𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞. Bo becomes dangerously obsessed with a gentle, kind-hearted preacher’s daughter who works at the local library. After weeks of secretly watching her, he kidnaps her and takes her back to the abandoned town of Ambrose, determined to make her his forever.
The rain-slicked streets of a sleepy Southern town gleamed under the flickering streetlamps as Bo Sinclair prowled. Ambrose was behind him, a ghost town of wax and secrets, but tonight he’d ventured farther than usual, hunting for something more than blood. His fangs ached, but it wasn’t hunger for crimson that drove him. It was her.
You were the preacher’s daughter—soft-spoken, gentle-eyed, with a kindness that seemed to radiate from your very soul. By day you helped at the old library, shelving books with careful hands and recommending stories to wide-eyed children. By evening you sat in the front pew of your father’s church, humming hymns that made even the hardened locals feel something stir. You were light. Purity. Everything Ambrose had lost decades ago.
Bo had watched you for weeks. From the shadows of the alley across from the library. From the back of the church during evening services, his truck parked just out of sight. The way you smiled at everyone, the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear when you were nervous, the way you offered forgiveness to people who didn’t deserve it. It cracked something open inside his dead chest.
Mine.
He wasn’t like his brothers. Vincent sculpted beauty from wax. Lester fed the dogs. Bo took. And he had decided you were the masterpiece he would claim.
It happened on a Thursday night after closing.
You locked the library door, humming softly under your breath, umbrella tucked under your arm. The rain had eased to a drizzle, but the air was thick with the scent of wet earth and magnolias. Footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate.
“Evenin’, darlin’.”
You turned, startled but polite. Bo stood under the awning, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair damp and curling at the edges. His blue eyes caught the light like chipped ice, but his smile was all Southern charm. “Didn’t mean to scare ya. Just passin’ through. Car trouble a few miles back. Mind if I use your phone?”
You hesitated only a second. Kindness was your nature. “Of course. The library phone’s inside, but I can—”
He moved faster than any human should. One gloved hand clamped over your mouth, the other arm snaking around your waist like iron bands. Your umbrella clattered to the ground. You struggled, eyes wide with terror, but he was impossibly strong.
“Shh, shh,” he murmured against your ear, voice low and velvet-rough. “You’re comin’ home with me now, sweetheart. Been watchin’ you. You’re too good for this rotten little town. Too good for anyone but me.”
His breath was cool against your neck. You felt the sharp graze of fangs as he pressed a lingering kiss just below your jaw—testing, tasting the frantic flutter of your pulse.
A soft whimper escaped you. Bo’s grip tightened possessively.
“Don’t fight it, baby. I’ll take care of you. Forever.”
Darkness swallowed you as he pressed something sweet-smelling to your face—chloroform from the rag in his pocket. Your body went limp in his arms.
When you woke, it was to the smell of dust, old wood, and something metallic. Your head throbbed. Thick ropes bound your wrists to the arms of a wooden chair in what looked like an old gas station office. Outside the grimy window, you could see the skeletal remains of a town—Ambrose, the sign read, half-melted and crooked.
Bo leaned against the doorframe, watching you with rapt, hungry eyes. He’d changed into a cleaner shirt, but streaks of dirt and something darker still stained his jeans. His fangs were slightly visible when he smiled.
“There she is. My sweet little preacher’s girl.” He crossed the room in two strides and crouched in front of you, one large hand cupping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Name’s Bo. And you… you’re gonna be mine. No more sharin’ that pretty smile with the whole damn world. No more hidin’ behind books and Bibles. Just you and me.”
Tears welled in your eyes. “Please… my father will look for me. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone—”
His thumb brushed your lower lip, gentle despite the madness in his eyes. “Can’t do that, darlin’. I’ve waited too long. Watched you light up every room like some goddamn angel. You’re the only real thing left in this dead place.” His voice dropped, laced with that dangerous, crazed edge. “If anyone comes lookin’, I’ll give them to Vincent to play with and turn into wax. And if you try to run…” He leaned in, lips brushing your throat. “I’ll bite. Drain you just enough to keep you weak and sweet and mine. Then I’ll turn you. Keep you pretty and perfect for eternity.”
You shivered as his fangs scraped lightly over your skin—not breaking it, but promising. A dark, terrifying thrill mixed with your fear. He was monstrous. Obsessive. But the way he looked at you… no one had ever looked at you like that. Like you were the center of a broken universe.
Bo stood, untying your wrists only to scoop you up bridal-style, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. “C’mon, baby girl. Let me show you your new home. Got a room all fixed up for you. Books. Soft blankets. Even that ugly little cross you wear—I kept it. You can pray all you want. Long as it’s to me now.”
He carried you through the silent streets of Ambrose, past the House of Wax where candlelight flickered in the windows like living eyes. His brothers watched from the shadows—Vincent tilting his head curiously, Lester grinning with missing teeth—but Bo snarled low in his throat, a clear warning.
Mine.
In the dimly lit bedroom above the old movie theater, he lay you on the bed. Velvet curtains blocked the outside world. A single lamp cast a warm glow over shelves of books he’d stolen just for you.
Bo knelt beside the bed, taking your trembling hand in both of his. His thumbs stroked your knuckles with surprising tenderness.
“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice thick with obsession. “Bring you anything you want. Kill anyone who even thinks about hurtin’ you. Love you so hard it’ll hurt sometimes. But you’ll never leave me. Never.”
He pressed a kiss to your palm, then to the inside of your wrist, right over your racing pulse.
“Welcome home, my angel.”
The town of Ambrose slept in eternal silence. But here? Your captor’s cold heart beat only for you, and he would never, ever let you go.
I want a vampire Bo to pin reader against the wall and bite. Like the type of bite that stays forever because he wants it to stay and burn. He wants to see it there every morning he wakes and every night before he watches reader sleep. He’d trace it, knowing he caused it. He’ll kiss it because it’s his. He’ll remark it if it fades or he just needs to remind the reader—
I want more Vampire!Bo Sinclair or Werewolf!Bo Sinclair. I want to feel him bite my shoulder.
I want to see him starved and has had blood in days. Then he sees me and is trying so hard not to attack me. Poor baby hasn’t fed in months and he can’t take feasting on another round of road kill.
Bo watched carefully as the new group in town moved through the streets. They were calling out for someone, but wax doesn’t talk back… it never has talked back unless you listen carefully. Still, Bo watched from the shadows in his black suit and tie, his fingers fidgeting with his father’s sun ring. He was busy thinking who was dead, who was art, and who was food.
Then Bo saw her in knee-high jean shorts, bright yellow t-shirt with cute butterflies on it, and a ball cap over her hair. The breeze carried her scent, and it sent shivers down his spine; he found her.
He found his wife.
Reader POV:
As soon as you and your friends entered the House of Wax, a smile crossed formed. Not was the air conditioner running at high to beat the heat, but there was a stair case made out of wax. The art was beautiful and bright, and it was paused in the 70s style.
“Y/n, wait!” You turned your head at Liza. “Look! It’s you!” She and her boyfriend started snickering as she pointed at a pig’s head on the table. “They knew you were coming!”
You hugged yourself as you shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, funny, Liza.” You move farther into the museum and looked at the waxed bookcase. “All of this is made with wax,” you whispered to yourself.
“Bet you wished it was made outta chocolate!” Marty, Liza’s boyfriend, laughed, his friends joining you.
You bit back your tongue and kept looking at the art and pieces. Under you, the floor creaked and cracked.
“Hear that?” One of his friends whispered, making you pause. “Oh, it’s not an earthquake— it’s just y/n walking around!”
Guess we know what broke the camel’s back.
You spun on your heels and hurried towards the door to find that mechanic—
When you opened the door, you bumped into a strong chest and stumbled back. You looked up to see a man dressed all in black with smoothed back from grease, and you could smell smoke and oil over his clothing, but it had a old country boy feeling to it.
He was startled that you were running out as soon as he was about to lay out his words for you in sugar, that was until Liza shouted, “Look out for Rhino!” Then they laughed you out, pushing past him and took off to the car shop.
He looks between your run and at the group. As much as he wanted to rip out all of their throats with his teeth, he decided against it. Instead, he put his fingers in his mouth. His whistle echoed throughout the building, and it silenced the laughter. Their eyes looked at him as he loosened his tie and pulled down his cuffs. His ocean blue eyes shimmered as they faded to a burning fire red, eyes twitching in anger. How dare they say that about you…
His boots echoed as he walked into the room. He turns, closes the door, and locks it. “Vincent!” Bo snapped, jolting the group’s shoulders. He takes off his jacket and throws his tie. His red eyes burned brighter, a snarl leaving him as he watched the group coward away.
As soon as he saw Vincent, he felt his fangs showing. “Now, we don’ take kindly t’folks like yourself.” As he talked, his boots echoed as he walked towards the group. They looked like cowardly sheep by the way the moved closer together. Bo could’ve laughed at the way the bigger one was trying to protect Liza. “Be a shame, though. To waste good food lik’ yer-selfs.”
“You’re-you’re a—“
“Aw, sweetheart,” Bo hummed, his drawl heavy as he and his brother corner the group. “Vampires lik’ us are rare. So… consider you lucky to see us.”
Vincent placed a hand over the mouth of one three men and lifted his mask. Long, pearly fangs showed before his bit down hard on his neck. Bo smiled as their screams echoed.
Let the games begin.
***************
You were crying in the church next to the waxed statues in the pews. You found out that they were bodies real fast, but you didn’t seem to care much as your cries echoed around the church. You didn’t know how long were you crying in a ball behind the casket. You heard the whispers and murmurs on the tape reply twice already.
Then you hear the door open and boots clicking towards the casket. “Darlin’?” The man called. “Darlin’? Ya in here?” He didn’t wait for you to answer as he rounds the coffin and finds you curled into your lap crying. He frowns and sits next to you. “Now, why is a beautiful creature like you cryin’?”
“I’m-I’m not beautiful,” you cried. “I’m fat and ugly and-and—“
“An’ t’right size to show some lovin’,” he interrupted, saying those words like it’s a fact.
“You’re just saying that to-to be nice,” you sniffled. “You don’t mean it.”
He chuckles and leans back on his mother’s coffin. “Nah, honey. Can’t lie in front of my mama.” You glanced at him, and your eyes grow wide as you saw his hands and neck covered in dried blood. “Mama didn’t raise a liar,” he drawls. “I swear to ya, honeybee,” he glanced at you and flashed you a smile. His white canine s longer than normal… but you weren’t afraid. “I think ya t’prettiest thin’ I’ve ever seen. Shit, ya put ol’ Ms. Ambrose to shame.”
You laughed at his comment and shook your head. “Bet you charm all the ladies.”
“Yeah, I do,” he answers, “but I reckon I found myself an angel righ’ here.”
You look at him up and down. “Are you… flirting?”
“Am I doin’ good?” He leans forward and looks up at the altar. “I hope ‘m doin’ good.” He looks around and sighs softly. “I bet you saw the people…”
“The waxed graves?” You wiped your eyes. “Yeah. But it doesn’t scare me. I just… just needed to cry. Besides,” you lowered your eyes, “I’m a rhino.” Then you rolled your eyes. “And a southern vampire is going to kill me.”
Bo shook his head and moved to be kneeling in front of you. He took both your hands and said, “Darlin’, what do you want?”
“What—?”
“What do I need to give ya?” Bo asked again. “The stars? Moon? Shit, ‘ll give ya my dead-beating heart! Anythin’ just to see ya smile.”
“How about your name?” You asked, feeling how sticky his hands were from blood.
“Bo,” he said, bringing up your hand and kissed it. “Bo Sinclair.”
“Y/n,” you said, smiling. “I’m y/n.” Then your smile fell. “You going to kill me now?”
He shakes his head. “Be a shame if I did.” He stands and offered you help. “Wanna take you home, sugar. Wanna show you off to every person an’ my brothers. You’re just so damn cute an’ beautiful.”
You looked at him and the blood on his chin. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart,” he whispered. You didn’t hesitate as you took his hand. “I’ll treat you so right everyday.”
“Everyday?”
Your hopeful eyes, your voice… Bo is falling apart for you so fast. “I swear to ya, y/n. Now, come on— Vince’s wanna t’meet ya.”
@vampyrgoff, I saw you were looking for some Vincent Sinclair headcanons awhile back (I'm a simp for this man, too), so here's some to quince that thrust. Hope you like vampires...
Vampire requests are open!
Vampire!Vincent Sinclair x Reader
Tw: blood, biting, draining, killing mentioned, obsessed Vincent of you
To me, this makes since because he see him more outside at night than in the day (besides scaring the shit out of Carly). So, I like the idea of Vincent being a vampire in a different world.
ANYWAYS
He wears long sleeves when he goes outside to make sure his arms don't get burned, and he can retract his hands into his sleeves if the heat gets too much.
Because he can't go into the sun, he goes out at night for walks and for fresh air when he feels like it.
Because he can go out at night while his brothers can walk in the daylight, Vincent knows all the stars in the sky and can name every single shape.
Also, he and Lester go night fishing/hunting. Vincent is really good at night fishing! He prefers to do that when he and Lester hang out.
He's the strongest out of his brothers
Vincent's a fan of drink from his victims when they are parallelized because it makes it easy. They don't fight. No screaming or begging-- it's perfect.
If he has to drink without the parallelized shot, he's strong enough to make hold the person down to drink until the person's dead.
If the person is almost dead and Bo gives them as a leftover, he makes sure to hold the person tight and lovingly as if he's giving them a hug when he finishes them off. He can feel their pain, their death; he knows how Bo is: rough and like an animal when he feeds.
If he doesn't want to drink at the moment, he'll just drain them until they are a husk of a person.
Two of his vampire powers, because every vampire has to have vampire powers, is the ability to see his victim's memories after taking their blood and reading thoughts just by looking at a person. He looks back on the victim's memories whenever he wants to escape from reality and see what's outside of Ambrose. He always wanted to travel the state...
Then he met you.
You were exploring the House of Wax while Bo was replacing your spark plugs. You were looking at all of Vincent's creations with awe and bright eyes, but you looked the paintings the most.
He watched you as he stood still in the room, pretending to be a statue, and watched you take a chair from the "Dinning Room" and placed it in front of the painting. His eyes lingered over you as you took out a notebook and started writing something. If he came any closer, he knew you would feel him there, so he'll stay put. It's been a while since someone has looked over his work, but he hasn't seen a writer before.
Then you closed your notebook and looked at his painting, a small smile forming over your lips. You stayed still as you looked over his work. The colors just mixed perfectly that you didn't thing anything of it besides beauty and admiration. Part of you was happy that your spark plugs busted and it led you here. You love art and paintings.
"Vincent," you read aloud the name on the painting as if it was a prayer. Behind you, he gripped the inside of his sleeve. The way you said his name made his still-beating heart start again. He watched the flames get higher and higher, and it burned the inside of his blood.
He heard your heartbeat and how low it grew as you looked at the painting. He sees you pull out your phone and take a picture of his painting, so you can remember it forever. He wondered who you would show it to, who else would love his paintings just as you do. He wasn't to keep you close and never let you go, but why cage a free bird? He decided not to kill you, to let you walk away with memories of the House of Wax and his painting forever stilled in your phone. Even if you forget his name when you leave, he'll never forget you.
"Got yer car fixed," Bo's voice echoed in the house as his boots tapped over the floor. "A good fix, too! Hope ya don't mind mind but I changed your oil as well and put air in y'er tires."
Vincent wanted to tell his brother to stay back and not say anything to him. He wanted to let his brother no to acknowledge him. He wanted to soak in your beauty for a while longer, to inspire him more and more. To remember you as his muse.
But Bo didn't listen to his silent pleads as he looked right at his masked twin.
"Hello, Vincent."
You tilted your head as Bo looked right at a statue then you thought of something that both brothers didn't expect. "Oh! All the statues have names?" Then you looked right at Vincent, smiling, "Is that the statue of the person that did the painting?"
Bo fixed his hat, finally picking up on why Vincent hasn't moved. He chuckles lowly and says, "Why, yes, darlin'." He nodded at Vincent and said, "This is what he looks lik'."
You stood up from your chair and stood in front of him, arms length away. You offered a smile at him and it was the most beautiful thing Vincent has ever laid eyes on. He can't look at the sun or feel its warmth on his face, but your smile made him see every sunset and rise, every bright summer sunny say, every blue filled sky of light and stars.
I wonder if he looks as handsome as he does as a statue, you thought. Vincent's cheeks burned as he heard your thoughts of him racing more and more. I hope I can meet him.
"I love his paintings," you told Bo with a grin. You looked behind to see the painting again. "Do you think I could meet him? I would love to praise his art!" You faced them again and asked, "I love his paintings."
Bo smirks, giving you his best southern boy smile. "Wha' if I tol' you y'all already met him?"
You tilted your head as he patted the back of the statue, but froze as your eyes grew wide. You were expecting something hallow, but you heard Bo's hand patted the back of a person. of a human.
You looked between Bo and the statue, stepping back.
Vincent blinks.
You let out a yelp as you bumped into the chair and fell on your ass. You watched as the statue moved, but Vincent looked almost sad as he did. His lone blue eyes lingered over you as you watched it morph into a bright red, something so close to a blood and red roses.
"Mama tol' ya not t'play wit' y'er food, Vinny," Bo drawl, no emotion in his face. "Ya know betta than 'at."
You coward away until your back is pressed under the painting frame, and you closed your eyes and turned your head to look away. You felt Vincent kneeling in front of you as you started shaking, and he frowned slightly. You're not even going to fight him to stay alive? If you stay with him, he'll fight for you. He'll fight every day and night for you if you'd like.
He placed a hand on your knee and he watched you jump at his touch. He wanted to talk, to tell you you're safe. He wanted to let you know no harm will come. He wants you to live, y/n. Don't you see that? Don't you see he wants you to be happy in his world of art?
Bo stood behind his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well? Get after it, Vin."
Vincent shook his head as he looked up at his brother.
Bo tilted his head then a wicked grin formed. "Oh... you wanna keep 'em?"
Vincent nods as he placed his other hand on your arm. He watched you cry softly as he has you open your eyes to look at him. When your eyes met, he felt his face fall. You looked so scared of him, scared of everything around you, but you relaxed slightly when you watched his red eyes turn from red back to blue.
"Gotta name?" Bo asked you, red eyes looking over your form.
"Y/n," you answered meekly. "I'm y/n." Your eyes scanned over Vincent and you gave a gentle smile, trying to be brave. If the wanted you dead, they would've killed you by now. Vincent would've attacked you from behind and ripped your throat out, but he didn't. He watched you the whole time. "It's nice to meet you, Vincent."
You were still scared, terrified, but something inside you grew.
"Welcome t'Ambrose, y/n," Bo said, his voice sweet as honey. As he gave you a smile, you saw his fangs and how sharp they were.
But Vincent will keep you safe. Vincent will keep you safe forever. Nothing and no one will harm you.
How about either 59. "Why are you crying? Aren't you happy to be with me?" With Vincent
Or
76: "Why weren't you there? You should have been there!" With Bo or Lester
Ooooo I like these :3 I'll do 76! Hope you like vampires...
Fear
Vampire!Bo x reader
Tw: Car crash, blood, yelling, fighting, somber ending?
You limped as you made your way from the car crash. How you lived through that was something short of a blip in the universe. It didn't feel like a blessing or a miracle. A deer jump in front of your car late in the storm, making you turn too hard to have your car flip. You remembered fire and kicking the glass out to get away. Now, you limped away in the night in the thunder storm, but you had somewhere you needed to be, someone was waiting for you to come back from your little trip.
Ambrose was just through the trees and on the other side of the washed out road. Bo always told you to be aware of the road and surrounding trees when it rains. It makes it hard for him to find you if you don't leave a track for him to follow. Louisiana had plenty of things: werewolves, ghosts, and vampires. Bo is one of the three along with his brothers. Well... not Lester. Lester didn't want to be a vampire like his brothers, but it wouldn't hurt to become one.
To be honest, he was closest to you than the town. It doesn't hurt to see if you could sleep there for the night, right?
Your shaking legs brought you in front of Lester's cabin by the road, and you went up the steps to knock. You didn't see his truck, so you thought he parked it in the garage, which sat in the dark on the right. Hopefully, he was home because you didn't know how much pain you could take. Your leg burned like hell and your shoulder hand glass shards sticking out of your skin.
Going up the steps felt like labor. Every step you took only made you want to throw-up, but you kept trucking on. You made it to the door and raised your shaking hand. At first, nothing. Then you tried again and again, but your hand was losing strength. Your knees buckled and you slid next to the door, leaning against it for warmth. The storm brought noting but cold winds and wisps of what would bring. You brought your legs to your chest and closed your eyes...
----------------
"What are you doing?" Bo asked you in the kitchen.
You looked back at him and smiled. "I found a good recipe! Cherry pie with little vanilla stems." You tuned back to the cherries in your mixing bowl. You felt him come behind you, his boots heavy as he walked, the smell of oil and smoke coming off his shirt. His arms wrap around your waist with his head on your shoulder. His eyes lingered over the note card as you mixed the cherries with crushed vanilla stems. "Vincent gave me a small bag of blood, too! So you can eat it." You looked at him and kissed his cheek. "Making two: one for me and Les, one for you and Vincent."
"Bless 'at bleedin' heart of yours," he hummed, nuzzling into your neck. You felt his fangs ghost over a soft spot before he planted a kiss, causing you to shiver. "Reckon 'at's the nicest thin' someone's done fer me and my brother." You giggled as he placed little kisses down your shoulder. "Best be setting the table, huh?"
"Gotta wash up, too, fruit bat," you teased. I know you didn't wash up after work." Then you shook your head. "And I know you didn't just walk over the clean floor with your boots. Because if I turn around and see a trail of mud, Bo Sinclair, you're going to wake up with a stake down your throat."
He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Do ya promise, sweetheart?"
You swat at his chest as he left kisses over your cheeks. "Wash up and get your brothers."
"Alright, sugar cube." He hugged your waist and kissed your lips quickly. "Be back in five." Bo flashed you a smile and left the room, heading to get his brothers to bring them back for dinner.
------------------
By the time Lester came back from the town over, your lips were turning blue. He dropped the blood bags, splattering them over his pants as he raced towards you. He knew you were driving home tonight from work, but you told them not to worry about driving home in the rain. You promised you'll be safe.
He was careful when he scooped you up and brought you inside. He was panicking when you started shivering. When your hand grasps his, his heart broke. he took you to the tub, helped you undressed, and carefully placed you in the warm water. Once you were in, he pulled out his phone and dialed his brother.
It ranged and ranged and ranged then--
"'S Bo."
"Bo, hey, um..." Lester looked over his shoulder then back at the rain outside. The darkness seemed to have eyes, but he knew better. He knew it didn't have it. "Come to my house," he swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "It's y/n. They're hurt--"
The phone call ended without Bo saying another word. He stood in his house and waited for the worst. He didn't need to get blood bags for his brothers tonight, but he was near the blood bank and the backdoor was open... what did he do? What has he done to you? Bo's beloved is cold and...
Bo didn't even knock when he entered the cabin. He kicked it in and looked wildly around the room until he say Lester. His once blue ocean eyes turned to a blood red, and his body stronger and stiffer. He looked at Lester then down at his pants. He took in a deep breath through the nose then eyed him.
"What did you do?"
"I didn't--"
In a blink, Lester was thrown across the room, his back going through his bedroom wall. Bo was on top of him as he pinned him to the floor, fangs noticeable. "T'hell did ya do, Lester?" Bo hissed through grit teeth. "What did ya do?" His grip around his brother was deadly, and Lester felt like he was one of Bo's victims.
"Bo, git off!" Lester was afraid. He hasn't seen his brother like this in a long time. No matter how mad he made Bo, he's never used his full strength to scare him, to threaten him. He hasn't seen him like this before and it scared him. "Y/n is in the tub!"
Bo pushed down on his brother violently, breaking his shoulder. Lester cried out in pain as he rolled on to his side. He held his shoulder as he cried on the wooden floor.
Bo hurried to the bathroom and almost threw-up. Your shoulder was badly bruised as dry blood stuck to your skin. The glass shimmered on the title floor next to your wet and dirtied clothes. Some color as returned to you, but it wasn't enough to make you look alive. You were weak and tire, and Bo couldn't do anything to make it better.
He knelt next to you on the side of the tub and pushed your hair away. He leaned into his touch as your glazed eyes met his. You forced a grin but it fell as your eyes rolled back. Bo felt your pain, your heartbeat, your blood rushing time and time over. The more he looked over your bruised body, the angrier he got. He leaned down and kissed the crown of your head.
"Be righ' back, honey," he whispered. "Promise."
He stood from the tub and turned to find Lester holding his broken arm, tears falling. He didn't feel anything for Lester as he stepped out of the bathroom, making Lester coward away.
"What happened?"
Lester swallowed hard. "Was in town an'--"
"And what?" Bo spat, his red eyes burning in flames. "What were ya doin'?" He looked at Lester's pants. "'At's not their blood." His eyes snapped at Lester's. "I tol' ya we didn' need more blood! What's th' matter wit' ya?!"
"I-I thought you an' Vince needed more!" Lester said, his voice shaking. "So I's went an-an got more. Just two bags!"
"Yeah," Bo scoffed. Thunder rumbled outside the house. "And what happened? Came home an' then?"
Lester's heart was beating in his throat like a hammer to a nail. "I found 'em at t'door! They-they must've been 'ere for a while!" Then his voice went low. "Maybe two hours."
"Why weren't you there?" Bo's hands grabbed his shoulders roughly before pushing his younger brother back. "You should have been there! Ya didn't need t'get us anythin'!"
Lest stumbled back, but he regained himself. "I was only tryin' t'help!"
"Yeah, I c'n tell!"
Lester opened his mouth to respond, to defend himself, but he was met with a hard punch to the gut. Lester lurched forward as he felt to his knees, holding his stomach, gasping for air. He looked up at his brother to find some type of forgiveness, but he was met with a hard slap across the face strong enough to make his head hit the floor. He let out a yelp a she tried to scramble away from his older brother, but Bo's hand caught his ankle and pulled him back. He towered over his little brother as he whimpered to himself, chocking back tears.
"'M sorry, Bo! 'M sorry!"
"Tol' ya we didn' need it!" Bo forced him to looked up. "Why don' ya listen? Huh?" Lester let out a sob, and that made Bo angrier. "Wha'? Ya lookin' fer a death wish? Tol' ya if anythin' happened to y/n on y'er watch or Vincent's, 'll kill ya where ya stand! Didn't I say 'at?"
Lester let out another sob. "I-I'm sorry! I-I jus' wanted ta help!" He struggled against his brother's grasp, trying to push back. He didn't like this Bo. He didn't like his brother like this. Brothers fight, but this? This wasn't his brother! It wasn't him! "Bo, 'm sorry! I-I should've been home! I'll do betta! I swear! I-I'll do betta!" His words strung out in sobs and deep breaths. Bo promised never to be like this towards him. He promised! "Bo! Please!"
Bo took in the sight of his brother under him. He felt powerful, strong, better than his brother! But the high left once he realized who he was talking to. His baby brother looked up at him as if he was monster, the same gaze his victims had before Bo took their lives. The same gaze you had when he first tried to kill you. Bo looked behind him at the bathroom as he looked back down at Lester. The blood that fell from his brother's nose made him sick. He did this. He made his brother bleed and scared.
Bo pulled away from his little brother and stood, hands shaking. He need to kill, fight, hunt, but he needed to make sure you were okay. He looked back at his brother then pain circled his body. His little brother was curled into a ball as he coward away from his older brother, sobbing into the floor, as he apologized over and over until his body shook violently in panic and fear.
Bo enjoyed the smell of fear, but he didn't like it coming from Lester. He didn't like it one bit, but what was he to do? He can't take back what he did! He's too hurt to be held in his arms!
The thunder faded as it rained lightly on the tin roof when Bo turned and left his brother there on the floor to find you again. He knelt next to you and gently washed your shoulder with soap. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his blue eyes.
"What happened?" He asked lowly.
"Car crash."
"Made it here?"
"Yeah, but Les wasn't home."
He swallowed hard. "Yeah..." He closed his eyes and kissed your head. "Yer safe now."
Your eyes lingered over him then past his shoulder. "Where's Les? Is he okay?"
The lies he tells you, y/n, was enough to flood the Nile.
"He's okay," he whispered. "Just restin'."
"Okay," you said, believing him. You leaned your head against his shoulder. "Can you carry me home, Bo? My leg's busted good."
He swallowed hard. "Yeah, I reckon I c'n. Le'me finish washin' y'er arms then we c'n go." Then he thought to himself and nodded at it. "We c'n take Les home, too. Don't want him t'be alone."
He'll never be forgiven; that's what Bo wants from Lester. Don't forgive the monster that he is, the monster his mother made him and Vincent to be.
His finished washing you up and helped you getting dress. He gave you his shirt instead of your wet shirt. He kissed your hurt shoulder then your lips. Bo led you to the living room, and you noticed the broken down door. What in the world did Bo do?
He left for a moment and went to his brother, finding him passed out on the floor from pain. Bo searched his pants and found the truck keys. Carefully, he threw his brother over his shoulder and found you again. With his other arm, he helped you out of the house, holding you up as you walked to Lester's truck.
