littlecorpselady

[littlecorpselady]

Pov: Derry 🎈

Beep beep Richie

[littlecorpselady]

Chick habit

A house of wax fanfic

-Bo sinclair x reader

-Summary, Reader works at a old roadside bar eventually sharing a conversation with a regular by his truck

A familiar feeling of dread fills your gut to the brim, the jealousy overflowing once more. Her golden locks flowed gracefully even in the wind, her green eyes were enough to send even the most bitter old man into a haze. Her skin was angelic as well as her smile. Nothing crooked, not a single imperfection beneath her nails. You watched momentarily from a safe distance, flashing the man besides her a smile as sweet as honey. Nails digging into your palm, it panged a sour feeling in the pit of your heart. You don't know why you were watching but over the course of regular visits you found yourself noticing him. Every other day he would appear on that stool, calling you over for a good few beers. Besides the usual truckers and odd group of tourists, barely anyone stopped for a drink at the aged bar by the road side. Aging did it no favour, the bathrooms stained with graffiti and walls of the verge of falling apart.

A hour passes and by then they were gone by time you were finished serving another customer. Both the man and the honey sweet woman flirting over a few drinks. You were never gifted with the ability to strike up a conversation, let alone flirt. You could only dream. Nothing but a spectator in somebody else's world.

Finishing up your shift and throwing your back pack on, it was fairly dark outside. The night around you prickling your skin with a cold breeze, and the front scattered with a few motorbikes and trucks. Upon approaching, there was a truck parked next to your car and leaned against said truck was a dark figure. Upon getting a few steps closer, what came into view that that Sam's man, a cigarette in his mouth as he lit on the end. His drag of the cigarette was slow as he lifted his head up, staring off into the distance. He looked thoughtful, his blue eyes fixated on the distance before you came over to your car. Fishing for the car keys somewhere in your cluttered pocket, his voice suddenly fills the silence, his tone casual and volume quiet.

"Never got around to askin' your name."

It was somewhat clear he was speaking to you but a turning around, you just had to check. His expression is expectant, waiting for a answer rather than just a stare.

"Y/n, and you?"

"Names Bo."

Nodding and fully turning to come face to face with who you now know as Bo, he extends a hand to you from his pocket. His hand damn near engulfs yours in one shake, his skin rough from presumably hard work. It's then you catch a glimpse at the scarred skin wrapped around his wrist, but only a glimpse as he retracts his hand.

"Got a couple minutes?"

You nod and soon he's slipping you a cigarette, holding the ligter up to light the cigarette from between your lips. Each in and exhale is taken slowly enough so you can stick around longer with him. He asks you a few questions about yourself, they're fairly casual much like the answers you provide. In return you show interest in his life, asking your own questions. Though he doesn't go into much detail besides being a mechanic in a small town, a quiet life as he calls it. Eventually you get comfortable enough to ask him.

"What happend to that girl you were with anyway?"

Bo simply raises a brow from beneath his cap. It's a small gesture but it's enough for you to stumble over yourself.

"The one back in the bar. You left with her didn't you?"

"You were watchin'?"

Immediately you become defensive, trying to shake off the accusation. You pause at the sound of a rumbling chuckle, it practically goes through you as he waves a dismissive hand.

"I'm just kiddin', no worries."

Bo flicks the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the twist of his heel as the chuckle fizzles into just a small grin. He straightens up his posture and shakes his head finally after a moments silence. The goodbye which follows feels too quick, almost rushed despite knowing otherwise. The end of the conversation past due. Yet before he disappears driving off into the night, he leaves you with his phone number. It was scribbled onto a old receipt previously forgotten in the depths of your pocket. The crumpled paper being the evidence you weren't just daydreaming for once.

[littlecorpselady]

More slasher headcannons ♡

Including thomas, stu, asa, art and carrie

Thomas :

-A nu metal enjoyer

-His favourite childhood memories is cooking with Luda

-Poor eyesight but really good hearing

-Always ends up stitching or sewing his clothes back together

Stu :

-Would be a fan of dead meat

-Would constantly argue with strangers online in horror movie debates

-As a kid he'd always steal his parents dvds or find some other ways to watch horror movies

-Owns a few chunky rings

Carrie :

-Loves to practice art (watercolour is her favourite medium)

-A closeted lesbian

-She doesn't get sarcasm but will attempt to laugh or smile along

Art :

-Doesn't like having her hair tied up

-Secretly loves dancing

-Secretly sneaks into circuses for funsies

-loves cartoon characters without mouths who express themselves with gestures

-His hands are dirty and scarred as fuck underneath the gloves

Asa :

-Watches animal life documentaries or has it on in the background whilst he works

-Despises parties or loud events

-Like thomas his eyesight is shit with or without the mask

-Owns almost exclusively simple turtlenecks or sweaters

[littlecorpselady]

Do you have a masterlist?

Not rn, might do soon tho

[littlecorpselady]

Random slasher headcannons

The sinclair brothers, Billy lenz, rusty nail, tiffany valentine

Note - might edit later if I can be bothered

Bo sinclair :

-Snores and dad sneezes really loud

-Holds grudges practially forever, even if it's something really small because he's bitter

-Fairly good at photography

-Used to have interest in playing guitar but lost patience

-a dog person

Tiffany valentine :

-Has always had a massive doll collection especially as a child

-Would absolutely adore monster high dolls

-Prefers black and white horror movie's like whatever happend to baby jane and psycho

-Dogs are ok but she's a much more of a cat person

Vincent sinclair :

-Although sculpting is his favourite form of art he also loves music and literature

-Loves the fabric of wool hence his sweater collection

-Would love Pinterest and he'd have several boards like 'scenery' 'photography'

-Both a cat and a dog person

Lester sinclair :

-Typically listens to country music but secretly also loves pop music

-Lives outside of but not to far from Ambrose in a cabin

-Enjoys watching comedies

-Massive dog person

Billy lenz :

-Beyond touch starved, both in childhood and as a adult

-Sometimes he secretly watches cartoons

-Doesn't like dogs at and they don't like him, it's a unspoken grudge

-Listens to christmas music all year around

Rusty nail :

-Either In his late thirties or early forties

-Doesnt know how to cook at all after years of eating at almost exclusively dinners

-Would absolutely own a cat if he had the ability and time to take care of it

-Loves board and card games

[littlecorpselady]

Rot and decay

House of wax fanfic

♡♡♡

Rain pricked your skin, hair clinging messily to your forehead. Each stumble forward was slow and uncoordinated as your vision grew blurry. There was no home to return to now, just wandering around aimlessly hoping to eventually find a road. The forest stretched for miles around, trees going on endlessly around you. At some point, the stumbling becomes a pathetic attempt at running. Carrying yourself as far as you could go until your eyes grow heavy as well as your body. Soon collapsing against the wet grass, effectively finding a new low.

Two old boots appear in front of you the next time you manage to re gain consciousness. They looked worn down with decades of work.Tilting your head upwards, from your own blurry vision his face seemed obscured but his cap stood out. It was a noticeable green and his wife beater was stained with all sorts. Before you could soak anything else in, everything goes dark again.

All of a sudden your not on the wet grass anymore, instead in a truck now. You must've sat up too quickly because pain shot through your side, hand Instinctively going up to grab at it. Except this time there was bandages in place of the wound. They were loosely wrapped as if done in a hurry, a poor one at that. still beating bleeding out at least. The pain eventually dissolving and fizzing out into sweet numbness. Slowly regaining your senses, it dawned on you just how awfully the truck reaked of rot and decay. The ringing in your ears replaced by the blaring county music from his radio, his hands tapping along rhythmatically with the music as he drove. He must've realised you were up at some point because now he was occasionally glancing back at you, smiling as the two of you lock eyes.

From that day, you've come to know him as Lester. He was a enthusiastic speaker at times to say the least, but he wasn't so bad. Not at all in comparison to the other two. But in your eyes he became just as bad as them when he betrayed you. At first, you thrived during recovery, speading your days with lester at his cabin. Being fed and being treated not like a animal for once but like a actual human being. Someone deserving of love and to be cherished. The memory now brought nothing but pain, having to relive the betrayal upon remembering it. Recounting the day he drove you to Ambrose, the car ride was eerily silent and he was noticeably distant. If you knew what you know now, you would've thrown yourself out of that truck and ran, as far away as you possibly could.

Time in Ambrose was agonisingly sluggish. Days purposely dragging on, minutes bleeding into hours and then weeks. It become too painful counting the days, giving up on time as a whole. The binds around your wrists and ankles scarring your skin, leaving behind constant reminders. The binds varying from the restraints on Bos gurney and the rope he kept locked away in his drawers. The rope was more uncomfortable but in the long term the restraints left lasting scars. Neither was good for you, but on the occasion hed let you choose between the two, you'd have to pick the gurney. It was always out of mockery. Mocking the lack of control, being under his grasp even when he wasn't around. Bo never said it directly but it was known he adored seeing you helpless, how those watery eyes grow weak with hours of sobbing. It only became more unhealthy with time, a sadistic infatuation even to a point where he was marking you. Cigarette burn marks he'd press hard into your skin, welts and all sorts. Some were by your own hands. Your own nails clawing at your skin. Self inflicted pain reflecting the hurt on the inside. You had escaped your previous life just to fall a fate worst than the last.

[littlecorpselady]

Hi my love!!! I hope you are doing well!

I was wondering if you could write a story (maybe NSFW if that's okay?) about Joy Ride's Rusty Nail (aka my husband 🥹) and a woman called Scarlett, that would be absolutely amazing! But please don't stress if not! 🖤🖤

Hope you are having an amazing day/night!!

-Thank you for being so polite! :> hope you like it

Budweiser and cheap cologne

-Rusty nail request

Summary: after a long drive, scarlett and her friend make a short stop at a road side bar. Scarlett notices a particularly interesting trucker sat alone in a booth.

Rain filled the cars silence with light tapping against the windows. The two sat in utter silence, Scarlett staring off mindlessly out of the window and her friend focused on the road ahead. "Hey look." She gestures up ahead earning the attention of her friend. "Can we stop here for a while? I'm dying for a drink." Without missing a beat, her friend pulls up parking by some other cars in front of the bar.

"Sure, I've been needing a piss anyway."

"Why didn't you just pull over for one earlier?"

She receives a certain look from her friend in response before the awkward moment I'd dismissed and they both step out of the car. At the same time a truck pulls up, parking as her friend tucks away the car keys. On the way in, Scarlett holds the heavy door open for the man behind them. Before he walks straight past she receives a small nod out of recognition, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne lingering on him as he went past.

She couldn't stop looking over her shoulder back at him. The trucker leaned back in one of the worn out booths, two empty beers settled on front of him and the 3rd one in his hand. With his cap tilted down and the lighting dim, his face remained obscured adding to the mystery to his presence and the curiosity hanging over her. Sure it wasnt suprsing for truckers to come and go, especially to a bar on the side of the road but something seemed different about this one. "Scarlett." Suddenly her friend appears and leans casually against the counter, getting her attention with a light shoulder shake. She turns back giving a absentminded nod and a "Mhm?". "I'm headin' off back home, you coming?". The silence is brief before she shakes her head. A few more drinks couldn't hurt, she'll just hitchhike her way back home. In defence of staying, the past couple of days has been undeniably rough with the workload her boss dropped onto her shoulders and general life. With the shrug of her friends shoulders, she makes her way out without another word leaving Scarlett alone nursing a half empty glass of whiskey.

In a slow repetitive motion, his thumb rubs carefully against the scarred skin of his knuckles, eyeing up the woman across the bar. Now on her own. A minute or two passes and seeing as she's still alone, he rises from the booth. Settiling a few seconds later into the stool besides her. He catches the way she tries to discreetly sneak a peak as he speaks, his deep rumbling voice catching her interest. The order is just another beer, a budweiser this time. "What's your name darling?" Without turning his head, he can feel her eyes, the way she pauses nervously before speaking. "Scarlett."

"Pretty name. Rolls off the tounge nicely." He then repeats the name back, as if testing it out. Warmth pools in her abdomen, staring a bit more shamelessly at his toneless expression. Sure his eyes were still mostly obscured but this close up it was easier to see the lower half of his face. "What's your name?" After a swig of the beer, he settles down the bottle and tilts his head towards her direction. "Names Rusty nail." She nods along despite the odd name, just accepting it for now. He then continues on to gesture behind him back at the door before speaking. "Motels few minutes away if your interested?". Normally she'd decline a strangers advances, but that voice stirred something in the pit of her abdomen. Inclining her enough to accept with a quick nod.

Back at the motel, he wasted no time tugging down and tossing her panties aside. Pressing his palm against her pussy, rubbing firmly as she rubbed at his straining hard on. Soon sliding down onto his knees as she settled down on the edge of the bed, pushing her legs wide and pressing face first into her core. Slowly, his tounge dragged across her slit, leaving behind a sloppy trail of saliva. His hand trembled excitedly parting her folds to get another dragged out lick this time at her clit whilst his cap is knocked off aside and her hand runs through his hair, grasping and tugging at it. She whined as he repeatedly pressed his tounge flat against her clit, letting out a deep groan against her pussy. Pulling back after a few minutes to watch the wriggling of her hips as he violently toyed with her clit and pressed his digits against the g spot. The moaning becoming more needy as she came close to Cumming before whining at the loss of stimulation as he slides his fingers out.

Slowly, a sadistic grin comes to Rustys face as he rises up from the floor to his feet. Taking his time unbuckling and sliding his belt from its loops as he spoke, shoving her back down on the mattress "Not yet Darlin'. You'll have earn it first."

[littlecorpselady]

Requests/asks are open. 🫶

*Note- still trying to improve on writing skills

[littlecorpselady]

Coney island baby

House of wax fanfic - part 3

Content: Stockholm syndrome, mentions of Vincent, mostly focused on readers mindset tbh

Note- didn't really proofread sooo :p

You spent hours scrubbing just as you did wandering around. The walls around weren't as grimy or old as the last ones but they still confined you. Just in a bigger space. It was hard to tell what bothered you more, the silence or the isolation. Besides the odd run in with Vincent, you have yet to see anybody else. The odd attempt to try to interact with Vincent when he isn't busy wasn't worth the silent glare you received in return. It was hard to tell whether or not the silence was a choice or something permanent. It wasn't like you cared all that much anyway, coping was just difficult. Said coping consisted of reading one of the multiple books laid around the house, usually the cover had to be dusted off first or scrubbing at the hard woods blood stains. Occasionally though, youd flip through the old Polaroids to get the picture of Bos upbringing. They displayed various general activities, playing on the piano and with legos along side his brother but the stuff you found told a different story. Specially the highchairs in the museum, something you stumbled upon whilst Bo worked on a broken light in the other room. The restraints were painted with dry blood and scratch marks. It was easy to put the pieces together, the highchairs spoke enough volumes for themselves.

The heavy sound of the gravel crunching outside, snaps you hard into reality again. Interrupting your session of daydreaming as the front door swings open and in steps a disgruntled Bo. The door is kicked shut behind him without being locked, not really necessary anyway considering the circumstances.

It's hard to tell whether or not he noticed you or he's just plain ignoring you but Bo walks right past into the kitchen. His hand clings to his side where blood seeps through the overalls. The grumbles are followed up by several curses as he sloppily tends to it. Pouring disinfectant on it and soon yanking open drawers until he finds the painkillers. From a distance it was hard not to watch, it was a sight you would have soaked in happily just not too long ago. Now you couldn't help but feel a pang of pity tug at you watching him like this. Almost tempting enough to offer help, maybe reassurance. Almost. Instead just watching as he stumbles off out of sight to do god knows what. Nowadays all you did was watch, sit idly by the side lines taking in whatever bo did. Watching him chase down tourists from the living room window or sometimes when you were allowed in the garage watching him work under a rusty old car. Not only did you watch but you also admired him. It was hard not to at times even if you forced your own thoughts to shame yourself for it. No amount of shame could stop these thoughts from flowing through. It was almost a infection, disgusting and spreading. It spread rapidly, each day becoming harder to cope with reality. It was too much to accept at times. Sometimes despite the shame which followed, it was just so much easier to let your eyes squeeze shut. Pretend there was nothing wrong, nothing off with your life. The warm sheets of his bed feeding into your delusion, the strong scent of his cologne and the lingering cigarette smell.

He disappeared that night to go smoke away the pain in his side. Slowly blowing the smoke out and watching it fade off into nothing. Shifting his focus to watching the pale night sky as you settled down besides him, unsure and slow. His eyes only flicker over momentarily before returning to the sky. Barely a recognising the presence settled by his side but enough to let you know you were atleast acknowledged this time around. Clasping your palms together tightly and following his mindless gaze, the few seconds passing by begins to feel stretched out. Nothing interrupts the silence either, atleast not until the cigarette is stubbed out and he rises to his feet. "Comin' in?" After a moment, you nod and rise up to your feet as well. The porch light flickering off with the flip of the switch and Bos hand ushering you inside. Resting on your lower back before sliding over to your side and pulling you close besides him. Instead of his hand leaving a clinging cold mark, his touch felt almost warm. Warm enough to be mistaken for tenderness, the sweet embrace of being loved.

[littlecorpselady]

To be held.

°Part 2 to 'dead to the world' ♡

Just a couple of minutes felt like eternity. An eternity spent staring at the woman across the room. Her eyes looked wild, eye bags denting the area beneath her eyes. After a while, finally, she stands up from the mattress. Briefly shooting back daggers in Bos' direction before shutting the door as she left. No click though, she hadn't found the keys to lock it yet. As he could recall, the arm of the gurney had been wobbily, weakened down with years of use. It might be loose enough. With two strong kicks, it breaks. A little too easily though, it'll have to be fixed later. With one arm a little more free, he reaches out and grabs a knife from his toolbox. Using it to cut away at the leather restraints and tape. It took a good couple of minutes, occasionally shooting a look at the door before resuming. The moment he was free, the knife was promptly stuffed in his pocket before wiping the glistening sweat off his brow. By the time tonight was over, he was going to need a good couple of beers. Maybe budweiser.

You searched through his stuff for anything else helpful, finding another bottle of warm water in the process. Noticing the yellow truck outside, you popped open the drivers seat with no troubles. Promptly searching it throughly just to be stopped by the gun pressing to the back of your head. It was Bo. You didn't need to look back to know. The tension was overwhelmingly silent as he slowly leaned forward until he was close enough to whisper into your ear, tone calm yet laced with threat. "Who are you?" Not answering led to the gun pressing firmer against you and a firmer tone. "Answer me." You laughed, so hard it hurt. Your lungs felt tight. You don't know what more from, though. The laughing or his hand now wrapped around your throat, squeezing forcefully.

The laughing pissed him off to a new degree. Not even throwing and manhandling you eased the anger clawing at him from the inside out. Bashing your head hard against the truck leaving a gash on your forehead. He only began calming down once you were chained up by the ankle in the basement. Looming above for a moment before bending down to your level, meeting your gaze. "I'm not going to have to ask again am i?" You slowly shook your head. "Spit it out then."

Time passes and the basement practially becomes prison over the course of what might have been weeks now. You honestly don't know anymore, there was no point in counting anymore. The only thing you kept track of was how often he'd come by. Sometimes if you were lucky enough he'd remember to bother feeding you. The food was typically cold or just leftovers. Sanity slowly slipped through your fingers, and he was to blame for it. You'd catch yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps, the click of the door before it swung open. Each time you got a little too inpatient for it, you cussed yourself out throughly. Almost on cue, the door clicks and creaks open. You head must've popped up a little too enthusiastically because he doesn't miss the chance to remark "missed me?" Sitting up, he kneels down in front of you and reaches out to cradle your head in his hands. They were cold bizarrely enough considering the summers heat. You don't what force compelled it but you ended up leaning in, pressing yourself firmer into his grasp. His thumb slowly beginning to caress your cheeks before he wets his chapped lips and leans in pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. For a moment, just a second your eyes flutter shut savouring that odd piece of warmth. The kissed lingered before being ripped away. The only piece of affection you've had in who knows how long. Opening your eyes, he smiles

back at you. It was disgusting how it made you crumble, melt into his grasp. Falling right into where he wants you. This wasn't supposed to happen.

His chest was flush against yours, hands all over the place before settling on your hips. His blue eyes fixated on watching your face with each snap of his hips. The thrusts were slow but deep, pressing himself to the hilt. Keeping a firm grasp on his sweaty back, you bury you head into the crook of his neck just to be yanked away by the back of your hair clenched in his fist. His hands were rough, they always were and yet you forced yourself to find comfort in it. Made yourself at home, accepting the gore and grime which came along with that home. Anything for the feeling of security. In anyone's arms. Even Bos.

[littlecorpselady]

𝓟𝓸𝓿 𝓐𝓷𝔂𝓪 ♡

[littlecorpselady]

𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡

•𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 1 ♡

- House of wax fanfic

•Yet again, your hand was buried in your pocket. As if it would help with the sweating or the anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach. Of course it wouldn't. Beforehand, it was all confidence and elaborate planning, but upon approaching Ambrose from the forest, everything felt dizzy.

The humidity that day was unbearable, a thin layer of sweat coating the whole of your body. God knows how long the walk through the forest was because you didn't have a watch, next to nothing really. But risking Lester's car ride wouldn't be worth the risk. It all looked relatively the same as you remembered. The buildings all looked preserved with the past, which once thrived with life. The streets were silent as you approached the gas station. Just as you came closer, Bo appeared, walking up to the door to greet you on sight.

He casually stepped out with that familiar smile, laced with practiced southern charm. "How can I help you?" The sound of his voice made your heart clench and head thump, but you put on the act. Lost and alone, that's what was led on, and he took it. Guiding you into his gas station to sit down for a moment whilst he grabbed you a waterbottle. A gentleman. Something he was told countless times by various tourists, only serving to fuel his pride. Even made him a little cocky sometimes, and it showed.

Bo leans against the counter, eyes locked on you as half of the water was demolished in one long sip. The water was warm, but you definitely weren't going to turn down a drink. Not in this heat. You seem bizarrely familiar. He can't put his finger on it. Your face, voice it was at the back of his head. Something nagging at him. "Have we met before?" He enquiries after a few seconds just to get a shrug back. "No, don't think so." Bo frowns momentarily before dropping it. It doesn't matter anyway. you'll end up the same as they always do. A display. And he'll sleep in his bed, regardless if he's satisfied or not, either way he'll toss and turn to no appeal.

It was all a blur, a mess of an hour. Your hand shook, holding the needle before letting it shatter to the ground. Bo was clean out on the floor, but of course, he didn't give up without a scuffle before being knocked out. Caution led to nudging him twice in the side. Not particularly needed, but it was worth the sigh of relief. The dragging part was especially difficult, having to get him down those old steep steps. It was hard not to gag as you pushed open the door open, all of the memories hitting hard enough for a concussion. Only a couple of weeks ago, you were full of cheer and warmth with your friends camping out before you all planned to head off to the game in the morning. Tossing around beers and messing around with Daltons camera. They're all gone. Wade, Carly, Blake. Nothing but displays. You would've had the same fate if Bo hadn't slipped up, resulting in your escape into the forest. The final girl, left to rot in grief and that lingering fear. It always hung over your shoulder, becoming a harsh burden.

Slowly with a throaty groan, Bos eyes peeled open just to squeeze shut again. Upon going to move, he finds he can't. His wrists are bound too tightly down as well as his ankles. It was duct tape, and the gurneys restrained keeping him in place. Bo forces his eyes to concentrate, face lightly scrunched up as you came into focus. You were greeted less casually this time around as expected, met with a string of curses and quick anger. It was ironic in a way, seeing him bound and restricted to the same gurney he had put so many others before. Including Carly. The thought brought a dry chuckle to you. Forced and humourless.

[littlecorpselady]

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒔

Short Bo sinclair fanfic

You gripped the handle tight, so tightly it was almost glued to your sweaty palm. He looked so peaceful like this, eyes closed and his breathing calm. Almost too calm. In a way, It made you second doubt yourself despite having planned this for weeks. Maybe months? It's not like it mattered anymore, but slowly, time blended together. A disoriented blurry mess. There was a time when you counted each passing day, carving tally mark after tally mark into the grimy walls by the dingy mattress before being moved into the house. New walls to be confined to.

His actions recently presented nice and caring to an extent, but the words he regulary spat weren't. They were laced with bitterness and poison, proving no change nor care. The way he spoke never changed. Never will. You looked back down at the butchers knife before back at Bo. It was the first thing grabbed from the kitchen in a hurry. Rising the knife slowly, your hands shook uncontrollably with all sorts of emotions gushing out at once. Like vomit, it couldn't be held back.

You hesitated for too long because in a flash, his eyes shot open, and like that, the knife clattered to the floor. Bo's instinct was quick, better than yours, to say the least, as he was already up with a hand around your shaking wrist and the other shooting up to your throat. Closing around it tightly, squeezing the wind right out of you. His lips were moving and his face was contorted with anger, but anything coming from him fell on deaf ears because your ears rang louder than possible, and it became hard to think or even see straight. Seconds felt like an eternity, almost as if time became sluggish. But as soon as his hand moved from your throat, the air all came rushing back at once. Like how reality would. Too harsh and quick.

As a result of that night, you ended up restricted in more ways than one. Noticeably, Bo became more paranoid and cautious in both daytime and night around you. The kitchen was now strictly off limits. He made sure of that first thing. Life was much harder, and he made sure of it. You couldn't help but mourn the possibilities of what could have been if you moved quicker. What even made you hesitate in the first place? Was it Bo? It couldn't have been. It was fear, or at least that's what you reassured yourself.

[littlecorpselady]

Tiffany Valentine <3

[littlecorpselady]

Pov: Jennifer Checks <3

[littlecorpselady]

Pov: Lester sinclairs☆

[littlecorpselady]

Pov: Vincent Sinclair's <3