Bo Sinclair X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

Hi :) I was wondering how Bo would react to an S/O who loves cats and finds stray kittens that they want to keep? I imagine Bo secretly loving cats and I think it would be adorable :)

Have a good day/night

PhantomCat

Oh my gosh i was excited to write this, you have a good day or night too!

Bo is gonna sit here and act like he doesn’t like animals, but I’m telling you he’s an animal lover, dog, cat, lizards, whatever. He’s a softy for them

But he also likes his tough guy act

So he’s gonna act all pissed and shit when you try and bring a cat into the gas station.

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Cause we already got Lester and Jonsey.”

You roll your eyes.

You keep the stray cat anyways, in fact you get Lester to bring her to a vet and you find out she’s pregnant! So now you feel more than obligated to keep her! She’s also a beautiful American short haired cat

You name her Indiana cause then her and Jonsey are Indiana Jonsey and every time you think of it, it makes you laugh.

You by a shit ton of stuff for this cat, multiple cat trees, litter boxes, food, stuff for her maternity bed, food for after she’s a mother, all that shit.

You and Lester drive past Bo and have this shit eating grin on your face and Bo is just glaring so hard.

Bo will just refuse to interact with the damn cat, he gets jealous cause all of your attention is on her. You baby the hell outta her and you have every right to.

Indiana takes a liking to Bo (cause why wouldn’t she) and she follows him everywhere. (You’ll be her favorite still)

Often when you’re working on something around the house you’ll hear “Scram!” “Git!” “Damnit.” “Out!”

Indiana never listens, she just wants pets from this man!

She brings his dead animals and he always makes some comment about taking it to Lester instead cause Bo “Don’t eat mice.”

After a month you see the two sitting on the couch. His thumb is rubbing her head and she’s purring. You get all giddy but don’t want to ruin the moment so you go into the kitchen and prep her dinner.

Indiana gives birth not long after that she gives birth to five little kitties.

Everyone checks on the kittens hourly but also at a distance just to make sure they’re doing alright.

Kittens names are Goober, Goopy, Vee, Hazel, and Fredrick.

At some point Indiana takes her kittens and drops them off when you and Bo are laying in bed and Bo tries to act so nonchalant about it but this man is just, so fucking happy, he’s never been happier.

Soon enough the cats wander around town, they help with rodents and will sometimes bring some back to Bo and you

You make sure they all get spayed and Neutered before deciding it’s okay for them to go outside.

One day you walk into the gas station to bring Bo some lunch and there’s a fucking cat tree and some bowls out. (Also some cats you’ve never seen before)

“Yeah and you said we couldn’t keep Indiana, now here you are bringing in more strays. I gotchu.” You pinch his side.

He gets defensive but just gives up cause two cats decided they were gonna purr and rub on his legs.

This town is overrun by cats within a year but everyone tries to make sure the cats get fixed so there aren’t any issues.

Jonsey is absolutely ecstatic about more animals but is sad when a cat doesn’t like her

It’s okay Indiana likes her, Indiana likes everybody, she’s every where, by Bo when he’s fixing a car, in the truck with Lester, making biscuits on Jonsey, napping with Vincent, watching you cook.

Bo is mad he originally said no, but is happy with your stubbornness of keeping the cat anyway

Slasher with an S/O who self-harms

Included: Billy Loomis, Hannibal Lecter, Rusty Nail, Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair

Tw: Mentions of self-harm and blood

Billy Loomis

Billy had been out with Stu as Ghostface quite late into the night. He figured you would be asleep. Still, on the off chance that you weren’t, he made his way to your house. Realistically, even if you were asleep, he was just going to join you in bed. 

He got to your window to find you were up, sitting on the edge of your bed with your back to the window. He was happy to see you up because he wanted to spend time with you, but it wasn’t really usual for you to be up quite this late. He snuck in quietly, planning to try and give you a scare, and got about halfway to you before he noticed a few more details he had missed.

You were incredibly quiet, the silence of the room feeling a bit suffocating at the moment. Your head was hung low and you had a blade in one of your hands. Your arms were bleeding. You were… bleeding? What the fuck?

Billy closes in on you, achieving his original goal of giving you quite the jump scare in the process. He didn’t care about that right now. Before you really know what was happening, you’re in the bathroom, sitting while he pulls out medical supplies. Billy was silent and methodical as he cleaned each wound, making sure they weren’t too deep before wrapping your arms in gauze and medical wrap. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you.

He’d sit you back down on the edge of your bed, standing in front of you in silence. Even considering he didn’t really like to talk that much, he was too quiet. It put you on edge and made you worry. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried, and his face wasn’t giving anything away.

You avoided eye contact for what felt like an eternity before you came to the conclusion that you’d have to be the first to talk. “Billy-“ You couldn’t get anything out before he dropped to his knees in front of you and hugged your waist, burying his head in your stomach. You could hear him sob quietly into your shirt, and his hold on you was tight.

He cried for a while before he could gather himself enough to talk. Even then, all he said was “Why?”. He’d kill anyone responsible for making you feel this way. Point blank. No Stu, no Ghostface, no teasing or foreplay. It would be him, them, and his knife, and it would be messy. If it wasn’t that simple, he’d listen to everything you told him, anything you’d be willing to share. When you finished, he’d stand up to hold you properly and to talk in your ear. He couldn’t bring himself to talk anywhere above a whisper at the moment. 

“I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. I love you so much-“ It was the first time he had told you that and you couldn’t ignore the sting created by having him say it in this moment rather than during something happy and romantic. “I need you here with me. Anything you want I’ll help you with. I’ll do anything to make you feel better, just say the word.”

Eventually, he’d get you to lay down with him and he’d hold you tight as you both slept. From now on, he’d keep a closer eye on you and anything your body language would tell him about how you’re feeling. Sometimes, when he’s really tired and you’re asleep, he’ll run his thumb over your scars and think to himself about how he’d missed the signs and what he can do to keep this from happening ever again.

Hannibal Lecter

The dinner party really wasn’t supposed to start like this. Hannibal had bought you an outfit he’d seen while he was out, and it had reminded him of you. It was a sweet thought, and you couldn’t deny it looked amazing, but there was one issue. It had short sleeves. You’d been able to get away with wearing long sleeves up until this point because of the weather, which was cold, but each day was just a bit warmer and it was to the point where it was too warm to add a jacket to an outfit. So here you were, looking at the outfit laying neatly on the bed, tears in your eyes as you thought about your arms and how Hannibal was going to react. Would he think you’re weak? Imperfect? Valueless? Would he think you were trying to damage his image?

Hannibal, who had been around for nearly twenty minutes, was growing concerned about how long it was taking you to get around. He knocked on the door, calling out to you and asking if everything was alright. You responded, saying everything was ok, but he could hear the distress and shakiness in your voice as you spoke. Of course, he could. He thought about his options for a second before announcing that he was coming into the room. You didn’t want him to but there was no way to keep him out. You knew that.

“What’s wrong, my love? Do you not like the outfit?” He knew it wasn’t that, but he’d rather you tell him what was really wrong rather than him having to figure it out himself. “I can take it back if it’s not to your liking.” You’d have to choose between acting as if you hated the outfit he’d gifted you or telling him about your self-harming. You hated sounding ungrateful, especially when Hannibal was always so gracious. You had to tell him.

And when you did, he goes quiet for a moment. He’d known something was wrong but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t noticed. How hadn’t he noticed? He’s panicking internally but refuses to let it show at the moment. For the first time in a very, very long time, he’s feeling fear, sadness, confusion, and anger toward himself.

He’ll do whatever is needed to make you feel comfortable. If you want to cover them, he’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to, he’s more than supportive and will shut down anyone who would dare say something about them.

Once dinner is done and the guests have left, he’ll question you. In that moment, you don’t have Hannibal, you have Dr. Lecter. He will want to know how long you’ve been struggling with mental health, how long you’ve been self-harming, what triggers you, how can he help, etc.

He’ll pay close attention to you after he knows. You and sharp objects, that is. He won’t lock away knives or anything of that sort. He knows that will only make you feel worse, but he’ll make sure to remember exactly where sharp objects are and how they’re positioned. He’s going to know if you do it again. Once he knows, it’s impossible to hide it. Point blank. Still, he’ll be gentle about it. He doesn’t think you’re wrong or damaged; he just thinks you need a bit of structure and help.

Rest assured, you’ll get the best care with Hannibal. He’s a psychiatrist after all, and one of the best at that. However, he might use this as a way to subtly manipulate you into sharing his… unique food tastes. After all, why harm yourself when you can take all of your emotions out on others?

Rusty Nail

Rusty is gone A LOT, that’s no secret. But, that means you’re left with a lot of time to think, and thinking leads you to, well, the predicament you’re in now. You didn’t think he was supposed to be home for another day or two, but he’s early. He’s early and your arm is leaking fresh blood. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also hadn’t heard him (you were too wrapped up in your thoughts) until he was opening the bedroom door.

“Darlin’?” He’s walking towards you slowly, like you’re an animal that could lash out if he moves too quickly. Gently, he takes your hands and holds up your arms to give himself a better view. He wipes his thumb across a drop of blood to convince himself that this is real, and not a sort of twisted hallucination. “Darlin’.” He says it softly, this time.

He’s incredibly gentle as he guides you to the bathroom to tend to your wounds, quiet too. You’re sat on the side of the tub and he’s kneeling before you. As he finishes, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at you before circling his arms around your waist and burring his face into your stomach. His hold is tight, and this lasts for quite a while.

When Rusty gathers himself enough to look at you again, he’ll pick you up and carry you to bed. You don’t feel like arguing. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was right, you were tired and you weren’t going to fight him on it. Even if you wanted to, the shattered look in his eyes acted as a foolproof deterrent.

As you nap, he cooks a meal for you. He wakes you up after a while to eat and draws you a bath after you’re done. He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t know what to say. For every moment he can, he’s going to take care of you like your royalty. Gradually, as the tension loosens, he’ll talk more and so will you but there is still a heavy sadness and tension in the air around him.

He’ll ask you quietly in the morning, as you two laze in bed, why you do it. Whether or not you tell him, he respects your choice. If you do tell him, he’ll want to talk through the issue. If it’s a person, he’s already thinking up ways to draw as much suffering from him as possible. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s ok. He’ll hold you close and whisper things about how much he loves you and what he would do to prove it.

When he’s on the road, he’ll call you every afternoon. Talk to him about anything, he just wants to hear you speak and get insight on your day. He wants to make sure you’re ok, as well. 

He’d take you for a drive if you wanted. He absolutely loves having you in his passenger seat, riding alongside him in his rig. It makes him feel happy and possessive. One night, when he’s not on the road, he’d stock his truck with snacks, drinks, and blankets. He’d drive you out a field and stargaze with you late into the night, possibly until you fell asleep. If that happened, he’d carry you back into the truck so he could drive home.

Michael Myers

Micheal knew something had been off for a while, but assumed you’d come to him when you were ready to share. He’d grown impatient though, and decided to watch you while you thought he was away, to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

He’d caught you in the act and was shocked. Well, he felt as much shock as he was capable of feeling, which is far more than he is used to but not like a person might normally. Still, the pang of emotion was something he didn’t feel often. He’d suspected something was up but he hadn’t suspected this. Not in the slightest.

Of course, he’d seen people self-harm before. He had his time in the hospital to thank for that. He remembered how the doctors would react. Restraints, heavy surveillance, taking away anything even slightly dangerous, frequent and consistent check-ins, and medication, loads of medications. He also remembered how much the patients hated it. He had a few hours before you expected him home, which meant he had a few hours to think.

When Michael came home, you greeted him as you always did. You were cheery and excitable. It put a weird taste in his mouth and a feeling like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It didn’t sit right with him and made him very unhappy.

He was still for a moment longer than normal, catching your attention and causing you to ask if something was wrong. He responds by pointing to your arm, confusing you. He grabs your wrist and pulls up one of your sleeves, and you freeze, looking at him in the eye holes of his mask in shock. 

Michael would give you the materials needed to take care of your wounds and watch as you patch yourself up. He’d teach you if you didn’t know how. After, he’d lay on the couch with you and watch movies until you fell asleep. Only after you’re asleep would he leave a kiss on each arm. A promise to you and himself that he’d do what he needed to make you happy.

Michael will be around more after he finds out. Not in an overbearing way, but he realized that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with you. He’ll bring home little gifts that he thinks you’ll like and will make you masks that he thinks fit your personality. You might even sucker him into cleaning the house or cooking from time to time.

Bo Sinclair

It was WAY too hot for long sleeves in Louisiana. It was the middle of summer, and mid-day at that. Bo thought you’d knock more than a few screws loose to be dressed for late fall at this time of year. And to be outside on top of that?

Bo had asked you to come to the church to help with some minor repairs, and you’d been more than happy to come along. Problem was, you’d had a relapse the night before and your arms were covered in fresh wounds. You were practically dying in the summer heat, but you’d risk the heatstroke to avoid Bo finding out. 

“What’re you doin’ with them sleeves? You look like you’re fixin’ to go out in winter, not the Louisiana summer.” You hadn’t really thought of a cover story, which was coming back to bite you in the ass. You’d decided to say you just weren’t feeling too great, causing Bo to look back at you. 

“What’s wrong sugar?” You’d responded and said you felt cold and you were tired, and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he really believed you. He put a hand on your forehead as you looked up at him. “Well, you’re burnin’ up but that’s probably because of them sleeves. Why don’t ya take it off? Certainly wouldn’t mind the view to give me a lil’ work encouragement.” 

You turned him down and suggested that you’d go get some lemonade, to which he agreed was a good idea and wanted to join you. He was at a good stopping place anyway. While you were washing up to serve the lemonade, you’d had to push up your sleeves a bit to avoid getting them wet. You hadn’t accounted for Bo coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. 

He was about to say something when he saw them. When you felt him tense up, you tensed up too. You froze and waited for him to say something, to do anything that gave you an indication of how to respond. After a few seconds, he took his arms away from your waist and grabbed your shoulders gently, turning you around to face him.

“You know… I’ve got some scars too…” It was the first time you’d seen the scars on his wrist. It was the only thing he could think to do in the moment. You started fretting over him, asking what happened, if he was alright, who did this, and other things along that line in a continuous stream of worry. He had to interrupt you and raise his voice to get you to quiet down. He agreed that he would tell you what happened if you told him why you’d harmed yourself. 

In the end, you both wound up having an hours-long conversation about both of your histories and troubles. You both talked until you passed out, holding each other close and feeling leagues closer to him than you had before. It was a rare, bittersweet moment to bond and it would result in a permanent, noticeable shift in the interactions between you two.

After the conversation, you two held each other closer. You were softer when speaking to each other, and arguments often got resolved much quicker and with fewer tears than there used to be. You both understood each other more than anyone else had, and it shows.

Bo would do the best he could to make you feel comfortable showing your arms, no matter what stage of healing they were in. Bo would even show his scars more if it helped, granted that there was no chance of visitors. If tourists said anything about it, they wouldn’t get to be a sculpture. Vincent wouldn’t be able to reconstruct them well enough if he tried. No, they’d wind up in the pit with Lester’s roadkill. 

Bo would kiss your scars in intimate moments if you’d let him. It’s his way of showing that he loves every part of you, regardless of how much you like it yourself. 

I know this is about Bo, and I loved it, but I'd keep every single bad taxidermy statue from Lester, name every single one and learn to sow so I could give them little outfits 😍🥺

Bo Sinclair Relationship Headcanons (m/f)

He isn't usually a touchy-feely sort of guy, but around you, he's all hands on deck. He's certainly rough with you, but loves to call you sweet names like "babydoll", "sweetheart" and, "darling."

He loves to pick you up and throw you around, spinning you in the air. He's a strong man, so no matter your size, he'll be sure to toss you around.

He's not much of a cook, but he'll try for you, learning new recipes from the ancient cookbooks left in Ambrose.

He's what you'd call... Experimental, constantly wanting to try new kinks with you, especially if you enjoy them. He'd never push you too far without your consent, but he definitely wants everyone to know that he owns you.

Every time new visitors come to Ambrose, you and Bo pose as husband-and-wife, even if you aren't officially married.

He shows you off to his siblings, bragging about how he owns such a "beautiful darling woman".

Music is extremely important in your relationship, with Bo sharing the songs that he likes (mostly nu-metal), and you sharing yours. He's always open to new suggestions, and takes every one as a gift, claiming it's "our song".

He loves grabbing you and tossing you around, leaving bruises all over your body. Just another way to mark you.

You quickly became a part of the Sinclair family once Bo expressed his attraction to you, the siblings treating you as their own.

As an honorary Sinclair, the three siblings always get you little gifts. Vincent giving you little wax sculptures, Lester giving you... Poorly made taxidermy statues, and Bo giving you little artifacts that remind him of you. Some of these include pretty flowers, shiny rocks and crystals, and the snacks that you love.

Bo loves sharing his childhood memories with you, even if some of them are less than savory, they always bring you a little bit closer to him.

He is extremely possessive of you, and would do anything to protect you, including murder. Especially murder.

When you feel insecure or sad, he makes sure you know how beautiful you are, on the inside and out, just like the "precious gems you always love so much."

It's raining hard where I am and it's just "head empty, just thoughts on how the Sinclair boys would comfort you during like a heavy rainstorm with thunder and lighting and all that if it's what you're afraid of" its mostly fluff of the boys and them comforting you

This is also my first time doing writing on the boys, and I'm not much of a writer, so don't expect the best, but I am trying:D sorry if it's short!

Also sorry if it's ooc, I'm just a sucker for soft Sinclair boys

Lester

- is used to the rain and all the sounds that come with it, he's outdoors a lot, he's gotten used to it by now

- if the two of you are outside, he would take you to the truck to wait out the storm, he knows better than to drive in rain when it's pouring outside

- if you're in his cabin, you're either sitting on a couch or in bed

- expect him holding your hand or keeping an arm around you to help you feel safe

- definitely tells you that it rains all the time in Louisiana, that the two of you are going to be fine

- FOREHEAD KISSES TO COMFORT YOU

- doing the thumb rubbing your hand while holding it thing just out of habit

- he let's you bury your face into him when there's a particularly big clap of thunder

Vincent

- rain doesn't effect him that much since he's not usually outside that often, the most it does is add another sound to his workshop, the wax bubbling, the fire crackling, the music he plays, and now rain and the occasional sound of thunder

- wouldn't entirely understand why you're so scared of it, but would still try to comfort you.

- you're either going to be hugging him from behind or he's going to have you sit on his lap if you want to stay close with him while he works

- would let you play with his hair if that what helps calm you down

- attempted cheek kisses, but you just feel his wax mask attempt give you a gentle kiss on the cheek as a way to show that he's here for you

- if you ask, he would probably give you paper and a pen or pencil to start sketching with if that also helps calm you down.

- if he's just sketching or doing something that only requires one hand, he wouldn't mind holding yours until you feel better

Bo

- where do I start with him...

- I feel like he would tease you about being afraid of the thunder, but is also a bit afraid of it, but mostly the bigger ones-

- he would tease you about it, hear a loud thunder clap, along with a bright and quick flash of lighting, jump a bit, and then cuss

- "Oh come on darlin' it's jus' some rai- FUCK-"

- don't bring it up, he's going to deny being afraid of it

- asks if you want to hold his hand to make you feel better

- also someone to give forehead kisses to try and comfort you

-he would also keep an arm around you, whether it be around your shoulder or around your waist

- I feel like he's someone who likes to take a nap usually every day, so this will become that nap

- it's going to become you laying on his chest with one arm around you, him just trying to keep you as close to him as possible

- he's a real heavy sleeper so good luck if you wake up before him, you're stuck like that until he either moves or wakes up

Tagging some peeps who I think would enjoy this!

@soupbabe

@bluecoolr

@capybar00

@cyanide-latte

@vincent-sinclair-deserved-better

@slaasherslut

@goldrose-star

@rottent33th

@the-pinstriped-hood

@all-of-these-vampires

Never Leave

Dad!Bo x preg!fem reader

Tw: nightmare, blood, death

“Say you’ll never leave me?” Bo whispers, resting your head on his shoulder. Blood drips from your chest like a waterfall even when he tries to to stop it with his hands. He’s choking back tears as he rocks back and forth. “Say it, y/n. Just say it.”

“I’ll nev-never leave y-you,” you stuttered, trying so hard to breath, to stay awake. “I-I won’t leave.”

“Stay with me? Love me?”

You brought a shaky hand to his cheek, and he holds it there, kissing the palm. His eyes shimmer as tears fall like an open dam. “Y/n? Don-don’t leave me. Don’t leave’ me alone.”

You tried to keep your eyes open, but it’s too heavy and too much all at once. You look up and smile to yourself. The stars are out tonight. You love stars.

“Bo,” you breathed. “Stars… the stars are out…”

He watched a tear leave your eyes as the light blew out like a candle.

******************

Bo wakes up screaming your name. Sweat covered his forehead as his head snapped over to your spot in bed.

You weren’t there.

“No,” he breathed, his breath shaky and scared. “No. Y/n?” He got out of bed in a flash. “Y/n!” It’s a dream, it has to be!

Bo flew down the steps and rounded the corner towards the kitchen. He lets out a tired sigh when he sees you with a pint of ice cream on the counter and a spoon in your mouth. You looked back at him like a deer in the head lights before eating your ice cream again.

“Baby,” he stammers as he enter the room. He starts to cry when he hugs you tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut as he liters you with quick kisses. “Darlin’, don’t leave lik’ ‘at again.”

You stood confused but you hug him. You rubbed his back and let him cry in your shoulder. “Where’s this coming from?” You asked. “Nightmare?”

He doesn’t say anything as he sobs in your shoulder. He thought he lost you. He thought you and Dallas were gone for good. He can’t lose you… he can’t. “Don’t leave me. Never leave.” He let’s up and rested his head against your forehead. “Never leave.”

You run his fingers through his curls and nod. “I won’t, honeycomb,” you kissed his lips. “I promise.” You look back at the counter then at him. “Baby wants ice cream.”

“Yeah?” He tries to center himself, and you can see he’s really trying.

Then an idea hits.

“I know what’ll cheer you up. Wanna feel something cool?” You take his hands and lower them to your stomach. He looked at you confused then eyes lit up as he felt a little kick. He looked down then back up, mouth a gap. The nightmare that he had soon became a memory as he felt another kick. He laughs nervously and happily, sad tears turning into joy.

“Our-our boy?” He asked in disbelief. “He’s kickin’?”

“And wants ice cream,” you added, nodding at the carton behind him. “He woke me up and brought me to the freezer. I think he wants that.”

He grabs the ice cream and hands it to you. You started wolfing it down, humming in content. You look back up at him, smile, and rested your head on his shoulder. He swings an arm around you before kissing your head.

“Besides,” you started, “the boy needs you. I need you. Jasmine needs you— why would I leave a perfectly good man that loves me?” Your hand held his cheek, and he held it there, kissing the palm. “I love you, Beauregard.”

He leans into you touch. The nightmare tuck behind his brain and never came back. He has love for you. Only you. “I love you more, y/n.”

And what a promise that makes him whole.

AAAAAAGH I LOVED THIS!!

I love how we get to know reader's problems with her old life throughout the story and how it impacts her thoughts about what to do and how to feel. You really wrote the conflicting feelings out so welllllll!!

I love how Bo is trying so hard to be good to the reader, but also being his teue self - a bit of a grump and easily irritated (especially at the beginning)

All in all, I loved loved loved LOVED this story, thank you so much for putting me on the taglist! <3

Ya ain't love me... yet IV (Bo Sinclair x female reader)

Hello everyone! I'm so happy you seemed to have enjoyed this little Stockholm syndrome series with Bo x f!reader. If you have missed it, the first part is here (you can find everything on my House Of Wax masterlist too).

Hope you'll enjoy this finale <3

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of murders, a little bit of angst, fluff.

For once, you opened your eyes before Bo. You slowly remembered what you did with him the night before as you felt his naked body against yours. You truly wanted to hate it and to feel bad about it. But you couldn’t. You had truly enjoyed yourself and you even surprised yourself thinking you wouldn’t mind having sex with him from now on. You watched him rest. You took the time to observe him and you found him handsome. You had noticed the marks on his wrists last night, and you wondered what happened to him. You almost felt sad and angry. It was strange, because you were supposed to hate him and to enjoy his suffering. Something was changing, or had changed already. You were wondering about it a lot. Especially because you knew you were getting closer to a crossroad; soon you would need to pick between getting back to your previous life or staying by his side forever. 

It was obvious he was trusting you now. You were certain that if he always woke up before you, it was because he couldn’t let his guard down. After last night, he could. He was probably thinking you were in love with him now. You started to play with his curls, without realising it, as you were thinking about the consequences of your future choices.

You would never be able to truly get back to your previous existence because your boyfriend and friends were dead, and because your family and the police were probably looking for you all. It had been months you were missing now. It meant that you would need to tell them about Ambrose and about the Sinclairs. Something inside of you hurt at the thought of destroying their existences. And you weren’t too sure you wanted to face them in front of a judge. The Sinclairs treated you well in their own way. Plus, you didn’t want your family to treat you differently than before, but after this, they would pity you or not understand you. You would be the girl who got kidnapped and lost everything in the South of the country. You would be a survivor, you would be forced to go see a therapist to talk about everything. And you would be forced to realise that maybe it was a mistake, that maybe you wanted to live in Ambrose, away from your previous life.

Indeed, a growing part of you thought you might be free in Ambrose because you didn’t have to deal with your parents’ plans for you. Your dead boyfriend started to talk about having children with you because your parents told him it would be a good idea. He agreed with them. And it felt forced on you. Your parents picked the studies and the job they wanted for you. It had always been their plans for you before your own. Your friends were good to you, most of the time, but they were dead now and you weren’t too sure you were missing them that much. Here, you could restart your choices. You were certain you could find a job near Ambrose once Bo would trust you enough to let you go. It would be something you truly wanted to do. You could also learn how to paint with Vincent. You could laugh around with Lester. You could… be happy with Bo. Plus, you like to have a town for yourself because here, no one could tell you what to do or how to dress or how to behave.

You were free.

You unconsciously kissed Bo’s cheek and snuggled against him as your mind kept wandering to an existence in Ambrose. You didn't want to find this so appealing, but you also didn’t want to come back to the real world. You snapped back to reality when you felt fingers gently tracing your spine. Bo tightly hugged you as he fully woke up. He wanted to ask you if you were his girlfriend now, but instead he asked you what you were thinking about.

“Ambrose” you replied and he tilted his head to the side, confused

“How so, baby girl?” he hummed, drawing abstract patterns on your skin

“It’s not such of a bad place” you said and you weren’t even sure anymore if you were lying or if you were telling the truth.

“‘S a better place now ya’re here” Bo murmured, lazily cuddling with you.

He reluctantly went to work that morning.

You were quite silent that day, as you couldn’t stop thinking about what your life had become and about what you should do. You thought you needed to occupy yourself or you would go crazy, so you decided to bake something. You had never done this before but you knew the brothers had a sweet tooth. In the middle of your preparation, you realised you were making a chocolate cake to make them happy. You didn’t have the time to question it because you felt Bo kissing your shoulder. You had to resist the urge to smile at the gesture. It was scaring you; did you fall in love with him? Did you want to be a Sinclair, after everything that happened? Was it too late to run away?

“Watcha doin’?” Bo asked

“Chocolate cake” you quickly replied as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your neck.

“That’s nice” he mumbled against your skin “Might convince Les to stick ‘round” he commented and you nodded.

“Hey, Bo” you whispered as an idea sparkled into your mind

“Yes, doll?” he hummed back

“Maybe we could go eat out tonight, like in a restaurant.” you offered. Bo stayed silent for a few instants, silently debating with himself

“Why?” he finally asked

“For a date… Isn’t it what you do when you have a girlfriend? Don’t you bring her to nice restaurants from time to time?” you replied with a cheeky smile. You were playing with fire. Bo turned you around and tried to read in your eyes if you meant what you just said. He cupped your face and pressed his body against yours.

“No game?” he questioned, his breath tickling your lips

“What game?” you asked back

“I’ll think ‘bout it” he finally replied before moving from you. You were quite disappointed but you didn’t say anything.

He started to cook the meal as you finished off your cake. He noticed how silent you got and he felt bad about it. He didn’t want to upset you, especially now things were getting good, especially when you were calling yourself his “girlfriend”. He was afraid you would use the restaurant to run away from him. At the same time, if he didn’t show you some trust, he knew you would always be a little bit afraid of him and he didn’t want that. If one person was supposed to never be scared of him, it was his soulmate.

“Ya really wanna go to a restaurant tonight?” he asked and you shrugged “Ah baby, don’t pout” he hummed and he hugged you. “I’ll ask Lester for the address of somethin’ nice” he finally said; he couldn’t stand your silence. You smiled.

“Really?” you excitedly asked and Bo only nodded. He felt butterflies flying in his stomach at the sight of such joy coming from you. He was wrapped around your little finger and he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

The whole journey to the restaurant, you thought that it was going to be the night. Tonight, you would have to make a choice. His hand on your thigh was distracting you from your thoughts though, unable to take a decision.

You and Bo had dressed up a little more than usual, and you even put on a little bit of mascara, eyeliner and red lipstick. It was the only few products you came with, but it was good enough and you could tell Bo enjoyed the sight of you all dolled up. He couldn’t stop complimenting you. And truth to be told, he wasn’t half bad himself.

When you arrived, you were surprised by the very romantic setting of the place. Bo made sure you enjoyed it as you followed the waiter to the table he reserved for the two of you. You rarely went to a restaurant like that, but you really liked it. It was a nice change. Bo was very careful because he didn’t particularly like to be surrounded by strangers, but he was eager to make you happy. Once you both decided what to eat, he took out a little box from his pocket. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re getting me gifts now?” you gently teased and Bo smiled

“Bringin’ ya to a date without a gift… Ain’t feelin’ right” he shrugged.

He tried to play it cool, but he was really worried you wouldn’t like the jewel. It wasn’t something he found on one of his victims. For a first gift, he wanted something special. It was a silver chain with a little diamond on it. It used to belong to his great grandmother. It was one of the only valuable items his family ever owned, with his ring. You opened the box and gasped. You hadn’t expected something so beautiful.

“Are you sure?” you asked with wide eyes. No one ever gifted you a jewel that was so delicate, refined and pretty.

“Ya like it then?” Bo asked, quite relieved. He got up so he could help you put it on. The diamond settled right in the crook in between your collarbones, shining against your skin. It was as if the necklace had been made for you. 

“I love it, thank you so much. I have no words… You shouldn’t have” you babbled and Bo enjoyed it, shaking his head.

“Ya deserve the world, baby” he replied.

You smiled and you forgot that your plan was to find an issue and to run away from this man. How could you still want it when Bo was his absolute most charming self that night? He called you beautiful more times than you could count. He cracked quite a few jokes and he managed to make you laugh. You saw the way his eyes lit up at the sound you made and he brought your hand to his lips. He was certain things were finally getting good, and he was hoping so badly you weren’t thinking of escaping anymore, that you were in love with him, even half of what he was feeling for you would be enough for him. He was finally able to make you happy too. He flirted all dinner with you, and you couldn’t help yourself but flirt back. You were enjoying yourself and you felt like your ex boyfriend never existed. Deep down, you knew you didn’t want to run away anymore. 

But you needed to know something.

You leaned towards him and whispered so he was the only one who could hear you, not that anyone was listening to your conversation anyways.

“I need to know what’s going on in Ambrose, Bo. I can’t live with you without knowing why you do this.” you said. You didn’t want to ruin the mood, but it was important. Bo kept your hand in his and thought about the right way to answer you.

“Why askin’ me this now?” he replied and you bit down your bottom lip

“Because we’re a thing, and that I should know about it.” you said

“No, no need for ya to know ‘bout it.” he shook his head

“If you keep secrets from me, it means I’m not part of the family” you hummed and you were clearly touching something sensitive for Bo. You had noticed he was a family man.

“It’s for the House of Wax” he finally replied and he hoped it would be a good enough answer for you. You didn’t understand what that meant at all and you simply stared at him, in pure confusion. “Vinny is making wax statues,” Bo added. But you still didn't get it how it was relevant. "With the tourists"

“Oh” you simply whispered. You stayed silent for a little while. The Sinclairs weren’t just robbing and killing people, they were also using them for the House of Wax, as statues. You didn’t know how to react to this, or what to feel about it. Bo worried a little. He kissed the back of your hand once again, trying to get your attention back on him. “They’re there then” you whispered. Bo knew you were talking about your friends so he simply nodded. “And him?” you asked. Bo looked away before shaking his head. He had made sure there was nothing left of your ex boyfriend, of course.

You excused yourself to the bathroom. Bo didn’t stop you but he was on edge. He was really afraid you were going to do something stupid. He was already regretting that he told you the truth. He should have waited for the two of you to be at home, so he could have been sure, you wouldn’t have tried to escape him. He was trying very hard to convince himself that you loved him now, and that you wouldn’t care about the murders anymore.

You tied your hair up and washed your hands before refreshing your makeup. You were trying to busy yourself to not think about what to do. You were glad there was no one in the bathroom with you. 

You watched yourself in the mirror for a little while, as if you could see your future in your reflection. Your eyes first fell on the necklace Bo got you, then on your face. You noticed you didn’t seem afraid, you didn’t seem sad, you were just lost. You were supposed to want to leave, you were supposed to be disgusted by what Bo admitted to you, you were supposed to want to call the police on him and his family. 

You saw in the mirror that there was a window in the room. It was big enough for you to pass through it without too much trouble. Yes, it was your moment, you could try to run away now. 

Now or never.

But why would you want to go? You had been treated well in Ambrose and you could hope to have three dangerous men wrapped even more around your finger once you would fully forget about your past. You could be whoever you wanted to be, you could be truly happy. In your previous life, you were always thinking about your parents, your boyfriend and your friends first. What was the point now they were far away from you or dead? You didn’t want to get back to the world you used to know, you wanted everything a killer could give you.

Bo relaxed when he saw you coming back and you smiled at him.

“I’ll ask Vinny to give me a tour of the House of Wax, I’m curious about it now” you admitted and Bo tried to read on your face if you were truly alright. You grabbed his hand. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me.” you added and he nodded. “You know… Months ago you told me that I wasn’t in love with you yet. But I think I am now”

At those words, Bo kissed you like a mad man. He had never thought he would have the privilege to hear this from you, because he hadn’t been so sure he would be able win the game, but he was glad he did.

He did because even monsters deserve a happy ending.

--

Taglist : @lacychick ; @adalwolfgang ; @hollabackgrl ; @number1120 ; @the-number7 ; @hisokas-cardz ; @iwantsleepplz ; @loveinglymessedup ; @jojooasis ; @robin-the-enby

TIRED OF RUNNING | Sinclairs x Reader

YET ANOTHER REWRITE i have no idea why Tired of Running is so popular but i've always been proud of it :) the original can be read here but i will be rewriting all existing chapters to finish it!!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work. "They got kids."

WARNING: mentioned child abuse

Sighing, you hit your head on the wheel with an exhausted groan. The Louisiana heat had been suffocating you ever since the AC sputtered to nothing a few hours ago. You'd left the windows open to prevent frying the inside of the car but it was still too hot. Even after living here for a few years, you never got used to the heat. It was fall for god's sake…

You lifted your head and tried to blink back the drowsiness aching behind your eyes. Driving for a week now had exhausted you and the heat wasn't doing you any favors. Everything felt warm and sleepy, making it difficult to focus on the road. A glance at your gas tank only made you groan. Nearly empty tank with no cell phone reception and two kids to take care of.

Speaking of kids, you glanced at the rearview mirror. Your twin boys - Peter and Michael - were passed out in their carseats and dead to the world. They were good kids, rarely fussy, and full of energy. They were why you'd been on the road for so long. You'd fled home with whatever belongings you could pack in your car and never looked back. Seeing their peaceful faces reminded you that it had been the right decision. Watching your ex husband strike Mikey for "misbehaving" had been your last straw. They were only two years old and he expected them to just simply know what behaviors were acceptable without teaching them anything.

He'd been the one who wanted kids yet showed no real interest in parenting. That had all been on you.

Which led you to where you were: off a dirt backroad in the middle of nowhere with the sun setting in an hour. If it had just been you, you would have sucked it up and walked to the nearest town in search of help. But with two toddlers, the feat seemed impossible. You didn't want them getting lost or hurt in the dark with no way of you helping them.

You got out of the car to survey your situation. The road you were on was mainly dirt and not well traveled. You hadn't even been certain they were roads if not for the signs just before you'd turned. Grass grew in wild, untamed patches and stretched out into a field to your left while the forest was close to your right. The trees offered minimal shade but were better than nothing. At least it was cooler under them instead of your hot car. But the prospect of sleeping in the dirt didn't sit well with you. Who knows what animals were even out there.

You pressed the heel of your hands to your eyes and tried not to cry. This was absolutely the worst possible thing that could have happened. If your husband was following you, which he most certainly was, then it was only a matter of time until he found you.

So you slid down the side of your car to sit against the wheel and curl in on yourself. It had been awhile since you cried since your husband would slap you for it, threatening to give you something to really cry about. You'd only withstood the abuse for so long because you didn't want Peter and Mikey to grow up in broken homes. But after you noticed they were being hit, you couldn't stay still. It had still been hard and you kept second guessing yourself all week if you were doing the right thing.

Hopefully you were.

A few hours passed before your luck changed. The sun had just begun to set, painting the skies in pinks and purples like a beautiful watercolor painting. It was finally cooler out now too, the breeze brushing your arms and face periodically. You'd just finished feeding the boys whatever food you had left in the duffle bags still and had decided to let them play in the little clearing nearby. You'd all been cooped up in your tiny car for days and you could tell they needed a break. They promised to stay close to you, running around nearby with sticks and their toys. Peter roared, running up to you with a tiny blue T-rex in hand. "'m gon' eat you!" He giggled.

You scooped him up and held him in your lap, watching his brother poking at the dirt with a stick. "Mikey, don't wander too far okay?" 

Mikey didn't answer and you sighed. He always had problems listening, always content to drift off in his own world without a second thought. You'd read a book about childhood trauma and worried about Mikey sometimes. You stood up and were about to approach him when you heard the sound of a car rumbling. You'd never understood the phrase "your life flashes before your eyes" but in that moment you did. "Mikey!" You shouted, white-hot horror shooting through you. "Peter, get in the car!" 

As soon as Peter squirmed out of your arms, you shot off like a rocket towards Mikey. His wide, terrified eyes were trained on the car headlights, which felt like a spotlight as you picked him up. The ground was illuminated with bright white light, making it impossible to hide from whoever this was. You practically threw Mikey into the car, slamming the door behind him and locking them inside.

The truck came to a stop and you faced it, squeezed your eyes tight, and prepared for the worst.

You heard the sound of the car door open and you turned to face the figure. When he finally stepped into the light, you nearly cried from relief. It wasn't your ex nor any of his friends. You felt your knees give out as a sob wracked your body, the adrenaline crash hitting you hard.

"Woah, woah!" The guy said, hurrying over and crouching in front of you. "Hey, it's alrigh', I ain't gon' hurt'cha." His voice was calm, the southern drawl making your eyes feel heavy. The headlights obscured a lot of your vision but you could make out his face. He was a little scruffy, covered in dirt, and looking at you with more concern than anyone had looked at you with in quite some time. "Shh, it's alrigh', you're okay…" You could tell he was scrambling, unsure how to help you but desperate to do so.

"S-sorry," you babbled through broken sobs. You didn't know what else to say and you couldn't stop the tears. "I- I thought you were- I'm sorry, my ex, he-"

He took you in his arms, hugging you to his chest. He was warm and smelt of dirt and rot but you didn't even care. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been hugged. Over the years, your ex had isolated you from your friends and most of your family so you knew it had likely been a good few years. So you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed.

But he didn't falter. "Shh, 's okay, you're okay. I gotcha." He rubbed slow circles in your back and smiled down at you, like an angel come to save you. "Y'ain't gotta 'pologize. I ain't mad."

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and leaning back slightly to look at him better. Definitely scruffy but charming in his own way. The look on his face was impossibly soft, so unfamiliar to you yet you craved that gentleness. "Sorry, I, um, I'm on the run. My ex, he, uh… Well, doesn't matter now. I got myself and my boys out 'n that's what matters."

The stranger's eyes widened slightly. Bright and pretty and you felt safe under his gaze, for some reason. "Your boys?"

You nodded and started to stand. He didn't hesitate to offer his arm, letting you steady yourself on him when you felt your head swim. "Yeah, they're in the car. Probably scared 'em shitless with my screaming." Your legs felt unsteady when you walked and you didn't miss the way the guy hovered, like he was braced to catch you if you fell. It was sweet.

You swung your car door open and the boys peered up at you, scrambling to try and hide their animal crackers. "Boys," you sighed, "What did I say about desserts?"

"To ask." Peter said plainly, too distracted by the stranger. "You're dirty, mister."

"Peter-!" You gasped, ready to apologize on his behalf.

But the man just laughed, clapping his hands together in his amusement. "Yeah, yeah, y'ain't wrong lil guy. Been workin' all day, hauling dead stuff 'round."

Peter looked morbidly intrigued, scooting closer to whisper like the two of them were sharing a secret. "Like… dead people?"

"Nah, nah, nothin' like that." The guy knelt down to talk with him easier, lowering his voice as well. "Animals who, uh, get hit by cars. Ain't got anyone to take care'a them, ain't like pets. So I come 'round 'n clean 'em up off the road."

Nodding slowly, Peter reached behind him and held out one of his dinosaur toys. "Have ya seen one'a these?"

The man seemed bewildered but offered him a sincere smile. "Nah, but, uh, if I do, I'll let'cha know, 'kay?"

Peter seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to his crackers. "I never got your name." You said as the man stood back up.

"Name's Lester." He gave you a gap-toothed grin, tilting his cap in a greeting. "Was headin' back home 'n saw yer car. Figured I'd come check on ya."

You smiled, hugging yourself shyly. "I, uh, ran outta gas. And with the boys, I can't exactly walk for help. No cell service either."

Lester frowned, scratching at his face as he seemed to think it over. He surveyed the three of you before looking out towards the setting sun. "Well, I ain't usually do this," he drawled slowly, "But there's a town nearby. 's called Ambrose. Could drive ya there so y'all could sleep for the night. An' in the mornin', we can swing by the gas station 'n get some gas for yer car."

"Really?" You stared at him with your mouth agape. "You- You'd help? Wh-what's the catch?" You couldn't accept he'd do this for nothing. If being with your ex taught you anything it's that no one was good for no good reason.

He smiled again, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Ain't no catch, honest. Jus' breaks my heart to see ya so freaked out."

You rubbed your arms nervously. "Sorry. I, um, thought you were my ex…"

Lester's face screwed up. "Well, whoever he is, hope he goes to hell if he'd scare ya that badly, sweetpea." 

Sweetpea was new. You felt your face warm up and you looked away shyly. He seemed trustworthy and he was cute, in a scruffy boyish way. You liked him. "I- I really appreciate it, Lester."

"'Course. Got two brothers'a my own so I get it." He watched you open your trunk and shuffle the bags around. "They ain't as well behaved as yer boys though."

Shouldering two of the bags, you snorted. "Yeah, you see 'em when its bathtime, then talk to me 'bout behaving."

The two of you were able to move most of your belongings along with the boy's car seats without issue. The truck smelt of rot and you scrunched your nose up when you spotted the dead deer in the back. "Sorry," Lester said, noticing your gaze. "Was workin' when I caught'cha. I promise everythin' in the car is clean though."

"It's okay." The smile you gave him was genuine even if he seemed surprised by it. "You're helping me. I ain't gonna shame you for your work. 'sides, someone's gotta do it, y'know?"

Lester, incredibly, gave you a surprised little smile as he watched you round up the boys. "Yeah. Yeah. You get it."

"The car smells weird." Peter said bluntly as you fastened him into his seat. Mikey had gone quietly, only squirming a little to voice his discomfort at being buckled in. He never liked confined spaces.

"Be nice, Peter." You shot him a look. "Lester's being kind to us, be kind to him, yeah?"

Peter glanced over at the man and smiled, all gap toothed and sweet. "Thank you for helpin' Mr Lester."

"'Course, lil man." Lester said, climbing into the front seat and rooting around in the glovebox. "Always happy to help." 

You climbed into the passenger seat beside Lester and felt the truck rumble to life. The truck was clearly old but you could tell Lester loved it dearly and took good care of it. Even if the engine shook the whole frame. The homemade charms littered with bones and feathers rattled like raindrops and he let out a little cheer. From out of the glovebox, he pulled out an old air freshener that smelt of disgustingly fake pine and strung it over the rearview mirror. "Best I got for the smell, sorry." He said with a sideways smile.

Your heart clenched. He was so kind to you for no reason and you almost teared up from the sweet gesture alone. "Thank you."

The truck rattled and the skull sitting on the dashboard unnerved you but you brushed it off. He worked with dead animals, something about it all just made sense. The boys didn't seem to care too much, happily nodding off only ten minutes into your drive.

"So how old're they?" Lester asked in a hushed voice, trying to not wake them.

"Just turned two a few months back. Twins, if you can believe it." You chuckled, sparing the boys a glance. They weren't identical in the slightest which you were slightly grateful for. You didn't want to be one of those parents who dressed their twins to look even more the same. "But, um, I guess they got to be too much for my ex. Managed to get out 'bout a week ago and we've been on the road since."

You felt Lester glance at you, giving you a once over. Unlike with most men, you didn't find yourself repulsed by his gaze. "He put his hands on ya?"

Shrugging, you turned your attention to the window to watch the trees. The sky was slowly getting darker, making them look like just black voids. At that moment, you became hyper aware of the ring still on your finger. The compulsion to throw it out the window was strong. "Yeah. A few times." You confessed quietly, closing your eyes to keep yourself from crying again. "More the boys than me, which kills me."

You didn't miss the way Lester's hands clutched the wheel tighter. "Well, there's a special place in hell for people like that. 's fuckin' repulsive." He grumbled that last part, like he didn't want the boys to hear it.

It made you laugh though. "You're right… It's just refreshing to hear." You tried to swallow around a lump in your throat. "All his friends were the only friends I had. Was allowed to have. And none of them were interested in helping me, much less believe me."

Lester scoffed. "Scumbags, the lotta'em. What happened ain't your fault, sweetpea don't let any of 'em get in your pretty lil' head that you did anythin' wrong." He paused, chewing on his lip before sighing. "My dad, he wasn't always the kindest to my brother. An' don't go telling this to nobody, ya hear? But I always hated folks who can jus' hurt their loved ones and keep goin' 'bout their damn business. Like it ain't botherin' em."

You knew he was right. It still brought tears to your eyes to have someone believe you. Someone who had no idea what your situation was and he was still defending you. Like your ex had no reason good enough for Lester to even ask about.

You definitely liked Lester.

"Town's just up this way," he said softly. The sight of streetlights was almost relieving to you after a long day of being on the road, hopping from gas station to gas station and only stopping at motels long enough to sleep. "Might get a lil' bit bumpy." 

Bumpy was an understatement. You almost thought you'd crashed as you felt the wheels bounce against rocks, shaking the car so violently you felt sick. Your arm shot out to try and catch your balance against the window and you only let out a breath when the truck came to a complete stop.

You and Lester shared a wide-eyed look. "Forgot to lay the planks down." 

Nothing about it was funny. But after the evening you had, you couldn't help but laugh. A genuine laugh. Something you hadn't done in a long time.

When Mikey began to cry from being woken up so violently, Lester got to him before you could. "Shh, s'alright lil' man, go back to sleep, shhh." He reached behind his seat to brush at his knee. "Sorry, almost there bud, jus' a bit further."

Eventually, Mikey settled back down, sniffling until he fell back asleep. When Lester sat back in his seat, he noticed your staring. "You have kids of your own or something? You're a natural at that."

He looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. "Nah, but, uh, used to babysit 'round here. Was always good with kids, I s'pose."

With the car on paved roads now, the drive up to the town was smooth. As expected of a tiny town, nobody was outside. The lights in the little shops were out and the houses were all dark. Except one house atop a hill, lit up like a lighthouse in a sea of darkness. Lester drove towards it and pulled to a stop just outside. It was a modest house, paint peeling off in places along the outside and cobwebs in high places of the awning over the door. "What's this place?" You asked as you quickly followed Lester out of the car. You were incredibly appreciative of Lester’s good deed but his car did smell like rotten meat. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too offended.

"Family home. Inn's prolly closed for the night but I betcha my brothers'll let ya stay for the night." Lester said as he opened the backseat and began to undo the straps of Mikey's car seat.

You were struck silent. "I- Lester I can't impose on your-"

There wasn't any time to protest as the front door swung open. A large man stood there, dressed in a mechanics jumpsuit and wearing a hat over thin curly hair. "Les? The hell's this?"

Lester smiled all innocently, like this was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. "Heya Bo. Brought guests."

Bo stared you both down before running a hand over his face in exasperation. "When I toldja to come by for dinner, I ain't meaning to bring your pretty lil' girlfriend with ya."

You blushed and stammered but Lester spoke up, lifting a sleeping Mikey into his arms like he was a precious artifact. Bo took notice and his eyes widened at the sight. "I, uh," he stammered inelegantly. "What's with the, uh…"

"His name's Mikey." You mumbled, suddenly feeling unwelcome. It wasn't uncommon for people to look at you strangely for the twins, like they were some curse. Or maybe it was just your exes friends who felt like that.

Bo nodded slowly. "Mikey. Right." He looked at Lester and stepped aside, letting him pass into the house with your baby. "Well then. You folks like lasagna?" 

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Whenever Les comes to visit for the eve, Vince always makes lasagna. Easy for him to take home 'n whatnot." Bo gave you a warm smile as he approached you slowly, like he was afraid you'd bolt. "If my lil' brother thinks you're good people… Well, I'm obliged to trust him. He ain't ever been wrong."

You watched Bo grab the bags you brought, only hesitating when he saw Peter, also fast asleep. "Sorry, um, I can-" You stuttered, reaching for the bags in Bo's hands.

He held onto them though, tilting his head towards Peter. "Don't even think 'bout it. You just bring your lil' one in. The gentlemanly thing to do is carry the bags." Bo gave you a flirtatious wink and went back inside.

You were left standing in the chilly, night air. The only light came from the inside of the house, which bathed the front porch and gravel walkway in warm, yellow light. You were cold and confused and absolutely exhausted. A part of you screamed against all instinct to accept their help, to trust these strangers. It had been so long since you'd trusted anyone, after all. You were desperate.

So you did.

Peter was already blinking awake from his short nap when you pushed the screen door open more and took in the house. It was a comfortable state of disarray. Throw pillows were propped against the couch at odd angles, family photographs decorated the walls in mismatched frames, and the room smelt of meat, cheese, and marinara sauce.

Lester and Bo's heads snapped to look at you. They'd clearly been whispering but they both smiled at you when you entered. Mikey was sitting on the couch, still a little bleary eyed, curled up against one of the velvety throw pillows that looked rustic and homemade. You sat Peter down beside him, brushing hair from their sleepy faces, and tried to ignore the brothers whispering. "Sorry," you mumbled as you approached them.

They both seemed surprised. "Why're you sorry?" Bo asked with a frown. "Y'ain't got nothin' to be sorry 'bout."

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, hung head low like a child being scolded. Fawn, your brain screamed. Fawn and they won't hurt you. "'m intruding with two kids, I- I know I'm not supposed to have come here, I just- Lester said the inn was closed, I didn't know where else to go, my car broke down-"

Lester cut your spiraling off by taking your hand and squeezing gently, grounding you. "Hey, hey, sweetpea," he kept his voice low and soothing, "We're happy to have ya. All three'a ya. Honest."

Bo nodded along, frowning at how quickly you retreated inwards. Lester had mentioned to him very briefly while you were outside about how your ex laid hands on you and the boys. It was what got him fully on board with offering you help. So seeing you like this broke his heart just that little bit more.

"I'm gonna go talk to Vince, let him know we got guests." Bo said as he swung open the basement door. "Les, make sure our guests are comfortable, yeah?"

Lester nodded, humming his agreement as he pulled you to his chest for a hug. You went willingly, your hands curled up in the fabric of his shirt as he hooked his arms around your shoulders. "Yeah, I got 'em." He said, shooting his brother a smile as he hugged you.

Bo nodded and descended to the basement.

Vincent hated to be disturbed while working. His brothers especially knew how entranced he'd get in a project, focused on perfecting every piece. Their mother had made him an incredible artist, which often meant he'd neglect everything, even himself, for the sake of his work. Oftentimes, Lester or Bo had to come downstairs to make sure he didn't collapse from exhaustion or dehydration. Especially when summer hit and the basement's heat was suffocating.

So Vincent didn't even lift his head when Bo came to a stop in the entryway, too focused on mending a crack in the cheek of his sculpture. "We got a visitor, Vince." Bo said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Vincent work. The latest sculpture was of a woman in a flapper dress, perfect for the House of Wax. 

He nodded, assuming it was just Lester. Though he didn't see a reason why Bo would bother him just for that. So, regrettably, he looked up from his work.

"They got kids."

And that made Vincent straighten up. "Kids?" He signed slowly, like he wasn't sure he heard him right.

"Yeah." Bo said through a sigh. "Two lil' guys. Too old for breastfeedin' but too young for preschool. Hard to say though, been awhile since any of us were that old." He chucked humorlessly.

Vincent looked towards the wax figure slowly. "We promised Lester we wouldn't hurt children."

Bo nodded, looking annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. They're a pretty lil' thing too. Would be perfect for the museum, but, of course, Lester found 'em first."

"They can't see me," Vincent suddenly became frantic. "The children will be afraid."

The other man winced, hissing through his teeth. "Sorry bro, already promised your cookin' tonight." But Bo didn't seem that remorseful, even when his twin leveled him with an unimpressed look. "When's dinner, by the way?"

"What time is it?" Vincent signed, finally aware of the passage of time. It was easy to get lost in his work, though he promised himself he'd only come down for a few minutes to double check something. But it was easy for him to get lost.

"'s only quarter past 9. Why?"

Vincent finally moved, hurrying past. Bo was only able to make out "oven" before his brother was out of sight.

Thankfully, nothing was burnt. Vincent hadn't even spared you a glance yet, too focused on not burning the house down. Once the food was set atop the stove to cool down, he turned around to face you.

You were sat on the couch with Lester and the boys, who were trying their best to stay awake. "You must be Vincent," you said with a sniff. You knew your eyes were red from crying. Lester had sat with you, holding you while you wept. It was hard, feeling cared for. Especially by strangers.

Pain was familiar. This kindness overwhelmed you.

Vincent became shy when you addressed him, hiding behind long hair and doing his best to keep out of your sight. But Bo, never one to let his twin have peace, grabbed his arm to keep him from hiding. "Yep, managed to finally pull 'im outta that basement for dinner. Whaddya say, Vinny? You up for a proper meal with our guests?"

If looks could kill, Bo would have erupted into flames, reduced to ashes on the carpet. "Do I have a choice?" Vincent signed, managing to look annoyed even behind his mask.

"Nah." Bo smiled, all teeth and no kindness. "You set the table, I'll get enough chairs ready."

Lester turned to you, brushing stray tears away. His heart hurt when you'd started bawling after Bo left, babbling to him that you felt horrible for intruding and forcing his family to help you just because of the kids. He swore if he ever got his hands on your ex, they'd wish Vince or Bo had gotten to them first. "You okay?" He asked you gently, giving you what he hoped was a sincere smile.

You nodded, sniffing once. "Yeah, um, sorry for-"

"If you 'pologize to me for cryin', I'mma beat the ever lovin' shit outta your ex, sweetpea." Lester said, relishing in your chuckle. "We're happy to help ya, really."

Sniffing again, you nodded and wiped your eyes. "I really appreciate it. More than I think you know."

The look he gave you was impossibly soft. Like you were something precious. Lester's hand cupped your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, making your mouth fall open in surprise. "You deserve it, sweetpea. Y'really do." 

Bo coughed, making Lester roll his eyes. The two shared pointed looks before Bo turned to you. "Your lil' ones need high chairs or, uh, somethin'?"

You glanced down at the boys and sighed. "I think they're down for the count."

"You can use my room upstairs." Lester said. "I ain't sleep there much anymore so it oughta be clean." Before you could even think to protest, he tapped your nose. "And don't you get all apologetic on me. I wouldn't offer it if it weren't alright."

Honestly, you were a bit relieved to get to sleep in a real bed. So you thanked them quietly, gathered the boys up in your arms, and carried them upstairs. "Second door on the right," Bo called up after you.

As soon as your footsteps couldn't be heard on the creaky wooden stairs anymore, Lester was the first to speak. "I hope you two ain't forgotten your promise."

"Lester, I toldja to find someone for the museum-" Bo hissed, anger sharp on his face.

But the younger Sinclair didn't back down. "If Mama knew you two'd killed two lil' boys, whaddya think she'd do? She'd say somethin' 'bout how if someone took y'all from her, she'd raise hell."

"Don't bring Mama into this." Bo glared daggers at Lester.

Vincent knocked on the countertop to get their attention. "He's right. We made a promise."

"We can't fuckin' keep 'em here!" Bo said, careful to keep his voice down.

"Don't gotta." Lester said, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "They ran outta gas. Let 'em stay the night, drop 'em back off at their car, they'll go on. Ain't no trouble."

Bo groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Why do you even care so bad?"

Lester flushed, blotchy pink spots on his cheeks, and shrugged. "They're nice. 'n I feel bad. Their ex laid hands on those lil' babies an' I'd do anything to get five minutes alone with that sonuvabitch."

Vincent's eyes widened. "You didn't mention that!" He signed harshly at Bo.

"Didn't exactly have a moment to tell ya." He sighed with obvious frustration. "Fine, alright, we keep 'em for one night. They're gone in the mornin', ya hear?"

The three of them were quiet for awhile, listening to your footsteps overhead as you set the boys up in Lester's old room. "Swear on Mama," Lester said, keeping his voice low, "That I ain't gonna be seein' any lil' boy statues."

"Lester-!" Bo hissed.

"Swear!" Lester shot back. The two were up in each other's faces at this point.

Vincent, ever the peacemaker, knocked on the counter again. "We swear on Mama."

"Don't fuckin' speak for me, freak!" Bo huffed. But Vincent fixed him with a glare and he sighed in defeat. "Fine. Swear on Mama. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to those three."

The youngest seemed satisfied. At that moment, you came back down the stairs, frowning slightly when you noticed them. "Everything okay?" You asked as though sensing the tension in the room.

"Yep!" Lester said with a wide grin. "Hungry?"

"Starving." You smiled back. 

Dinner was awkward at first, especially since you struggled to understand Vincent. But Bo and Lester happily translated and conversation began to flow easier, which you were grateful for.

"So, how long has it just been the three of you?" You asked as you took a bite out of the lasagna. Warm and cheesy and exactly what you needed after a week of gas station food.

Bo hummed as he swallowed. "'Bout ten years now. Went by in a blip, feels like."

"Oh," you frowned, "What happened? If, um, I can ask."

Vincent nodded, still nervously picking at his food. You'd noticed he only ate when you weren't looking so he could lift the mask, which saddened you. He seemed like a nice guy and you wondered what happened in the past to make him hide his face. But you did your best to look away periodically to give him a chance to eat and hopefully let him know it was fine. He probably got enough grief for it as is, you didn't need to add on.

Judging by the slowly disappearing food on his plate, you figured that was the right thing to do.

"Mama got sick. Real sick." Bo sighed sadly. "She was a really great artist, losing her hit the town hard."

"I'm sorry." You said gently. But Lester was the only one of the brothers who seemed sad. Something about that confused you. Why wouldn't they miss their parents?

You took a bite of the food. That wasn't your business.

Vincent began talking about his art then. Bo seemed to roll his eyes and ignored his signing, uninterested in translating. But Lester picked it up in his place, helping his brother talk about his art. He enjoyed painting in his free time but he primarily sculpted with wax.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You sculpt?"

"Vinny's the main artist in the House of Wax down the street." Bo nodded, answering for him. "Maybe t'morrow we'll take you 'n the boys to see it."

Vincent fidgeted with the ends of his hair, clearly embarrassed. You shot him a warm smile. "I'm sure Vincent's art is great. I look forward to it."

Once dinner was over, Bo and Lester disappeared into the living room with a couple of beers so you and Vince had the chance to wash dishes. The peaceful white noise of the running water and the simple swirling of washing dishes was nice after a long day. Vincent helped, taking whatever dish you passed him and drying it, setting it aside on the nearby dishrack.

He seemed to appreciate the silence. You almost wished you knew sign language so you could talk to him beyond yes or no questions. But you tried to ignore the shock you felt when your fingers brushed sometimes.

If he noticed, he didn't bring it up.

The soft sound of crying alarmed you. You spun around and saw Mikey standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing and sobbing silently. He cried for you and ran towards you, wailing for comfort. You'd barely dried your hands before you were reaching down, scooping him up into your arms. "Shhh, it's okay," you soothed him gently, Mikey had always been the more sensitive one. Waking up in a new, unfamiliar place must have startled him, you thought to yourself as you swayed with him gently.

He nodded, whimpering. "Scared."

"I can imagine." You kissed his cheek gently, rocking him like you'd done when he was an infant, needing to be settled before bed. "It's okay baby, you're alright," you repeated the mantra over and over as you heard Vincent turn off the water behind you.

Hearing his heavy footsteps behind you, you turned to face him and shifted Peter so he could see him. The tall man blinked slowly at Peter, tilting his head curiously at your son. "Mikey,, this is Vincent. He and his brothers are letting us spend the night so you and Peter can sleep in a bed." 

Mikey seemed to consider this before reaching up to try and touch Vincent's face. "Hi," he whispered.

Vincent flinched slightly but didn't step back. Instead, he offered his hand for the young boy to grab at. Mikey giggled as he grabbed at Vincent's fingers and hand, seemingly satisfied. "Did you wake your brother?" You asked after a moment and winced when your son nodded. "Where did he wander off to?"

"Over here," You turned your head to see Peter half asleep slumped against Bo, barely even keeping his eyes open. Neither of the men seemed bothered though. Bo even raised his beer bottle jokingly, "Seems he's ready to get drinkin' already." He teased and you snorted.

"God I wish they'd just stay small forever. I can't even imagine them starting school yet, much less drinking." You paled at the mere thought. It seemed like only yesterday they were just born and now you felt nauseous whenever you think about them starting kindergarten. Being away from your kids for extended periods of time felt terrifying.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Vincent signing something to you. Shit. Luckily, Lester translated from his seat on the couch, "He's askin' if ya want help bringin' em upstairs?"

Blinking a few times, you nodded at Vincent with a smile. "Yeah, I'd appreciate it! Here," you adjusted Mikey before passing the toddler into Vincent's arms carefully, "just support him here," you guided his arms to the right spaces and ignored the way your heart melted seeing him asleep in someone's arms. Reminded you of easier times before you and your partner split. "Lemme grab Peter and we can head upstairs." Vincent nodded to you and waited patiently by the stairs as you stole Peter back from Bo.

You felt the pair's eyes on you as you wished them goodnight from over your shoulder and headed upstairs with Vincent trailing behind. He carried Mikey like he was fragile, breakable, and you found it incredibly endearing. You set Peter down onto the bed, nestled back in the little blanket fort to prevent them from rolling off the bed, kissing him softly goodnight. Vincent mirrored your actions with Mikey and just stroked his cheek with his thumb in lieu of a kiss. "Thanks for your help. All three of you," you whispered to him. Vincent looked at you, shadows hiding his eyes from you. "It means the world to me that you're all willing to help. I know the boys appreciate it too." You smiled at him as you stood quietly. "I should get to bed," you trailed off and Vincent nodded but didn't leave the room.

Instead, he reached his hand out towards you before tilting his head, asking permission. You gave him a curious nod and felt his hand touch your cheek, stroking under your eye like he'd done to Mikey. "Night Vincent," you whispered and ignored how your face warmed up.

He shut the door as he stepped out of the room,padding down to rejoin his brothers in the living room. None of them said a word to each other but they all had the same thought: they wanted you to stay.

The next morning, Bo collected your car and brought it to the gas station to fill back up. You'd chatted about your plans to keep going west when he'd mentioned missing you. "Place jus' feels more lively with you 'round, s'all." He'd shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

You'd gestured to the empty streets before climbing into the passenger's seat. "You sure that ain't just because this town is quiet as is?"

Bo just gave you a smile. 

When you tried to start your car, it seemed to spur, dead. "What the-?"

"Everythin' alright?" He asked, leaning against the window frame.

"It sounds like the battery's dead?" You frowned, trying again to start the car.

Bo jerked his head, urging you to follow him. "Lemme take a look." You followed him around to the hood of your car and he flipped it open. He hummed as he looked around, face screwing up in surprise. "Your fan belt tore."

"My what?" You blinked owlishly at him. He gave you a look of bewilderment and you just sighed. "You definitely know more about cars than me."

He snorted at you and slammed the hood closed. "I don't think I got any in the shop but I could order one for ya and have it in a few days."

That wouldn't do. "I- I need to get back on the road soon." Panic began to rise in your chest and tighten your throat. "If we're found here, then I'd have to…" You didn't want to think about it, you said to yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut. Obviously you had a plan if you got caught but you really, really, didn't want it to come to that.

Bo nudged you gently and gave you a warm smile. "Hey, we'll look out for ya. Ain't no one gonna hurt'cha here in Ambrose. Not get many tourists anywhere, doubt they'd think to look for ya here."

You sighed. You didn't exactly have much of a choice. If your car wouldn't start, you'd just have to wait.

The two of you were walking back to the house and you felt Bo kept glancing at you. Right before you were going to ask about it, he spoke up. "I know ya wanna go see the House of Wax. Which is all fine 'n good, but ya gotta know somethin' 'fore you go there."

"Sure..?" You said plainly.

Bo sighed loudly, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "So, when Mama got sick, Vince had been away at a real good art college." You nodded along to show you were listening. Bo looked guilty. "When she got worse, I needed help takin' care'a her. Lester and I were away workin' and she needed someone at home. So, uh, near her end…" He sighed again. "I called him back home. It's, uh, still a sore spot. Wasn't able to go back, since he got in on scholarships. An' we didn't have the funds anyway, her bills were too much."

The silence was deafening. "I'm sorry." You said, at a loss for words. "I- I won't bring it up then."

"I 'preciate it. He an' I don't talk 'bout it anymore. If he goes with ya, just don't ask."

You nodded, giving Bo a small smile. "I'm sure he doesn't blame you for it."

The man smiled back at you but you could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

Taking a small sidestep, you bumped your shoulders together. "I know so."

Later that night, things changed.

You'd gone to bed after showering and bathing the boys, the three of you all fast asleep in the bedroom. Vincent and Bo had gone to their own rooms while Lester slept on the couch. None of you heard the two cars that pulled into the town, driving slowly down the streets looking for any sign of life. After no luck at the first few houses, a small group of people approached the Sinclair's house, heavy footfalls making the little porch staircase creak under the stress.

They knocked on the front door and a dog could be heard barking in the backyard.

Lester had stumbled awake in surprise, his brain taking a minute to catch up. No one should be at the door because nobody else was alive in Ambrose. He still went to the door, opening it with a tired yawn. "Yeah?"

A man smiled at him, an acidic look that made bile burn the back of Lester's throat. "I'm looking for someone. Do you happen to know if there's been someone visiting your town?"

Freezing, Lester immediately recognized the man. Even though they'd never met face to face, he knew everything about this man. All child abusers look the same, Lester thought as he recalled his father. They all look like scum.

"Well, I ain't too sure. I work the night shift, I jus' got home. But my brother Bo might'a seen 'em. He works down at the autoshop." He said through a yawn. 

"I'd hope so. Considering their car is in his shop." The man smiled, trying to force his way into the door, calling your name.

Lester shoved him back, slamming the door and locking it with a loud thud. He ignored your ex's screaming as he ran up the stairs. 

Bo was opening his door before Lester could even knock. "The hell're you-?!"

"Guests." Lester panted, frozen in place as he kept an ear out in case your door opened. "Their ex is here."

His brother's eyes widened and he stormed to Vincent's door, knocking once before opening. He tore the blankets off Vincent and shook him viciously. "Get up, get the knives, we got intruders."

Vincent snapped awake, blinking through sleep-mussed hair. "Mm?" He said around his exhausted yawn.

"Intruders! Vince! Now!" Bo snapped. "I'll get my shotgun. You helpin' out, Les?"

Lester huffed, thinking it over. "Y'know I ain't a killer, right?"

Bo didn't have time for this. "You helpin' or NOT, Les?"

The younger brother sighed. "Does dad still keep a spare gun in his office?"

"Did he ever stop?" Bo said with a smirk, pulling his boots on his feet.

Vincent stumbled to his feet, putting his own boots on to sneak back down into the basement. If he went down and through the House of Wax, they could pin the group down. Bo'd meet them head on while Lester slipped around the side of the house to catch the strays. They vowed to make quick work of all of them but save your ex for last.

The Sinclair brothers were going to protect you. No matter what.

I love when the reader is as unhinged as their slasher partner 😊

Hi honey. How are you? I hope your week is going great.

If possible, I would like to request something. Bo x Fem Reader? Maybe before Ambrose was left alone she was the typical girl destined to be Prom Queen, only she was dating Bo Sinclair and now she's back to support her ex-boyfriend/boyfriend in her murderous business?

Feel free to ignore this if it's too annoying or specific or anything. Illy, stay safe.

Hello love, I'm doing good thanks, hope you're well too <3

Thank you very much for this request! I haven't had the occasion to write for Bo and reader as a couple before, so I was quite excited about this! Hopefully you'll enjoy <3

Also female reader, with no description (not even for the outfit)

BACK INTO BO'S ARMS

Warnings: mentions of murders, morally grey/psycho reader, sexual innuendos, one or two strong words.

You were at your parents house for the weekend. It was nice to be with them from time to time, and it allowed you to reconnect with your childhood. You were laying on your bed, looking through the album photos your mother so patiently made. You had laughed at how she dressed you when you were a baby, but now you were humming in approval as you looked at your prom dresses. You remembered one night in particular. It was your last year of high school, and you were wearing such a pretty green dress. You had been the Prom Queen that night and you had felt so proud and happy then. But the most important event of that night was the slow dance you had with Bo Sinclair. He was your partner for the party, which was logical because he was your boyfriend at the time. 

He was the first man you ever loved, and you gave him your first kiss and your first time. You never regretted it, because no matter how rough and rude he could be to others, he had always been gentle with you. Of course you had argued more than once, but he would always give you a chocolate box to apologise. You knew his brothers were behind it; Lester told you once that Bo was nicer after he had spent a whole afternoon with you. You remembered Vincent too, and more than once you had stood up for him. You never let anyone speak bad about him, not even Bo. Vincent liked you for that and made you little drawings quite often. You tried to stay away from Bo’s parents though, and Bo prefered it that way too. Actually, he prefered to keep you all to himself when he could. His hands would then be roaming your body. It wasn’t necessarily sexual, he just enjoyed to touch you. The boy was clearly possessive but you always felt safe with him. Your parents weren’t too happy with this relationship but Bo kept you safe. 

When you arrived in Ambrose, you were a new girl and people weren’t too nice with you because you were a stranger in a small town in which everyone knew everybody. But Bo was quick to stick to you and to protect you. He continued like that, and he became even more protective once you started to date. No one would ever dare touch you or say something rude to you. Actually, Bo helped you a lot with your confidence, and you would forever be thankful for that. Of course, it wasn’t always nice and pretty with him, and you had to deal with his anger issues, but you both loved each other very much. 

You sighed as you watched a photo of him and you had to admit you really regretted having broken up with him. But at that time, Ambrose was slowly being deserted as there was no more gold in the mines, and your parents wanted you to go to college. After a year of distant relationship, you understood it wouldn’t work out because Bo was getting badly jealous. When you put an end to your relationship, you had discovered a very vulnerable side of Bo, before he exploded in anger. You ran away even though you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but better be safe than sorry. 

You had always thought about this event with an aching heart. You wished things had been different because, still now, you were missing him. You had never met another man like him in your life; a man who would make you feel safe and wanted, and who would do anything for you. What you loved the most about him was that he was ready to burn the whole town to the ground if anyone ever hurt you. His intensity and his passion were quite something that were wakening your own. You had never felt more yourself than when you were with him, because he wouldn’t judge you or change you. He loved you the way you were, and made it quite clear even if he wasn’t always good with words. His constant touch when you were in private or in public, always reminded you he loved you, no matter what your mother could say. She had always warned you that he would cheat on you or hurt you at some point, but Bo was loyal. He considered you as his fiancée. You were almost certain that he was planning on proposing to you before you broke up. He was a family man, and he would never betray his people.

You sighed again. It has been so many years now. You even finished university. But you never had the strength to call him and Bo was too proud to look after you. You wished he had though. After high school, you remembered he had bought a little garage in Ambrose to work there as a mechanic. Actually the phone number of it was written on the last page of the album. You weren’t too sure what you were doing but you took your phone and you dialled the number. You were pretty certain the number didn’t exist anymore but your heart was beating quickly inside your chest. After a little while, a southern accented voice answered you and you were glad you were laying on your bed or your legs would have never been able to carry you.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm, hi. I’m sorry to bother you, I was just trying an old phone number… Is that Ambrose’s garage?” you asked and you could tell the man at the other side of the line was quite confused.

“How did ya get that number?” he finally asked and you took your courage in both your hands before asking back:

“Bo, is that you?”. The man didn’t answer for a few seconds before asking as well:

“Y/N?”

“Yes.” you just said because you were grinning like an idiot. You couldn’t believe the man was still in Ambrose, and working in that garage, but you were so happy he did. You had missed him so much, and even though you didn’t expect Bo to still be the same person as before, you needed him back in your life, at least for a proper and softer closure.

“Didn’t recognise your voice, but recognised the way ya said my name” he commented and you heard him pull a chair to sit down on it.

“I can’t believe the number still works!” you said

“No one uses it anymore, can’t believe ya still have it” he replied

“Are you working? Maybe I’m bothering you?”

“Ya never bothered me, love” he said and you swore this man still had the power to make you blush. You were happy he couldn’t see your face at that moment. The nickname he so often used woken up butterflies in the pit of your stomach, and you realised you were playing a very dangerous game with your own heart. But it was worth it.

“I was looking through photos of our last high school prom… And apparently I have written this number down and I thought I could give it a try.” you explained

“Ah yeah. Little Prom Queen I had in my arms back then” he commented “Still have your crown layin’ somewhere around” he replied and you could tell you weren’t the only one who missed that period of your life.

“Do you?” you chuckled “Never thought you were a hoarder” you gently teased and you heard him smiling.

“Couldn’t get rid of somethin’ ya gave me” he simply said but you knew there was a lot more emotions behind it than Bo wanted you to believe.

“I still have your grandma’s bracelet. Whenever I need extra luck, I put it on” you replied to let him know you still cared about him as well.

“‘M glad. It was suitin’ ya well.” he said before pausing for a few instants “Maybe ya could come to Ambrose for dinner if ya ain’t too far away?” he offered and there was hope in his voice.

“Count on me” you said without hesitation. “See you tonight then!” you added before hanging on. 

You stayed like that, laying on your bed for a little while. You couldn’t believe you were about to see Bo tonight! You were getting very excited now and when you finally got up, it was in order to find the right outfit. You wanted the man to be blown away the second he would see you. It was important to you; despite all the years that went by. You found the perfect outfit, an outfit in which you felt sexy and attractive, and comfortable at the same time. 

You had a nice shower and decided to pamper yourself to feel even better for this first meeting. You took care of your hair and face as well before dressing up. You checked one last time and went upstairs. Your mother greeted you with a bright smile and told you how pretty you looked. But she quickly understood there was something going on, and she tried to know with whom you were having a date. You tried to argue it wasn’t a date, but she didn’t believe you, and you started to realise that indeed you were about to have a date with Bo Sinclair. She finally let you go but reminded you to be careful. You told her you weren’t sure you would be back tonight and she tried to not worry about you. You were a big girl and you had always been able to take care of yourself. 

You climbed into your car and drove to Ambrose. It felt so strange to be back there but it was like coming home. Ambrose was the place that held the most of your happy memories. You met a truck as you were driving and you were pretty sure you knew the man but you weren’t certain who he was. He stopped his truck to ask you if you were lost or anything.

“Oh no, I know the roads. I grew up in Ambrose” you said.

“Y/N! Bo said ya were comin’! Damn, ya lookin’ good!” Lester exclaimed.

“Lester! You grew up so much, I wasn’t sure it was you” you chuckled, trying to not blush at the compliment coming your way. “Am I coming too early? We didn’t agree on an hour?” you asked. You didn’t want to intrude but Lester shook his head.

“Bo was cookin’ last time I saw him, and tellin’ Vincent to not bother the two of ya” he sent you a knowing look and you did blush this time.

“Still so mean to his twin” you pouted to pretend you didn’t understand the allusion. “Should go then, it was nice seeing you.” you smiled

“Hopefully we’ll see ya around more often. Ya put Bo in a good mood… As it used to be” he told you and you smiled even more. You waved him goodbye and continued your journey. 

You drove to the Sinclairs’ house and parked in front of it. You just had the time to get out of the car that the front door was being opened by Bo. You both stopped and looked at each other with desire. Bo had definitively become the handsome man you knew he would become, and from the way he watched you, you became his dream girl, like he knew you would. He gave you his signature smirk as he walked to you. You smiled back at him.

“Looking good, Sinclair” you greeted him as you enjoyed the dark suit he was wearing. He was looking like a very fine demon… the devil himself actually. You always knew he was putting the “sin” in “Sinclair” anyways.

“And ya’re hot as a two-dollar pistol, love” he flirted back right away. You gave him a kiss on the cheek as you couldn’t express how happy you were.

“I met Lester, he said you were cooking” you said

“Yeah, the food’s all good. Come” he placed his hand on the small of your back, as he used to do, and guided you inside his house. 

You looked around. It really hadn’t changed a lot since his parents died, but you didn’t mind. It had its charm. Bo pulled you a chair and you sat at the table. He placed the food on the middle of the table before serving you. He was really doing everything right you thought, as you couldn’t stop from devouring him with your eyes. He noticed it, which flattered his ego, but truth to be told, he was looking at you the same way. The connection you used to have between the two of you was clearly still there. It had waited for you, and with all the years apart, it was burning with even more passion than before.

“I’m glad you ain’t mad at me for the way we broke up” you said

“Ya broke up” he reminded you before humming “‘s true I was quite upset with ya” he admitted “but ‘m glad ya called” he said. “Did ya finish school?”

“Yeah, I’m about to start working now, I just need to find a job.” you replied

“And it could be in Ambrose?” he asked with hope

“Well I’m not sure there is any kind of job for me here.” you said with a gentle smile. You were wondering how Bo and his brothers could still live here.

“I can find you something” he said with assurance

“Why would you do that?” you arched an eyebrow.

“For ya to come back home” he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You started to eat and praised him for the food before adding:

“You’re talking as if you’re eager to resume our relationship as if it never stopped”

“I am. Was about to propose to ya back then”. He said. You arched an eyebrow and he quickly added before he could scare you off “I mean, we can wait to get married”. You looked at him in disbelief before laughing. He frowned, not sure how to interpret your laugh, and not taking it too kindly. You placed your hand on his and softly apologised.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just no one ever wanted to marry me except you. And it blows my mind that you still want that, even after everything. I mean what if I’m not the girl you fell in love with? We both grew up.”

“I fucked around with girls after ya, but I never felt what I felt for ya. We both changed, of course, but only to get back together”

“Are you talking to me about fate now?”

“’m serious 'bout it. Why did ya call me then? Why did ya doll up for me?”

“Alright, Sinclair, you won, what’s the job you’re offering me then?”

Bo paused and watched you for a while, as if he was having an inner debate.

“Look, could have a job for ya but I need to trust ya for that. And ya'd have to get ready to live here” he said and you frowned. You could tell when Bo was up to no good.

“What’s going on in there, Bo? I thought the town was empty; it doesn’t even exist on a map anymore. And yet, I heard the bell of the church and I saw people at their windows.”

He stared at you for a little longer again before leaning into his seat.

“Do ya remember when we accidentally killed that guy who was botherin’ Lester and we found Vinny to turn the dead asshole into a wax sculpture so we could hide the body in front of everyone? It’s what we do here, with unlucky tourists. We get their money and they become the attraction. I fix cars too of course, but we mostly live from this.”

You stared at him for an instant, hoping he was kidding, but he was deadly serious. You had wanted to forget about this story, but you were still dreaming about it. You hated yourself to not be terrified by this event. In fact, you had enjoyed the adrenaline rushing through your veins and how close to Bo you felt that day. Bo particularly remembered how passionately you made love to him after that. It was then he knew you were the one to him. Instead of running away from him, you had been thrilled.

“The cops…”

“They don’t even fuckin’ know this town exists” he cut you before you could argue back.

“I don’t want to kill” you finally said and you wondered if Bo was going to let you go after everything he just revealed to you. He shushed you and brought your hand to his lips.

“Never said ya’d have to. Wouldn’t put ya into such danger, ya should know it by now. But ya’re so angelic lookin’ still, ya could lure people into my traps so easily” he purred as he leaned toward you, your hand still in his.

You didn’t answer for an instant, even though you knew what your heart wanted, like Bo did.

“If you fuck me good enough, I might say yes” you smirked as lunacy swirled into your eyes and Bo only grinned back at you before winking.

“Finish your food and ‘m gona remind ya what ya’ve missed for years, love”

jealous slashers~!✧

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Alexa, play Love to Die by the Slashstreet Boys

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Bo

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

Bo Sinclair X Reader (Oneshot(unfinished))

Requested by the lovely and wonderful @charliedawn

Synopsis: In which reader has become very interested in Bos hands, Bo takes notice and teases them.

Reader is g/n. They/Them pronouns will be used.

Warnings: Not many, some language, and innuendos on Bos end.

NOT PROOFREAD.

It was a warm day in Louisiana. Magnolias were in bloom and birds were heard chirping happily overhead. (Y/N) stretched in the porch chair they were sitting in, feeling a few satisfying pops along their spine. Bo had ceased work on his truck to enjoy the early afternoon with them, having stepped inside for a beer and a (favourite drink) for them. (Y/N) relaxed back into the chair as their thoughts began to drift. First about the birds, then about the truck, then about Bo working on said truck. About how his hands expertly moved around wires and valves in the engine. How strong and flexible his hands must be. How they might feel holding their own hand. Their thoughts were interupted by an ice cold beer can touching the back of their neck.

"ACK! GOD DAMMNIT BEAUREGARD!" They jumped out of their chair and turned on the now cackling brunet. He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

"Oh calm down." He handed them their drink. "Its not even that cold!"

"You just pulled in out of the fridge!" They reached for their drink, fingers just brushing his. "Its freezing-" they trailed off. They looked at the drink in their hands, no not at the drink. Bo's hand still holding it their fingers crossed together. His fingers were callused but soft. They felt themselves wanting more of them. But Bo pulled his hand away, and popped the tab on his can. He took a big swig.

"I should get back to work." He gave (Y/N) a small smile. "You're welcome to help if you want!" He took off down the porch steps and headed over to his truck.

(Y/N) took a sip of their drink, their fingers still tingling from the short contact. They sighed wistfully and followed after Bo. The leaned gently against the truck while Bo messed with the engine. He occasionally asked for a tool. (Y/N) handed him the tools and went back to watching his hands. Their mind began to wander again.

They could see the tendons moving under his skin. They wondered what his hands would feel like pressed against their bare sides. Squeezing and tugging at the flesh. Would they be rough with his calluses or soft from the oil?Their face flushed slightly at the thought. Bo held his hand out and asked them something.

"Hm? What?" They shook their head to clear the fog, and looked at his hand.

"I asked for the wrench over there on your left?" He questioned. "Are you alright? You've been pretty distracted today."

"Oh yeah im fine. Just thinking." They picked up the wrench and handed it to him, their hand lingering again. When they pulled away they let their finger brush his palm. He raised an eyebrow but shrugged and continued with the engine. They worked in relative silence for the rest of the afternoon.

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

It was getting quite humid when they decided to finally head back inside. Lester was chilling on the couch and Vincent was off in his basement working on an art project. Bo headed off to the kitchen to wash his hands, while (Y/N) plopped themselves down on the couch next to Lester.

Lester could sense the tension and inquired about what was wrong.

"It's just..." They started, wondering if it was okay to tell Lester about the hand fixation they had on his brother. They decided not to, considering their little "problem" was their weird fixation on Bos hands. You shouldn't tell his brothers about that... That's just weird.

"Don't worry about it Les." They assured him. "I'll be fine."

Lester shrugged and began to pet Jonesys head. He then began talking about his day. (Y/N) simply nodded and listened.

Meanwhile Bo was in the kitchen washing his hands. (Y/N) seemed very hyperfocused on them. He had a theory but would need to test it. After he dried them he snuck up the stairs past the couch and grabbed a bottle of Jergens (a top tier lotion btw) and began massaging it into his hands. Once it had all soaked in he made his way back down the stairs rubbing his hands together to warm them up. He turned the corner to see Lester rolling on the floor with Jonesy laughing, while she playfully growled and barked.

(Y/N) sat laughing at their display of affection. Bo walked into the couch pushing them aside and sitting down. He then pulled them onto his lap.

AND THAT'S ALL FOLKS...

I could not bring myself to finish this. I'm sorry to @charliedawn who requested this but I just could not do it. It's been hard trying to get back into writing but I'm not gonna make up excuses for myself other than, I've never been a good writer, in the sense that I just don't like it. I'm sorry again! 😓

COUGH COUGH, this was too- much that I LOVE IT

Rings and Keeps

@fluffy-little-demon and @sketchy-rosewitch, I give you, your husband—

Bo Sinclair x reader

“Are you sure you haven’t seen him in the shop?”

“Sorry, y/n,” Lester said over the phone. “Haven’t seen Bo all day. Promise.”

You sighed tiredly and said, “Okay, Les. Call back if you hear from him.” You hung up and looked nervously at the front door again. It’s not like your fiancé to up and leave Ambrose without telling anyone, let alone, not tell you. So, why’d he left? What made him up and leave?

Is he getting milk and cigarettes like my dad did? You thought jokingly to yourself, but that didn’t help you at all.

Still, dinner had to be finished and put away. You didn’t want to eat without him, and you felt too nervous with him gone. So, you started pacing to keep your mind off things. Back and forth in the house you tried to keep your thoughts on something else. Baseball. Football. Weather. Vincent. Lester and his raccoon army (don’t tell the twins). Bo’s ass— but noting. You flopped down on the couch and hugged a throw pillow as you looked at the door.

Maybe he doesn’t love me? Maybe he up and left to figure out the best way to kill me?

“No, don’t think about that,” you told yourself in a whisper. “Bo’s fine. He might be getting something.”

When 10:30 struck on the clock, Bo’s truck lights lit up the front of the living room, but you were already asleep, cuddling Bo’s sweatshirt, when he walked in the house. He bit his lower lip nervously as his eyes found you sleeping on the sofa. Quietly, he took off his jacket and hung his hat next to a picture him and you, where he’s hugging you from behind and your laughing in the summer’s glow. Vincent took this gem and had it framed next to his hook on purpose, but Bo’s not one for complaining. It just reminds him what his aching arms are for when he comes home to you, to his beloved.

He kneels in front of you and kisses you gently to wake you up. “Sweetheart,” he drawled tiredly. “‘M home.”

He watched your sleepy eyes flutter open as he thumbed your cheek. “Bo? Where have you been?” Your voice is so soft and tired it reminds him of a kitten.

“Was gettin’ somethin’,” he hummed.

“What?”

“Gimme your right hand.”

You do as your told and showed him your hand. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a little black box. Your eyes brighten as he slipped on a simple silver ring with a small white diamond in the center. “It ain’t much,” he started, “but I thought ya need somethin’ better than ‘at paper ring.”

“Bo,” you sigh, getting a better look at it. “You didn’t—“

“Hush,” he said. “I wanna do something right for ya. So, I, well…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I sold the ‘86 Dodge.”

“But,” you sat up and held his cheeks. He rested into your touch and closed his eyes. “But that’s your baby!”

He shrugs. “I know, y/n, I know, but,” he kissed your palm, “I wanna to do something good for you. Somethin’ right.” He leaned back and took your hands. “I wanna to give ya somethin’ better than Mama’s ring. Shit,” he eyes shines as he looks up to meet your eyes, “when I saw ya looking at that ring the other day, I knew I had to get it for ya because…” his voice trails as his head fell. “I’m afraid to lose you. I have so much blood on my hands, so how? How can you even stand me? Let alone, love me?” You’ve never heard him talk like this before, and this side of trust was so valuable that you felt like he was glass waiting to shatter. “Just wanted to do something right for once.”

Your shoulders fell, and you pulled Bo into your chest, rubbing his back. “That’s why you’ve been nervous lately,” you sighed. “Beauregard, I love you no matter how bloody your hands get.” You curled your fingers through his hair. “And I love this ring because you got it for me.” You lifted his head and kisses his lips. “You never have to worry about me not loving you. I’ll always love you.”

Bo smiles and lays a kiss on your neck. “Even if I lose control?”

“Even if you lose control,” you reassured. Then your face turned serious. “But, promise me one thing?”

“Anything, y/n.”

You looked at him dead in the eye and said, “Don’t sell the T-Bird? I love that car.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Promise, darlin’. I’m keeping that like I’m keeping you.” He placed a passionate kiss on your lips, rocking into you. “Now, on t’bed, sugar,” his voice rumbled like thunder in his chest, “been missing you all day.” He pulls you up and carries you bridal style. “Lemme make up for leavin’ ya alone like that.”

I want to rp (role play) with someone who's alright to play Bo Sinclair's character 🥺💞

Is anyone interested?

Join me for my Halloween Palooza

Video Games:

Arthur Morgan

Conflicted Spaces ONE-SHOT

Connor RK800

Broken Machinery COMPLETED (Series)

Idol Talk ONE-SHOT

Frayed Wires ONE-SHOT

Markus RK200

Idol Talk ONE-SHOT

Joel Miller

Alone and Forsaken / Part two COMPLETED

Karl Heisenberg

Yandere HC’s (DARK)

Lord Reader HC’s

Cooper Howard

How About a Nuke? Masterlist COMPLETED

The End of the Beginning Masterlist

In Love Crazy ft. Barb ONE-SHOT / HC's

Movies:

Kid? ONE-SHOT

Nasty Dog ONE-SHOT 18+

We're Dating? ONE-SHOT

You’re Not Her ONE-SHOT 18+

Broken Promises / PT TWO 18+

SFW & NSFW Alphabets

I Don't Know Why I Bite ONE-SHOT

Not Your Priority ONE-SHOT

Mistake ONE-SHOT

Big Bad Wolf 18+ part of Halloween Palooza

Chameleon ONE-SHOT

Kate & Leopold (2001):

Timeless ONE-SHOT

Slashers:

Bo Sinclair

Bad Day / Part Two COMPLETED

One More Spring ONE-SHOT

Vincent Sinclair

Bad Day / Part Two COMPLETED

Needy ONE-SHOT

Wicked Influence part of Halloween Palooza

end. - I do not own the characters or the source material, but this writing and OC’s are my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Bad Day

part two

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) A/N: I don’t usually think about slashers until Halloween, but I’ve just had House of Wax brainrot for the past two weeks, so I wanted to get this out Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence (barely) Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with shitty friends, you’re forced to visit Ambrose, home of the infamous House Of Wax. Unfortunately for you, you manage to catch the attention of not one, but two of the Sinclair brothers.

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

Sarah looks over her shoulder at you and shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”

You roll your eyes and tap Dean on the shoulder, he grunts, the best answer you’ll get from him. “Pull over, I think something’s wrong with the car.” He gives you a questioning glance over his shoulder but shrugs and pulls onto the side of the desolate road. 

You could hear the rest of your friends pulling up behind you in their truck as you hopped out. You walk to the front of the car, popping open the hood and immediately regretting it as a cloud of smoke blasts you in the face. “Shit,” you hiss, backing up and fanning the air in front of your face. 

“Oh, fuck,” the angriest you’d ever heard your stoic friend Dean, and his voice was still barely above a whisper. Alison, Owen, Gwen, and Damien hopped out of their truck and came rushing over to the three of you. 

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Y/N’s piece of shit car.” You rolled your eyes at Sarah’s bitchy attitude, you don’t know why you agreed to this trip. You barely like any of them, they were horrible people and worse friends. You’re pretty sure the only reason they invited you was because Owen’s truck couldn’t fit all of them and you were the only one they knew with a big enough car for the rest. 

“I saw a sign, some place called Ambrose, we could try there. Might have someone who could help.”

You all glanced at each other, each of you trying to come up with a solution, but nothing was better than Owen’s suggestion. What's the worst that could happen?

Your car had managed to make it long enough to get to some campground, you really hadn’t been willing to just abandon it on the side of the road to be stolen. Now, you all sat in the grass, debating who should head into town. 

“Y/N should go. It’s her car.”

“Thank you, Allison,” you glared at her, “but I’m not willing to go into some strange town all on my own.”

Owen let out a loud sigh before he reluctantly said, “I’ll go with you.” You were overwhelmed by his kindness. Not. 

There was a high pitched scoff and you glanced over to see Allison glaring at her boyfriend. “You volunteered real quick.”

“Ally-”

She held up a hand and walked off, struggling slightly over the damp ground with her heels. Owen trailed after her, offering you a barely there apology as he left you with everyone else. You were acutely aware of how none of them would meet your eye. 

Up ahead, Ally was laying into Owen, probably another fight because she always thought he was trying to sleep with someone else. It didn’t take you long to realize you were on your own. You really hated these people. 

You stood up, shooting dirty looks over your shoulder as you started towards the woods Owen had determined would take you to Ambrose. “Thanks babe!”

You flipped Gwen off and kept walking. You grumbled to yourself as you tripped down the steep hill and cussed each of them out every time your foot sank into mud. The further down the hill you got the worse it was starting to smell. 

At first it was just musky and you assumed the stifling atmosphere was from the humidity. Then it started to really stink, putrid, rotting flesh stink. You gagged slightly the closer you got to the source of the smell. Your stomach was twisting and turning and you thought the skin inside your nose was burning as you tried to breath through your mouth. That only seemed to make it worse. Now you could taste the rot, feel it spilling down your throat.

“Y/N, wait!”

You jumped, looking over your shoulder at Owen approaching you, the rest of your friends behind him. The distraction cost you, though, your foot got twisted in a root and you let out a loud yelp as you went flying headfirst down the hill.  

“Oh, shit!” You could hear them laughing behind you as you rolled down the hill, your ribs and elbows busting against random rocks and roots. You hissed in pain when you finally came to a stop, already feeling a dozen different scrapes all along your body. 

You went to sit up but your hand sank into something soft and gooey, and oh god you were going to lose your lunch. 

You actually did throw up in your mouth, swallowing it with a burn as you scrambled desperately to get out of whatever putrid pit you were stuck in. You glanced around, finally coming across the source of the smell, dozens of carcasses surrounded you. Some of them so rotted you couldn’t even tell what animal it was anymore. 

You screamed as your hand finally found purchase on something. You glanced down at the hand wrapped around your own and shot up, your feet slipping and sliding against the gore. Two hands wrapped around your biceps and helped you, finally. 

You grasped onto the arms of whoever had you and practically leapt onto them in your attempt to escape. They pulled you away from the pit and you let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

You glanced up, finally getting to see the face of your savior. He had yellowed teeth, a sweat stained tank top on, and a very adorable smile as he patted your shoulder and backed off. “You alright?”

You let out a strained, “mhm,” as you attempted to catch your breath and not vomit on his feet. “There-“ you covered your mouth as bile rose up. You pointed towards the pit, taking in a deep breath, “Hand. Human hand.”

The man titled his head in confusion before walking over to the pit and digging around where you just were. You winced at the sound of squelching before he managed to reveal the hand once more. You jumped as he grabbed onto it, he laughed as he tugged at it until there was a loud pop and the hand came loose. 

“Anyone need a hand?”

Your friends, who had been standing at the top of the pit watching you struggle, stared at him with varying expressions of disgust. You let out an awkward laugh, relieved it had only been a mannequin and nothing worse. 

He turned around at the sound of your laughter and gave you another goofy smile. “Thank god,” you breathed. 

He came back towards you, completely unbothered by the death around him. “Sorry ‘bout your clothes.”

You glanced down at your shirt and grimaced, it was completely covered in brown blood and old bits of roadkill. “Not your fault.” You glanced towards the back of his truck, seeing old blood in the bed of it and realizing this is where he dumped the animals people hit on the highway. 

“Hey!” You both jumped at the booming voice and looked over to see Owen hopping awkwardly down the hill, skirting the dead bodies, and coming to stand next to you. The others hovered further behind. “You know where Ambrose is?”

The man ignored him, glancing at you. “That where you were heading?” You nodded and he scoffed, “Woulda been walking a long way. ‘Bout fifteen miles up the road.”

You elbowed Owen in the side and glared at him, “You said it was close!”

He rubbed his side and shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the walk was longer than I thought.” He evaded making any eye contact and stared at his shoes. You rolled your eyes, what an asshole. 

“I could give you a ride.”

You blanched at the man's suggestion, he seemed nice enough, but you really weren’t eager to get into a stranger’s truck. “No need, we’ll just take Owen’s truck.”

He shrugged, “Alright. But good luck getting in, there’s only one way to town and it’s not on any map.”

You let out a deep sigh, this day is just getting better and better. “We won’t be bothering you?” He shook his head and walked towards his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. 

You gave him a tense smile before digging your fingers into Owen’s arm and dragging him behind you. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother arguing.”

“Owen?” Allison shouted after him. 

The man answered before Owen could, “I’ll come back for y’all. Don’t you worry!” Something about the smile he shot at them, it was different than the one he’d directed towards you, there was something swimming between his yellowed teeth and honeyed smile. His eyes glittered with malicious intent and you shivered when he looked back at you. 

You didn’t really have another choice, you’d have to follow him. He, apparently, was the only one who could get you into town. You forced a kind smile on your face and thanked him as he helped you up in the truck. “I hope I don’t stink up your seats too bad,” you added as he rounded the front. 

You’d realized you’d spoken too soon when you actually got a chance to smell the interior of his truck. You clutched the seat as your eyes bulged out. Somehow, the inside was worse than the pit outside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he hopped in the truck. You heard Owen groan under his breath beside you as he slammed the truck door close. 

“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his stomach and trying not to make a big deal about how fucking awful the truck smelled and felt. 

“I’m Lester,” the man told you, offering a hand for you to shake. You paused on holding your breath to tell him your and Owen’s names. “You’ll want to find Bo when we get into town. He’s the mechanic, he’ll be able to fix you up.”

You clutched the edge of the seat for the rest of the ride, trying to remain polite as you made small talk with Lester, but you could only hold your breath for so long. He seemed to pick up on your discomfort and rolled the windows down, “AC don’t work no more.”

“Maybe Bo could fix it.”

He glanced up at you, eyes lighting up like he’d never thought of that before. “Yeah! Maybe he could!” He let out a goofy laugh, slapping his thigh and smiling at you. “I ain’t never thought of that before.”

You let out a weak chuckle, the reaction was pretty extreme for something as simple as suggesting you got to a mechanic for car problems. Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Fuckin’ Christ.” He muttered, glancing at Lester out of the corner of his eye and shaking his head. 

You elbowed him again, ignoring his noise of pain and silently threatening him to shut up. You understood that Lester might stink and have strange reactions, but Christ, he was giving you both a ride fifteen miles out of his way. He could be a little more appreciative. 

“Alright,” the truck slowly rumbled to a stop. “We’re here.”

You glanced at Lester and then the clear lack of town through the windshield. “Um, what?”

He chuckled slightly, “It’s around the bend. Truck can’t go over that, though.” You followed the direction of his gaze and lifted yourself from the seat to see a little creek and a broken bridge. “Go ahead and I’ll go back for your friends.”

Owen opened the door, practically flying out of the truck. He took in deep and dramatic inhales as the stifling Louisiana air hit him in the face. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back towards Lester, “Thank you so much for the help.”

He gave you a strange look, not quite mean but not very friendly, “Don’t thank me yet.” You had barely closed the door before he was peeling off. 

You turned towards Owen but he just shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

You nodded, turning towards the creek, “Agreed.”

You were thankful you’d chosen a black tank top, the sun was beating directly down on you and you were pretty sure you had already sweat through every layer you had on. You were desperate for a hair clip or rubber band or literally anything to get your hair off your neck. Another minute sweating like this and you were just going to chop it all off. 

“Hey, up there.”

“Finally!” You and Owen both sped up, rushing towards the auto shop, eager to get somewhere with air conditioning. But when Owen tried the door it wouldn’t budge, he pulled and pushed, wiggled it way too many times and you snapped. “It’s locked, dipshit!”

“Think I don’t know that?” He snapped back. 

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “Then let it go and give up.” He let out a pissy sigh and whirled around, canvassing the rest of town. His eyes landed on the small chapel and he nudged you, pointing at it.

“Maybe there’s someone in there.”

You followed hesitantly after him as he walked towards it. The closer you got the louder the voices inside were. “Wait, Owen, I think there’s a service going on. We shouldn’t just barge in.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored you, throwing the door open without care and glaring inside. You shriveled up in embarrassment when you saw a man kneeling at the front of the chapel. You dared a step closer and winced, he was kneeling in front of a coffin. 

God, you guys looked like such assholes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, grabbing Owen by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back outside. You shoved him down the steps and he stumbled, glaring at you. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“It was a funeral service you jackass!” You hissed back at him, unwilling to raise your voice and further disrupt those poor people’s mourning. You were halfway across the street when you heard the door behind you open. 

You tensed up, mentally preparing yourself to face whoever had decided to scold you both. “Can I help you folks?” You turned at the sound of a smooth southern accent and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Well, more heat, you were about as hot as you could get right now. 

But the man in front of you seemed perfectly comfortable in his all black suit, glaring down at you both from the top of the stairs. You were a little ashamed how attracted to him you were. He was mourning, attending the funeral of someone who was probably close to him and you were drooling over how good he looked in a suit. 

To be fair, he did look very nice in a suit. 

“I am so sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”

Owen nudged you slightly, “Shut up, Y/N.” You glared at him but he just crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the man in front of you. “We’re looking for Bo. You seen him?”

The man’s voice was full of anger as he sneered at Owen, “You’re talkin’ to him.”

Owen glanced back at you, a mean look on his face. “Her car broke down, can you fix it?”

Bo scoffed, staring down at Owen with a disgusted expression. You knew what he was thinking, how demanding and dickish Owen was. Especially when he knew what Bo had been doing only moments before. You intervened before Owen could dig a deeper hole. 

“Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m really sorry we interrupted you.”

“Y/N-”

“Shut up before I make you,” you leveled Owen with a glare. You let the group get away with a lot, talking shit to you and about you constantly. You didn’t really care enough to stop them, but you weren’t about to let him continue to disrespect the only person who could actually help you out of this hellhole. 

Owen seemed to get the message and scoffed, walking off with an attitude. Though, he didn’t have anywhere to go considering pretty much every business was closed. So he stood in the street, kicking at gravel like a toddler. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Bo, a little surprised to find him already staring down at you. 

You couldn’t decipher the look he was giving you, but it didn’t make you feel very comfortable. Though, that could just be the anxiety from your rude companion. “Sorry, again.”

You turned around, ready to walk back to the others, when he stopped you. “I’ll help you!” 

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, “Give me a little while to finish up here and I’ll meet you at the shop.”

You nodded, a smile slowly rising on your lips. Maybe this day wasn’t completely lost. “Of course, take your time, thank you so much, seriously.”

He nodded, still looking unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Uh, you could check out the House of Wax, might make the time pass quicker.”

You nodded again but he didn’t bother waiting for a response, already heading back inside the church. He left just in time for the rest of the group to come walking up the street. Owen ran towards them, leaving you behind. You noticed a clear lack of Gwen or Damien and figured they’d stayed behind with the cars or something. 

You caught up with them just as Owen finished filling them in on what was going on. “So we have to wait?” Sarah whined, practically stomping her feet. 

“Yes, because he’s currently burying someone,” you deadpanned. You glanced towards the building towering over the town on top of a hill. “But we can always check out the House of Wax.”

”Yippee,” Allison mumbled sarcastically. 

You broke off quickly from the rest of the group, immediately embarrassed by how they behaved in the museum. Owen had started off strong, catcalling one of the wax women and groping her. You wandered towards the back of the building, a figure of a dog catching your attention. You hadn’t seen any other animals in here. 

Wow, its fur looked so realistic. 

You knelt down, getting closer, and shot back in fear as it barked at you. You let out a loud yelp as you landed on your ass, watching the very real dog growl at you. 

“Holy shit, did not think you were real.” You held up your hands in surrender, “Good girl, it’s okay.” After a minute she stopped growling and slowly moved towards you. You smiled as you pet her, running your fingers through her fur and laughing when she licked your hands. ”Aren’t you sweet?”

You heard a creak in the doorway behind her and your head shot up. A man loomed over you, a wax mask over his face and long black locks hanging over his shoulders. “Hi,” you whispered, completely thrown off by his appearance. 

“Do you work here?”

Nothing. 

He had to, if the mask was anything to go by, maybe it was like some outfit they made the employees wear. You glanced down at his hands, you could see wax covering them and sculpting tools in the belt slung around his hip. “Oh, are you an artist?” You asked, tone a little more excited. 

He tilted his head, and you felt your heart speed up when he stepped closer. The dog left you, walking over to him with her tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. He reached down, not breaking his stare with you, and pet her lightly. 

You got to your feet, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was making you. Finally, he nodded. 

“Well,” you stuttered slightly over your words, tongue tied with anxiety. “They’re all amazing. I accidentally bumped into one and apologized because I thought it was real,” your words trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “I even thought your dog was real, she scared me half to death when she moved.”

God, kill me now, this had to be the most awkward one sided interaction you’ve ever had with someone. “D-,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your voice to stop cracking. “Did you do this?” You pointed to the scene behind you, a family eating dinner at a dusty wooden table.

He shook his head, slowly lumbering past you and lifting the woman’s hair. You took a hesitant step forward and peered at the back of her neck where he was pointing. 

TS was carved into the wax. “TS?” Your eyes narrowed before it finally clicked in your head. “Trudy Sinclair?” He nodded and you smiled. “Oh, yeah, I saw an article about her up front. She’s the woman that runs the museum, right?” Another nod. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he wasn’t some freaky serial killer that was about to use that scalpel in his belt to slit your throat. 

Please just be extremely socially awkward. 

“Whole place is wax,” you dumbly pointed out, because clearly he knew that. “Pretty impressive.” He straightened up, moving the woman’s hair back in place and carefully brushing it out with his fingers. The care in which he treated the mannequin was a little off putting, he was acting like she was living and breathing, something to be coddled. “Um,” you stopped staring at his hands, focusing once again on his waxed face. “What’s your name?”

He took a step forward, then another and another until he was standing right in front of you, sharing the air you breathed. You couldn’t help but gulp, feet glued to the floor as the dark holes in his mask burned into you. In your peripheral you watched as his arm stretched out and winced slightly, prepared for a hit or stab or something. 

But it just hovered in the air, after a moment you realized he was pointing at something. You turned around and found a signature scrawled into another wax figure. 

Vincent

“Vincent,” you let out a sigh of relief and held out a hand, giving him your own name. After a moment he took your hand, grip tight to the point that it hurt. But he didn’t shake it like you’d expected, instead he moved his hand up your arm, digging his fingers into your forearm and dragging you back to the front door. You whimpered when he opened the door and threw you outside. 

You clutched your forearm to your chest, rubbing the forming bruises as the door slammed in your face. “Well, fuck you too then,” you muttered under your breath. You turned around glancing down the street and seeing Allison and Owen already walking towards the auto shop. You bound down the steps and run after them, panting when you finally catch up. 

“Where’s Sarah and Dean?”

Allison snorted, “Said they found a bed upstairs.” She glanced at you, “I think you can put two and two together.”

Your nose wrinkled and you groaned, “That’s disgusting. The guy that runs the place is literally in there.”

“Don’t be a prude,” Owen admonished. “They’re just screwing around.”

You glanced back at the House of Wax, seeing a figure moving in the window of the upper floor and shook your head. Jackasses. 

Bo was waiting for you all at the door of the auto shop. He was still in his black suit, except this time he had an easygoing grin on his face. A complete 180 from the man who looked ready to rip Owen’s dick off for interrupting a funeral. 

He gave you a particularly large smile as you approached, holding the door open for you as you entered the shop. You didn’t get the relief you were hoping for, the air in here almost as stifling as it was outside. It was maybe two degrees cooler. Whatever, you’d take what you could get on such a shitty day. 

“You know what the problem is with your car, sweetheart?” 

It took an awkward moment of silence to realize he was talking to you. When you looked up from the floor you saw his gaze drilling into yours, not missing the way his eyes flitted down to your low cut top and then back up. You couldn’t really blame him, you’d been eyeing him since he introduced himself. 

“Um,” you glanced towards Owen. “What did Dean say it was?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure look on his face. “Something about a hose.”

Bo nodded, sucking on his teeth before he went to the back of his shop. You rocked back and forth on your heels, ignoring the other two who were wandering around his shop and whispering to themselves. “Hey, honey, you mind comin’ back here a minute?”

You peered around the doorway and saw Bo bent over rummaging around in some boxes. “Me?”

He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “Who else?”

You were about to step forward when you heard Allison hiss your name. You turned around and she pulled her top down mouthing ‘maybe he’ll give you a discount,’ pointing to your own shirt and laughing. You crossed your arms reflexively, covering your breasts from her view and tugging your shirt higher up to be petty. She rolled her eyes, clearly called you a prude, and turned back around. 

You really needed new friends. 

You walked into the back of Bo’s shop, taking in the different tools and boxes along the walls. “What’s up?”

“Any of these look right?”

You glanced down at the hoses he had laid out, the blood draining from your face when you realized you did not know anything about your car. You really hadn’t even known a hose was a thing until today. “Um, I’m not sure.”

“Well,” he started, losing some patience as his tone took a curt edge. Your stomach toiled with anxiety, not liking the idea of him getting pissed at you. “You know what size ya need?” 

You cleared your throat, “Owen!” You called out the door, you heard a grumbled what in response. “You know what size I need?”

“Two and a half!”

You missed Bo sliding a hose under his work table as you turned back around, scanning the tags and frowning when you saw he didn’t have the right size. “There’s a two, would that work?” You asked, picking the hose up and holding it out to him. 

His tongue poked into his cheek and he shook his head, “‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you placed the hose back down and rubbed your face, wincing as you remembered you were still covered in innards. “Ugh, gross,” you pulled your hands away from your face and could already feel streaks of blood on your cheeks. 

Bo chuckled and reached for a clean rag off his work table. He gave you a charming smile and wiped the blood off your face. You tried not to let yourself be too affected by how close he was, but it was hard, really, really, hard. So, as you always do in situations you don’t know how to handle, you blabber. 

“House of Wax was really cool,” you mumble.

“Hm,” he hums, not interested at all as his gaze darts down to your lips. 

“Yeah, the guy, Vincent, I don’t think he liked me very much,” you let out a barely audible laugh, remembering his harsh treatment as he tossed you out. 

Bo froze, his eyelids dropping slightly as the tender look on his face melted away, replaced by something you didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand. The hair on the back of your neck was standing up as goosebumps traveled along your arms. You weren’t cold, not in the slightest, this felt like something else. Like an instinctual response to a predator. 

You backed away a step, no longer feeling comfortable being so close to him. “What’d you say?” His voice was low, so low you could almost mistake it for a growl. 

“Um,” you swallowed harshly, throat parched and lips completely dried by the humidity. “Vincent,” you didn’t like how small your voice was. Didn’t like how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from something charged to something dangerous. “He- he showed me some wax sculptures and then he tossed me out.”

“You saw Vincent?” You nodded, backing a step further when he approached you. He noticed and let out a low laugh, the grin returning, but there were entirely too many teeth. “You say anything? ‘Bout his mask? How quiet he was?” He probed, his tone almost teasing like he wanted you to say Yeah, called him a freak and laughed at him. Like he wanted to use your response as an excuse for something. 

You shook your head quickly, “No. No, of course not,” you were quick to defend yourself, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You didn’t want him to think you were as rude as your traveling companions. “I thought maybe all the museum workers had to wear those. Like a theme or something. And,” you stumbled slightly over your words as he moved towards you again. You stepped back towards the doorway, trying to get back in the view of the others. “And I can be pretty quiet myself, I didn’t think it would be kind to pry.”

He finally stopped, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You still could feel your heart pounding against your chest, going so fast you felt a little dizzy. You weren’t an idiot, you knew how risky it was approaching so many strange men in one day. But you had been trapped, like a mouse dropped in a maze, constantly searching for a way out. 

You’d had no choice but to accept help from all the people you’d interacted with in this town, but you didn’t forget how much danger they could pose to you and your friends. You were all too aware of how stupid it was to be in a room with this stranger. 

This stranger who switched between masks so fast you got whiplash. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was back, still just as handsome, but no longer disarming. He shrugged, “Vincent doesn’t show himself to anyone, really. Just a little curious, that’s all. And that mask is all him, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you forced a smile, moving out of the way so he could walk back into the main part of the shop. 

He clapped his hands together, getting the attention of the others. “Sorry folks but I don’t got the parts you need here.”

Allison and Owen both let out loud groans, their voices blending together in anger as they harassed Bo for not having the one car part they needed. You winced as they yelled at him, demanding to know how he even called himself a mechanic if he didn’t have one simple part. You could see Bo’s patience leaving him again, jaw clenching and teeth grinding together. 

“Shut up!” You shouted, glaring at them from behind Bo. “Jesus, act your fucking ages,” you muttered, storming past Bo and going to stand near them. You didn’t bother looking at any of them, despite the stares you could feel boring into you. 

“Thank you,” Bo mumbled before his voice rose again. “As I was sayin’ I got some parts up at my house. Only about a ten minute walk, you could use the bathroom, clean up, I’ll see if I have what you need.”

Allison and Owen shared a look before turning towards you, the both of them huddling around you. “I don’t want to go anywhere near that freak’s house. He’s probably got some redneck sex dungeon.”

“Allison,” you admonished, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bo hadn’t heard. He seemed preoccupied with something under his desk. “Shut up, he’s being nice and putting up with our shit. I mean, he just buried someone guys, and he’s still trying to help. Least you could do is be respectful.”

Allison huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes before finally nodding, “Fine. But I’m using you as a human shield if shit goes south.”

“Fine by me,” you muttered, pushing away from them both and smiling at Bo. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to go.”

He nodded, smiling at you before walking to the door. He opened it but he didn’t leave until he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I was taking anyone to my dungeon it’d be this one.” You squeaked as he pinched your waist and walked out. 

Allison scoffed, like she was offended, and followed after him. 

“So,” Bo started, slowing down so you could catch up to him. You sped up slightly, matching his stride and giving him a small smile as he stared at you. “What’re you doin’ with these jackasses?”

You couldn’t stop a snort from slipping out at his blunt language. You glanced behind you, watching Allison and Owen bicker about something and turned back towards him, shrugging. “I don’t know, they needed my car and I wanted to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Well, how long you been friends?”

“Not long, I met Allison a year ago and I guess I just started hanging around them.”

“You don’t seem to get along real well.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a fact in his eyes that you didn’t belong with them. And he was probably right, you hated them, they hated you. 

“Only reason I’ve stuck around this long is ‘cause I don’t have anyone else.”

You didn’t notice how he perked up, how quickly he tuned into the loneliness in your words and pounced. You should have, for someone so perceptive and paranoid, but you were too busy grimacing at a chunk of dead something in your shorts pocket. 

“No one? No family? No other friends? No one to notice-” He cut himself off, once again sending you a smile, though this one seemed more sympathetic than anything. Like he knew your pain and could relate to it. 

“Yeah, no one.”

“Hm,” he offered nothing else. Just another hum and a nod as you approached the house at the top of the incline. He walked up to the front door, unlocking it, and turning around to survey you all. “Anyone need the can?”

Owen stepped forward, Allison clinging to his arm with a paranoid look on her face, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the house. Bo glanced behind them at you, “Sweetheart?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He might be charming but there was no way in hell you were just gonna wander in blind to his house. 

“You sure? I could give you a change of clothes.”

Before you could figure out a polite way to decline again, Allison had grabbed onto the strap of your tank top and was dragging you up the porch. “Please, fuck, I can’t stand the smell anymore.”

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, jumping as the door slammed closed behind you. For a moment the house stayed dark, no light and no noise other than the sound of your breathing. Then you heard a click and light shone down on a cluttered living room and outdated kitchen. 

“Sorry, haven’t had time for the maid,” Bo muttered sarcastically. He turned towards you, motioning you forward and, reluctantly, you followed. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.” Owen nodded, heading down the hallway while Allison stayed planted by the door. 

“I’ll show you my room and you can get changed.”

”Thanks,” you followed him wearily up the stairs, jumping every time the old wood creaked. “I really appreciate this, I know we’ve bugged you a lot today.”

”Yeah, you have.” You frowned, taken aback by how honest he sounded. In your defense, he had offered up his house to you guys. He turned around and must’ve seen the disgruntled look on your face because another grin broke out and he laughed, “I’m messin’ with ya. Relax, it’s no trouble at all for such a pretty lady.”

He opened up the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. You heard him moving around, drawers opening and slamming shut before he emerged again a pile of unfolded clothes in his hand. “Here, you can use the room to change.”

You nodded and stepped inside, quick to lock the door behind you. You waited until you heard his footsteps going back down the stairs to strip out of your clothes and change. You moved as quickly as you possibly could, a little paranoid that he had cameras in his room or something, watching you. 

You weren’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was Allison’s insistence that he actually had a sex dungeon, or that you were in a stranger’s room, but you felt scared. You felt watched and uncomfortable and like you wanted to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, put Ambrose in your rear view and never look back. 

You held up the shirt Bo had left you and frowned. It was big, much bigger than he was. This didn’t seem like something he would own, the fitting all wrong, this seemed like something that belonged somewhere else. To someone else. 

You stared at it a moment longer before shaking the thought away and pulling the button up over your arms. As you worked on the last button you realized he hadn’t left you with any pants. Hopefully just a simple oversight on his part. It went down to your thighs, so it’s not like you were completely exposed. You’d just pretend you were wearing a dress. 

Your eyes scanned the room, you would go through his drawers and look for some pants but it didn’t feel right to dig around in his stuff. The room itself was a clusterfuck of boxes of clothes and sprawled sheets. You jumped around a box full of men’s clothing and frowned at the labels on the box. Each box had different sizes and different dates. 

Your heart beat just a little bit faster when you spotted women’s clothes shoved under his bed.

There could be plenty of explanations. 

He swung every which way and this was all clothing from his conquests. 

He liked to dabble in drag. 

He was collecting clothes for the homeless. 

You went with the last one, despite the fact that it didn’t make you feel any better. You walked into his bathroom, smiling when you saw a hair clip on the sink. You picked it up, hoping it wasn’t someone’s favorite and that they wouldn’t mind you borrowing it for a bit. 

Just as you were about to clip up your hair you noticed a smudge of red on the corner. The claw itself was completely white, the red was pretty hard to miss. You frowned, bringing it closer to your face and running your fingers over the color. 

It flaked off under your thumb, the copper falling into the sink. 

There were only so many things you could ignore. 

A blood covered claw was not one of them. 

You rinsed it off in the sink, shoving your hair up and running towards the bedroom door. You didn’t bother collecting your clothes, there was no saving them and you had bigger things to fuss about. Mainly the fact that Allison was right. 

This dude definitely had a fucking sex dungeon. 

You forced yourself to slow down when you reached the top of the stairs. You peered over the railing, listening for any noises or creeping shadows. It was almost worse when you didn’t hear anything. Allison should be at the door, bitching about how long it takes Owen to pee. Bo should be walking around somewhere. 

Instead, the house was still, you barely even heard your own breath over your racing heart. You were careful as you made your way down the stairs, avoiding the boards you know creaked and lightly making your way towards the front door. 

“Allison?” You whispered, looking around the den or kitchen for her. 

Nothing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should look for her or make a run for it. You heard footsteps getting closer to the door and made your choice, grabbing the keys off the tray nearby and racing through the doorway. 

“Y/N?”

You turned around as you reached Bo’s red truck, looking just in time to see a knife split through Allison’s jaw. You couldn’t even scream, the noise locked away in the deepest part of yourself as you struggled to process what was happening. 

The blade stuck out grotesquely between her teeth, her eyes remained blinking, that was the worst part. They blinked, tears pouring down her cheek before the man behind her was shoving her forward and her body was toppling to the ground limply. You jumped at the thud, eyes wide and burning with your own tears as you looked into the dark holes of Vincent’s mask. 

“Vincent?” You whispered, the only thing you could actually manage to get out. His head tilted and he stepped over Allison’s body like she wasn’t even there. Your hands shook, the keys slipping out and landing in the dirt under your shoes. He was about ten feet away before your flight instincts finally kicked in 

“Fuck,” you whispered, abandoning the truck and taking off just as the knife he’d thrown landed in the dirt where you’d been standing only a second earlier. 

You used to run, it had been an easy form of therapy. A way to get out unresolved and pent up emotions that left you feeling stunted. You’d loved it, reveled in the burn in your thighs, the buzz that thrummed through your blood as you pushed yourself to your limits and then further. 

But you’d stopped, got caught up in a group of shitty friends and stopped taking care of yourself. Now, the once thrilling buzz was slowing you down. The muscles in your thighs unprepared and unused as you forced them to go faster. You felt like you were trying to run in a dream, your muscles working as hard as possible but you were stuck in a limbo, never moving fast enough. 

You could hear heavy boots pounding behind you and you tried to push through that limit that you felt locked around your legs. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move faster and you already felt yourself slowing down. Your lungs heaving as your throat burned, struggling to take in any air. 

“AH!” You let out a strange sounding scream as something heavy and hard rammed into your back. It sent you flying, knees scraping against pavement as you were pancaked to the road. 

“There ya are, darlin’! You don’t know how bad my feelings were hurt when I saw you’d run off.” You whimpered as Bo pinned your arms behind your back, his knees digging into your spine until you both heard it crack and you cried out in pain. 

“Bo, please,” you begged. “Please.”

He chuckled, leaning down until his mouth was next to your ear. “Please, what, darlin?”

”Please fuck off,” you growled throwing your head back and listening to Bo’s nose snap. You used the distraction to wrestle your way out from under him, rolling onto him, legs straddling his waist as you grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down.

His hand shot up and gripped your wrist, squeezing until you couldn’t feel your fingers and were forced to let go of the rock. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You slapped at him as he tried to sit up and pin you down. You didn’t care how rabid or unorganized you were. You clawed, screamed and kicked until you’d gained the upper hand and were jumping away from him. “Fuck you,” you hissed, glaring at him as you clutched at your hurt wrist. 

His nose was no longer pouring blood, instead it was a slow steady drip as he glared at you with what could only be described as an animalistic snarl. “Bitch,” he spat back. 

“That the best you got?” You taunted, “You’re the backwoods freak who's killing off college kids. Lemme guess, Vincent’s your brother, he wears that mask because mommy and daddy were actually Uncle-Dad and Aunt-mom? Your weird little incest freak didn’t want to let mommy’s dream die? I bet one of you fuckin’ killed her, too.”

”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted, lunging for you. You darted off to the side, leaping over a wooden picket fence and through the yards of the silent neighborhood. The sky was turning pink, your favorite time of day, right before night finally fell. 

But you didn’t have time to enjoy it, crying as you ran away from the feral man behind you. You could hear him breathing, stomping his way behind you, it was like being chased by a wild animal, not a man. Maybe that’s what was terrifying you so bad, humans were predictable. You knew what type of torture to expect from them, the cruelties they were capable of. But a man like this, a beast like this, you had no idea what he would do to you. 

Tear you apart right here in the street?

Take you back to his home and keep you until better prey came along?

You didn’t want to find out. And you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of your death. 

You had been screaming as he attacked you, shouting as you ran from him. Not once did a light click on or off as you ran through the neighborhood. No curtains drew back or faces pressed against the window pane in curiosity. 

You knew you were alone, the rest of your friends were most likely dead. 

You gasped, losing your breath, as you slammed into something hard. “Y/N? What the fuck?” You whined in pain, looking up to see Owen standing over you. He kneeled down, like he was going to help you up, until you heard the sound of laughter behind you. 

“Got you,” Bo taunted. And you knew he was talking about you, he didn’t give a shit about Owen, he just wanted you. 

“Owen, please,” you whispered, begging him to, just this once, help you. Be a decent guy, make the right choice. You should have known better. Just as you’d gotten to your feet, two strong hands had gripped your shoulders and sent you flying. 

A different set of hands found their way around your waist, coiling around you like a python until their grip was so tight your face was turning purple from loss of air. “Told you, jackasses,” Bo whispered, the last thing you heard before you were blacking out. 

Nine Inch Nails. 

That’s what you could process when you woke up.

The next thing you felt as your eyelids slowly peeled open, a near painful process, was the jostling around your legs. You whined, your throat completely raw and glanced down. Bo was standing at the end of some sort of chair, similar to a gurney, and duct taping your legs down. He glanced up, hair plastered with sweat and grinned at you. He had changed, you hadn’t noticed before but he’d ditched the suit for his coveralls. 

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and glancing towards the ceiling as you blinked back tears. 

You were going to die and the last thing you were going to hear was the blasting of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. 

Fuck my life

Bo moved up, holding your wrists down on the metal armrests and duct taping those too. You looked to the side, and saw strange circular markings on his wrist. You assumed, whenever they disposed of your body and took the tape off, you would have matching scars. 

You heard footsteps clomping above you and the sound of Damien and Gwen’s voices. “Where did they all go?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the auto shop.”

Gwen sounded unsure, “Maybe, it is the only place that’s open.”

Bo ran behind you, his warm hand clamping over your mouth and keeping it shut as they passed the grate above you. You hadn’t even tried to open your mouth to scream for help, you knew you couldn’t, your throat was destroyed already. 

“I’m gonna take my hand off and you’re gonna be quiet. Yeah?” You nodded your head, feeling the salty warmth of your tears trailing down his hand and building up on your cheeks. “Yeah,” he whispered, the tone too intimate as he slowly released you. 

He remained beside you, poised and ready to strike but you didn’t make a move to call out. “Good girl,” he chuckled and placed a hand over yours. “I’m gonna go up, deal with those assholes, and you’re gonna behave. Right?”

You nodded again and he dug blunt fingernails into tender skin. You whimpered out, “Yes, Bo.”

He laughed again and walked towards the door, keys clinking as he locked it behind himself. “Fucking sicko,” you spat the second the door was closed. You moved your legs, wincing as the tape picked at your bare skin. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you were sweaty enough, the moisture on your skin providing enough glide for you to wiggle one leg out of the tape. Arrogant bastard had given you too much freedom, he probably didn’t even think you were going to run. 

Now, your wrists. 

Your arms were sweaty, sure, but these were tight. You tried to use a jerking motion you’d once seen in a stupid action movie, bringing your wrists to your chest. But your muscles were fatigued and you didn’t have enough strength to rip the tape off. 

You flopped against the flattened cushion of the chair, trying not to sob incoherently as Bo’s rock music blared in the garage above. You could hear voices speaking. You didn't know how much time you had left until Bo just got rid of them and came back down for you. 

You’d been pointedly ignoring the wall of Polaroids since you’d woken up, not wanting to see what they were. Afraid you already knew. 

You ignored the unnatural bend of your shoulder, how much it screamed out in pain as you contorted your body over your right wrist, teeth picking at the duct tape until you felt like they were coming loose. But you didn’t stop, you kept going until you felt the slightest tear under your lips. 

You had to stop yourself from crying out in victory as you used whatever remained of your strength to jerk at the tape again and again, your muscles crying as you finally ripped yourself free. You stuffed down your cries, using your free hand to unwrap the other. 

You allowed yourself a moment to roll out your wrists and shake off your legs before you were shooting off the gurney and stumbling towards a corner of the room. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew that wasn’t good, but you pushed past the fear as footsteps stomped down the stairs. 

Your heart rate picked up and your throat clenched as you pushed sweat-matted hair out of your face. You took in a deep breath and then held it as the door slammed open. You winced, grateful you hadn’t chosen to hide behind that. Bo stepped into the room, there was a blind spot of about five seconds before he would see you were out of your chair. 

You needed to use that to slip behind him and out the door. 

You heard one boot enter. Then the next. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline making your muscles tingle back to life. 

Another step, you inched forward, another, you slid against the wall. Bo finally made it all the way in. “What the fuck!”

You shot behind him, racing up the steps and bursting through the door of the garage. You didn’t give yourself time to celebrate or look to see if he was following you. You darted down the street, suddenly grateful Bo had only given you a shirt to wear. 

You were sure it was for his own pleasure, but right now all it meant was that your legs weren’t constricted by tight denim and you could run as fast as your body would allow. You turned to the right, bursting through the doors of the chapel. 

You froze at the entrance, taking in a deep heaving breath as you tried to find a hiding spot. The pews were too noticeable, the casket probably wouldn’t fit you. You nearly cried as you tried to figure it out. 

Outside you heard Bo stomping, his voice calling out your name. Fuck it, you dove for the priest, using his large robes and throwing yourself under them. You had just managed to clamp a sweaty palm over your mouth as the doors of the church opened, deceptively quiet. 

Bo’s footsteps were soft as he walked through. You feel dizzy sitting under this preserved priest, the air stifling and you felt like you were running out of oxygen. Sweat beaded at your hairline, dripping down into your eyes as you tried to blink it away. 

You jumped, nails digging into your palm, at the sound of wood crashing against the wall. “Get out here!” He roared, and you knew he was slowly making his way through the pews. He tossed each of them around, checking under and around them for you. 

You ducked down, lifting the robe a centimeter off the floor. If you closed your eyes, put your hand over your ears, you were a little girl again, hiding under the table as your mother counted down. She’d find you soon, you’d giggle and she’d pretend she didn’t hear it before popping under the table cloth and catching you. 

Her fingers digging into your sides, searching for that ticklish spot. No, she’s poking too hard, that hurts. 

Shit, that hurts. 

You kick out, your shoe catching Bo’s jaw as you make a run for it, darting out from the priest and back through the chapel doors. The only thing you can focus on are the bright lights, blinding against the night sky- when did it get dark?

You stumbled over your feet, legs not moving the way you wanted them to. Shit, you don’t feel good. Did he drug you? Is it the heat? You haven’t eaten all day, or drank anything. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. 

Through blurry eyes you ran towards the movie theater, the brightest beacon you can actually make out. You trip through the doors, slamming them closed behind you. You spot one of those metal poles, the old one with red cloth they used to keep people in line. With limp arms and struggling steps you lift it up and slam it through the handles, just as Bo starts to shake them on the other side. 

You back away from them slowly, eyes scanning the lobby for anything you could use. Behind the concession desk you manage to spot something. 

BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

You’d say this constituted an emergency. You kicked through the glass, ignoring how it dragged along your legs, and pulled the ax out of its case. There had to be a back door out of here. 

Your eyes widened and you cursed, there had to be a back way out of here, and Bo would know it. You threw the ax on the ground, ripping the pole out of the handles before scooping the ax back up and running back into the dark.

Apparently you’d made the right choice because Bo was no longer where you left him. He was probably sneaking through some secret exit waiting to grab you. You looked towards the end of the street, up the hill, and back at Bo’s front door.

There was still light shining through, but you were sure Allison’s body was long gone. You glanced behind you before taking in a deep centering breath and shooting off again. 

You held your breath, hiding underneath the table as Bo came stumbling into his home. You could see him clutching a wound on his arm and Vincent materialized behind him. He reached for his brother but Bo jerked back, “Get, get, back!” He spoke like he was talking to some dog, “Fuckin’ freak.”

You winced as you watched them interact, Bo tossing shit at his brother and his brother ducking like he was used to it. Vincent walked over to a candle, heating a spoon over the flame and picking up a toaster. He used the metallic reflection to smooth over a dent in his mask and Bo came up, appearing on his shoulder like the worst kind of devil. 

“Momma would be proud of you.” Vincent’s movements paused at his suddenly tender brother’s voice. “I told you this would look better. The last two are gonna look great,” he assured, kindly, and you grimace in disgust. Should’ve known this was his idea. Your knuckles creaked around the handle of the ax and you debated just ending this now. 

Vincent turns towards his brother, spoon discarded, and signs something. You know enough about the language to recognize the hand movements when you see it, but you can’t understand it from your angle. 

“What girl?” Bo snarled, Vincent winced and signed something else. Bo snorted, “Her? What you gotta crush or somethin’?” Vincent shook his head quickly and Bo rolled his eyes, voice cruel. “What, one girl’s nice to you and you wanna break our rules? She’s dead when I’m done with her. That’s it.” Bo buried his finger in Vincent’s shoulder, shoving harshly. “Understood?” Vincent didn’t respond immediately and Bo shoved again. “Understood!” He shouted and Vincent finally nodded. 

You watched them move out of sight, followed their shoes out of the house and finally slinked out of your hiding spot. You’d seen where Vincent had emerged from earlier and retraced the steps, finding a hidden basement in their father’s office. You glanced behind you once before jumping down into the hole.

“Damien? Gwen? Fucking anybody?” You kept glancing behind you, ax ready as you creeped your way through Vincent’s tunnels. Finally, you started to see the warm glow of candles at the very end of the section you were in. 

Caution thrown to the wind, you made a run for it and burst into what looked like Vincent’s workshop. You looked around, not seeing anything of interest besides one torture chair. You’d slit your throat before they got you in that. 

You found his desk, sketches scattered around the edges. You took a peek and were surprised to find a partially done profile of your face. You glanced around, making sure you were safe, before picking the sketch up. 

You looked pretty, even half done, he might have been a little to generous with you. Made you too elegant, noble, untouchable. Flattering if he wasn’t going to try and kill you. You saw something scrawled at the very bottom and your heart clenched, She was nice.

Perhaps you were too tender-hearted, to feel any pity for these monsters. But you’d seen the news articles in their father’s office, what had happened to their family, the chair Bo was once strapped in. What they were was their mother’s final project, the legacy she left behind, one of pain and hatred. Each of them hating themselves for different reasons because of her. 

But you weren’t an idiot, you saw the was in the title of your drawing. You might have been kind, but he wasn’t planning on letting you live. Something rattled in the room to your right and you threw the drawing down, turning towards the door and carefully opening it. 

“Y/N!” Owen cried out, relief making itself clear on his face as he saw you. “Get me out of here.” You rushed forward, kneeling down and trying to undo the straps around his ankles. But your fingers weren’t working properly, they felt like they were swelling and burning and useless. You whined in frustration as you tried to get the metal through the hole. 

“Fuck!” Owen kicked out as much as he could and you jumped back. “Can you do anything right? Just get me out of here!” He screeched. 

You went momentarily blind with rage, anger boiling in your gut so quickly you nearly keeled over. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dick! You left me behind to that psycho earlier and I’m still trying to help you!” You screamed at him, not paying attention to the raw feeling of your throat or the footsteps behind you. “Why don’t you ever just shut up!”

You weren’t aware the ax was still in your hands, or maybe you were, as you brought your arms down in frustration. It landed in his thigh, barely missing the femoral artery, and he screamed. That type of scream you only hear from squealing pigs right before their butchered. 

You didn’t think you enjoyed it.

Didn't want to enjoy it. 

But you dug the blade in. 

He’d made your life a living hell, he’d tried to get you killed earlier, and even when you’d ignored it and tried to save him he still yelled at you. Granted, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever said to you, but it was the worst thing he could say at that moment. You pressed on the handle, not realizing you were smiling as he squealed some more. 

You got a headache after a second, struggling to rip the blade back out before you were lifting it once more and bringing it down over his neck, the blood splattering your face, bleeding into your open eyes as you watch his head topple to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” you turned around and looked at Bo, the fight draining from your body. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He glanced at the ax in your hands and smiled, this one looked real, the realest he could manage. “Gonna kill me too?”

You shrugged, tossing the ax at his feet. “You gonna kill me?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, standing there covered in your ‘friend’s’ blood and unknowingly smiling at the carnage. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered. 

Part two

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Bad Day

pt. two

part one

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) warnings: reader embracing the dark side, graphic descriptions of violence Summary: Another set of tourists, but this one’s different. You actually have to meet this group. They’re particularly difficult, too, causing more damage than any of you expected. Can you survive the night, again?

You focused on the way the knife glinted as it spread mayonnaise over the bread. You watched it glide through the thick substance and brought it back down, flipping the blade and smoothing and spreading it-

Your fingers tightened around the handle and you winced as you slammed your eyes shut. You couldn’t be around blades, even ones as dull as this, without thinking of that night. 

You’d fought, more than anyone else ever had, Bo told you. You’d also killed one of your friends in cold blood, no one had ever done that either. 

He had been tied up and vulnerable and you hadn’t even given him a fair shot at surviving you. 

You didn’t feel guilty about it, and that’s the part that haunts you. You didn’t try to justify your actions and cry yourself to sleep over the guilt you felt for being alive while your friends lay scattered throughout town. You slept deeply, peacefully, in the arms of the men who murdered them. 

You’d wake up after having a dream about that night and you would feel exhilarated because it had been the first time you’d ever truly stood up for yourself. You reveled in the power you’d felt when you’d swung that ax into his neck. 

You didn’t even remember their names. 

How fucked up was that?

You basked in the memories of their demise but their faces were lost to you. One blur that bled together the more you tried to picture them. 

You didn’t mourn them or feel pity, you felt no guilt, and that’s what fucked with you. Were you a bad person?

You had to be. 

But you’d never been one before Ambrose. 

You distracted yourself from the thoughts. You’d spiral and never get back up if you let yourself go down the rabbit hole. You tore off a piece of turkey and threw it at Jonesy, she pounced on it the second it hit the floor. 

You finished the sandwiches, one going into a brown paper bag the other a plate that you wrapped with plastic. You left the kitchen, winding around boxes and junk that they called sentimental. You’d gotten into a nasty fight with Bo a few months ago about cleaning the house up a little, but he had refused. 

You hadn’t realized how many beers he’d had that night and chosen the wrong moment to suggest change. Something he was staunchly against. He hadn’t hit you, never had, but he’d thrown a bottle near your head, the glass shattering and bouncing off the wall. Some of it had hit you, scraping up the back of your arms and legs. It wasn’t too bad, but you hadn’t felt that terrified of him since the night you came here. 

You’d been petty, stolen his keys and camped out in one of the houses in town. You hadn’t been able to get any sleep, not with the wax family watching you, but it had gotten the message across. Lester had told you Bo thought you’d left and lost his fucking shit. Vincent, apparently, had been even worse. 

By the time you got back the house was in worse shape then when you’d left. 

Bo had told you he’d think about cleaning some of the stuff out. That had been three months ago.

You grabbed the flashlight off their father’s desk and used the hatch in the office, dropping down into Vincent’s lair. Vincent, when he’d discovered just how much you hated the darkness that led into his workspace, had started leaving a flashlight out for you. 

When Bo got pissed at you he’d hide it. You’d have to crawl to him and beg for it back. 

You’re pretty sure he didn’t care what it was that he stole, he just wanted to exercise some control over you. Remind you of your place in this town, under him.

The flashlight was a nice thought from Vincent, but it didn’t really help you much. You used it anyway, wanting him to know you appreciated how much he cared. Because you’re pretty sure he’s the only real reason you’re alive. 

When Bo had caught you down here, standing over Owen’s dead body, he told you he didn’t know if he was going to keep you alive or not. You knew he meant it, he wasn’t teasing you or playing around, he genuinely did not know what to do with you. You were an outlier in a long list of repetitive victims. 

Vincent swept in behind him, glanced down at the ax, the injuries all over your body, and hesitantly stepped towards you. They looked at each other, a silent conversation laying in their gazes.  

Vincent took a slow step towards you and you recognized his actions for what they were. A test. 

Earlier, you’d seen Vincent try to help his brother, ease his pain and wrap up his wounds. Bo had reacted cruelly, the only thing he seemed to be capable of. 

You watched with a blank stare as Vincent kneeled down in front of you, brushing his fingers over the scraped skin of your knee. 

You jumped slightly at the burn of flesh against your wound, but otherwise didn’t react. Slowly, he stood back up, grabbing your arm with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your first meeting. He led you back to his desk, flipping over the drawing of your face and pulling out bandages. 

Some of them he had to toss to the side because they were covered in wax, others he used on you. 

Bo watched it all with a frown on his face and crossed arms. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Vincent’s head shot up and his arms tightened around you. Again, you forced yourself not to react, not to flinch away from his hold and grimace as you heard his muffled breath next to your ear. Vincent didn’t say anything, didn’t move his hands to communicate, he blocked you in like a guard dog and after a moment you heard Bo cussing and storming out. 

He mentioned something about getting the restg of your group, but nothing after that. You could only relax once you heard the basement hatch slam shut. “Thank you,” you whispered to Vincent. He grunted, but offered nothing else. 

His fingers were quick, precise in the way they cleaned and wrapped your wounds. They were also surprisingly gentle for someone who had just slammed a blade through your friend's skull. 

Vincent kept you squirreled away down there, sleeping on a cot in the corner of his large and stuffy studio. You weren’t sure how many days or weeks had passed with him idly sketching you and sculpting different wax animals for you, the lack of windows made it hard to tell, but you do know you were much better off here than in Bo’s dungeon. 

You’d learned bits of sign language from him, you were bored and he seemed eager to teach you. To finally have someone who would speak his language too. 

He was kind in his own way, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager to get the fuck out of there. 

Bo had stormed down one day, saw you, and lost his goddamn shit. Apparently, he’d thought Vincent was only keeping you around for a bit of fun and then killing you. The fact that you were still alive, and being taken care of, nearly gave him an aneurysm. 

Again, Vincent hadn’t let Bo hurt you. He’d protected you from his brother’s wrath and forced Bo to accept that you were staying. 

Sometimes you wished you weren’t kind to him. That you had yelled, kicked, and clawed at him. Called him a freak and told him to go to hell and find his precious momma. You would be dead, sure, but you wouldn’t be here. 

Thoughts like that had disappeared a long time ago, left with the summer heat. You knew it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, you’d been a psych student before your world was flipped on its axis. You knew what the signs were, but this wasn’t loving them to save yourself. 

This was accepting that there was no place for you in society anymore, not after what you’d done. Not after you’d actually helped Vincent sculpt his wax around Allison’s pretty face. 

You’d enjoyed it, a sick satisfaction from seeing the bitch dead, your survival a victory over her. 

When she’d been alive she had a top. This really cute white, lacy number and no matter how many times you asked, she would never let you borrow it. She had no qualms stealing your clothes and never giving them back, but god forbid you ever even looked at that top.

It hung in your closet now, yours to do with whatever you pleased. You smiled every time you thought about it. 

“Vince?” You knocked on the doorway and clicked the flashlight off as the door creaked open. The warm glow of candlelight leaked out into the dark abyss. You slipped inside, shuddering at the rush of heat that hit you. It wasn’t always hot in here, only when he was preparing a new batch of wax. 

You frowned, he only did that when there were visitors coming. Lester must’ve called ahead, told them he spotted someone on the road. You closed the door behind you walking towards his desk and dropping the plate on top. Your fingers skimmed over the sketches, catching on another one of you. 

You picked it up and smiled, it was a sketch of you curled up on the couch with Jonesy, your face pressed into her fur as you slept. You remember waking up from that nap, frowning when you heard wood creaking behind you but not seeing anything. 

What a weird little stalker. He knew he could ask to sketch you and you didn’t mind, but he always ran away like you were gonna be mad at him. You shook your head, placing it back down, and walked further into his studio. 

You found him sitting at his table, curled over something you couldn’t make out. You could see his wrist flicking, the carving tool in his hand, and figured he was making another animal for you. You already had a whole shelf full of different animals, practically your own wax zoo. 

“Hey,” you whispered, hands creeping slowly along his shoulders. He tensed slightly before he leaned into you. “Brought you lunch.” His movements paused to sign, Thank you.

You glanced down at his hair, curling around him like a dark curtain and frowned. “Vince, you got wax in your hair again.” He shrugged and continued working. You sighed, walking back towards his desk and rustling through drawers until you found the brush you’d left down here for him.

Sometimes you think he does this on purpose because he likes how you take care of him. You ran the brush through his hair a few times trying to make sure you’d gotten all the wax out. He let out a low groan, his head tilting back and thudding against your chest as you stood behind him. 

You chuckled, scratching your fingers along his scalp and he let out a long sigh, melting into you. You’d have to force him into the shower later, to wash everything out of his hair. It was astounding how stubborn both brothers were about just showering. 

You weren’t sure why they resisted so much, maybe it was something that happened between them and their parents. Either way, it was a fight to get them near the water and even then you had to bribe them with your body, luring them in like a siren just so you could wash the grime off. 

You braided Vincent’s hair away from his face and he stilled, temporarily becoming your doll while you did what you wanted to him. He was always a bit easier than his brother. He was eager to please, even more eager for your praise. For you to tell him you were proud of him. 

You leaned down, pressing a kiss against the waxed cheek of his mask. “Eat your lunch, please.” He nodded but the second you backed off he was back to carving into the block of wax before him. You sighed and glanced around his space, collecting the dishes of other half-eaten meals you’ve brought down. 

The bell rang above you and you let out a sigh or relief as you stepped into Bo’s shop. A cool breeze rustled the fabric of your top. Seems like he got the air conditioning up and running again, even in winter you could still wear a tank top and shorts and be sweating. “Bo?”

“Back here!”

You walked towards the garage, brown bag clutched tightly in your hands and poked your head in. He was bent over, head under the hood of a car and oil smeared all over his coveralls. Your eyes traveled over the car he was working on, wincing when you realized it was yours. 

You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten here. You’d seen Bo towing it in, along with Owen’s but you’d always avoided paying too much attention to it. You weren’t sure why he bothered working on it, maybe it was a taunt towards you or he was just bored. You never really knew with him. 

“Brought lunch,” you offered, walking towards his work table and jumping on top, the bag going next to your thighs. He lifted himself up, looking towards you and smiling. 

“Thanks, hun,” you hummed in response, sticking your neck out as he approached. He chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

He reached for the bag, pulling out his lunch and taking too big of a bite. “‘M gonna have to go up to the house,” he mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. “Need to change before our visitors get here.”

You nodded, staying quiet as he stared at you. You’d gotten used to this look and even more used to what was about to happen after. He’d tell you to follow him and would help you off the desk, deceptively sweet as he tugged you down to the room below the garage. 

Then he would tape you up, muttering to himself about not letting you leave. You’d submit easily, letting him do what he wanted. It was easier than trying to tell him you were staying. 

But his gaze shifted back to the car and you frowned at the side of his face. He should’ve told you to move by now. Instead he leaned back against the desk, his hand skimming your own. He didn’t look at you while he spoke. 

“Want you to work on your car.”

You blanched, eyes going wide as you stared at him. That wasn’t even close to what you were expecting. You had gotten so used to sitting under that grate, listening to the screams of his victims as he hunted them down. Now, he wanted you up here, wanted you to see it. 

What was he doing?

“What?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “fucked somethin’ up, want you to fix it.” He crumpled the bag into a ball, tossing it into the trash can and turned back towards you. You didn’t see anything on his face that would give away why he was keeping you up here on the surface and it set you on edge. 

This had to be some sort of test. Maybe he was seeing if you would try and use the new victims to escape or warn them off. Or he wanted to see if you could pretend like you belonged, go along with his act and keep the victims feeling safe and compliant while he killed them off. 

What the fuck?

You were used to how things worked in Ambrose. There was a system set in place, one you had learned to follow. This went against what you’d come to know and it was setting you on edge as you watched him walk off, heading up the hill and towards his house. 

You stayed glued to the desk for a while, you weren’t sure how long, but it was enough time for Bo to have cleaned up. He popped his head inside the garage, suit on, and frowned. “What’re you doing? Move your ass.”

You jumped, leaping off the work table and rushing towards the car. He laughed at your panicked movements, staying a moment to admire your ass as you bent over the hood before you heard his boots on the gravel, heading towards the church. 

You didn’t appreciate this switch up with him, how erratic his moods and behaviors were. He made it impossible to track and read him, to fully understand why he worked the way he did. 

You were grateful that, at the very least, he had given you a distraction from trying to figure out what this test was and if you were in trouble or not. 

You inspected the car, forcing yourself to remember everything he’s taught you while you’ve lingered in his shop. 

“Oh, they're right here.”

You jumped, rolling out from underneath the car and glancing towards the doorway that connected the garage to the auto shop. Two unfamiliar voices echoed within Bo’s shop. 

“Fan belts?”

“Yeah,” a guy and a girl. You poked your head over the top of the car and saw the guy was a lot taller than you and broader. Shit, you really hoped you didn’t run into him once they figured out what was going on up here. “But he doesn’t have the right size.”

“Just pick one, Wade, I don’t want to be in here much longer.”

“Alright, just hold on Carly.” You grabbed a rag, wiping your hands off and stepping towards them. 

“You plannin’ on stealin’ that?”

They both jumped, whipping around towards where you leaned in the doorway arms crossed over your chest. “No,” the guy rushed to defend himself, his girlfriend shaking her head frantically. “We left some money on the counter, we just needed to get out of here, that’s all.”

“There you are,” you all turned towards Bo. His posture matched your own, leaned against the entrance to the shop, hands tucked in his pockets. God, he looked good. Now that you weren’t fighting for your life you could fully appreciate how handsome he looked all cleaned up. Bo glanced at you then back to the other two, “She botherin’ you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, glaring at him over their shoulders. He winked when they faced you and you figured he was putting on another show. Huffing out an irritated breath you rolled your eyes and turned back towards your car. You frowned at the oil streaked along your skin and clothes, you’d never be able to get the stains out. 

“Oh,” Carly started, shaking her head and glancing back at you again. “No, of course not, we just didn’t know that there was anyone in the shop.”

“She’s new, don’t like lettin’ her around customers, too much attitude.” You could practically see his smirk from under the car. He was probably so proud of himself, being able to tease you without you snapping back for once. 

“She’s fine, um, I left some money on the counter, but you don’t have any fifteens.” You watched as Bo’s feet moved towards the register, most likely pocketing the money. “Is that enough?”

Bo’s tone was easy going, the perfect southern gentleman as he helped a poor lost couple. “Close enough. You know, I’ve got the right size up at the house. Only a couple blocks from here…”

You forced yourself deaf, trying to block out the rest of their conversation. These people weren’t exactly assholes and they didn’t seem particularly deserving of what was about to happen. Your friends were bad people, you didn’t feel guilty about them, but there was something about this couple that had your stomach burning in anxiety. 

Maybe this was why Bo had you outside, playing mechanic with him. He wanted you to see the harsh reality of what it was they did here. you couldn’t always cover your ears and pretend it wasn’t happening. Was this what the test was? See how committed you were to him and Vincent, to Ambrose. 

You used the car as a cover, dropping the wrench beside you and covering your face as you tried to decide whether you were going to cry or throw up. It was fine, the idea of all this, when you were hidden under the grate. The straps were a reminder that it could be you up there being hunted again. 

Being face to face with the victims was entirely different. 

A hand slammed down on the roof of the car, the metal reverberating around you, “Hey!”

You screamed, jumping up and nearly hitting your head on the underbelly of the car. You rolled out, glaring at Bo while he stood smiling down at you. He kneeled down, laying a hand around your thigh and squeezing. 

“You’re gonna stay here, keep an eye out for any more of their friends, and behave. Okay?”

You nodded and he dug his nails in, “Yes, Bo.” 

“Good girl,” he stood up and walked towards the garage door. You watched him, afraid to take your eyes off his back. He turned back around, one last lingering look that had you feeling cold, “Don’t fuck up.” You flinched as the garage door slammed down behind him. 

“Help! Help me, please!” You jumped up and ran to the front of the auto shop. Carly ran face first into you, her fingernails digging painfully into your skin as she looked behind her. 

“Shit,” you grabbed her biceps and pulled her away. “What’s going on?”

She backed up, wiping her eyes and gulping as she tried to catch her breath. “That- that guy, Bo, I think he did something to my boyfriend.”

“Alright, calm down, it’s okay.” God, you were just as freaked out as her. What the fuck were you supposed to do? “Let me get the phone, we’ll call someone.”

She nodded, running to the door and locking it. She pressed her face against the glass and peered outside, keeping an eye out for him. You knew you didn’t have long before she started to get suspicious. The station had a working phone, but there was no way in hell you were actually about to call the cops on Bo. 

You paced back and forth, running your hands through your hair as you looked around, trying to find a solution. Your eyes snagged on the wrench by the car. You whipped your head over your shoulder, Carly was still stuck to the window. You ran for it, grabbing it and turning back towards her. 

You raised your hand up, wincing as she caught your eye in the reflection of the glass. “What’re-”

She crumpled to the ground with a thud, crimson pooling around her arms. 

You saw in the reflection Bo approaching you from behind, back in his coveralls. “Atta girl!” You didn’t react when he slung his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Did good, baby.” He released you, huffing out a big sigh and walking over to the girl, “Alright, grab her ankles.” His tone was no longer adoring going right back to business. 

You looked at him like he was crazy, ”Bo, what?”

You dropped the wrench to the ground and he frowned from where he was picking up her wrists. “You got a problem?”

”Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? Why am I doing this?” He dropped her arms unceremoniously and you winced at the crack they made against the cement. He stepped over her, stalking towards you and you stumbled back, heart beating faster in fear. 

His hand snapped out, grabbing you before you could make it far. You whined as he dug his nails into your cheeks, puckering your lips and gripping your jaw hard enough for it to creak. “You’re doing this ‘cause I said to. Do we have a problem?”

He was so good at making you feel small. You wonder how Vincent’s put up with it all these years. “No, Bo,” your words were muffled by his grip, but he got the message. He released you, but you didn’t go far, his arm wrapping around waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his hand coming up to push some of your hair back. “It’s alright, darlin.’ We all make mistakes, right?” His tone was condescending, his smirk even more so, but you played along like he wanted you to. Nodding and accepting when he pressed a violent kiss to your mouth, your teeth clashing together and lip splitting from the force of it. 

He backed away from you, chuckling loudly and going back to the unconscious girl on the floor. You grabbed her by the ankles like he’d told you to and helped him drag her down to the basement. He propped her head on your shoulder while he unlocked the door and you struggled under her dead weight. 

“Why is she going down here, Bo?”

Your mind went to the Polaroids covering the walls, the things he’s had you do in that chair and you felt anger burning in your gut. Not worry or fear for her like you should feel, but white hot burning rage at him for trying to pull something like this.

He looked over his shoulder at your expression and grinned, “Nothin’ like that, baby. Little bitch put up a fight and wrecked my truck, I ain’t done with her yet.” 

A good person would wince and whisper and apology to the unconscious girl, say they were sorry for the pain she was about to experience. Instead you felt sated, relieved, and completely fine with hauling her body up into the chair and taping her down. 

You held her legs down as he taped them and she started to move around. Bo tossed you some superglue and you gripped her by the jaw, clamping her lips shut and pouring glue over the seam of her mouth. She whimpered and you ignored her, moving mechanically, distancing yourself from the fact that she was a real moving person. In her place was a wax statue, full of imperfections that you needed the glue to fix. 

All three of you looked up through the grate at the sound of the boots stomping in the garage above you. Bo shared a look with you and nodded towards the door. You let the girl go, slipping out of the basement and closing the door behind you. You came up through the entrance behind the register, glancing outside to see a man in front of the garage. 

You let out a breath of relief, closing the door to the shop as you stepped into the garage, he hadn’t got a chance to see the pool of blood. “Can I help you?”

He turned around, a particularly bitchy look on his face. “Looking for my sister, Carly, seen her?”

There was a loud yelp and you frowned. You walked towards the work table, reaching for the stereo and turning the volume to Bo’s music on. You covered the grate from his view as Deftones blasted through the small garage. 

“Sorry, it’s my dog, she hates new people.”

He gave you an awkward smile and nodded. “Yeah, might’ve seen her. Pretty girl, blonde hair?”

He nodded his head, giving you an appraising look. You weren’t sure if he didn’t believe you or was checking you out. You really preferred that he didn’t believe you, you weren’t prepared to deal with Bo if he thought someone was moving in on you. ”My boss, Bo, took her and her boyfriend up to his house a few minutes ago. They were lookin’ for a fan belt.”

“His house?”

You shrugged, “He keeps extra shipments there. Wasn’t too long ago, you want me to take you?” 

He sucked on his teeth, shaking his head and backing away. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

You panicked, fists clenching as you watched him retreat. “It's really no problem.”

“I said I’m good,” he snapped. 

You could see Bo creeping up behind him, the same wrench you used on the guy’s sister in his hand. If he turned around he would see Bo. Carly was easy to take out, she was small, trusting. This guy looked built and like he’d been in a few too many fights. “Wait!” You shouted, too scared to come up with a good distraction. 

He glared at you and opened his mouth to say something just as Bo struck. The wrench came down on the guys head with a disturbing crack, but he didn’t fall like he should have. He stumbled forward and whirled around on Bo, his fist catching him in the jaw and tackling him to the ground. 

You could clearly see blood pouring down the back of his head, but he remained unphased as he  pounded into Bo. “Shit,” you cursed, darting to the side to pick up another weapon but you failed to notice how the man had stopped beating Bo. He must’ve seen you moving somehow because in a split second something was slamming into your side and the air was leaving you as you were slammed into the cement. 

You groaned, feeling like your lungs had collapsed and curled up in an attempt to protect yourself as he directed his attacks towards you. “Nick!” A shrill voice screamed from the grate. “Nick!” He leapt off of you, heading back towards Bo and ripping the keys off his belt as he made a run for it. 

Your vision was red, blood pouring down from a cut on your forehead. You took in a painful breath, your lungs wheezing, your ribs had apparently taken the majority of his punches. With your brain pounding against your eyes you rolled onto your knees and crawled towards Bo. 

He wasn’t as badly injured as you had thought he would be, must’ve gotten in a few hits of his own. “Bo,” you grabbed his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Bo!” You tried again, shouting this time and slamming his head down on the cement. 

He groaned and you let yourself fall back, head lolling on your shoulders as you tried to get your vision to stop swimming. “Shit, he got me.” Bo sat up, wiping the blood from under his nose, “Get home.” He ordered, tone not leaving any room for an argument. You nodded as he stormed off, but instead of going home like he told you to, you laid down on the cold cement and groaned. 

Should lungs hurt?

You eventually managed your way to the house, once you’d got breath back, your injuries weren’t as bad as you’d thought they’d been. You stumbled into the doorway, glancing at a trail of blood leading into the office and trudging your way to the fridge. You grabbed a beer and threw yourself down on the couch. 

It didn’t take long to hear footsteps creeping towards you. Your heart clenched when you saw how hesitant Vincent was to get near you. You loved Bo, but he could be a real fucking dick to his brother. You leaned your head against the cushion, rolling it to the right and smiling at Vincent. 

It seemed to be enough for him to feel comfortable approaching you. He kneeled on the floor beside you and fussed over your scrapes. “I’m fine, really,” you reached up, taking his hand in yours and trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I think they got Bo pretty bad, though.”

He tugged his hands from yours, taking off his gloves and signing. How bad

”One of the guys, he’s pretty strong, busted his sister out from the basement after attacking me and Bo. Actually managed to knock Bo out for a minute.”

Stay here

“Wait-” you reached out, trying to grab the back of his sweater but he was already making a run for the front door. It slammed closed behind him, his truck starting up a minute later. You sighed and fell back against the couch, letting your eyes shut as you tried to relax. 

You hadn’t realized just how relaxed you’d gotten until you heard the door slam. You jumped up, glancing out the living room window and realizing how dark it’d gotten. You moved off the couch, placing your beer on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. 

Bo was leaning on the counter, already a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was completely soaked in blood, his nose leaking and a bandage wrapped around his arm. “Holy shit, Bo, what happened?” 

You ran forward, hands instinctively going to the arrow buried in his arm. “Back off!” He snapped. You frowned and stepped back from him, trying not to upset him any further. You heard the rumble of a truck on the driveway and you glanced through the window. 

Two bodies lay in the bed of Vincent’s yellow truck, a blonde girl and some guy you hadn’t seen before. Vincent jumped out, Jonesy following behind him, and made his way towards the door. You opened it before he could, grabbing him by the cardigan and making sure he wasn’t hurt like Bo. 

He took your hands in his and shook his head, gently moving you back. “What have I told you about leaving without me?” Bo shouted. “You wait for me!”

Vincent nodded, not bothering to respond to Bo. There was a moment of tense silence before Bo offered a half-hearted smile to Vincent, “We’re almost done, Vinnie, momma would be proud of ya.”

It was the closest to an apology Vincent would ever get, you all knew it. Bo can’t apologize, his parents had permantly fucked with his psyche, and it started with his dad doing a risky surgery to seperate his boys. Vincent’s face would permanently be ruined but you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Bo had gotten the fucked mental end of the separation. 

“How many are left?” You asked, reluctantly releasing Vincent’s hands. 

“The girl and her brother,” Bo paced, taking a swig of his whiskey. He hissed and clutched his hurt arm. “Alright, help me out with this.”

You had to hold yourself back from snapping at him. Oh, can I help now? Dick. You grabbed hold of what was left of the arrow and yanked as hard as you could, Bo clenched his teeth and let out a loud pained groan. You winced at the amount of blood that started coming out, Vincent moved you to the side, already having a bandage ready and tying it tight around Bo’s arm. 

“Where do you think they headed?”

Bo grunted, speaking through clenched teeth, “House of Wax.”

You nodded and stepped back from him once it seemed like Vincent wouldn’t need your help. “I’ll go with you both.”

”No,” Bo shouted and Vincent shook his head wildly. 

“Don’t be a dumbass, you need my help. They’ve already kicked your ass, I’ll stay out of sight, promise. I just want to be there in case they get the upper hand.” Bo looked unsure and Vincent was still shaking his head. You placed a comforting hand on both of their arms and begged, “Please. Let me help.”

Bo shook his head and your stomach dropped, worried he would say no. Finally he let out a long sigh, “Stick with Vincent.”

You nodded, feeling Vincent’s hand grab onto yours as he led you outside. Bo grunted and slowly followed after you both, his left arm stiff beside him. 

You followed Vincent into the bowels of the House of Wax, he moved slowly, keeping one hand behind him to make sure you didn’t bolt. You weren’t planning on it, but they didn’t seem to completely trust you for some reason. 

You heard footsteps ahead, quck and frantic, rushing through his workshop. Vincent pulled out his bone handle daggers and ran down the rest of the steps. You stayed on the stairwell, keeping your head peaked around the corner. 

The brother was in there, rushing through the workshop and knocking shit over without a care in the world. He hadn’t noticed Vincent yet, too busy looking for something. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or what the plan was until you saw him grab a pile of sheets, getting ready to throw them in the fire that kept the wax warm. 

Shit, he was going to set the whole damn place on fire. 

Even if you did manage to kill these two, it wouldn’t matter, the police would come, they’d see the bodies. Bo and Vincent would be locked up and you…

Well, you didn’t really know what would happen to you. 

You could always plead insanity, show the jury the scars from your bonds and they’d think you were just a victim forced to do the unimaginable. 

You considered it for a moment, letting him get away with this, thought about the freedom that might await you. There was an empty feeling associated with that image, you’d miss Bo and Vince, miss the fucked up life you were living here. 

There weren’t any worries here, just make sure the victims didn’t make it past the woods and you were fine. No taxes, or wondering how you’d afford to keep living in your overpriced apartment, no fucked politics. You were free to be whoever you wanted, do whatever you wanted. 

You grabbed a lead pipe off the stairs and threw it at the wall. It provided enough of a distraction for him to drop the sheets, not yet making it to the fire, and for Vince to grab him. You watched long enough to see the knife go through his throat and then ran back up the stairs towards Bo. 

You heard screaming before you made it through the door, Carly shouting something at him. What worried you was that you didn’t hear him respond. You turned the corner, feet sticking to the wax as you gripped onto the doorway for balance. 

She was standing over him, baseball bat in her hands poised to bring it back down over his face. You could already see blood leaking down his face from where she’d hit him before. Without thinking you charged at her, wrapping your arms around her middle and taking her down to the floor. 

She let out a surprised yelp but you didn’t let her get much else out before you were wailing on her. You don’t know what happened after you grabbed her. You only remember punching her the first time, remember your knuckles splitting and your blood mingling with hers as she wrestled with you. 

All you could see was Bo laying on the floor, not moving, as this bitch stood over him with a bat. You were blinded by rage, a hot fury burning in your gut and keeping you moving as you pounded your fists into her. You felt satisfied by the sound of her bones crunching under you. 

She screamed at you, words you couldn’t hear as your blood rushed through your ears, and threw her hand up into your chin. You groaned, jaw whipping to the side. She pounced on you, digging her fingers into your throat until you couldn’t breathe and flipping you both over. 

You dragged your nails down her face, the skin digging under your nails like warm wax. You dragged your palms down until you could feel her throat, the movement it made as she took in a deep breath. You felt it bob up and down under your touch and you squeezed. She let out a strangled yelp and you could feel yourself slipping. You were becoming lost in a place of animalistic panic. 

You were almost dead, the man you loved was most likely lying dead next to you as you fought for your own life. Your vision was cloudy until it went completely black and then you felt arms wrapping around your chest and pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, still in fighting for your life until you recognized the voice in your ear. 

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s over.” You slumped back at the sound of Bo’s whispers. You ignored the feeling of his blood leaking into your shirt as he sat down with you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing until it hurt. 

You didn’t mind the pain, though, embracing it because it meant you were both alive. Both of you were okay. You reached back, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into him. Carly lay dead a few feet in front of you, her face mangled and you looked down to see her blood soaking into your clothes. 

You had your own wounds from where she’d fought back, bleeding lacerations that you’d fix later. For now you sat with Bo, watching as Vincent stomped towards you both. In a minute you’d get up, help them clean up the house and the bodies. Then you’d all go home, you’d make dinner, pass out on the couch and wake up in one of their beds. Probably Bo, if his panicked grip was anything to go by. 

Life would go on as it always had, except you’d never have to see that chair again. You’d never be looking up through a grate as blood pooled on the garage floor. You’d go with Bo when he went to the city for supplies, you’d be able to pick out clothes that weren’t plucked from the hands of the dead. 

It wasn’t right. 

You weren’t a good person. 

You didn’t deserve salvation or heaven after all of this. 

But you’d found it and you were perfectly happy. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

One More Spring

One-shot

Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.

You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 

For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 

You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 

“Trying to get some color back.”

You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”

“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”

He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 

You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 

As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 

Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 

You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 

You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”

You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”

He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”

I thought you would like it. 

I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.

You always look pretty in this color, baby.

You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 

And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 

Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”

He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 

You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 

You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 

Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 

You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.

Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”

You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 

A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”

You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 

He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 

When would it happen?

When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?

You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 

You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 

Alright, you’ll take that. 

Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 

You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 

You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 

You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 

You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 

You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 

Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 

You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 

You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 

He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 

You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 

You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 

Your one act of rebellion. 

It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.

You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 

You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 

You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 

You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 

A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 

Or she would. 

If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 

Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 

You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 

You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 

One more spring.

You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 

You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 

“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 

You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 

He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 

You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 

On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 

What happened to her?

Is she still alive?

Was she the first?

Will we ever know?

No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 

To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 

Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 

You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 

You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 

“I want to go with you.”

Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”

You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 

You could hardly believe it yourself. 

Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 

You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.

You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 

Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 

Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 

He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 

You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 

You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 

“What do you think?”

Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 

“You know I don’t read much, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”

You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”

He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 

His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 

Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 

“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”

You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 

Maybe he had won. 

There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 

You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 

Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 

You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

You’re gonna make me blush ♥️

One More Spring

One-shot

Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.

You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 

For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 

You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 

“Trying to get some color back.”

You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”

“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”

He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 

You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 

As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 

Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 

You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 

You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”

You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”

He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”

I thought you would like it. 

I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.

You always look pretty in this color, baby.

You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 

And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 

Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”

He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 

You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 

You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 

Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 

You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.

Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”

You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 

A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”

You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 

He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 

When would it happen?

When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?

You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 

You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 

Alright, you’ll take that. 

Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 

You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 

You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 

You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 

You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 

You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 

Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 

You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 

You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 

He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 

You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 

You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 

Your one act of rebellion. 

It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.

You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 

You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 

You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 

You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 

A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 

Or she would. 

If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 

Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 

You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 

You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 

One more spring.

You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 

You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 

“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 

You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 

He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 

You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 

On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 

What happened to her?

Is she still alive?

Was she the first?

Will we ever know?

No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 

To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 

Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 

You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 

You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 

“I want to go with you.”

Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”

You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 

You could hardly believe it yourself. 

Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 

You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.

You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 

Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 

Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 

He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 

You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 

You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 

“What do you think?”

Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 

“You know I don’t read much, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”

You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”

He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 

His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 

Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 

“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”

You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 

Maybe he had won. 

There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 

You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 

Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 

You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

NOOOOO!!! You cant have a cliffhanger like that!! That's not fair!!!!

I loved it, this is amazing and hopefully, whenever you have the time, you'll write a part 2.❤❤🥰🥰

Idk if you write soulmate aus, but if you could write a bo sinclair x reader where you can feel your soulmates pain and have their exact scars. But the reader and some friends end up in Ambrose, and her friends figure out that bo is her soulmate and stabs her in the leg to slow him down so they can try and escape. The rest after that is up to you.

Ooooh I love this! I really took my time with this story because I wanted to make it perfect! Thank you so much for the request and for this awesome idea! I kinda made the reader more laid back. So she isn’t so up tight about everything. Kinda like how Carly was until the whole ‘I’m cuttin your finger off’ situation :) 

Soulmate Aus for Bo Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: Slight nsfw. This story contains violence, bad language, kidnapping, and horror elements. I took some inspiration from the movie! 😁 This story is kinda detailed..so I will warn when Vincent is prepping a body(person) to make a wax figure there will be talk off needles, cutting clothes, crying, etc. 

You and a couple friends were heading to some football game. You really didn't want to go but your old group of friends from high school asked you to join. Truthfully you don't even understand why you agreed to go. These people were so mean to you in high school. Bullying you whenever they wanted. Dropping you all the time. And even slept with one of your ex boyfriends. But here you were in the back seat of their car. You were sitting in the back with a girl named Samantha. She had brown hair and hazel eyes that looked like bowls of honey. Beside her was her brother Brain. They looked almost identical even though they were born months apart. In the driver's seat sat Kate. Kate was tall and slender. Her black hair was placed in a tight ponytail. She was the meanest out of the group. Always making fun of your height and body. She was like the evil Regina George only in real life. Kate thought every man wanted her and if they didn't they were 'stuck up' and 'rude.' Beside her was one of the sweetest people ever. Minnie. She was the only one who really was friends with you. The two of you had sleepovers and mall trips. But after high school you lost connection with her. The only reason you were here was because Minnie spotted you at a burger joint. “Y/n!? Is that you? It’s me Minnie from high school. Gosh it’s been so long!” She said running up to your table. “Hey Minnie, how are you?” You asked standing to give the girl a hug. “I’ve been great! I hope life has been treating you well. You look great!” She smiled. “Oh thank you, so do you.” You say smiling back at her. “Hey do you wanna come with me and a couple friends to see a football game? I know sports isn’t really your things but my now ex boyfriend ditched me.” She crossed her arms and pouted a little. Of course you agreed. How were you supposed to tell an already upset Minnie no? And that’s how you ended up in the car with the group of young adults on your way to see a game. That was nearly 9 to 10 hours away. As you sat in the backseat looking out the window you rubbed the scars on your wrist. The scars of your soulmate. You always wondered how they got these scars. Trying to think of more positive reasons. But they never made sense. Maybe your soulmate wrapped a rope around his wrist while playing a game of tug-a-war..  you thought but sighed. ‘That makes no sense Y/n’ You say to yourself while looking at the exposed scars. The short sleeve shirt you choose to wear didn’t help you hide them. Sometimes hiding the scars was easier than thinking about what possibly happened to your sweet partner. Always thinking the worst. Thankfully you always kept a small jacket with you. Just in case. As you and the group started driving through New Orleans the five of you grew tired so Kate decided to pull over and camp out. She was the definition of ‘Party Animal’ This girl brought beers and two radios. As she drunk herself dumb and danced around Brain set up a couple tents. Apparently they knew they were gonna have to stop to sleep. As you all sat around the fire Brian built a truck pulled up flashing his brights on to see you all. Of course you got freaked out. Brian started yelling at whoever was in the truck and Kate in her drunken slumber flipped the person off and tried to flash him back. But Minnie stopped her. Once the truck left you all decided it was time to sleep. Minnie shared her tent with you. She was already sound asleep as you were still up rubbing your thumb over your wrist. One day you’ll meet the man with the scarred wrist. One day. As you fell asleep you thought about what your soulmate could possibly look like. And the things the two of you would do together. Thinking about the good memories to come made you fall right to sleep. 

When morning came you woke up to the sound of a pissed off Kate. Getting out to see what was the matter, you saw smoke coming from her car. “Oh shit, what is happening?” You asked. “The motor is shot to shit.” Brian said as Kate ranted about how much she hated her car. “There is a town close by. I saw the sign on the ride here. Maybe someone could help us.” Minnie said as you grabbed your bag after putting on your jacket. “ I am not walking! Do you really think I am going to stomp through the woods in these heels!” Kate shouted. “Look Minnie and I can go ‘stomp’ through the woods.” You said to her. “I’ll go with you two.” Said Samantha. “Great lets go.” Minnie said, taking the lead. After walking what felt like hours a truck started coming down the road. The three of you shouted and waved your arms, flagging the dirty truck down. When the truck got closer it stopped. The smell slapped you in the face hard but you tried not to say anything. Of course Samantha made a few unneeded comments. A man crawled out the truck and walked to the front. He was dirty and smelly. He looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. But you could tell he was a working man. “Do you ladies need a hand? What are you doin’ out here anyways?” He asked. His thick country accent made you smile. The other girls seemed scared of him but you weren’t. “Me and a couple of friends were camping out down the road. And my friend's car motor has stopped working. We saw a sign a little ways about a town around here.. Do you know anyone who could help us?” You said trusting the man. You don’t know why but you didn’t see him as ‘scary’ or ‘freakish’. He was a working man living paycheck to paycheck. The two girls looked at you like you were crazy. “Well there is a town down the road called Ambrose. Bo might be able to help you and your friends. I could give ya a ride if ya like.” The man said as he chewed on a toothpick. “Yes please. Thank you so much.” You said giving the man a soft smile but the girls glared at you. “Of course.” the man opened the door to the truck for you. You got in first then Minnie and Samantha. He closed the door and quickly walked over to the driver's seat. The four of you in this truck made it a tight squeeze. You tried to stay closer to Minnie but your leg still touched the man. “Could you please roll down the window, this one doesn’t work. And it smells terrible.” Samantha said with an attitude. “This old truck has seen better days.” The man chuckled and rolled down his window. “Sorry, I’ve kinda gotten use to the smell.” The man said as he drove. “I don’t think I could ever get use to it.” Minnie said as she covered her nose with her shirt. “Well you can get used to anything, if you’ve been around it long enough.” He said looking at us then back at the road. You sat beside the man trying not to think about the animal bones hitting the back of your head but of course the other two weren’t so mindful. “Sometimes if you get 'em early before the sun bakes' em up, they ain’t so bad. But if they’re fresh I just take em home. Why waste the meat?” The man said, looking at the three of you. That’s when Minnie nudged you, pointing at the man’s hip. How did you not notice the huge knife on this man’s hip? Well he is a hunter. “You like knives?” The man perked up getting excited about the topic. “Kinda.”You nodded “No not really.” Minnie said with a shaky voice.”Tools of the trade. You wanna see it?” The man ripped the knife from its holster. “it’s a Bowie, it’s a good knife. That’ll cut through anything.” The man said, showing off his knife before shoving the knife into the dashboard and slamming on breaks. Making you and the other two girls sling forward. “Oh shit!” Samantha yelled. “The town is just around that bend. I gotta flip my my hubs into four-wheel.” You nodded at the man. Still trusting him. “When was the last time you were here?” Minnie asked. The man was already out of the truck. “Well, you don’t believe me?” He asked looking into the truck at the red headed girl. “I forgot this way in’s washed out, that’s all.” Before you could speak Samantha had already started. “We’ll just walk the rest of the way. Thank you.” She said trying to get the truck door opened. “Now, why would you want to do that?” He asked. “Samantha, stop it.” You say but she kept going. “We wanna walk, okay? Just let us out!” She yelled at him. He looked kinda hurt. “Sure” He grabbed his knife and walked over to the other side and swung the door open. Samantha sighed in relief when she saw that the knife wasn’t in his hands anymore. “Well, get out then!” The man raised his voice a bit. Samantha and Minnie hopped out the truck with quickness but you lingered a bit. You wanted to apologize. That man had been sweet enough to pick the three of you up and give you a ride into the town. “try and do something nice for someone.” He said making you frown. “Look its not like that.” Samantha said with an attitude. “We appreciate it.” Minnie said. “Yeah I can tell.” The man chuckled, obviously irritated. When you got out of the truck you turned towards him. “Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry about them.” You tell the man. He just nodded and gave you a small smile. You waved bye to him as the three of you walked over the water and up the hill entering town. “That guy was a freak!” Samantha shouted. “I kinda feel bad. We jumped out right when he was about to pull into the town.” Minnie said while Samantha rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a freak. He was really nice. You were being a bitch towards him. Just because people aren’t rich like you doesn’t mean you can treat them bad.” You told Samantha. “Wow whatever.” You all walked up the road. Placing shops and homes before getting to the station.  “Hello?” You called out but no one answered. Samantha looked through the garage windows while you opened the station door sticking your head in. “Hello? Anyone here? Bo?” You called out but still nothing. “No one is here.” Samantha said. Like you didn’t know. “Alright well I’m gonna stay here. He might come back. Well he has to in order to lock up.” You said sitting down on the ground. Minnie bit the skin on her fingers. “Well I’m not waiting around. I would actually like to see the game unlike some people. Come on Minnie.” Samantha said, dragging Minnie with her as she walked up the road. You stayed put like you said you would. You rubbed your wrist as you looked around the town. ‘Hm a House of Wax? I love wax figures’ you thought to yourself. Minnie and Samantha continued up the road. “Maybe there is someone in the church. There is always at least one person in a church.” Samantha said with a nervous Minnie following her. She pushed the doors open walking in on a funeral. They looked at the man kneeled in front of a coffin. They mouthed sorry to the man when he turned around to look at them. They quickly shut the door and went outside. “I can’t believe we just did that Sam.” Minnie said right before the man came outside. “Hello. I’m so sorry we walked in.” Minnie started. “You shouldn’t have walked in.” The man said as he pulled out a cigarette. “Yeah, we know but my friend’s car is messed up and we aren’t from around here.” Samantha said. “Yeah we are actually looking for a man named..Bo? I think that’s what Y/n said.” Minnie said looking at Samantha who just shrugged her shoulders. “Y/n knows. She’s at the station. She wanted to wait for him to get there. She doesn’t like snooping around.” Samantha said. “Well you found him.” Bo said, lighting his cigarette. “Really? Well my friend's motor is as my brother said. Shot to shit.” Before Samantha could keep talking Bo stopped her. “So you walked in on a fucking funeral?” Bo said, exhaling. “Just let me dump the casket in the ground. Then I’ll be right there.” He threw his cigarette on the ground and walked back inside. After a few seconds he came back out. “Hey, I’m sorry. You know someone very important to me passed and I didn’t mean to take it out on the two of you.” “No no. It's okay. We understand.” Minnie said to him. “I reckon things will wrap up soon. What about I meet you both back at the station in about a half?” The two girls both nodded. “yeah that would be great if it's okay.” Minnie said. Bo nodded. “Yeah” He said, looking her up and down. Then he went back into the church. “Well look who has a new fan.” Samantha teased. “Oh stop it! He didn’t have my scar..” Minnie said as she rubbed the small scar on her neck “Yeah, yeah..Hey lets go to that House Of Wax.” Samantha said as she started walking in that direction. “And just leave Y/n sitting at the gas station? Yeah no. I’m gonna go tell her what that man said.” Minnie sad. “Well I’m going to the wax museum.” Samantha said leaving Minnie there alone. Minnie sighed and walked back to the station. “Hey, no one’s showed up yet..Where’s Samantha? Did you guys find anyone?” You asked looking up at Minnie from your seat on the ground. “Yeah we found that Bo guy. He was in the church..We walked in on a funeral. One of his loved ones passed. He was really cute, but no visible scars. Sam went to that House Of Wax. I don’t know why she would want to look that creepy wax figures..” Minnie said as she got chills. “Just thinking about them freaks me out.” She said. “Wait you both walked in on a funeral? Wow that is a different type of low.” You said as you giggled a little. “He must have been really cute if you were looking for scars. You never look for scars. Wax figures aren’t that creepy. It’s just wax Minnie.” You said looking up at her. “Well I would like to meet my soulmate.” She crossed her arms. “They are terrifying! What if there are bodies under the wax?” You busted out laughing. “You watch way to many horror movies.” Minnie rolled her eyes. 

As Samantha walked up to the building she noticed a ‘closed’ sign but no sign was going to stop her so after looking around she went inside. The place was very creepy. Now understanding why Minnie is so freaked out by wax figures. “Huh? Isn’t there suppose to be famous people in wax museums?” She asked herself out loud. Continuing to look the vibe started to change drastically. Samantha looked in a mirror, fixing her hair and makeup. Noticing a tall figure staring at her from the corner. She turned around to see the figure. “Damn this one is realistic.” She said walking up to the tall wax like man. Samantha touched the wax face and noticed that it blinked. She went to scream but before she could the man stunk her against the head with the handle of his knife. Samantha fell to the floor with a thud. The tall wax faced man with the long black hair dragged her down to the basement. As Samantha started to wake up she tried to touch her swollen head but couldn’t. She raised her head seeing that she was strapped to a dirty table. “Help me!” She screamed looking over she saw a spotted dog on a bed. Looking over to her left she was face to face with the nameless man. “Please let me go.” She begged as she started to cry. Only crying harder when the man put a needle in her neck. The man unstrapped her limbs when she wasn’t able to move them anymore. Samantha just cried as the man started to cut her clothes off. Feeling the water hit her legs and torso she continued looking around as best as she could. Samantha cried helplessly, trying to beg him to let her go but it was mostly grunts and groans. As the man serried wax across her eye brows she got tensed. After waxing her eyebrows the man put the unconscious Samantha into a metal contraption. Pouring wax all over her. 

Minnie looked around the shop as you watched her from the doorway. “Don’t touch his stuff Minnie.” You told her for the millionth time. “What? I’m bored. It feel like its been hours.” Minnie groaned. “I wonder what Sam is doing.” She said as she picked up random tools looking at them. “Probably vandalizing poor pieces of art.” You said as Minnie just nodded. “Everything in here could be used to kill someone.” She said looking back at you. You rolled your eyes and walked up to her. “You never know that tool your holding could have brutally butchered some helpless soul.” She said chuckling afterwards as she threw the tool down on the table. “Ya’ll plan on stealin those?” You both jumped and looked at the tall man leaning against the doorway. “N-no we were just fooling around.” Minnie said as her face went bright red from embarrassment. “I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea.” You said as you walked out of the garage back into the store. “No, it’s okay.” Bo said making you smile. You pulled up your sleeves on your jacket, showing your scars. “Why don’t we head to the house. I can get the key to the tow truck and we can go find your friend’s car.” Bo said as he walked out the the station. You eagerly followed. You were very attracted to this man and wanted to be close to him. “My names Y/n. I don’t believe we met yet.” You said walking beside the man as Minnie tried to run up to you. “I’m Bo. Its a pleasure to meet you.” Bo smiled shooting you his signature grin. “Why are the keys at your house? Shouldn’t they be at the station.” Minnie asked the man as she started getting scared. “Well I keep them at the house so no one steals them.” He said. “Where is your other friend?” He asked looking at Minnie. “Oh she went to the wax museum. I don’t know what’s taking her so long.” Minnie said as she looked at him then at you. “Damn Y/n what happened to your wrist.” She said fairly loud. Minnie never saw your scars before you tried your best to keep them hidden. “Oh um..” You said as Bo looked at your wrist. Quickly you pushed your sleeves down. “I don’t know. They belong to my soulmate.” You said looking up at Bo who was starring a hole right through you. The rest of the walk was pretty quiet. “So is it late to sign up for that beauty pageant?” You asked trying to break the ice. “Unfortunately it is, cause you would of won hands down.”  Bo said as he looked at you. “Oh thank you.” You blushed a little making Bo smirk. As the three of you got to the house Bo opened the door to his truck. “Go ahead and hop on in. I’ll drive us down to the station to pick up the tow truck.” He said as he helped you get into the truck. “Do ya’ll need to use the can?” He said smiling brightly at the two girls. “No I don’t” You said with a small chuckle. Minnie shook her head as she got into the truck. “Alright.” Bo smiled and closed the door. He walked into the house. Sitting in the truck for what seemed like 10 minutes the strange man finally came out. You watched as he got into the truck. “I got you two some water. It can get quite hot out here. Wouldn’t want you two to get dehydrated.” He said handing you and Minnie a water bottle. You thanked him as you opened the bottle. ‘Its just water’ You said to yourself. Minnie watched in horror as you drink the water. Trusting you and your judgement she drunk her water too. Once the truck pulled up at the station you felt off. Like something wasn’t right. “Bo? What was in that water?” You ask him as your head started to spin. You soon passed out, your head falling onto Bo’s shoulder. 

As Minnie started to wake up she tried to rub her head. Failing to do so by some restraints. She looked at her wrist watching the man as he wrapped tape around her wrist. “Hey!” She muffled out through the rag in her mouth. Bo smirked as he started to tape her legs together. Minnie’s eyes widened as she starred at his scarred wrist. Taking notice to this he quickly pulled his sleeves down. “Y/n!” Minnie yelled as best as she could. She looked around trying to find you. You woke up hearing the yelling. “Bo?” You mumbled out. Your eyes were covered and your arms were above your head being held by something. “Bo” You called. Bo quickly covered Minnie with a tarp so he could hide her. Bo walked over to you and pushed your jacket down from your eyes. Somehow he had rolled your jacket up so he could use it to blindfold you. Once you were able to see him you were relived. “What happened?” You ask as Bo removed the chains that held your hands above your head. “Some crazy man tried to rob the station.” He said as he picked you up and took you outside. “Why would someone rob the station?” You asked holding onto Bo. You looked around seeing Kate’s car. “That’s my friends car..how did it get down here?” You asked looking at Bo. “How long was I asleep? Wait..what was in the water?” You asked as you started putting two and two together. “You drugged me!” You yelled at the man as you tried to get out of his grasp. “Shh..Its okay.” Bo hushed you as he rubbed your head. “We have the same scars dariln’” He whispered in your ear. You looked at the man a bit confused. “Sit still and I’ll show you.” You looked at him for some reason you felt like you could trust him so you nodded. “Ok Bo.” Bo slowly released your arms never breaking eye contact, he slowly pulled up his sleeves. You gasp as seeing the scars, you placed your wrist beside his. It was a perfect match. Your head shot up when you heard muffled groans and something that sounded like a bad attempt at a scream. Seeing the tarp moving slightly you grew tense. Bo took notice and quickly grabbed your wrist. “Look at me darlin...we are meant to be girly.” Your widened eyes shot to Bo. He flashed you his signature grin. “Now I got some work to do but don’t you worry darlin i wont hurt ya.” He said as he chained your arms back up, standing up he slowly rubbed your head and pushed your jacket back down to cover your eyes. What the hell have you gotta into you asked yourself. You had so many questions but they were to remain unanswered for right now.

Not the best ending but I hope you enjoyed!! I might make a part two! I left you on a clift hanger from hell lol 

NOOOOO!!! You cant have a cliffhanger like that!! That's not fair!!!!

I loved it, this is amazing and hopefully, whenever you have the time, you'll write a part 2.❤❤🥰🥰

Idk if you write soulmate aus, but if you could write a bo sinclair x reader where you can feel your soulmates pain and have their exact scars. But the reader and some friends end up in Ambrose, and her friends figure out that bo is her soulmate and stabs her in the leg to slow him down so they can try and escape. The rest after that is up to you.

Ooooh I love this! I really took my time with this story because I wanted to make it perfect! Thank you so much for the request and for this awesome idea! I kinda made the reader more laid back. So she isn’t so up tight about everything. Kinda like how Carly was until the whole ‘I’m cuttin your finger off’ situation :) 

Soulmate Aus for Bo Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: Slight nsfw. This story contains violence, bad language, kidnapping, and horror elements. I took some inspiration from the movie! 😁 This story is kinda detailed..so I will warn when Vincent is prepping a body(person) to make a wax figure there will be talk off needles, cutting clothes, crying, etc. 

You and a couple friends were heading to some football game. You really didn't want to go but your old group of friends from high school asked you to join. Truthfully you don't even understand why you agreed to go. These people were so mean to you in high school. Bullying you whenever they wanted. Dropping you all the time. And even slept with one of your ex boyfriends. But here you were in the back seat of their car. You were sitting in the back with a girl named Samantha. She had brown hair and hazel eyes that looked like bowls of honey. Beside her was her brother Brain. They looked almost identical even though they were born months apart. In the driver's seat sat Kate. Kate was tall and slender. Her black hair was placed in a tight ponytail. She was the meanest out of the group. Always making fun of your height and body. She was like the evil Regina George only in real life. Kate thought every man wanted her and if they didn't they were 'stuck up' and 'rude.' Beside her was one of the sweetest people ever. Minnie. She was the only one who really was friends with you. The two of you had sleepovers and mall trips. But after high school you lost connection with her. The only reason you were here was because Minnie spotted you at a burger joint. “Y/n!? Is that you? It’s me Minnie from high school. Gosh it’s been so long!” She said running up to your table. “Hey Minnie, how are you?” You asked standing to give the girl a hug. “I’ve been great! I hope life has been treating you well. You look great!” She smiled. “Oh thank you, so do you.” You say smiling back at her. “Hey do you wanna come with me and a couple friends to see a football game? I know sports isn’t really your things but my now ex boyfriend ditched me.” She crossed her arms and pouted a little. Of course you agreed. How were you supposed to tell an already upset Minnie no? And that’s how you ended up in the car with the group of young adults on your way to see a game. That was nearly 9 to 10 hours away. As you sat in the backseat looking out the window you rubbed the scars on your wrist. The scars of your soulmate. You always wondered how they got these scars. Trying to think of more positive reasons. But they never made sense. Maybe your soulmate wrapped a rope around his wrist while playing a game of tug-a-war..  you thought but sighed. ‘That makes no sense Y/n’ You say to yourself while looking at the exposed scars. The short sleeve shirt you choose to wear didn’t help you hide them. Sometimes hiding the scars was easier than thinking about what possibly happened to your sweet partner. Always thinking the worst. Thankfully you always kept a small jacket with you. Just in case. As you and the group started driving through New Orleans the five of you grew tired so Kate decided to pull over and camp out. She was the definition of ‘Party Animal’ This girl brought beers and two radios. As she drunk herself dumb and danced around Brain set up a couple tents. Apparently they knew they were gonna have to stop to sleep. As you all sat around the fire Brian built a truck pulled up flashing his brights on to see you all. Of course you got freaked out. Brian started yelling at whoever was in the truck and Kate in her drunken slumber flipped the person off and tried to flash him back. But Minnie stopped her. Once the truck left you all decided it was time to sleep. Minnie shared her tent with you. She was already sound asleep as you were still up rubbing your thumb over your wrist. One day you’ll meet the man with the scarred wrist. One day. As you fell asleep you thought about what your soulmate could possibly look like. And the things the two of you would do together. Thinking about the good memories to come made you fall right to sleep. 

When morning came you woke up to the sound of a pissed off Kate. Getting out to see what was the matter, you saw smoke coming from her car. “Oh shit, what is happening?” You asked. “The motor is shot to shit.” Brian said as Kate ranted about how much she hated her car. “There is a town close by. I saw the sign on the ride here. Maybe someone could help us.” Minnie said as you grabbed your bag after putting on your jacket. “ I am not walking! Do you really think I am going to stomp through the woods in these heels!” Kate shouted. “Look Minnie and I can go ‘stomp’ through the woods.” You said to her. “I’ll go with you two.” Said Samantha. “Great lets go.” Minnie said, taking the lead. After walking what felt like hours a truck started coming down the road. The three of you shouted and waved your arms, flagging the dirty truck down. When the truck got closer it stopped. The smell slapped you in the face hard but you tried not to say anything. Of course Samantha made a few unneeded comments. A man crawled out the truck and walked to the front. He was dirty and smelly. He looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. But you could tell he was a working man. “Do you ladies need a hand? What are you doin’ out here anyways?” He asked. His thick country accent made you smile. The other girls seemed scared of him but you weren’t. “Me and a couple of friends were camping out down the road. And my friend's car motor has stopped working. We saw a sign a little ways about a town around here.. Do you know anyone who could help us?” You said trusting the man. You don’t know why but you didn’t see him as ‘scary’ or ‘freakish’. He was a working man living paycheck to paycheck. The two girls looked at you like you were crazy. “Well there is a town down the road called Ambrose. Bo might be able to help you and your friends. I could give ya a ride if ya like.” The man said as he chewed on a toothpick. “Yes please. Thank you so much.” You said giving the man a soft smile but the girls glared at you. “Of course.” the man opened the door to the truck for you. You got in first then Minnie and Samantha. He closed the door and quickly walked over to the driver's seat. The four of you in this truck made it a tight squeeze. You tried to stay closer to Minnie but your leg still touched the man. “Could you please roll down the window, this one doesn’t work. And it smells terrible.” Samantha said with an attitude. “This old truck has seen better days.” The man chuckled and rolled down his window. “Sorry, I’ve kinda gotten use to the smell.” The man said as he drove. “I don’t think I could ever get use to it.” Minnie said as she covered her nose with her shirt. “Well you can get used to anything, if you’ve been around it long enough.” He said looking at us then back at the road. You sat beside the man trying not to think about the animal bones hitting the back of your head but of course the other two weren’t so mindful. “Sometimes if you get 'em early before the sun bakes' em up, they ain’t so bad. But if they’re fresh I just take em home. Why waste the meat?” The man said, looking at the three of you. That’s when Minnie nudged you, pointing at the man’s hip. How did you not notice the huge knife on this man’s hip? Well he is a hunter. “You like knives?” The man perked up getting excited about the topic. “Kinda.”You nodded “No not really.” Minnie said with a shaky voice.”Tools of the trade. You wanna see it?” The man ripped the knife from its holster. “it’s a Bowie, it’s a good knife. That’ll cut through anything.” The man said, showing off his knife before shoving the knife into the dashboard and slamming on breaks. Making you and the other two girls sling forward. “Oh shit!” Samantha yelled. “The town is just around that bend. I gotta flip my my hubs into four-wheel.” You nodded at the man. Still trusting him. “When was the last time you were here?” Minnie asked. The man was already out of the truck. “Well, you don’t believe me?” He asked looking into the truck at the red headed girl. “I forgot this way in’s washed out, that’s all.” Before you could speak Samantha had already started. “We’ll just walk the rest of the way. Thank you.” She said trying to get the truck door opened. “Now, why would you want to do that?” He asked. “Samantha, stop it.” You say but she kept going. “We wanna walk, okay? Just let us out!” She yelled at him. He looked kinda hurt. “Sure” He grabbed his knife and walked over to the other side and swung the door open. Samantha sighed in relief when she saw that the knife wasn’t in his hands anymore. “Well, get out then!” The man raised his voice a bit. Samantha and Minnie hopped out the truck with quickness but you lingered a bit. You wanted to apologize. That man had been sweet enough to pick the three of you up and give you a ride into the town. “try and do something nice for someone.” He said making you frown. “Look its not like that.” Samantha said with an attitude. “We appreciate it.” Minnie said. “Yeah I can tell.” The man chuckled, obviously irritated. When you got out of the truck you turned towards him. “Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry about them.” You tell the man. He just nodded and gave you a small smile. You waved bye to him as the three of you walked over the water and up the hill entering town. “That guy was a freak!” Samantha shouted. “I kinda feel bad. We jumped out right when he was about to pull into the town.” Minnie said while Samantha rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a freak. He was really nice. You were being a bitch towards him. Just because people aren’t rich like you doesn’t mean you can treat them bad.” You told Samantha. “Wow whatever.” You all walked up the road. Placing shops and homes before getting to the station.  “Hello?” You called out but no one answered. Samantha looked through the garage windows while you opened the station door sticking your head in. “Hello? Anyone here? Bo?” You called out but still nothing. “No one is here.” Samantha said. Like you didn’t know. “Alright well I’m gonna stay here. He might come back. Well he has to in order to lock up.” You said sitting down on the ground. Minnie bit the skin on her fingers. “Well I’m not waiting around. I would actually like to see the game unlike some people. Come on Minnie.” Samantha said, dragging Minnie with her as she walked up the road. You stayed put like you said you would. You rubbed your wrist as you looked around the town. ‘Hm a House of Wax? I love wax figures’ you thought to yourself. Minnie and Samantha continued up the road. “Maybe there is someone in the church. There is always at least one person in a church.” Samantha said with a nervous Minnie following her. She pushed the doors open walking in on a funeral. They looked at the man kneeled in front of a coffin. They mouthed sorry to the man when he turned around to look at them. They quickly shut the door and went outside. “I can’t believe we just did that Sam.” Minnie said right before the man came outside. “Hello. I’m so sorry we walked in.” Minnie started. “You shouldn’t have walked in.” The man said as he pulled out a cigarette. “Yeah, we know but my friend’s car is messed up and we aren’t from around here.” Samantha said. “Yeah we are actually looking for a man named..Bo? I think that’s what Y/n said.” Minnie said looking at Samantha who just shrugged her shoulders. “Y/n knows. She’s at the station. She wanted to wait for him to get there. She doesn’t like snooping around.” Samantha said. “Well you found him.” Bo said, lighting his cigarette. “Really? Well my friend's motor is as my brother said. Shot to shit.” Before Samantha could keep talking Bo stopped her. “So you walked in on a fucking funeral?” Bo said, exhaling. “Just let me dump the casket in the ground. Then I’ll be right there.” He threw his cigarette on the ground and walked back inside. After a few seconds he came back out. “Hey, I’m sorry. You know someone very important to me passed and I didn’t mean to take it out on the two of you.” “No no. It's okay. We understand.” Minnie said to him. “I reckon things will wrap up soon. What about I meet you both back at the station in about a half?” The two girls both nodded. “yeah that would be great if it's okay.” Minnie said. Bo nodded. “Yeah” He said, looking her up and down. Then he went back into the church. “Well look who has a new fan.” Samantha teased. “Oh stop it! He didn’t have my scar..” Minnie said as she rubbed the small scar on her neck “Yeah, yeah..Hey lets go to that House Of Wax.” Samantha said as she started walking in that direction. “And just leave Y/n sitting at the gas station? Yeah no. I’m gonna go tell her what that man said.” Minnie sad. “Well I’m going to the wax museum.” Samantha said leaving Minnie there alone. Minnie sighed and walked back to the station. “Hey, no one’s showed up yet..Where’s Samantha? Did you guys find anyone?” You asked looking up at Minnie from your seat on the ground. “Yeah we found that Bo guy. He was in the church..We walked in on a funeral. One of his loved ones passed. He was really cute, but no visible scars. Sam went to that House Of Wax. I don’t know why she would want to look that creepy wax figures..” Minnie said as she got chills. “Just thinking about them freaks me out.” She said. “Wait you both walked in on a funeral? Wow that is a different type of low.” You said as you giggled a little. “He must have been really cute if you were looking for scars. You never look for scars. Wax figures aren’t that creepy. It’s just wax Minnie.” You said looking up at her. “Well I would like to meet my soulmate.” She crossed her arms. “They are terrifying! What if there are bodies under the wax?” You busted out laughing. “You watch way to many horror movies.” Minnie rolled her eyes. 

As Samantha walked up to the building she noticed a ‘closed’ sign but no sign was going to stop her so after looking around she went inside. The place was very creepy. Now understanding why Minnie is so freaked out by wax figures. “Huh? Isn’t there suppose to be famous people in wax museums?” She asked herself out loud. Continuing to look the vibe started to change drastically. Samantha looked in a mirror, fixing her hair and makeup. Noticing a tall figure staring at her from the corner. She turned around to see the figure. “Damn this one is realistic.” She said walking up to the tall wax like man. Samantha touched the wax face and noticed that it blinked. She went to scream but before she could the man stunk her against the head with the handle of his knife. Samantha fell to the floor with a thud. The tall wax faced man with the long black hair dragged her down to the basement. As Samantha started to wake up she tried to touch her swollen head but couldn’t. She raised her head seeing that she was strapped to a dirty table. “Help me!” She screamed looking over she saw a spotted dog on a bed. Looking over to her left she was face to face with the nameless man. “Please let me go.” She begged as she started to cry. Only crying harder when the man put a needle in her neck. The man unstrapped her limbs when she wasn’t able to move them anymore. Samantha just cried as the man started to cut her clothes off. Feeling the water hit her legs and torso she continued looking around as best as she could. Samantha cried helplessly, trying to beg him to let her go but it was mostly grunts and groans. As the man serried wax across her eye brows she got tensed. After waxing her eyebrows the man put the unconscious Samantha into a metal contraption. Pouring wax all over her. 

Minnie looked around the shop as you watched her from the doorway. “Don’t touch his stuff Minnie.” You told her for the millionth time. “What? I’m bored. It feel like its been hours.” Minnie groaned. “I wonder what Sam is doing.” She said as she picked up random tools looking at them. “Probably vandalizing poor pieces of art.” You said as Minnie just nodded. “Everything in here could be used to kill someone.” She said looking back at you. You rolled your eyes and walked up to her. “You never know that tool your holding could have brutally butchered some helpless soul.” She said chuckling afterwards as she threw the tool down on the table. “Ya’ll plan on stealin those?” You both jumped and looked at the tall man leaning against the doorway. “N-no we were just fooling around.” Minnie said as her face went bright red from embarrassment. “I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea.” You said as you walked out of the garage back into the store. “No, it’s okay.” Bo said making you smile. You pulled up your sleeves on your jacket, showing your scars. “Why don’t we head to the house. I can get the key to the tow truck and we can go find your friend’s car.” Bo said as he walked out the the station. You eagerly followed. You were very attracted to this man and wanted to be close to him. “My names Y/n. I don’t believe we met yet.” You said walking beside the man as Minnie tried to run up to you. “I’m Bo. Its a pleasure to meet you.” Bo smiled shooting you his signature grin. “Why are the keys at your house? Shouldn’t they be at the station.” Minnie asked the man as she started getting scared. “Well I keep them at the house so no one steals them.” He said. “Where is your other friend?” He asked looking at Minnie. “Oh she went to the wax museum. I don’t know what’s taking her so long.” Minnie said as she looked at him then at you. “Damn Y/n what happened to your wrist.” She said fairly loud. Minnie never saw your scars before you tried your best to keep them hidden. “Oh um..” You said as Bo looked at your wrist. Quickly you pushed your sleeves down. “I don’t know. They belong to my soulmate.” You said looking up at Bo who was starring a hole right through you. The rest of the walk was pretty quiet. “So is it late to sign up for that beauty pageant?” You asked trying to break the ice. “Unfortunately it is, cause you would of won hands down.”  Bo said as he looked at you. “Oh thank you.” You blushed a little making Bo smirk. As the three of you got to the house Bo opened the door to his truck. “Go ahead and hop on in. I’ll drive us down to the station to pick up the tow truck.” He said as he helped you get into the truck. “Do ya’ll need to use the can?” He said smiling brightly at the two girls. “No I don’t” You said with a small chuckle. Minnie shook her head as she got into the truck. “Alright.” Bo smiled and closed the door. He walked into the house. Sitting in the truck for what seemed like 10 minutes the strange man finally came out. You watched as he got into the truck. “I got you two some water. It can get quite hot out here. Wouldn’t want you two to get dehydrated.” He said handing you and Minnie a water bottle. You thanked him as you opened the bottle. ‘Its just water’ You said to yourself. Minnie watched in horror as you drink the water. Trusting you and your judgement she drunk her water too. Once the truck pulled up at the station you felt off. Like something wasn’t right. “Bo? What was in that water?” You ask him as your head started to spin. You soon passed out, your head falling onto Bo’s shoulder. 

As Minnie started to wake up she tried to rub her head. Failing to do so by some restraints. She looked at her wrist watching the man as he wrapped tape around her wrist. “Hey!” She muffled out through the rag in her mouth. Bo smirked as he started to tape her legs together. Minnie’s eyes widened as she starred at his scarred wrist. Taking notice to this he quickly pulled his sleeves down. “Y/n!” Minnie yelled as best as she could. She looked around trying to find you. You woke up hearing the yelling. “Bo?” You mumbled out. Your eyes were covered and your arms were above your head being held by something. “Bo” You called. Bo quickly covered Minnie with a tarp so he could hide her. Bo walked over to you and pushed your jacket down from your eyes. Somehow he had rolled your jacket up so he could use it to blindfold you. Once you were able to see him you were relived. “What happened?” You ask as Bo removed the chains that held your hands above your head. “Some crazy man tried to rob the station.” He said as he picked you up and took you outside. “Why would someone rob the station?” You asked holding onto Bo. You looked around seeing Kate’s car. “That’s my friends car..how did it get down here?” You asked looking at Bo. “How long was I asleep? Wait..what was in the water?” You asked as you started putting two and two together. “You drugged me!” You yelled at the man as you tried to get out of his grasp. “Shh..Its okay.” Bo hushed you as he rubbed your head. “We have the same scars dariln’” He whispered in your ear. You looked at the man a bit confused. “Sit still and I’ll show you.” You looked at him for some reason you felt like you could trust him so you nodded. “Ok Bo.” Bo slowly released your arms never breaking eye contact, he slowly pulled up his sleeves. You gasp as seeing the scars, you placed your wrist beside his. It was a perfect match. Your head shot up when you heard muffled groans and something that sounded like a bad attempt at a scream. Seeing the tarp moving slightly you grew tense. Bo took notice and quickly grabbed your wrist. “Look at me darlin...we are meant to be girly.” Your widened eyes shot to Bo. He flashed you his signature grin. “Now I got some work to do but don’t you worry darlin i wont hurt ya.” He said as he chained your arms back up, standing up he slowly rubbed your head and pushed your jacket back down to cover your eyes. What the hell have you gotta into you asked yourself. You had so many questions but they were to remain unanswered for right now.

Not the best ending but I hope you enjoyed!! I might make a part two! I left you on a clift hanger from hell lol 

Slasher X Reader (You have/had a Lover that isn’t them) Pt 2

Pairings: Bo Sinclair x reader / Danny Johnson x Reader / Bubba Sawyer x Reader / Michael Myers x Reader

Warnings: Michael’s is barely nsfw. sexual themes. violence. angst. abusive relationships. 

Note: I know my last post was about how the slashers would react to your past lover / current lover. These are a little different, but still hold the same themes. 

Bo Sinclair:

o Bo was lonely. Despite the brothers having each other, that was clear to you. Vincent could help fill the rooms with wax figures, but that wasn’t going to change anything.

o There were many times that Bo would sit in the theater, and act as if the figure sitting next to him found the picture just as amusing or thrilling as him. But at the end of the night he would have to face the emptiness of his bedroom.

o That’s why he had kept you around, despite how condescending you could be. It was the middle of the night, and Bo was sitting outside his house with a cigarette in hand and his head in the other. Wasn’t long till he heard you come through the front door.   He didn’t turn around to look at you, but he did straighten out his body language. He didn’t want you to know how sad he could get.

o You sat next to him, immediately taking in the view of the night sky. At first neither of you said anything, but Bo noticed how your mouth opened and closed, so he stayed quiet. Considerate enough to let you gather your thoughts this once. “You haven’t really asked me what I was up to before I met you,” you finally said. “I wish you would have. Maybe then you wouldn’t get so upset with me.” Bo finally looked over at you, unlike him you didn’t hide how you felt.

o “Does it really matter what you did before,” he asked. If you didn’t want to get into a fight, you would have stayed quiet before. Tonight you were feeling a bit more courageous, because you knew that Bo wasn’t in his usual mindset.

“It’s been two years since I broke up with my last partner,” you began. “It started off as nice as one would hope. They would bring me gifts and flowers, it wasn’t until we reached our first year that they completely did a 180. They were awfully jealous and mean. Honestly, the nicest thing I could say about them was that they didn’t hit me.” You didn’t want to go into the full details, still not comfortable enough with Bo. The fact that you were making an attempt to open up to him should have been enough.

o Bo clenched his jaw, but didn’t say anything. “I always thought I got lucky,” you continued. “I thought I left before they could do more damage, but I didn’t realize how obsessive I was with picking up red flags with later romantic encounters. If there was one thing that scared me, I was out of there. It was small stuff too, like if they listened to too much dirty music or if they had a poster in their room of a revealing woman, I was gone.” You laughed at yourself, and Bo thought it was endearing. He almost smiled. He did like you, he liked you very much.

o But that was when your shift changed. “But you, oh you,” you weren’t sure to look at him or not. “I’ve come to realize I couldn’t read anyone at all, and for all I know those people I shut down could have made me happy. At least I wouldn’t have ended up here with you.”

Danny Johnson:

o You weren’t sure you could consider yourself lucky or not. You had been trapped by with the entity along with your partner. If you could have, you would have only wished this damned fate for yourself.

o On the bright side, you two were often paired up together which meant a higher chance of surviving. Some of the others weren’t too thrilled when they entered a trial with you two, knowing you guys would save each other before anyone else. Still, it was nice to know you wouldn’t be abandoned on a hook.

o Some of the killers had even caught onto your relationship. Extra points if they were able to kill one in front of the other. You wished you had made a better effort to keep it under wraps, especially after you began to pick up hints that the Ghost Face had some fucked up thing for you.

o You were lucky that the others hadn’t caught on, especially by your partner as  Ghost Face was always making you his final girl. There were a handful of times that you would catch him peeking over at you. The moment that he knew you had seen him, he would let out a chuckle. Your horrified look on your face never got old to him. Afterwards he would run off into the opposite direction, leaving you in your works and attempting to regain your composure.

o There had been a few times where you thought he was carrying you to be sacrificed by the entity only to be dropped in front of the hatch. This was why you made an effort to keep your distance from your partner during trials with the Ghost Face. For their sake, you didn’t want that killer finding out.

o But he had as your partner had gotten a little too close and kissed one of your injuries when they thought it was just the two of you. When you caught sight of Ghost Face peeking over the door frame, you panicked. As if it was a betrayal to the “relationship” you were forming with the killer or what fucked up illusions Danny was having.

o Despite all your best efforts after that, you partner never did make it alive when it came to running trials with Ghost Face. Luckily though, his soft spot for you hadn’t gone away.

Bubba Sawyer:

o If there was anything especially Human about Bubba Sawyer, it was his love for music. Chop Top and Nubbins would always check the cassette tape players after they made waste of their victims. Chop Top would always have first picks, and anything he didn’t care for or already had a copy of, he would give it to Bubba.

o Regardless of what it was, Bubba was always content. From classical, blues, jazz, art rock, it all made him happy. He listened to music the most when he was working with the bodies. But when he got some free time, there was usually music playing in the background.

o It had been two weeks since you had almost been killed by the Sawyers. In a sick way, you found it amusing that you would have been used in a chili recipe for a contest if you hadn’t manipulated Bubba into letting you live.

o Still, you had to wonder if the effort was even worth it. But Bubba did at least care for you and hated how much you cried. But he never did anything when Nubbins and Chop Top ganged up on you, threatening to make a stew out of you. Another reason you were resentful towards Bubba. Any person who doesn’t defend their partner isn’t worth the time of day, but not like you had a choice in this matter.

o After all the threats towards you and teasing towards Bubba, Chop Top at least made up to his brother by giving him another cassette tape. He didn’t say where he grabbed it, but you recognized it. The tape belonged to you, and was made for you by your significant other. You didn’t need to ask, you knew Chop Top had grabbed it from your vehicle and was only now giving it back.

o Bubba was excited to hear it, taking you back to his quarters to listen to it. He was also eager for you to listen to it, really expecting that it would put you in better spirits.

o It only took the first song for a spring of tears to run down your face. You had to wonder if they were even making an effort to find you despite how all the songs had lyrics that proposed strong, unbreakable love.

o You were surprised when the music stopped, as Bubba often played the tapes on repeat for hours. You looked over at him to see he already had the tape in his hand and was walking up to where you sat.

o Bubba was gentle with you, at least tried to be. But he still scared you when he got too close to you, still not comfortable with his presence. When he was in front of you, you only looked up at him with a questionable look. Your tears had already stopped, and that was how Bubba came to the conclusion that the tape had been making you sad.

o  He easily snapped it in half, which caused you to let out a little gasp. The gesture was meant to show that he didn’t want you to be sad, and he didn’t mind making sacrifices for that.

o “You dumbass,” you said under your breath as you buried your face into your hands with mental exhaustion. Bubba hadn’t heard you, but he knew it hadn’t worked or that he would need to try harder. He wanted you to be as happy as you made him.

Michael Myers:

o Despite having kept you around for weeks now, there still wasn’t a single thing you understood about Myers. Why he killed, why he refused to die, why he didn’t talk, why he had taken such an interest in you that still hadn’t ended with a knife through your chest. He was beyond an enigma.

o Keeping hostages didn’t seem like his forte either, but here you were. You were thankful for being kept alive, but there were multiple moments where you believed he was going to kill you. He was never gentle, not because you didn’t think he wanted to be, but because he didn’t know how to be.

o All he knew was violence. Despite wanting to make a change of that with you, this was guaranteed to end badly for you.

o He liked how you never screamed or tried to reason with him, you were smarter than to waste your efforts with him. Your first sincere reaction to him was when he took off his mask in front of you. You tried putting the words “handsome” and “attractive” in the farthest part of your brain, but just seeing his actual face felt intimate. Despite his damaged eye, you knew if anyone just saw him walking down the street, he would turn quite a few heads with his features.

o You blushed but looked away, as if he had done more than just show you his face. It wasn’t long after that, that he had made a move on you. Finally removing your arms of their bounds, as any perfectly sane person would, you pulled him close to you by his head. Despite how much your arms ached, you ignored it to give him a surprisingly strong kiss. Not even a single thought to the person who was possibly looking for you, after witnessing Myers kidnap you.

o Your want for him had only been growing since he allowed you to truly look at him. But regardless of wanting him so bad, he still hurt you. You were flat on your stomach, none of your limbs supporting your body as Michael took you for the first time. Almost all his weight was on top of you, but you didn’t care. You knew there wasn’t a shred of love in your actions. This was the only time you cried out.

o There was still that thought in your head during the whole process, that once he was done, you were going to die.

o You hadn’t though, assuming Michael still wanted more out of you. But there finally did come that day, that your partner did find you along with a band of police officers.

o If they had gotten to you sooner, then maybe you would have been happy to them. Instead, you were almost tempted to tell them leave you. Michael was out, and you didn’t want him to believe that you had abandoned him. You didn’t want to go, not after.. You were losing it, telling yourself that it was a sick thought to think there was something more to this relationship.

o “He was going to kill you sooner or later,” you told yourself. But that was a lie.