#Beauregard sinclair x reader

[im-his-druidess]

I swear you speak directly to my brain sometimes 😩👌

(I'll go with Normal-Wise just because 😉)

GIF by stay-outta-my-blood-circle

Bo would definitely let you loose around Ambrose when he's feeling particularly pent up or he's feeling "playful". Or if there hasn't been any unfortunate soul wandering into town recently. Actually, Bo doesn't really need a concrete reason sometimes.

But he'll let you run around town, taunting you with your freedom the entire time. Of course, you don't realize that he has Lester and Vincent reluctantly stationed nearby just in case you do manage to slip your way away from him.

Which you never do.

He will let you run and scamper around the town to the best of your limited abilities, hunting you around and utterly delighting in how creative you get with your hiding spots and how you dodge him, before he gets too worked up and decides he's done playing or you have worn yourself ragged and allow yourself to get caught.

He would either drag you down to his garage or, most of the time, just fuck you right there in the street. Making you scream his name as he forces the swollen head of his thick cock into your tight hole, cooing gently into your ear as he fucks you deep and hard, and one of his hands fisted in your hair to wrench your head back so he can hear you wail for him better.

Bo will bite all over your throat and shoulder, snarling into the sensitive skin, before flipping you over to litter your breasts with the same possessive marks, and then he's kissing you as he brackets his free arm by your head to further cage you in. His hips continue to snap against yours in a brutal pace, his tongue fucking your mouth just as greedily as his cock takes possession of your throbbing pussy, and he smiles against your lips and praises you when he forces you to come. When he comes he makes sure to comes as deep inside you as possible.

Afterwards, he will lay limp against you as he catches his breath, and he will keep his cock firmly inside you as he pants and nuzzles against your mauled throat. Squeezing against your still trembling thigh as he lets it rest against his still twitching hip as he lazily thrusts against you.

"Fuck, darlin, that was fun. Great way to take the edge off, huh?" he purrs into your ear like a lover, nipping at the shell with too sharp teeth, and you shiver as you felt him twitch inside your sensitive walls.

"How 'bout a second round?"

[mandowifey]

For your match up requests can you surprise me? 🥰💙

Of course I can, you lovely bean you. Once again I am a cheater and I know who n' what you like, so with that being said...

I assign you; Bo and Vincent Sinclair!

Note: This is NSFW. Strictly because of gore, blood, violence, and mentions of sexual activities. There are allusions to non-con, as well as dub-con, some domestic violence, and forced relationships. Just overall dead dove, stay safe kiddos! This was also not proofread or edited, and my first time writing for them!

Be gentle.

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There was something deeply unsettling about the smell of burning meat.

When coagulated fat boiled and broke down it released a nauseating odor that permeated the humid Summer air. Sometimes it could take on the smell of barbecue, which was dependent on what animal was chosen.

You didn't care much for it either way.

Lester tosses a lopsided smile in your direction, using one bloodied hand to wave at you before focusing on dragging the decomposing deer toward the burn pile. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return, not wanting to give the impression you didn't have manners. Those were the most important thing to have around this place.

"Jee-zus Christ, why the fuck are you doin' this so close to town?"

The sound of a slamming truck door made you jump, and that familiar voice had you frozen in place. Your fight or flight instincts always had you ready to bolt, but over time and many failed attempts you had learned it was best to stay put. Boots crunch in gravel and you struggle to stay still.

"Ain't got nowhere else t'do it, Bo." Lester retorts before turning his head to spit.

Bo came to a stop beside you and sucked his teeth as his arms folded. You stare forward without looking. Your vision is tunneled now, and all you are aware of is the chirping of birds and crickets. There is a silence that lulls between you, and you've stopped breathing.

"What do you think, firefly?" Came the dull drawl of Bo's voice as his head turned to face you.

Aside from the regular torture, it seemed that Bo enjoyed antagonizing you with biased questions. Always putting you in the middle of things and forcing you to pick a side. The illusion of choice, as you knew agreeing with anyone but him, got you punished.

Both brothers were staring at you now. Bo, with his arms folded and Lester with a fist on his hip. Of the two, you knew Lester handled disappointment far better. That made things marginally easier, though disappointing him still left you uneasy. Aware that you were expected to respond, you begin blinking the sting of smoke out of your eyes. Finally, you cast a gaze upwards, daring to look at the more imposing man beside you.

"T-the breeze c-carries the smell," your voice was a squeak. "S-should try to f-find a different spot, m-maybe-"

A large hand claps your back and makes you gasp.

"Y'see, even she knows better." Bo grinned into his words while his brother scoffed. "Next time find a better spot." He warned, his expression tightened and some of that southern charm lifted, revealing just a glimpse of what he really was under the veil.

Lester waves his hand dismissively and mutters to himself as Bo leads you to his truck. You are silent as you climb into the passenger side, and do not look at the older man as he settles behind the wheel with a grunt. The old engine sputters and then rumbles to life, rattling the frame of the truck.

"Why're you lollygaggin' around with him for?"

The glass of the window cools your forehead as sweat beads along your temple and upper lip. After such a short period outside, the humidity sapped your energy and most of the moisture inside you. Leaving you with a dry mouth and some fatigue. You wanted a clever answer for Bo, something smart and witty that'd appease him, but nothing came to mind.

Impatiently, Bo grips a fist into your hair and yanks your head in his direction. The pain causes you to wince, but you don't fight it. You knew better. Instead, your glassy eyes stare up at him as your face contorts into something apologetic.

"Did the heat fry your fuckin' brain, kid? Answer me." His eyes flick from the dirt road to you.

"I think he gets lonely." Your voice was quiet. "He asked if I wanted to tag along, n' I said sure. That's all."

Blunt nails stung your scalp, his grip relenting only marginally at the answer. Bo snorts and shoves your head away from him.

"Well aint you just a bleedin' heart as always." His large hand fell to your knee, callouses rubbing over the smooth skin before slipping under the hem of your dress. "You wanna fuck him too?"

You knew where this was going. The same thing happened when it came to Vincent. Bo was a confident man with a sizeable ego but got sore as hell when the topic of his brothers came up. He wanted to be your favorite, but he also felt entitled to you, like he owned you. There were impossible, silent conditions he imposed upon you that left you guessing what the right thing was to say.

The trial and error wove itself as scars in various places on your skin. Cruel reminders of what failed attempts got you. Bo liked to caress them, kiss them, tell you what a shame it was to mar that lovely derma and how he wished you hadn't made him do it. Vincent was the opposite. His hands traced along marks while holding you close, remembering which ones he had meticulously stitched together.

When Bo's hand encroached on the junction of your thighs, you were tensing. "No, I don't wanna fuck him." His fingers curl into the yielding flesh of your inner thigh. He said nothing because he was waiting for more out of you. "I-I only wanna fuck you, Bo. P-promise."

He sucked his teeth again and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, his hand no longer moving. "You sure 'bout that princess? I've seen how you look at Vincent." The words soured on his tongue, causing his brows to vex and his fingers to bruise into your thighs. To call him territorial was an injustice.

"That's a good girl." His palm clapped your leg twice before withdrawing from your dress and back to the wheel. "You're gonna show me once we get to the house."

Nausea settled in your stomach like a bowling ball. Between that and the unbearable heat, you felt certain you were going to puke. You nod because you have no choice, and unless you wanted to be strung up in the dungeon below the station, you had to play the part.

Left to ruminate in your thoughts, Bo drove silently up towards the old home. When he parked, he caught your wrist as you were climbing out. "Straight to the bedroom." His voice lost its pleasant southern twang and had become something angry. His eyes were dark, focused pools staring at you from below the line of his cap.

"O-of course, right away." The power behind his grip would leave your wrist decorated in finger shaped bruises.

Traversing the incline to the front door, you nudge inside and wipe sweat off your face. Before you could move up the old steps, something touches your shoulder and makes you jump.

"Vincent!" You whisper.

Vincent stood tall and silent, staring down at you through black holes in his mask. It had taken quite some time for you to adjust to, but still, the emotionless face could be quite uneasy. More than once, you had seen it from your peripherals, when in the shower or hanging your clothes up to dry. You knew Vincent had a fascination with watching you and often played into being oblivious to indulge him.

The hand on your shoulder withdrew, and he upturned his palm. Your eyes soften, and you offer your wrist. This was routine when you returned from Bo, and while Vincent was no gentle saint, he was far more kinder to you than the latter. His fingers close around your wrist in a gentle but encompassing grip as he begins to look you over.

"No new ones today."

He turns your other arm over, then tilts your chin and checks your throat. Inside the house was much cooler, yet you felt your body getting hot. You couldn't say if he cared out of compassion or pity, though you assumed it was the same care a farmer had towards their livestock. A press to your lips made your eyes widen and warmth bloom across your cheeks.

Your lips part for him as he presses over your bottom teeth and part of your tongue. With your jaw opened wide, you felt fear. Bo had always mentioned how terrible it would be if they had to remove some teeth for bad behavior. While Vincent had a softer touch, he had no problem bruising and taking from you what he could.

Heavy footfalls made you jump, and your eyes go wide. Vincent released your jaw and shoved you up the stairs knowingly. You don't hesitate or look back as you clamber the stairs and round the corner as the front door swings open. Bo's muffled voice emanates up through the floorboards below, and you silence your steps. Tip toeing into the bedroom, you flail your hands out in the dark, your memory of the layout serving you well as you navigate blindly to the bed.

Slipping your dress to your ankles, you step out of your shoes and climb onto the bed. His smell lingers there on the pillow beside yours, which prompts you to turn your head away. In the silence, you hear your pulse and nervous breathing. Your heart sounds like a frightened animal beating against a cage. You also hear Bo asking Vincent to do something for him. Perhaps he was sending him away from the house, back to the museum, where he wouldn't be nearby to listen.

Maybe he was asking him to come watch, to humilate you further by fucking you in front of him. You wouldn't put it past Bo to taunt his brother in such a way. It was no secret Vincent was charmed by you, and while that was no comfort in its own, you delighted in the fact it pissed his brother off.

Everything fell silent as your heart settled to a slower pace. Then, you could hear the steady climbing of stairs and a low whistling tune. Your throat was dry and head pounding from lack of water. If you could spare the moisture, you would have shed tears. After so many weeks trapped in Ambrose, you had hoped that the fear would go away. Instead, the fear had turned into uncertainty; how long would they keep you alive? You wondered if they would grow bored and discard you in the burn pile, or perhaps Vincent would cherish you as one of his figures. You tried to avoid those thoughts.

The whistling and footsteps came to a stop outside the door. "Honey," the knob twists and light cascaded across your bare form. His silhouette was massive and imposing in the doorway. There was a jaunt to his tone now, almost sing-song.

"I'm home "

[adalwolfgang]

What shall I tell my ma...

Chapter 1

Teen!Beaugard (Bo) Sinclair x Teen!Fem!reader

Summary: You met Beaugard Sinclair back in 1989 when Ambrose was still heavily settled with people. This is how it yalls story started.

A/N for future chapters: Bo is 17 and you're 16 and the story takes place in 1989, back then if you told a kid to go left, they'd go right. I asked my ma who was born in 1974 in a rural town questions before writing this and all I got to say is, back then things were very different. Kids underage did things they shouldn't have been doing but did it anyway. That being said I don't condone kids under the age of 18 doing anything that's mentioned below or in future chapters. This is fictional, not real life. I also plan to make this a series if people ask for it enough.

Warnings: 1989, Victor and Trudy Sinclair, Bo being Bo, Small harassment, Characters might be a little ooc.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

You step over the small grate as you make your way to the front door of the gas station. A canister held firmly in your hand. Your fathers truck ran out of gas, so he sent you into town with $10 to fetch some for him. In return, he'd given you 5 more dollars to buy a treat for yourself at the gas station. It wasn't uncommon for kids your age to be running errands like this for your parents or anyone for that matter.

The door chimed as you entered. Led Zeppelin meets your ears as you spot a radio resting on the counter. You walk around a bit, looking over the selection of drinks and snacks. As you do, a brunette around your age it seemed, walked out of the back room holding a dirty rag. When it spots you, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"How can ah help ya little lady?" He wipes his hands clean with the rag before tossing it over his shoulder and going behind the counter. His eyes never leaving yours.

You raise the canister a little in your hand, "In need of some gas. Whatever $10 will get me." You place the canister on the counter, along with a drink you picked up from the cooler. "I'd also like to buy this please."

"We got plenty uh fuel, no problem'." He took the canister off the counter and walked to the back. After a couple minutes, he came back, setting the now full canister on the counter. As he rings up your drink, he try's making small talk. "Are ya headin' sumwhere in particular or yer uh local?"

"I live just outside of Ambrose, just never really had a reason to stop by here until now," You explain to the young man as you watch him ring you up. You give him a puzzled look when all he charges you for is the drink.  

"I see." That wasn't interesting at all he thought. When he notices your confusion, his smirk grows bigger. "On thuh house since yer uh new face." His eyes wander over your figure before looking back up at your face. "Yer uh purdy little thang though," he looks you up and down once more, clicking his tongue in thought. "Ya got anybody waitin' for ya back home?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, your grip tightening on the handle of the canister. "Just my parents. I best get back before my dad runs me a new one for wasting time," You explain as you give a polite smile. His face falls a little in disappointment before perking back up as if his demeanor hadn't changed.

"How often do ya thank you'll come back here again? Sure ya can't stay uh bit? It gets quite borin' here alone..." He leans his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. His eyes traveling up your body, lingering for a moment on the curve of your hip. He smirked teasingly, "Ah promise, you'd enjoy yerself."  

You give a nervous laugh nodding your head to him before muttering a small goodbye and retreating out of the station with the canister and your drink held firmly in your hands. Bo watches your retreating form, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he lets out a small sigh. His eyes spot a couple of bills laying under a notepad, this causes him to smile softly at the cash. "Touché darlin'...."

A few days go by as you carry on with life. The small interaction at the gas station long forgotten. You walk down the street of Ambrose, a small list of errands your mother had tasked you to do for the day. As you read over the list, you hear someone call out, "Hey!" You look around for the voice, quickly spotting the guy from the gas station a few days prior sitting in an old Chevy k-30. He hops out of the truck and start jogging over to you. "Where ya goin', purdy girl?" He walked right infront of you, blocking your path.

Your faces show a little of puzzlement and amusement. You ignore his question, instead asking one of your own. "Aren't you that mechanic at the station?"

"The mechanic, yeah. Bo Sinclair." He nodded with a grin, his eyes moving up and down your body before they meet yours again. "...And you?" He asked, casually wrapping an arm around your waist. "Purdy girl like you gotta' hav' uh name." He asked playfully.

Your face heats up a little from the bold gesture, a nervous smile appearing on your face. "Why do you want to know my name?"

"Cuz ah just wanna make sure ah git' yer name right when I'm introducin' ya to mah ma as mah new girlfriend!" Bo said, that teasing smirk back on his face, he was clearly not backing down. "So? Whut shall ah tell mah ma when ya come back home with may fer dinner?" He said, the playful tone in his voice clear.

"Mhm....well, as interesting as it would be meeting your ma, I have errands to do, so I'll have to politely decline. But I'll generous with telling you my name since you gave me yours. It's (Name)." You explain as you move away from his grasp, making sure your list wasn't crumbled. You start walking again, leaving Bo to talk to himself for a second.

"Name," Bo said, tasting how it rolled off his tongue. "I like thet." He had a grin on his face, the sound of your name on his tongue felt oddly charming to him. "Ah promise mah ma ain't scary," he cuts himself off before adding "atleast not tuh guest's." He comes back to reality when he notices you walking away. He lets out a short huff in annoyance before calling out to you, "The more ya reject uh man, the more he wants ya!" Bo shouted, as if it was the truth, a smug grin plastered on his face. "It's gist the way it iz!" He shouted, shrugging before he continued with a teasing tone. "But ya gist keep playin' chur little game girl! Eventchly you'll give into me!" He shouted one final time before you turned a corner, a smirk still plastered on his face. "I know it..."

Tags: @ninakuli

[c0nnecti0n-l0st]

Lester Sinclair: enjoys the taste of plain carbonated water

Bo Sinclair: hates plain carbonated water and hates Lester for enjoying the taste of plain carbonated water

Vincent Sinclair: hasn't had a glass of water since he was 17 (lives entirely off of chocolate milk and orange juice)

[thesightstoshowyou]

Shoot for the Moon

Bo Sinclair X GN Reader

Warnings: None. Just fluff. Who am I?

~~

Keys jingle as you cut the engine. The thrum ceases and a moment of tranquil silence passes before the nighttime sounds rise to life all around. Crickets and frogs chirp, night herons splash, a barred owl calls. Cypress, oak, and maple trees creak and rustle in a gentle breeze. Car door hinges squeal as you slip from your vehicle and your boots swish in tall grasses as you make your way to the trunk.

Carefully, you unpack the telescope, flashlight, guides, and notepads. The scents of damp earth and decaying wood wash over you as you move. Already, the oppressive Louisiana humidity sticks your hair to your forehead, yet you wear a jacket and jeans to protect your limbs from mosquitos and ticks.

Satisfied with a small, nearby clearing, you meticulously set up your equipment. You peek through the eye piece and adjust the telescope’s position incrementally. Little flashlight clutched between your teeth, you scratch notes on the illuminated portion of paper before repeating the process.

An hour or so in, you abruptly surface from the lull of peaceful concentration. At first, you’re not certain what distracts you, but then you recognize the silence. All the wildlife has gone quiet, disturbed by something close by.

You frown and quiet your own breath, tilting your head to listen intently. To your left, a sharp snap; twigs underfoot. Something stalks through the brush, just out of sight.

A bear, maybe, or a stray dog. Your mind whirs with the possibilities, but you will yourself to stay calm. Nothing you can’t handle.

However, when a man emerges from the tree line, your heart stutters. Fear and confusion take root in your brain and you must consciously fight back the panic to keep your thoughts clear.

Where the hell had he come from? There isn’t a town or house around for miles, as far as you’re aware. You’d carefully chosen this particular spot for that very reason.

The man saunters toward you, hands buried in the pockets of the deep blue coveralls he wears. His pace is leisurely, every step measured and deliberate, meant to instill dread. You can’t make out the details of his face through the gloom and the cap perched atop his head does you no favors.

“Yer out here awfully late,” he notes, the pleasant drawl of his voice disturbing the hush of the clearing. He nods toward the crescent moon hanging low in the sky as though you need his help to tell it’s nighttime.

“Could say the same about you,” you respond, slipping the flashlight into your palm. You could blind him if he gets too close.

He stops his advance about twenty feet away, head tilting slightly as he studies you and your equipment. “Folks out this late don’t often have the best intentions.”

Pot, meet kettle. You resist the urge to call him out and instead motion to your telescope. “Just star gazing. I wasn’t aware this was private property. I’ll go—

“Nah, s’not private. Yer good, sugar.” He takes a few steps closer. The muscles in your shoulders tense. You swallow thickly, mind racing. What now?

You speak before you can stop yourself, “I, uh, I just found Saturn. It’s nice and clear tonight. Wanna see?” The man stops abruptly, obviously taken aback. He’s silent for a moment, contemplating.

“…Yer serious?” he questions. His steps are tentative now, cautious. You caught him off guard, it seems.

Roll with it. “Yeah!” You wave him over and allow the excitement to take control of your vocal cords, “And the Milky Way is so pretty right now. We can look at that next….”

He’s close enough now that you can make out the incredulous expression on his face…his very handsome face. The scents of engine oil, burnt grease, and metal hit you and the outfit suddenly makes sense. Still, you question why he’s out for a midnight stroll in such a remote area wearing his work garb.

You scoot out of the way and instruct him to look through the eye piece. He shoots you one more skeptical glance before carefully leaning over and peering into the telescope. You smell him now too: Cigarette smoke, faint aftershave, and woody musk that is not at all unpleasant.

You watch the exact moment the man spots the planet. What you can see of his face lights up and he shifts his body in toward the telescope, hunching more to get a better angle through the eyepiece. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmurs, hand coming up and hovering over the finderscope, hesitant to touch. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“So beautiful, right? Do you see the rings?”

“Sure do,” he replies, straightening and flashing you a hesitant, crooked smile. Your thoughts are almost derailed by the charm of it, but the eagerness to teach keeps you grounded.

“Here, scooch over a sec, lemme just readjust it….” You quickly check your notes then fiddle with the telescope. You’re overly aware of the man standing next to you, but he surprises you with polite silence, hands on his hips, apparently content to watch you work.

“Here, look,” you excitedly tell him as soon as it’s adjusted. With a quizzical expression, he leans down again, though there’s more enthusiasm in his movement this time.

“…What am I lookin’ at?” he asks, glancing over at you expectantly.

You giggle and mutter a quick, “Oh right,” before launching into an explanation. You gesture and describe, the animation in your voice and knowledge on the subject captivating the stranger.

He watches you speak with a mixture of admiration and bemusement on his face, like he can’t believe he’s listening so attentively, but doesn’t want to miss a word. All previous tension evaporates as you show him the charts you’ve drawn and move the telescope to and fro.

“Oh, and you should be able to see Phobos right now—

“What’s yer name, darlin’?” the man interrupts suddenly. You glance up at him and realize just how close he stands. Your shoulder brushes his chest, his body heat palpable. You’re glad for the darkness when your cheeks burn.

You do your best not to trip over your own name when he smirks, sudden shyness drying your throat and making your heart skip a beat. There’s irritation there too, annoyance with his smugness. You’re easier to read than you’d hoped, apparently.

“Bo,” he tells you as he holds out his hand. You turn to face him and accept his outstretched palm. It is then you notice your watch.

“Oh christ, it’s late. I really gotta go!”Hurriedly, you gather up your notes and pack away your equipment. Bo watches quietly and you can tell by the way he stands so stock still that he’s contemplating something.

You don’t give him a chance to decide on whatever it was he was planning when he entered the clearing.

“I, uh…I was gonna come back on Thursday if, you know, if you wanted to learn more.” Bo blinks at you, genuine surprise on his face. You’re just as shocked by your own words. Offering to meet a strange man with questionable intentions, alone, in the middle of rural Louisiana to teach him amateur astronomy?

Have you lost your damn mind?

Yet, the way he’d engaged with the subject and how eagerly he listened makes you think there’s something more to this man. The initial trajectory of your meeting had changed, hadn’t it? There was a spark, a yearning for connection. He wants to learn, and you want to teach.

That, or you’re completely delusional.

“Next Thursday?” You nod at his question. He tips his head again, like he’s thinking. Slipping his hands back into his pockets, he shrugs. “I can try and make it.”

**

He does make it on Thursday. You do too. And again on Saturday. And the following Friday. And Monday.

Sunday finds you seated on a blanket, Bo at your side, flashlight in your mouth and pen in had. Around you, the nighttime creatures sing their songs. Your trusty telescope points to the sky, ready to capture the comet you’re tracking.

You’re relaxed in his presence now. You’ve decided to attribute your initial meeting to simple chance. He hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him, and you’re not going to look for one.

Your name murmured in a hushed and careful tone breaks your reverie. You hum in response before lowering the flashlight and glancing up. The look in Bo’s baby blues freezes you in place and brings heat to your cheeks.

He’s closer than you anticipated. He removed his hat at some point and his dark hair is ruffled like he hastily ran his fingers through it. That self-satisfied smirk you tell yourself you hate pulls at the side of his mouth and there’s warmth in his eyes as they trace the curve of your lips.

“Been tryin’ t’kiss ya for the past ten minutes,” he teases, his hand reaching out to playfully flick the pen in your hand. You release a breathy laugh as your heart flutters in your chest like a trapped bird.

“Oh, um…s-sorry,” is all you can manage, mouth curving in a weak smile. Your teeth worry your bottom lip when Bo slides closer to cradle your face in his palms.

“Looks like I finally get t’teach ya somethin’ huh?” he jokes, lips ghosting across yours.

You huff, “Oh shut up,” but there’s no real bite to your words. Bo chuckles affectionately and smoothes his thumbs over your hair.

His next words are soft, the vulnerability in them meant only for your ears. “You been real sweet, darlin’. Ain’t nobody taught me anythin’ like you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, moved by his admission. The gratitude in it warms you deep in your chest. Bo wrinkles his nose.

“Alright, enough a’ that. Turnin’ me into a fuckin’ sap.” Your next scoff and eye roll is cut off when he finally claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

Overhead, stars twinkle, your silent spectators.

[capybar00stash]

Sinclair Twins and their ??? shirts

[small-sinclair]

Hehehe I love you’re writing, here’s another request, angst with a happy ending

7. I told you that I fucking loved you and you stood there and laughed at me (angst prompt list)

9. “I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you.” (Fluff prompt list)

Reader confessed their love, Bo laughs (it’s out of disbelief reader doesn’t take it that way) reader leaves, Bo comes home in the evening, obviously dude sucks at his emotions and they argue and then Bo ends up word vomiting a love confession too, little kissy at the end :3

Ooooooo. This is a nice one! Had to think about this one for a moment, but I think I have something for this :3

Bo x grey reader

What a Fool

Tw: sfw, confused Bo, mention of future killings, mention of murder/using a person, lovely Bo at the end,

When you told Bo how you felt in the garage, he had to take a double take on you. He looked at you in a mixture of disbelief and... hurt? Why does his baby blue eyes look so hurt when you said you want to spend the rest of your life with him?

"Say that again, honey?" He asked, wiping his hands over his pants, oil stains on his face. He was working on a 2004 Jeep today, and the motor was giving him trouble. "I think the heat is gettin' to my head."

"I said," you take a breath, "I love you, Beauregard Sinclair." You felt butterflies fluttering around your stomach and head. The way the golden afternoon light touching his skin and his wrist made him look like a saint. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

The corner of his lips twitched as a goofy smile cracked. At first, you thought he was happy, but when he started laughing hard and held him stomach, your confidence fell. He looked at you, trying to keep a straight face, and laughed harder.

He wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, y/n--what? Did Lester put you up to this? Goodness me, darlin'. You're the funniest human alive." Bo turned back to the jeep. "What a joke."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

You burst into tears, turning on your heels, and left the garage. You didn't mean to start crying, but a cry escaped your mouth as you ran out the garage, pushing Lester aside as he brought visitors to the station. Lester raised a brow at you then looked back at Bo, who was following you behind, confused as ever. The group--two girls and one guy--watched as you ran up the hill towards the house. You want to throw yourself on the closest thing like a Disney princess does in a moved when their love denies them. Is this what it feels like to be broken hearted?

One of the girls didn't stop watching you go until Bo said, "Don't mind 'em. They're actin' funny."

"I don't think they are, mister," the blonde said. "I've seen a broken hearted person, and that one," she thumbed over her shoulder, "just lost all of their love all at once."

The red head girl nodded. "Yeah, man. The hell did you do to them?"

Why don't you mind you own business? Bo wanted to snap, but he had to keep the good southern charm on. Maybe they won't do anything about it?

"It don't matter," Bo said, waving it off. "Y/n just said they love them."

Lester's eyes lit up like a puppy being given a bone. "Really? That's great!" He had the biggest smile on his face. "They were real nervous about it but I told 'em 'at y'all love 'em, too, Bo!"

Oh... no. "They weren't lyin'?"

Lester's not one for violence, but... "Wha did ya tell 'em, Bo?"

Bo's blood ran cold as he covered his mouth. Man, did he feel like a prick. "I thought they were jokin' an'--"

"Don't tell me you laughed at the poor thing!" The blonde said in disbelief. "Please say you didn't?"

"Yeah, I did." Why is Bo talking to the people he's going to kill? "I thought they were jokin' an' Les put 'em up to it!"

The man shook his head, clicking his tongue. "That's cold, brother."

"Ain't your brother," Bo snapped, pacing back to the counter then towards the group, covering his mouth. "Really fucked up 're."

"Yeah! Crashed and burned seems to sum it up," the red head said. She nodded at the door. "You should go after them and say your sorry."

The blonde nodded in agreement as she checked her phone. "Yeah, mister. If you go now, you can beat the rain." She then held up her phone. "Cause, like, it'll be cheesy as hell if your run through the rain to get to them."

Lester had to nod in agreement. "Yeah. Super cheesy."

Then the man held up a hand, asking, "But do you feel the same about them? Like, do you love them?" He shoved his hands back in his sweatshirt. "Because if you say it and not mean it, it'll be Oversvile for you."

"Brendon's right," the blonde girl said. "Because that could make this worse and you might lose a friend." She then looked at the red head and asked, "Remember Will did that, Macy?"

Macy, the red head, nodded. "He played me like a fucking room after that, Percy." She then looked at Bo. "You better figure it out, man."

Bo chewed the inside of his mouth as he placed his hands on his hips, thinking. What did he think of you? Sure, he would laugh with you, talk with you, sleep and hold you. Part of him wanted to kiss you when you dragged him outside to watch the fireflies dace over the wildflowers. The way you spun in the flowers as you tried to catch stars in your hand and held yourself so soft and gentle around them, your smile always warm. Cracking up laughing when Jonesy jumped up to lick your face made his heart swell like no other. Every time he was around you, he felt so calm and lighter. Bo's heart ached when you would curl up closer to him at night, hugging his wrists and scars with so much love. He hated when people looked at you wrong, and he hated when you were taken away from him just to talk to a group of people. When you fell down the spiral stairs and hurt your knee, he wanted to bend over backwards to make you stop crying. He hated to hear you cry, to see your sadness, to see your frown... He hated seeing you run out of the station, holding her face, crying. It felt like a bullet to the chest.

So, why did he laugh? What made him think that it was a joke?

Then it hit him: Trudy said it and never meant a word. The only love he's every felt was... was with you.

"Oh, shit," he said under his breath. "What did I do?" He then looked up at the group then at the door. He heard the soft rumbles of the thunder and flashes over the sky. Fuck the killings, fuck the group... he wanted you. Sweet, perfect, beautiful you.

Macy seemed to be reading his mind. She stepped aside, and held her arm out as a path to the door. "Well, get after it then!"

That was all he needed to hear. He hurried pass them and started up towards the house. The group be killed or not, it doesn't matter. You were in that damn house alone crying. What a fool he is! A damn fool! Here you were, in the shop, looking nice than normal, all dolled up for him, just for him, to ruin something that's been building up in his chest for weeks!

What a fool Bo Sinclair is.

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

"I'm an idiot, Vincent!" You sobbed in your pillow. He sat on the edge of your bed and rubbed your back. "A dumb, love, stupid-stupid idiot!"

You scared him when you slammed the door, causing him to drop his coffee mug of tea. It hurts seeing you cry, but it hurts more knowing your crying over his dumb twin. Vincent just wanted to hit Bo with the tow truck--

"Y/n?" Bo called from downstairs, closing the door. "Darlin'?"

"Go-go away!" You chocked out, yelling back down. "I-I don't wan-wanna talk to-to you!" You heard his boots coming up the steps as rain pattered against the glass. You hugged your pillow tighter as you cried.

When Bo saw this scene, his knees didn't feel right and he felt sick. He did this to you. He made you cry. Goods, he's like his father--

Vincent glared at Bo as he stood. His hands moved quickly. 'Talk to them. Y/n's hurt. Fix it.' He stops at the door then looks back at Bo. ‘Fix. It.’

Bo took a deep breath and nods as he brother past by him, his eyes lingering over your crying form. He took careful steps in your room and sat on the edge of the bed. He folded his hands as he listened to your tears. The hallow pit in his chest caved in faster as you flinched away from his hand touching your knee. He hated himself more. He hated himself more than anyone.

"Hey, darlin'," he hummed softly, his voice echoing inside his chest. "Wanna talk to ya."

"Why?" You sniffed. "What? You wanna laugh at me more?"

Those words were like daggers in his heart. "No, no, y/n-- I didn't mean to laugh."

You turned on your side and sat up. You brought your legs close to your chest. He brought his leg up on the bed and shook his head. "I told you that I fucking loved you," you wiped your face, "and you stood there and laughed at me, Bo."

Thunder rumbled against the roof. "I didn't mean to, honest."

Your eyes were so red and puffy that he didn't want to look at you. "What am I to you, Beauregard?"

"What do ya mean--"

"What. Am. I. To. You?" You didn't mean to sound tired or angry. You didn't mean to curl your fingers into a fist. "Tell me. What?" You used your arm as a tissue to wipe away the snot. "Do you see me as a play thing? Want me in-in the basement like the rest?"

He felt disgusted. "No, no!" The near thought of you strapped down in some place horrifying like that nearly broke him.

"Then what am I to you?" You snapped, making him jump at the suddenness. "Am I a joke? A dumb person you thought it'll be fun to play with?" Then something clicked and your mind didn't want to go there, but it did. Your body started to shake. "Are you waiting for the perfect moment to kill me?"

Lightning flashed over his eyes, his blood running cold. Your voice being defeated. Your heart breaking in his hands all because he laughed? Calling them a joke? You. Perfect you. Breaking for a damaged Bo. Why? Why are you doing this to him? His arms reached around you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He held your head against his chest, his hand covering the back of your head protectively. You could hear his heart hammering against his chest.

You struggled against his grip to wiggle free, but it felt so safe, so loving. Luckily, your struggling failed as you cried in his arms. He hushed you softly, kissing the top of your head.

"Wanna know wha' you are to me?" He whispered as rain pattered like bullets. "Yer my first thought every morn. My last thought every night. Yer the reason I git outta bed to mak' coffee. I-I fucking live to hear ya say 'good mornin' ' to me, and it drives me crazy when ya don't say it." He held your head up and cupped your cheek. You were looking up at his beautiful eyes. Those baby blues that made you hit the ground harder. "I thin' 'bout ya when I work on the cars. I thin' 'bout ya when I smoke, wonderin' if yer cooking or bakin'. Shit," he couldn't help but chuckle at thought, "I've said yer name out loud with my last name: Y/n Sinclair." He blushes. "An' it has a good rin' to it, yeah?" You found yourself nodding. He rested his head in your hair, smelling the flowery shampoo you used this morning. "I don't know what ya did to me, and I like it, y/n," he looks down at you. "I like ya a lot."

"So," you hiccuped. "You love me?"

"I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you, darlin' y/n," he answered, laughing. There's a sparkle in his eyes when he asked, "Mind if I show you how much I love ya?"

You managed a nod as your cheeks flushed red.

He leaned down, brushing your lips gently with his rough thumb, and kisses you. His lips were cracked, but they felt like the softest pillows under you. The storm under your skin calmed when you pulled yourself closer, running your hands over his shirt sleeves, tugging him closer. He held your back up as he deepen the kiss. He took you in as if you were the last glass of cold water in July. His head spun as the thoughts of you twirling in the ran sent his mind a blaze, taking you as you were, putting his mama's ring on your finger to forever call you his.

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair," you breathed against his lips.

He smiled against your skin. "Say it again?"

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair." And you would say it until your dying breath.

[thewolffairytaler]

His Sweet Pea: One-shot | Bo Sinclair × Reader

___________________________

Summary: Ever since they were young, way back to their kindergarten days. Bo had always been obsessed with (Y/n). He was kind only to her, constantly making sure she remained close to him, and tried his best to control himself when it came to his anger. But of course, nothing lasts forever. Ending up with her moving away after the sugar mill had shut down. Twenty years later, Bo had managed to satisfy his urges, and Vincent began to imitate his mother's work in a more sinister manner. She had come back home. Meeting the Sinclairs once again and witnessing the horrors of the nearly abandoned Ambrose.

Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed late at night, I am unable to sleep because of the many thoughts rushing through and dissappearing quickly as they come in my head. But it's always mainly for a simple yet stupid reason. I can't stop thinking about him. No matter how hard I try to forget him.

He smiled at her, and though it was meant to be reassuring, it came off as rather more sinister. He reached out to gently tuck a stray curl of her hair behind her ear.

"Sweet Pea. My Sweet Pea." He murmured. Bo was obsessed with her, and his brothers knew it. He killed for her. He's killed so many for her. But she was never his, though he tried to make her, and it drove him to madness when she was stubborn.

I wanted to avoid this place, this town, his brothers, him. Yet here I am, stuck in a chair that was meant for him, his tantrums, and his unstable behaviour. I always knew that Beauregard Sinclair wasn't a normal child. Not because he was known as the bad influence or constant violence like outbursts. But because I already could foresee a future, which he wouldn't be a saint.

He grabbed her chin between his thumb and index, and forced her to look up at him. A wicked grin played at his lips. He always took pleasure in how much she squirmed and pulled away.

"You up and left me, Sweet Pea." He spoke lowly. There was no anger in his voice, but the edge of his tone was there. "Why'd ya go and do that?" He asked, moving his hand to brush a thumb across her cheek, gently caressing it, ignoring as she flinched. It was an answer.

I always wanted to avoid telling anybody. Not only for the reason that I wanted to hord all of my thoughts to myself. But because the answer made me sound so pathetic, so guilty, so blameable, so... so cowardly. The answer wasn't because I was scared of Bo. No, no, no, no... that couldn't be farther from the truth. But it was after a realisation. I tried, I really did try, please, anybody on this earth, believe me. In the end... I could not.... I couldn't make a single change in anything. No matter what tactic I chose, it would just end the same. I was just a bystander. And when a bystander is well aware of this. The only thing that sounds reasonable for them....is to leave. Escape before you are intertwined in a future that will lead to your doom.

He leaned down, so that he was eye level. His hand still remained on the side of her cheek, not moving in fear of her pulling away. And his cigarette now dangled from the corner of his mouth.

"Well, Sweet Pea." He murmured softly. "Why don't ya tell me?" He demanded in that low tone again, the one that was almost a growl but softer when he spoke to her, rather than others. It was his soft tone. One of the only soft things about him.

"You know I couldn't stay Bo... the sugar mil had shut down, remember?" It wasn't a lie. It was the reason why her family wanted to move away from Ambrose. But it didn't exactly excuse her actions from not trying to reach out to him. He narrowed his eyes at her, though they still held that softness in them, hidden slightly.

Her answer seemed reasonable. Though, he wasn't sure he believed she was telling the truth. It felt far too vague, especially from her. So, he squeezed her cheeks, not hard enough to bruise, but enough as a warning.

"That ain't what I meant, and you know it." His tone was harsher now as he got closer. Her mouth got shut tightly at that, she dosen’t get why it even mattered in the end.

"Why do you want to know so badly, Bo? It's in the past, don't you think? And you'll just get rid of me like the rest." He scoffed, glaring at her now, letting go of her face. "I ain't never wanted to get rid of you." He sneered, his jaw clenching slightly.

"I really wanted ya to stick around." Bo spoke softer now. "I wanted ya to be mine. I still want that, y'know." She stayed silent at that as she didn't say anything for a few seconds, only to let out one word in an almost silent mumble.

"...What?" Did she hear him, right? Since when? That can't be true... he's lying. He's lying as always. He sighed heavily, straightening up so he towered over her again, cigarette forgotten as he pulled it from his mouth.

"You heard what I said." Bo knew he was a bad person. He was toxic, psychotic, and obsessive. He didn't like admitting this. He did though. He hated how much he craved her, his sweet pea. He hated how desperate he became for her, but only for her. She was the only one who made him soft. Made him feel human and not like a monster. But why? WHY!? What made him even think of that? What made him so determined to get her like this. Like all of those other women before her, only to tell her he wanted her alive. She dosen’t get it! She dosen’t understand him anymore. And that frustrates her. Because it's an anathor reminder that they had grown up away from each other.

He could tell she was growing frustrated. His heart felt something. Not love, not even affection. Or maybe it was both. He wasn't sure how to tell anymore. But it made him feel vulnerable. He hated being vulnerable. He turned from her and grabbed his lighter again. Bo knew what made him feel like this, that he wanted her alive. But he couldn't bring himself to say those words. Not yet. He still felt hurt after so many years of her leaving him. The woman couldn't help but feel her eyes beginning to build up by her frustration. Her emotional heart could not handle the situation she was going through anymore. As Bo turned his gaze back to the shorter woman, he knew he had to say something, not those three words he couldn't spout out to anybody. But sometimes, to remind his girl what made him so determined to have her, what sealed the deal and gave him that hope. He walked a bit slowly to her as he leaned down to begin wiping her tears away.

"Now, don't go a-cryin' on me (y/n). I ain't gonna hurt ya, cross my heart. I'm just gonna tie the knot like I promised, Sweet Pea." She was silent. As she was so often. Silent, yet observant. Watching his every move carefully as he knelt down again, to wipe her tears as if he was so caring. She would have pushed him away, if only she wasn't tied to the chair. Not that she could even move, as his hand was on her cheek. She didn't say anything, just sniffed, as more tears fell. She hated crying. It was a weakness. Yet, Bo was the only one who would see her cry and wipe those tears away, and not use it against her. Bo was gentle with her when he reached out to wipe her tears. He always was. He knew her limits, and how soft she was. He didn't want to admit it, but he wanted to keep her like that. Soft, kind, but only for him. He hated seeing her cry. Even hearing her sniffle made something in his heart twitch painfully, a reminder how much she had an effect on him. He didn't want to be weak. But she made him weak.

"Don't cry, Sweet Pea. Not for me." He murmured, leaning down so they were closer again. She closed her eyes, forcing the tears to stop. She sniffled another time, letting a shaky breath leave her as she felt his close presence. God, she hated how soft he made her. She didn't want to care, and she didn't want him to know that she had missed him. But how was she meant to feel, with him this close? It was clear she was struggling to stop her emotions, but Bo knew she was trying. He couldn't convince her now, Bo knew it for sure. He wasn't a delusional man. He knew she didn't want this, and to be honest. He didn't want it to end up like this either. But what else was he supposed to do? It was one thing when she came back to Ambrose for car troubles. But anathor with that damn... boyfriend of hers. God, even thinking about that guy, made Bo grit his teeth. But he needed to hold it together, for her sake. She opened her eyes, and he could see the emotion there easily. The one that had him obsessed with her, the one that ruined him. He hoped too hard she still felt for him. Her lips parted slightly, to say something. Anything. But she had nothing to say. She hated how he ruined her. She felt so many things that she had worked years to suppress, that were ruined in this moment. The sight of her was enough. She looked small and helpless in the chair, and her slightly parted lips made his obsession grow. He wanted her. He wanted her to be his.

His sweet pea. His, and no one else's.

He leaned forwards again, his forehead resting against hers. It felt so familiar, the feeling of their faces close. It felt even more like home. Bo would take care of her, fix her a bit to his desire in order to live the life he invisioned for them both. He didn't want her to change that much. He still loved his little firecracker. But he needed his sweet pea back again, the kind-hearted understanding sweet pea...

Author: I did it! I wrote my first ever one-shot! I'm proud of myself. This one is based on that imagined scenario I made about Bo a few weeks ago that I wanted to make a one-shot for a while now, but I had been too busy to finish it. Either way, I hope I managed to write it the way you guys imagined it.

[kittykittyaoi]

I had a dream were Bo was driving his truck at night and my head layed on his shoulder, hugging his arm while sleeping. He was amused and thought it was cute.

I'm, uh... uhm...

[xxslashrrbratxx]

[ahmnom]

I don't care what ANYONE says Beauregard is a hot ass name.

it would probably be the only thing to make Bo blush if you called him by his full name tbh

[im-his-druidess]

Okay but Bo Sinclair and this prompt

“As an Alpha, I have the right to claim you, the Omega, and you know that, don’t you” whispered in the omegas ear in his sexy Louisiana drawl with his smug dominating smirk brushing against her skin

After he’s scented the omega tourist and chased her down after the rest of the tourist have already been killed/taken by Vincent 🥵😈

This is the good stuff, Nonnie 😩👌

“I know you’re in here,” a voice called out, playful with a singsong lilt, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the smooth southern drawl of the man chasing you so close to where you were crouched.

You thought you had lost him, but apparently, he had stayed right on your tail giving you no chance to even think of a way out, let alone catch your breath. Your friends had been mowed down one by one leaving you the last one standing, their screams and pleads of mercy that went unanswered still ringing in your ears, and you curled in tighter to yourself behind the shelf of the cluttered storage shed you were hiding in.

“I can smell you,” the man continued with a rumbling purr and you felt your already thundering heart skip a beat.

The man was an Alpha in every sense of the word and you knew he was speaking the truth. At the gas station, before everything went to hell in a handbasket, the friendly mechanic wasn’t subtle about sniffing out your designation. Looking pleased with himself when his eyes bore into you when he finally caught a whiff of your naturally sweet Omega scent.

‘Omega,’ he had murmured just low enough for you to hear and you were so shocked by the rude acknowledgement that you could only gape at him.

It was considered downright insulting for Alphas to call out Omegas, even though everyone knew that the scent of an Omega was as obvious as the sky was blue to Alphas, but he had just grinned slow and honey-sweet and predatory when you spun on your heels to march out to join your friends when you couldn’t think of a response. Then once the attacks started the only thing you could think of was your survival.

“Not often we get Omegas in these parts. I could smell you a mile away, darlin’” the man, ‘Bo’ you remembered grimly, said and you forced yourself not to flinch at how close his voice had gotten.

“Such a pretty little thing you are…why don’t you come on out, now? You know this is inevitable,” he growled out and panic seized your body and stole the air right from your lungs.

Your inner Omega was preening at the thought of this virile Alpha hunting you down to claim you and you wanted to bang your head on the closest wall at those barbaric instincts. You suddenly realized that the room had become eerily silent, no more footsteps or taunting remarks, and you strained to hear over the sound of blood pounding in your ears.

Sweat beaded on your forehead and dripped off your nose, the humid air sticking in your lungs and covering you in an oppressive blanket of heat, and you tried to breathe as quietly as possible. You pressed your raw bloody palms tight against your thighs, bits of loose gravel still embedded in the stinging flesh from where you tripped over one of your friend’s limp lifeless bodies on the road, and just the feeling made bile rise up the back of your throat. If you survived this night you knew that you would forever be haunted by what you have witnessed. You wanted to peak out from under the shelf to see if the coast was clear, but terror had you frozen in fear. You sniffed the air as quietly and subtly as you could, the scent of mold and dust and your own fear filled your nose, and you desperately tried to push past that to scent out the Alpha. Eventually your nosed twitched when you caught the smell of dark exotic spices, the tell-tale scent of an Alpha, smoke, and gunpowder.

You realized a second too late that the smell was suspiciously close.

A large hand gripped your bicep and you were dragged from under the shelf before you had a chance to scream.

“Gotcha!” Bo cooed and you shrieked as you began clawing at him and trying to yank yourself free with the desperation of a cornered feral animal.

However, his grip was like an iron shackle, and you felt tears burns your eyes as he dragged you closer to his broad body. Bright blue eyes stared down at you with triumph, a lopsided cruel smirk twisting his lips and making the corner of his eyes crinkle, and you felt his laugh more than you heard it. His free hand tangled roughly in your hair close to your roots and you could only yelp in pain as he roughly yanked your head to the side. He then pressed his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. A groan rumbling deep in his chest before you suddenly felt something hot and wet drag over your fluttering pulse.

The son of a bitch licked you.

You screamed again, this time in outrage, and renewed your struggle. The hand on your bicep moved to your waist and you were crushed even harder against his chest, effectively pinning your hands against his chest, and you wheezed at the pressure compressing your lungs. He licked you again and you released a small sob.

“Please…please don’t,” you pleaded and felt him nuzzle against your shoulder and throat. Rubbing against the sensitive scent glands. He was scenting you.

He hummed softly as if thinking over your words, but any hope of him setting you free died when he shifted and you felt something hard poking into your stomach.

“You can’t do this,” you gritted out passed the lump of fear and anxiety in your throat and he laughed.

“As an Alpha, I have the right to claim you, the Omega, and you know that, don’t you” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple that would have been considered sweet under any other circumstance, and you wailed at his words.

“Don’t be like that, darlin’. I’ll treat you real good. Keep you here to look after the house, keep you warm and fed, and keep this sweet pussy of yours nice and full,” he said with a small groan and you felt fresh tears spill down your cheeks at the reality of your situation.

You shook your head frantically, words unable to leave your mouth and your throat seeming to close in on itself, and he pulled back to look down at you. He smiled and nodded his head while moving to smooth your hair from your damp face.

“Yeah, I’ll treat you real nice…and you’re gonna be nice to me, too, aren’t you?” he murmured gently as those piercing blue eyes swept over your face with barely concealed hunger.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

“If you’re nice enough I’ll even make sure Vincent doesn’t get his hands on you. He’s not used to Omegas being around so he might wanna go at you,” he continued in that same soft tone and nausea rolled through you at his implication.

The memory of that longhaired Alpha cutting down your friends and dragging them through the street was still fresh in the forefront of your mind and you began openly weeping. Bo shushed you as your legs gave wave under the force of your emotions and he tucked his face back into the crook of your neck. You barely resisted when you felt him slowly walking you backwards until your back met the wall and your chest began heaving with your sobs as he slowly rolled his hips against you. You weakly pushed against his chest and felt his teeth nipping at your throat, right where a claiming bite would go, and dark spots began flickering across your eyes as it became harder and harder to breathe. You felt him smile once more against you.

“Welcome to Ambrose.”

[matchbet-allofthetime]

Giggles- Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

Warnings: none! a silly sfw fic :) vincent, jonesy, and lester are mentioned too!

Note: this is a very short drabble but I love all of these fools and this movie is such a comfort movie for me :')

─────────────────⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅─────────────────

I erupted in a mass of giggles as Bo blew a raspberry against my tummy for the upteenth time tonight as he grinned at the laughter.

He grinned up at me from his spot on the floor in front of the couch. Vincent and Lester were playfighting in the kitchen, Jonesy barking at them both, over which one should make dinner tonight and stopped only briefly to smile at you and Bo.

"Bo, hahaha, stop-stop it! I can't breathe, Bo-" you spoke out through your giggle fit.

Bo merely laughed at the sound of your hoarse voice.

"Well, darlin', I'm afraid I just can't help myself. Y'see, you're just so damn cute and I can't help that your tummy is perfect for blowin' raspberries on!"

You laughed again as he tickled at your sides, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. A fond look was sent from him to you as you looked down at him and simply pet his hair.

"You need a shower, Bo. You've been working all day."

"Mhm." He mumbled, cheek resting on your belly. He didn't make any move to get up. Jonesy waddled over and sat with her head on your hand. Welp, guess you're not getting up anytime soon.

The three of you stayed like that for another few minutes before finally, Vincent got everyone's attention (after having won the dinner fight) and signed for Bo to clean up while he finished supper. He then motioned for Jonesy at he poured her dinner into a bowl and got her fresh water.

Grumbling, knowing he couldn't argue with his twin, Bo sat up and trotted off to take a shower before he got fussed at.

When Bo got back, he took his place on the couch as Lester picked out a movie for the night, followed by you and then finally Vincent, who always got his share last. Jonesy followed, laying down at Bo's feet as you cuddled into Bo's broad shoulder.

There was much laughter as everyone ate and you couldn't help but think that this was exactly where you belonged.

You couldn't be happier.

[adalwolfgang]

Bo: if a hot person disagrees with me, I will immediately change my views. I have no principles

(…..): well maybe you should have principles

Bo: you're right maybe I should.

(Credit to demigoddessqueens for the idea to recreate this)

[slashwhores]

Ba-Dum Ba-Dum Ba-Dum

[hamburgerslippers]

Recompense Is A Pair Of Handcuffs SNIPPET

Chapter 1: Repeater

The full chapter will be out tomorrow!!!!

"You want one?”

Bo pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his beast pocket and lifted it to his lips. When he lifted his head again to look at her a smoke sat neatly between his lips.

Âmî’s breath picked up. “No. No, thank you.” Swallowing was hard.

“Good, good. These things will kill you if you let em.” He nodded approvingly while lighting up.

“They’ll kill you anyways.”

“Only if you burn em.” Bo responded pointedly, looking up through his lashes.

The look they shared glowed orange from his lighter. Âmî grew light headed at the shared stare. Or maybe it was the smoke. Maybe it was the weight in her back pocket.

“Then smoking is just lettin’ em kill you then, aint it?” She said, voice wavering.

“As much as getting in a car with a stranger.”

Recompense Taglist: @rottent33th @madhyanas 💕