#bo sinclair blurb

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Your First Time With Them

pairings: vincent x reader, bo x reader

warnings: smut, handjob, unprotected sex, A LOT of fluff on vincent's part (in my opinion)

a/n: bo is REALLY growing on me. and also, vincent's part isn't so much their first time, more like first time being intimate because i thought it was just too tender to take any further lol. but i hope you like it <3

Vincent Sinclair

When you first started spending time with Vincent, he wouldn't let you so much as hold his hand. He'd spent so many years with only his brothers and his dog to keep him company that he'd forgotten what it was like to feel the touch of another person, a living one anyway. It was months before he finally allowed you to be closer to him, only ever flinching if you gave him no warning before touching him.

But when he finally does become comfortable enough to be intimate with you, it's when you're lying in bed together one morning. You'd been in this arrangement for a couple of months now, since Vincent had finally started to be okay with you seeing his face behind the mask. You were still asleep when he woke up, so he rolled over, gently tracing his fingers along your arm.

You groan, slowly peeling your eyes open before turning to face him, noticing the crooked smile on his face when you do. You're still getting used to seeing him so comfortable, so happy.

"Mm...you're beautiful when you smile." You mumble, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hairs away from his face.

He simply stares at you for a moment, before leaning forward and gently pressing his lips to yours. It's quick and it's over within seconds, but it surprises you nonetheless, because this is the first time he's kissed you like this. This is the first time he's kissed you.

You're unable to wipe the grin off your face then as you shuffle closer to him in the bed. And that's when you feel it, his hard length pressing against your stomach. You smile, looking down between you before looking back up at him, his mouth still twisted into a tiny grin.

"Is it okay if I...?" You ask, looking back down between your bodies, your hand already ghosting over his erection.

He gives you a small nod before your hand finally lands on his clothed cock, and he lets out a quiet gasp as you palm him through his boxers. You shuffle even closer to him under the covers, carefully slipping your hand inside his underwear, and you press a light kiss to his lips, the motion feeling foreign to both of you.

Vincent swears this is the best thing he's ever felt, your hand moving up and down his aching cock, whilst you both lay practically pressed together, his forehead resting against yours as his eye flutters shut.

And he doesn't feel like signing it, so he mouths 'I love you' against your mouth, hoping you understand.

"I love you too." You mumble against his lips.

Bo Sinclair

When you first arrived in Ambrose, Bo knew there was no way he was gonna let his brother have you, he wanted you all for himself. And he was surprised when you decided to stay without him having to use force. Bo's spent most of his life alone, never really getting close to anyone. The only person in his life who's ever stuck around is his brother Vincent, so he clings to you like a bad smell, terrified that you'll leave, although he doesn't tell you that.

It doesn't take long for you both to get intimate with each other. Bo's very sure of himself, so there's definitely no insecurity on his part. He comes home one day, still riled up from chasing some new victims through the town, and it doesn't take him long to start suggesting ways you might be able to make his day better.

He's slouched on the couch beside you, his hair practically dripping with sweat as he grins at you, his hand reaching over and landing on your thigh. "Come on darlin', you know it'll be worth your while."

It doesn't take much convincing before he has you straddling his lap, his hands roughly gripping your waist as he leans closer to you, his hot breath fanning over your lips. You can already feel his erection pressing into your clothed cunt, and it's driving you crazy.

"Fuck, you're an asshole." You sigh, your hands desperately gripping his shoulders as you begin to grind your hips over him.

"You're still here though, aren't ya?" He smirks, dipping his head down to drag his lips along your jawline.

"Jesus Christ, Bo." You groan, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, your fingers desperately working to get his trousers open.

He's still smirking at you as he helps you out of your jeans, dropping them to the floor along with your panties. And he wastes no time in pulling his aching cock out, guiding himself towards your entrance before sinking inside.

He leans closer to you, groaning as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hands desperately gripping your waist as you begin to move your hips over him, his cock effortlessly sliding in and out of you.

"You feel fuckin' amazing." You moan. "But for the record, you're still an asshole."

He simply chuckles as he thrusts up into you. "Noted."

[Main Masterlist] [Vincent Masterlist] [Bo Masterlist]

[early20sfailingplenty]

I’m combining these asks because they work so perfectly together! I would say I’m feeling soft today buttttt I aaaaaalways feel soft, so that’s a redundant statement.🥺😂 Enjoy!❤️

Summary: Bo has a bad moment in the late evening & goes to your room. You coax him inside and together, you carve out a peaceful moment in a hellish life just for the two of you. If you don’t like soft Bo, I’d skip this one!🥰 ANGST, FLUFF, CANON COMPLIANT DARKNESS ETC. BO IS HIS OWN WARNING!!!!

You laid in bed, your eyes fixed upon the book you were reading. Blankets were curled around your middle, having fallen down from your shoulders and pooled around your lap. Your fingers were loosely curled around the worn pages of the book, so little attention were you paying to the words of a writer long since dead. You had previously been riveted by the work of fiction but the minute creaks in the worn floorboards just outside your bedroom door, which was closed but not locked due to the strict rules which Bo had you under even after all of this time, had sufficiently distracted you from your attempted escapism. Now reality was more important, more interesting, than the faraway place you cradled so reverently in your palms.

You had been in Ambrose long enough to know that the creaks you could hear outside were not natural sounds. The old, barely tolerated family house didn’t settle at night, so those noises weren’t floorboards springing back into place. No, someone was pacing outside your bedroom door and deliberately stepping on the places which didn’t make too much noise, and you had a pretty good hunch as to who it was and why.

Bo hated pity, and so you didn’t give it to him. You didn’t go and see if he was okay because it was clear that he wasn’t. You didn’t call out to him, not only because Vincent was just across the hall and you didn’t want to disturb him, but also because if you did, Bo would have a chance to bolt from outside your room and therefore give himself plausible deniability.

You simply stayed in bed, passively reading, and waited.

Bo, true to his character even in the midst of not understanding what he was going through, didn’t keep you waiting long.

There was a deliberate creak of the floorboard right outside your door, one which you had to hop over in order to not alert anyone to the fact that you were leaving your bedroom when you weren’t supposed to be, and you knew that he had put the full weight of himself down on that one foot. He didn’t have the courage to knock, but he had the courage to take up more space within his own home, the man of the house was he, until you had no choice but to take pity on him.

Not that you made it obvious in your feigned bored tone as you called out, “Yeah?”

You sensed Bo’s hesitation and you suppressed a sigh as you set the book aside, gathered the blankets back up around your shoulders, and sat up so that your back was supported by the headboard of the bed. “It’s okay, Bo, you can come in.”

The door cracked open and light spilled in from the hallway sliver by sliver until Bo could squeeze himself in through the gap he afforded himself, as if he didn’t want to admit even to himself that he was seeking comfort from you. So if he didn’t open the doorway the whole way, then it was something he could keep between himself, you, and the cloak of night… right? You allowed Bo such graces, so well did you know him that one glance and you could guess with startling accuracy what he was feeling and maybe even why, and you knew that he was here reluctantly, losing was he the war against himself. He said nothing to begin with, he just stood in the very outer edges of your bedroom, your sanctuary even from Ambrose, and you took a moment to take Bo in for all that he was.

His shoulders were curved inwards, as if the weight of the world was too much for him and he was trying to occupy as little space as possible, determined was he to hide even from himself and the reality of himself and his small world… which wasn’t a world at all, but a graveyard for the living more so than it was for the actually deceased. Bo’s beautiful icy blues were fixed on the floor, the carpet more interesting than you were. His wrists were tucked into his chest, fingers outstretched over the raw pink and red scars. Suddenly, without you moving or saying anything at all, Bo’s face wrinkled up, disgusted was he with his own blatant display of vulnerability, and his blue eyes, now full of all the sadness in the world, fell on your cosied up form on the bed.

And Bo.

Shattered.

But not in the way most people do. No, he shattered in terms of giving up his control, of giving up the ghost, and all that was left behind was the haunted shell of a man who had experienced a lifetime of trauma and depravation. His nose wrinkled up this time and you recognised the way he was trying to fend off the stinging of impending tears from the backs of his eyes and the back of his nose, for you did the very same thing when you felt like you were about to cry, and for the second time in almost as many minutes, you took pity on Bo and he didn’t even know about it.

“This bed is comfy and all,” You stretch with practised and easy casualness, and pat the mattress space beside you, “but it’d be better if you came over here so we could cuddle.”

Bo squinted at you, as if he had doubts about your intentions even when they couldn’t have been more plain if you tried, but then his shoulders slumped and every ounce of fight he had left was gone in an instant, and he could only stumble forward until his knees knocked into the edge of the mattress and he practically fell onto the bed beside you with a groan which spoke soon to be truths of the real weight and depth of his existential burden.

“Everythin’” Bo’s voice was muffled by the duvet you slept under, but you heard him well enough.

You invited him to talk as you carded your fingers through his hair, avoiding the long scar which stretched across the back of his scalp. “Everything what, honey?” You didn’t prod or pry, you simply extended olive branches with a soft smile and allowed him to decide if he did or didn’t want to take it.

“You.” Bo turned his face so that he could look up at you, a constellation of tears on his lashes. You bent down, down, hands moving up at the same time so that you could cup his damp face in your hands and press a tender kiss to his forehead.

“What about me?”

“Y’re my everythin’.”

Oh, but the smile you gave him in response made him feel like his heart was going to explode, and Bo realised that with you, he was safe from himself. Idly, he wondered what had come first - that realisation or his love for you, but then he decided he didn’t care enough to find out. You were everything he didn’t know he needed until you had quite literally fallen down at his feet one day, and in moments like this, he realised that it was the same for you.

Bo was never one for looking horses in the mouth - gifts with teeth were ones to avoid.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Take Care Of You

a/n: so i feel like fucking death right now and i just want bo so here's a little blurb😊 also, going to start working on requests again tomorrow :) (they're coming i swear)

pairing: bo x gn!reader

summary: in which bo takes care of you when you're sick, despite your insistence that you're fine

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed, attempting to stand up. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you. You were fine yesterday.

After a moment, you finally managed to stand up, your head pounding and your legs trembling beneath you. You almost considered calling for Bo, but you were sure this was just a momentary wobble. You'd probably be fine in an hour or two.

"Come on." You whispered to yourself, as though that would somehow make this any better. "You're fine."

When you finally made it out of the bedroom, you found yourself at a disadvantage as you looked down at the staircase. You already felt like you were about to collapse and that was just walking on level flooring. You had no idea how you were going to survive the trip down the stairs.

In the end, you decided it'd be best if you just slid down on your ass. So you carefully lowered yourself to the ground, taking a small breath before pushing yourself forward. God, this was embarrassing.

"What're you doing?" Bo's voice suddenly sounded from the bottom of the stairs.

You'd only made it about halfway down before he'd spotted you.

You sighed. "Nothing."

"Sure looks like nothin'." He said, pausing a moment as he took in the sight of your pale face. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm." You mumbled, holding your head in your hands as you sat there hunched over. God, your head was pounding. "Just...I'll be fine in a minute."

You heard him laugh then, before you heard the sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs. "Darlin', we both know that ain't true."

You didn't even fight him as his arm curled under your knees, his hand at your back as he picked you up off the floor.

"I'm fine." You continued to tell him, although the evidence would suggest otherwise.

The walk back to the bedroom wasn't long but each step that Bo took seemed to spark a new pain in your body, making the trip seem too long.

You pressed your face into his shoulder in an attempt to dull the painful throbbing of your head, and you could feel yourself coming close to accepting that you were in fact not fine.

Bo gently set you down on the bed, leaving the room momentarily to get you a glass of water. And when he returned, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside you, concern evident in his eyes as he watched you.

"You still fine?" He asked jokingly.

You could only offer him a groan as you squeezed your eyes shut, rolling over onto your side.

"You at least gonna let me take care of you?"

"Mhm." You answered, smiling at him as you reached out to stroke your fingers along his leg. "You're a lot nicer when I'm sick."

"Well don't get used to it."

"Okay." You muttered, pressing your face into the pillows as you felt yourself becoming sleepier.

But just as you were about to drift off, you heard him stand up, before feeling the bed dip behind you, the weight of Bo's chest appearing at your back.

You smiled when you felt him sling his arm over your body, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your stomach.

Maybe you should've been sick more often.

[Main Masterlist]

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi I really love your fics! I was wondering if I could I request some comfort from Bo based on this image please 💕

(This is @fluffy-little-demon main blog)

pairing: bo x gn!reader

summary: in which you're really struggling and bo comforts you, despite your insistence that you're fine.

a/n: thank you so much, I'm so glad you like my fics! <3 and thank you so much for the request. i hope you like it :)

As you sat on the couch, staring vacantly at the black screen of the TV, you felt like you were drowning, like you were being held underwater with no way to get to the surface. You hadn't had a day as bad as this in months, and now here you were again, barely able to keep going under the weight of everything.

You didn't even know how long you were going to be able to keep this facade up, Bo was bound to notice eventually. Although you hoped that he was just that ignorant that he wouldn't notice your suffering, as terrible as that sounded.

"You know that ain't on right?" A voice suddenly spoke, before you felt the couch dip beside you.

You turned to find Bo slouched beside you now, the remote already held loosley in his hand as he turned the TV on, a beer bottle propped up against his thigh.

When you didn't respond, he turned to look at you, a slight look of concern crossing his features. "You alright?"

"Yeah." You said weakly, turning away from him now as you cast your gaze back on the television. "I'm fine."

"You sure? Cuz you don't look fine."

"I'm fine, okay?" You snapped, your eyes burning with tears now as you tried to turn your face away from him. You really didn't want him to see you like this. It was pathetic. Pitiful.

But as Bo sat there staring at you, he didn't miss the way your shoulders started to shake, your quiet sniffles beginning to fill the silence between you.

"Look, are you sure you're okay? Cuz it don't seem that way." He tried again, not really knowing how else to deal with the situation right now.

"I'm fine." You insisted, but it was clear with the break of your voice that you weren't fine, and Bo knew that too.

He shifted closer to you on the couch then, carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he pulled you into his chest.

"No sweetheart, you're not." He said softly, his hand coming up to stroke your hair as you cried into his chest.

"I'm sorry." You choked out, pressing your face further into him as if you were simply trying to disappear. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey, there ain't nothin' wrong with you. You're just havin' a bad day, that's all. And I'm here for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, so in future, if you feel like this, you come and tell me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Just...don't be tellin' no one about this, alright? Don't want anyone thinkin' I'm goin' soft."

You chuckled. "Alright."

[Main Masterlist] [Bo Masterlist]

[early20sfailingplenty]

I just want a big soft hug from Bo Sinclair rn, I just want him to curl me onto his lap and hold me.

This is a forever mood🥺

Dedicated to @eggsandbeer / @pharmacykeys - I'm sending you lots of love, honey, and I hope things get better for you soon mwahhh ~

---

"I'on much like that look on yer' face, darlin'," Bo's strange greeting was coupled with one of his strong arms winding around your hips as you walked passed where he was sat on the worn sofa. His arm acted as a barricade and you did as Bo wordlessly instructed, halting your journey towards the kitchen. You didn't even need anything in there, you just needed to Move.

After several beats of tense silence, Bo's jaw ticked in irritation at the lack of response to his concern as he leaned forward in his seat and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you backwards and down in one smooth motion. Once you were on Bo's lap, your back to his chest, his arms locked around your waist and the cool tip of Bo's nose rested against the back of your ear, he invited you to vent again. "Y'plannin' on tellin' me wha's eatin' at'cha?"

You shook your head as you turned to look at Bo over your shoulder. Icy blues met your own and Bo's irritation softened into what he was actually feeling; concern, worry. Love. His grip on you loosened just enough for you to turn on his lap and you did so, moving so that you were curled up in his lap, your feet tucked between the arm of the sofa and the sofa cushion. Your arms were around Bo's neck, your fingers playing with the chestnut curls at the nape, your knees to your chest and the side of your head pressed against the gentle curve of his shoulder blade.

"I can't, honey," You shrugged, "I just... I just..." You sighed and gave up. "I don't know. Just don't feel good."

The tenderness with which Bo ducked his head to press a kiss to the top of your head brought tears to your eyes, and he sighed as he felt some drop onto his trousers. He understood what you were experiencing better than even he knew. "What did ya' want from the kitchen there, anyway?"

You shrugged. "Couldn't sit still."

From your fragmentary sentences, Bo put together the things you weren't saying, and it was these things which he addressed as one hand moved to tip your chin up with a gentle but firm finger so that he could press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "C'mere, darlin'," His voice was just above a whisper, his lips ghosting across your forehead as he spoke, "Bo's got'cha," His arms gripped you as he tugged you ever closer until you were wholly pressed against his body, his arms tight around you in the safest cage you had ever known. "All y'gotta' do fer now is lemme hold ya', Y/N. The world can wait," He smiled wryly, "But I ain't letting you wait."

It was strangely worded, but you knew what Bo meant. It made you smile softly through your tears as you kissed his cheek in silent thanks, and Bo felt his heart skip a beat. Fuck, he loved you.

[early20sfailingplenty]

Could I get an emergency request for Bo?

Reader dosent feel well mentally or physically and just wants Bo? Just to be around him and held by him :/

Of course!🥺This is such a mood oml please🥺😭💔 at this stage I'd let Bo murder me without a fight (though he does love those) just to get a hug.🥺💗 I hope you feel better soon!💖

As always, gender neutral reader, no coded language, "you" and Y/N used.

TW; Bo's asshole-y 'til you start crying, dehumanisation of victims "broken canvases", emotional distress (this is a comfort fic), swearing.

Word count: 833.

You wanted Bo.

You wanted to hear his voice. You wanted to look into those icy blues and see them looking back at you. You wanted to feel his fingers interlock with yours, to feel the reassuring weight of his palm against yours. To feel those thick scars underneath your inquisitive touch, to see Bo shudder beside you as he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to melt into you as much as he would fight the urge to run away in the same moment; so changeable was he. You wanted to feel his lips on your forehead, his kiss tender and reverent, to feel his hands on your cheeks, to feel his chest pressed against your own. You wanted to see him smile, to hear that chuckle when you said or did something which somehow managed to surprise him. You wanted to feel his chestnut curls beneath your fingers, to have Bo in the same room with you.

Oh, help you, but you really wanted Bo. In all things and in all ways.

Unfortunately for you, Bo wasn't in the kind of mood where he would be willing to put down what he was doing just to spend time with you. He was truly ruthless and being told that he was wanted somewhere other than where he wanted to be had never sat well with him, even when it came from you. Sometimes, this was especially the case, loathe was Bo to admit to any kind of soft spot or something which would betray him to be more than what his parents and his oh so small world had taught him right from the the beginning.

You had known what you would be getting into even before you had decided to become romantically involved with Bo, but it stung like a bitch on days like this, where even the thought of him rendered you to tears and made it difficult for you to function. You stood before him now, where he was in the garage, your vision glassy and your throat thick with tears which you had yet to shed. You wouldn't break unless you were in Bo's arms, which was where you wanted to be most of all.

"You, uh," Bo's voice shattered your reverie and you blinked, "You gonna' do or say somethin', darlin', or are ya' jus' gonna stand there starin' at me? I got shit to do, Y/N, an' I know you do, too. So c'mon, out with it or buzz off." Bo was barely looking at you and it only made his venom, directed at no one in particular but felt by all who crossed his path, poison you all the more.

It was the most you had heard him say all day, and even though his tone was as cold as his eyes, icy glaciers due to how much they concealed beneath the surface, and his words were harsh, the sound of his voice had tears pouring down your cheeks.

"I just want you, Bo." You felt your bottom lip begin to tremble and you bit down on it hard.

Bo sighed and threw a dirty rag to the side, his irritation so obvious that it made you feel guilty for disturbing him. You should have just stayed on the sofa, keeping to yourself and not bothering anything or anyone. "I said I'm busy, Y/N." He paused and then looked at you fully for the first time since you had entered the garage and he sighed, his voice softening just a little. "Y'can have me all ya' want, but later. I ain't got time."

You flinched and turned away from him as tears poured down your cheeks, "Bo, please." Your voice cracked in multiple places and Bo stiffened as his gaze sharpened and he really did look at you this time.

"Oh, darlin'," He sighed, moving towards you so quickly that you felt a rising instinct to take a big step back and for the first time in a long time were you reminded of how his victims felt in what usually ended up being their last moments unless he decided to put them in his chair before gifting the broken canvases to Vincent. "M'sorry." He shook his head, at you or himself, you knew not. But it barely mattered when he was looking at you like that. "That bad, huh?"

The unexpected tenderness in his voice and on his face made you choke on a sob and just as his arms encircled your body, you shattered and Bo was there to hold you together until you were strong enough to do it yourself. "Shush," Bo was whispering, his voice low and soothing, "M'here, darlin'. Bo's got'cha, y're all right." Kisses were feathered along your temples, your cheeks, your forehead, his arms tight around you like a cage, and Bo didn't let you go even after you raised your head from his shoulder.

You wanted Bo? You got him, for worse or for the worst.

[early20sfailingplenty]

Ok, not to be a whore but, as someone who is currently on their period, I keep imagining making an offhand joke about wishing that "my period would just stop for a bit" and suddenly just feeling Bo come up behind you and growl in your ear "I'm sure we c'n fig're out something that'll help with that." Fingers just rubbing a rough circle on the indent of your hips. "Put our heads together.."👀👀👀

Minors DNI or be blocked on sight!!!!

GOD ANON YOUR MIIIIIIIIIIIND😍I spun a small something!❤️

TW; PERIODS, BLOOD, SMUT IS IMPLIED POST-FIC, Bo’s a bit of an asshole but he means well lmao.

Gender neutral reader, no coded language, “you” & Y/N used.

“Ugh,” you sighed in frustration, “I wish my period would just stop for a bit.” Your voice was louder than you wanted it to be, so good were the acoustics in the garage, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if you had whispered, because Bo would have heard you anyway. He was always so intently aware of where you were and of what you were doing. A hunter was he, the man who had seen it all and done even worse, and you couldn’t take even one step in any particular direction without him noticing it, noticing you. “It’s such a waste of blood, makes no damn sense to me…” You trailed off, distantly aware that you were talking to yourself and you should probably be quiet.

You knew that you weren’t alone, that Bo was under the truck doing something or other, but you didn’t expect for him to suddenly be at your back, his arms constricting around your abdomen until you made a pained noise. He scoffed and then loosened up his grip so that the pressure his arms put against your abdomen was just enough to be comforting, but any harder and he would be causing you further pain. Bo’s chin rested on your shoulder and his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear as he said, “M’sure we c’n fig’re out somethin’ that’ll help wit’ that,” his voice husky with want and his eyes fixed upon you. Any movement, any breath, any hesitance, any consent… Bo would see it all, he would see you.

His fingers travelled down, down, until they were rubbing rough circles in the indents of your hips. You tipped your head back, back, until your head was resting on Bo’s shoulder, your neck exposed to the cool air, and his fingers dipped below your waistband, rubbing at the space below your navel to both soothe your cramps and to warm you up until you were nice and pliant for him.

“Y’know, Vince once tol’ me that orgasms help wit’ cramps. Wanna help me, uh… test his theory? If we, ah,” Bo leans forward and rests his forehead against the back of your head, “put our heads together, m’sure we c’n get’cha feelin’ better, darlin’,” His fingers traverse lower and lower still, and you arch into his body, wanting more of everything he’s offering to you and more.

When he put it like that, how could you say no?

[early20sfailingplenty]

Hello! You're one of my favorite authors on this app and I saw that your asks were open for blurbs. I have a bad habit of picking my thumbs. Like, tearing skin off until I bleed, so my thumbs are pretty scarred. I was wondering if you could write a little blurb of Bo slapping Band-Aids on his S/O thumbs (because that's a sure-fire way to get me to quit, at least until they come off) and being all passive-aggressively worried?

Tibbyyyyy ~ 🥰🥰🥰🥰 YOU are one of my favourite authors & I love seeing you around!!!💖 I PROMISE I'm gonna reblog everything of yours I have yet to get to, as well as answering your other asks!!!💖 I'm so sorry it's taken so long; I need to be more timely.😭🌸

TW; blood, self-inflicted wounds (picking at thumbs), Bo's the asshole we know and love mwah <3 , passive-aggressive worry, several cannibalism comments all made in a jokey way (I have a dark sense of humour; I was giggling while writing this🤣).

Word count: 815.

---

"What, y'cannibalistic now?"

Several things about this made you inhale so sharply that you had to cough just to clear your throat. First, the biting tone with which Bo addressed you, second, the way you had forgotten he was sat beside you at the table, where you were sat engaged in one of your hobbies, and third, the casual manner with which he asked such a strange question.

"Uh..." Your brain short-circuited and Bo scoffed as he grabbed one of your hands, caring not for what you were right in the middle of doing, and held it up for you to look at the way there was fresh skin stretched over old scars hanging off around the cuticles of both of your thumbs, blood dried and flaked in some places or fresh and blooming crimson in others.

"S'why're y'doin' this? Ain't feeding ya' enough, that it?" His icy blues looked almost clinically over your self-inflicted wounds, though he knew that habits were just that, and you weren't doing it deliberately.

You shrugged and Bo sighed as he put your hand down and moved to grab the first aid kit off the top of the fridge. "Such a fuckin' mess," He muttered something else but you didn't catch it, which was just as well. "What would'ya do wit'out me, huh?"

You grinned. "I'd be able to auto-cannibalise in peace."

The way Bo's face reflexively wrinkled up in total disgust at your joking comment made you burst into laughter and he cracked his own grin, unable to resist the sound of your joy. It was his favourite song. "All righ', enough," It wasn't a command, but that biting tone was back and you bit down on your inner cheek to keep yourself from making anymore comments. "Gimme your thumbs, darlin'." Again, it wasn't a command, but something close.

You put your hands palm down on the smooth wood of the table surface and Bo opened the first aid box, grabbing the peroxide and some plasters. Bo picks up one of your hands and turns it this way and that, before he puts it on his forearm - just above his wrists - and your fingers reflexively curl around the warmth found there, which made Bo smile to himself as he worked on soaking a cotton pad in the peroxide so he could clean your wounds. When it came to his own injuries, a dirty kitchen towel would do as a makeshift bandage. But when it came to you or to his brothers, nothing but clinical treatments would do.

The horrific and obvious truth within that habit never failed to shatter the hearts of those three people in the world who loved Bo the very most.

You inhaled sharply through your teeth as Bo cleaned off the old dried blood, wiped away the new, and even used a small pair of scissors to cut off the strips of skin hanging off your cuticles, for better healing and so the skin wouldn't catch on the plaster and hurt you.

"I ain't apologisin', darlin', y'did it t'yourself," Bo shook his head in some kind of mock emotion, though you caught the hint of a sadistic smirk on his face.

You closed your eyes against the passive-aggressive tone and focused on the way Bo's hands were rough and warm against your own as he patched you up. As he unwrapped plasters and wrapped them slowly, carefully, around your thumbs, you opened your eyes just in time to catch him gazing down at his work with a soft smile playing around the corner of his lips.

"Now," Bo huffed and stood up with a decisive slam of the first aid box, "Quit fuckin' rippin' y'reself to shreds, yeah? Ain't always gonna' be around to patch ya' up."

The passive aggressive comment was at total odds with how soft his eyes were as he looked at you, and as he put the first aid box back, you stood and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, pressing your face into his back, your fingers clutching at his black shirt. It stung your thumbs but you only held on tighter. Any ounce of pain was bearable - more than - if Bo was with you.

"Thank you, Bo."

He grunted in acknowledgement - both of you knew he'd always do anything you needed or wanted him to, all you had to do was ask - and lightly patted one of your hands; a signal to let up. You did so and he turned in your hold, dipping his head to press a long tender kiss to your forehead. His breath tickled your skin as he huffed a laugh, his lips twitching with a smile he was trying and failing to fight, and said, "so, uh, y'like the way y'taste, darlin'? I'on know why y'do it so often if y'don't."

You were laughing too hard to think of a response.