into town for him to love someday.

he had to act quickly, he ironically felt worried he’d scare you off, as if his first impression was going well.

for some perverse reason, he felt the intense need to touch you, running his huge dirty calloused hand over your face like a doll, thumbing your lip and savoring the way you hesitatingly kiss it shamefully, knowing you should be trying to escape.

you were the kind of girl he had wet dreams about his whole life, and the dream was finally happening.

a girl wanted to fuck him.

he leaned down eerily, you didn’t scream when his face got closer, you didn’t look at him in disgust, in-fact, you admired him, like he did you.

he had to savor this moment, it may never happen again, he thought.

he hadn’t noticed your hands were free, you cupped his masks cheek in your hand, and he tensed at the surprising, new feeling.

sure, he was a serial killer, but from the moment you met him you knew he was deeper than that. this man was touch starved, his cock was painfully hard from just a touch. poor guy.

your hand moved to the back of his head, pulling him in, wanting him.

he halted for a second, not sure what to do, he’d never kissed someone, he didn’t know how to and was terrified for you to see him without his mask, he’d surely scare you away. but he needed you, so bad.

you pressed a curious kiss to the waxy lips of his mask, wondering what he would do.

his eyes behind the mask widened, you were sure his face was bright red.

shortly, they squinted with fear as he hesitantly took off his mask, his heart thumped faster than ever before. he wanted to close his eyes, to avoid the potential disgust in your face. but for some reason, he felt comfortable with you.

when it was off, he stared with anticipation.

his hands were shaking as he held it.

nobody had ever seen him like this before.

your eyes were only wide for a second, before softening. he was absolutely beautiful, the scarred side was like art, with reddish colors swirling around his features.

“your.. beautiful” you said, and you meant it.

the fear melted off his face as he smashed his lips against yours. he couldn’t believe this. he needed you forever. he wanted to keep you as his and protect you.

you melted into eachother quickly, his desperate grubby hands groped you all over, squeezing the plush of your thighs and ass.

he was the loudest silent man ever, deep grumbles and groans escaped as he mauled you. messily kissing you as his size caged you in.

he tensed as he felt your hands run under his shirt, his body felt a feeling for you it never had for anyone else before.

you ran your hands over his muscular back, memorizing everything. you grinded up into his cock, making him whimper.

you pulled back from the kiss, and tugged at his shirt, wanting him to take it off.

he complied, with little fear this time.

your face grew redder as your hands trailed up and down his body, running your delicate fingers over his happy trail, making your stomach flutter.

he did the same to you, tugging at your shirt with a little smile.

you obeyed, taking off your bra too.

he took off your pants for you.

then he stopped, cherishing your body. he won’t even need a reference to draw you with how imprinted this will be in his brain.

he slid one arm under you, pulling you up onto his hips and lifting you for a second, to slide his shirt under you, to keep your bareness from the gravel floor.

he put you back down carefully, like he was afraid to hurt you. his hard cock rubbed against your bare pussy, leaving a warm wet spot as you both groaned from the surprising friction.

you palmed his cock, making his head fall back, you sat up, grabbing the sides of his hips and kissing his clothed dick.

he tangled his big hand into your hair, pushing you softy against his bulge, forcing you to take his scent in as he groaned.

you loved every second of it, he smelled sweet yet musky. your mouth salivated for the taste of his cock.

you pulled down his pants as his heavy cock sprung out, dribbling pre.

you kissed the tip of his dick, it throbbed hard as you teased him, he was so big, at least 8 inches.

his dick couldn’t sit still with how much he was throbbing, you had to hold it with both hands to stroke him, and still had room to suck on his tip, savoring the salty pre.

his hips pathetically thrusted into your mouth, making you choke on his length as he pushed you down farther with his rough hand, he was getting almost violent with his thrusts.

you gagged and moaned on him, but he didn’t know when to stop, head back and groaning as his pecs flexed. his long dick brought the spit from the back of your throat to the front, making you a drooling mess.

your eyes rolled back into your head as his musk filled your nose. he fucked into your throat so deep your face was smashed against his crotch, he took it out as you caught your breath, rubbing his spit soaked cock all over your face, you’d smell his scent for weeks.

in an instant he had his fill, grabbing your legs and putting them on his big shoulders. he lined up his cock with your heat, dipping his tip into your wetness and bringing it up to circle your clit, you whined. then he wasted no time plowing all the way in.

you gasped from shock as he slammed against your cervix, shooting pain through you but the pleasure overrode instantly, and you fell back, he was so wide he didn’t even have to try and hit your g-spot.

he immediately melted, legs turning into jelly as he tried to hold his cum back, no way was he cumming before even thrusting.

he folded you over, making you moan loudly as his big hands grounded beside your head. he looked down at you with weary eyes as he sloppily thrusted.

he had no rhythm or pace, just trying to get as deep as possible into your cunt.

his groans were animalistic as he abused your stretched cunt with his too-big cock. squeezing around him like a vise. your pussy gushed, leaving a ring of white around his base. his heavy balls slapped your ass as your wetness ran down them.

the loud sounds of his hips and your slick made your brain shut off, he fucked into you so hard and deep you were sure your cervix was bruised.

his thrusts got faster, yet somehow messier as he got closer, digging his hands like claws into the dirt. you watched as his muscles twitched and tensed, as you felt his cock twitch and shoot hot ropes into your walls.

his semen was abnormally warm, sending your already cock-drunk brain into a daze as his seed filled you. he came so much and for so long, your walls were sore with how hard he throbbed.

he let out a breathy sigh as he leaned back, letting your shaking legs fall back over his hips, as he leaned down to kiss you passionately.

you both kissed for an eternity until his cock warmed dick was soft.

he dressed you, and carried you princess style back to his bed. pressing soft kisses to your face the whole way back, just adoring you, you felt oddly safe.

he even fixed you some food, showered with you, then fell asleep with you. you loved the creepy man. you could see yourself being his little wife.

you definitely didn’t expect this at all, let alone surviving, nor did he. but you were so grateful he stalked you.

[macabrebatz]

NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER (VINCENT SINCLAIR/READER)

Summary: Vincent has a crush and you’re a bit oblivious to it

Author’s Note: Finally working on more requests. I know I’m awfully slow at getting out new stuff. I have the attention span of a goldfish so it’s definitely not helping. Anyways…I hope you all enjoy!

This is a request fill for @stygianoir ! I hope you like it!

Warnings/tags: gender neutral reader, no physical description of reader, fluff, yearning, friends to lovers, not beta read

You first met Vincent when you were children. Your family had been close to the Sinclair family for a long time, even assisting them with their museum on occasion. Over the years, you had grown close to all the Sinclair brothers, but Vincent had become your closest friend.

It had always shocked Vincent’s family, especially Bo. Vincent was the shyest person he knew. But anytime you’d come around it was impossible not to notice how Vincent seemed to soften in your presence. He was still shy as ever but the more you showed up the more his invisible walls came crumbling down for you and only you.

When the parents of the Sinclair brothers passed away you became even closer to Vincent. They all shut the world out of their lives but you were the exception. The years passed, the town became deserted, but you stayed. Even when your own family moved away you stayed behind, not wanting to leave the brothers alone in an abandoned town.

No one liked having you around more than Vincent. He was never bothered by your presence. He felt comfortable with you, safe even. You made him feel things that he had never felt before and it left him confused. He was fond of you, he knew that much, but there was a deeper longing that he didn’t quite understand. Vincent had never been good at communication. He was often silent and even when he desired to say something the words just wouldn’t come out. Art was his language. All of his emotions came out through his hands. As he sculpted and shaped the waxy surface of his preferred medium, he found himself thinking of you.

It went on like that for years. He would spend most days with you. If you weren’t lounging with him at his house he was following you around, listening to you speak and watching you as you worked as if you were the finest piece of art in a museum. He would study you when you weren’t watching, taking in all the little details about you he couldn’t help but notice. And when you would turn your attention to him and look at him he could feel something flutter inside him that he hadn’t felt before. You would make him feel something he couldn’t describe and at the end of the day he would turn to sculpting to express those emotions.

Before he knew it he was absentmindedly sculpting you from memory. During the stillness of the night, while his brothers slept upstairs and you were cozied up in your own bed in the house next door, he molded the beeswax into the shape of you. He tried to include as many details as he could. He worked slowly and carefully, treating the sculpture with care as he carved the very essence of you.

He was already finished before it truly hit him. As Vincent stared down at the bust of your face he realized that he was longing for you. It felt strange. He saw you every day so surely this longing was misplaced. What could he possibly long for if you were already in his life? And then he realized that it was more than a longing, it was love.

When you arrived at the Sinclairs’ house the next morning you were surprised to see Vincent waiting outside for you. He held something behind his back as he nervously looked down at his feet.

“What do you have there, Vincent?” you questioned as you approached him.

He hesitated before slowly pulling a sculpture from behind him. He outstretched his arm, holding out the bust towards you. As you took it into your hands you realized you were staring at a miniature bust of yourself.

“Oh, wow. Vincent, this is amazing!” you said as you held up the bust. You turned it in your hands, examining it. There were so many small details. It amazed you that he even noticed such little things about you enough to include them in the sculpture. It was so beautiful and made you feel seen.

“Did you do this for me?” you asked.

Vincent nodded. You swore you could see the tiniest crinkle of skin around his eye through his mask, as if he was smiling underneath it. You looked down at the sculpture once more, truly taking it in before looking back at him.

“Thank you so much. This is amazing,” you said. You moved closer, pulling him into a short hug which he reciprocated.

“I’m going to put this on my mantle. I don’t want the wax to melt out here in this heat. Wanna walk with me?” you asked. Vincent nodded his head once again and followed you as you led the way to your own home.

The next morning, just like every morning, you headed to check on the Sinclair brothers once you finished breakfast. You made your way outside and walked the short path to their house. When you knocked on the door, you could hear Bo call out from inside telling you to come in.

“Good morning,” you greeted.

“Morning,” Bo said. He sat at the dining room table, drinking a cup of coffee as he read the newspaper.

“Whose car did you nab that from?” you asked, knowing that your hometown didn’t have a running newspaper office anymore. You also knew that the brothers had grown rather protective of the town and would run off strangers.

“Mind your business,” Bo said. He reached in front of him and lifted a short stack of papers in the air, waving them a bit to get your attention.

“These are for you,” he said.

You made your way to the dining room and took the papers from his hand, sitting down across from him to examine them.

The papers in question were drawings. Three separate sketches of your face at different angles and lighting. You slowly flipped through them, staring down at the artwork in front of you.

“Wow,” you mumbled quietly.

“Vinny did those last night. And this morning. He didn’t sleep,” Bo said.

“Really? He stayed up drawing me?” you asked.

“Mmhmm,” Bo hummed as he flipped another page of his newspaper.

“Why would he do that?” you asked, setting the art down in front of you.

“He likes you,” Bo shrugged.

“Well, yeah. Of course, he does. We’re friends, after all. But I don’t see why he’d stay up all night over me.”

“No, not like that,” he huffed, “You can’t tell that you got him lovesick? I’ve never seen him so in love before…or at all.”

“In love?”

You were dumbfounded. Somehow the thought of Vincent being in love with you never crossed your mind. But the more you sat and thought about it the more it made sense. You were even sitting in front of physical proof.

“You’re saying he’s been making art of me because he’s in love with me?” you asked.

“That’s my theory. Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” Bo said.

“What? No. I…I can’t do that,” you said.

“Suit yourself. But just know that I’m right.”

And Bo was right. You had no idea how you couldn’t see it before.

The wax sculptures, the drawings, the fact that he followed you around like a puppy. It was right in front of your face the entire time. Vincent was in love with you. Or at the very least he had a serious crush.

You stayed up all night, pondering on Bo’s words and all of the now very obvious loving gestures that Vincent had been making. You tossed and turned in bed before you gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Rest just wasn’t coming easily to you, especially when you had started to feel a strange sense of longing for Vincent.

You got up from bed and quickly got dressed, making your way out of the house once you were finished. It had cooled off outside significantly and there was a full moon shining above, illuminating your path to the Sinclair house. When you got to the top of the stairs at their front door you gently knocked. Standing there in silence, you waited until you heard a faint shuffle on the other side of the door. The chain lock on the door jingled around and the door opened slowly to reveal Lester, the youngest Sinclair brother, standing before you.

He yawned as he scratched at his scalp, looking you up and down as he did so.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Lester asked.

“Is Vincent awake? I need to talk to him,” you questioned.

“Yeah, come in.” Lester moved to the side, ushering you in the door with his hand and closing it behind you.

“He’s down in the basement working on something. He hasn’t been sleeping at night lately. You can go on down. You know he won’t bite,” Lester said.

“Thank you, Les,” you said.

“No problem.” He sat back down on the couch and you slowly walked to the basement door, opening it and making your way down the stairs.

When you got to the bottom you saw Vincent at his work desk, scribbling on a piece of paper. His back was turned from you and he was hunched over the desk, lost in whatever he was working on.

You knocked on the wall, getting his attention. His posture straightened quickly in his seat as he turned in his chair to look at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You could see Vincent huff slightly as if he was annoyed. He turned back to what he was doing as you walked into the room, admiring his unfinished work throughout the space. The entire basement smelled of beeswax and the various candles Vincent would burn throughout the day. A lot of his work station had a buildup of melted wax from him making sculptures for so many years.

“You sure do stay busy down here,” you mumbled, stopping at the edge of his desk where he sat. When you glanced down at what he was doing he quickly covered it with his hand, attempting to hide the paper from you.

“I’m not allowed to see?”

He shook his head and flipped the paper over quickly, keeping it concealed from you.

“I understand. I won't peek,” you said.

You took a look around once more before your eyes locked on Vincent again. He fiddled with a sculpting tool while you stood next to him. He seemed more nervous than usual. You had gotten good at reading his body language over the years and you could sense that he was a bit on edge. It seemed like he wanted to tell you something but you knew that was never his strong suit.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He gave a quick nod but didn’t look up at you.

“I wanted to come thank you for those drawings. They were absolutely beautiful. And I wanted to ask you something kind of important,” you said.

That got his attention. Vincent looked up from his work desk, giving you his attention. He motioned with his hand for you to continue speaking before resting it on the edge of the desk.

“What’s with all of these little…tokens? Are you just using me as art practice or is there something else going on? I don’t mind being your muse but is there something you’re not telling me?” you asked.

Vincent was almost always silent but you could hear the faintest sigh as if his secret had finally been uncovered. He slowly turned, grabbed the paper he had hidden from you, and handed it over. You took it into your hand and looked it over.

It was another drawing of you. This time it was paired with a simple phrase at the bottom that made you pause. Written in Vincent’s handwriting were the words ‘my love’ under the sketch.

“Vincent…”

Your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the paper. Your eyes scanned over it again and again as you stood there, thinking back on all the years you’ve known the man sitting beside you. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes and you tried your best to blink them away before they streamed down your face.

Vincent turned his head away and his shoulders slumped almost as if he was embarrassed that you were seeing the artwork. You set the paper down and rested your hand on his shoulder.

You brought your other hand up to his mask, gently turning his head to look up at you from his position.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed about it,” you said, tilting his head up so he was looking at you, “I love you too. I only wish I had realized you felt that way sooner.”

Another sigh came from Vincent, this time sounding relieved. He hesitated before standing up and pulling you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You swore you could feel him relax into you.

His secret was finally out in the open. He loved you. And you loved him back. He wanted nothing more than that.