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haddonfieldwhore · 1 month

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god loves you, but not enough to save you - bo sinclair

bo sinclair x fem!reader

please read warnings !

summary: bo sees you as his next victim. you see him as your last hope

warnings: stockholm syndrome speedrun, implied domestic abuse, language, mentions of death, blood, alcohol and smoking, some religious references sprinkled in, bo is bo

word count: 2k

your eyes fluttered open as you felt your body thud onto a chair with a creak, the metal frame unstable under any amount of weight. it wouldn’t break though. he tightened all the bolts himself; checked everything so nothing would go wrong. as unorganized as this hellscape of a room seemed to anyone else, bo knew where everything was; every pair of pliers, every blade. he was meticulous, sometimes damn near a perfectionist. not that any his guests were here to admire the furnishings.

in the rare instance that things didn’t go how he planned, he himself became unpredictable; became even more terrifying. but this was different. something in your eyes was different, and it drove him mad.

you didn’t scream, just looked around frantically to gather what was happening. everything that had happened. your ankles were taped together, and you were in a basement. your head hurt like you’d been hit with something, as you remembered the road trip you had been on with your boyfriend, nathan.

you remembered the washed out road

the gas station

oh god, where was nathan?

the man from the gas station….. bo…

“yeah sweetheart?” your focus snapped to the face of the man currently restraining you to the chair, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. how much had you said out loud? why was he doing this?

“please - you don’t have to-“ his hand snapped over your mouth, the smell of dirt and gasoline filling your mouth and nose.

“shhhh, if you scream, i’ll have to hurt ya,” he cooed, and you shook your head gently. with your one free hand that remained unbound to the chair, you gripped his wrist desperately, but your touch was gentle; gentler than any touch he had felt in years. he nearly faltered for a second, your fingers hovering over the scars on his wrist. had you noticed them? he wondered.

his hesitation allowed you to softly pull his hand away from your mouth.

“p…please, you have to help me. nathan-“

“you think if you bat your pretty little eyelashes at me i’ll let you go back to your boyfriend?” he taunted, but your eyes went wide and you shook your head, frantically this time, and your hand clung onto his arm tighter now. he pulled it from your grip, looking at your face with a confused expression. what game were you playing?

“no - please, you don’t understand - you have to help me,” you repeated, and as he studied your face, he noticed a smudge on your cheekbone. your skin looked different; he spent enough time looking at the damn wax figures to know what a persons skin looked like. he reached his hand towards you slowly, dragging his thumb between your parted lips, wetting the pad of his finger with your saliva. he tasted of iron, and you wondered if he noticed the way you licked your lips when he retracted his hand.

you winced as he gently wiped the digit across your cheek, removing the makeup to reveal a dark bruise, masterfully disguised behind layers of concealer.

something clicked in bo’s head.

something terrible.

something cruel.

here he was, taking you captive and fully intending to kill you. here you were, begging him to be your saving grace. he smiled darkly, your eyes wide as they pleaded with his.

“now that’s no way to treat a lady,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “he do this to ya, sweetheart?” he asked, making his voice sound so sweet, you almost believed it was sincere.

“please,” you begged again. maybe if you said it enough times, you would get through to him. a human part of him, if there even was one. “i’ll do anything you want. just please…. he’ll kill me.”

his rough hands held either side of your face, cradling it as he leaned over your body, caging you beneath him. you welcomed it, like a safety blanket.

this had never happened before. he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, and you were already giving yourself over to him. did you not get it? did you not understand that whatever had been done to you, oh lord he could be

much

worse.

it was almost too easy. the chase was half of the game for him. what was the point if you gave up so soon?

he thought about killing you right then. sure, that was no fun - he didn’t enjoy killing people quickly. but it would be so easy to just snap your neck, so delicate in his grasp. just one little twist-

“bo…” you whispered, and his eyes focused again, having zoned out looking at your throat, his chest heaving up and down with adrenaline thinking about just how easily you had surrendered to him. he hadn’t realized that he had leaned closer, so close that he could smell your strawberry chapstick.

you could smell the cigarettes on his breath; the whiskey on his tongue. he captured your mouth with his, teeth tugging roughly at your bottom lip as your heart pounded in your chest.

you shouldn’t like this.

you shouldn’t want it.

but the taste of him makes your head spin.

you reach to touch him with your free hand, but his own hand catches your wrist as you reach for him. maybe it’s instinct; he thinks your fighting back.

you should be.

you know damn well you should be.

the taste of iron fills your mouth again, but it’s not his fingers this time. his teeth have pierced into your lip, staining the kiss with crimson.

“he ain’t never gonna touch you again,” bo whispers as he nuzzles the side of his head against yours, and tears creep down your face.

“promise?”

“i swear to god. he’s never gonna lay another finger on you.”

and he won’t.

you believe him.

this time bo lets you reach for him, your fingers clinging to the front of his stained work shirt that your knuckles ached. the restraints on your other wrist clang against the metal of the chair as you pull at them, wanting to hold onto him. he undoes the leather strap and you reach up, pushing his hat off of his head so you can tangle your fingers through his dark hair. it’s greasy between your fingertips, but you don’t care.

“you look so pretty, darling.” blood stains your lips and your eyelashes are stuck together with tears. you stare up at him like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and he realizes that you’re long gone already; he’s managed to sink his hooks into you and all it took was one little promise. the devil stands before you and you look at him like he hung the stars. lucifer was once an angel after all, wasn’t he?

a sound above you causes bo to cover your mouth again, gentler this time as he looks up through the grate in the ceiling. footsteps shuffle across the driveway of the gas station, and nathans boots drop dirt through the grate and onto your hair. you screw your eyes shut as you cling to bo, who looks at your cowering form beneath him and smiles.

“i’ll be right back darling,” his hand is still on your mouth as you nod at him with wet eyes, hands trembling as he slowly pulls away.

the room feels cold and empty as soon as he’s gone, his boots heavy as they stomp up the stairs, locking the door behind him.

you breathe a careful sigh of relief.

he’s gone, he can’t hurt me.

nathan’s gone, bo won’t let him hurt me.

with your hands no longer restrained, you undid the duct tape around your ankles, pulling your knees up under your chin and wrapping your arms around them.

footsteps descend the stairs, heavy again as the stairs creak and the lock clicks open.

you should be scared of him.

you should be scared of the knife in his hand. the blood on his wrist.

you should be scared because he was going to kill you, and he still might. but for now, he doesn’t.

at least for right now, he is your saviour.

he tosses the weapon aside, and it clatters onto the metal table next to him. you watch as his fingers slide a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his breastpocket, and pull one out with his teeth. he lights the end and walks over to you, his fingers tilting your chin up to look at him.

your hand reaches up to wipe a splatter of blood off the side of his neck, and you almost don’t notice the way bo freezes for just a second as you touch him. his hand wraps around your wrist and brings your fingers to his lips, sucking the end of each finger past his lips until all the blood is gone, his eyes never leaving yours.

god, the way you look at him.

he’s never seen anything like it. it isn’t fear.

it’s a look of devotion.

he offers you the cigarette and you take it between your fingers with your other hand.

“you ready to go home?” he asks, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“home?” you asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. you didn’t want it, you just hoped it would taste like him, but it just burnt your throat.

“the house, silly,” he smiled, and it almost looked sincere, like he was amused by you. “just up the road?” he was the bo you had met at the gas station again. the charming one. the sweet one.

the house, you thought. that’s right. he had taken you there to get the part you needed to fix nathan’s car, and the next thing you knew you were waking up here. “did you hit your head or something?” he teased, like he hadn’t been the one who knocked you out in the first place. he walked closer to take the cigarette from your grip, the ash falling onto your lap and sizzling against the layer of sweat on your bare skin. he placed a kiss on the top of your head before extending his empty hand to you, helping you out of the chair.

you followed bo up the stairs and realized you had been beneath the gas station, the sun long set outside. you didn’t know how long you had been down there.

“watch your step,” he mumbled, and you looked down at the pool of blood on the floor, and the trail of it, like something had been dragged across the floor and out of the store.

“nathan….” you asked, the word tasted vile in your mouth. you wiped your lips with the back of your hand for good measure.

“vincent took him out of here. no need to worry, darling,” he promised.

“vincent?” you asked, as he pulled you behind him by your hand, his calloused fingers rough as they interlocked with yours. you liked the way your hand felt in his.

“my brother- you’ll meet him later, he’s workin’ right now. he’s pretty quiet but i think you’ll like him.”

“okay,” you smiled - the first time you had smiled since you woke up in that basement. bo smiled back; and while it looked genuine, it was evil.

he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

and it had been

easy.

he hadn’t even done anything that he wouldn’t have done anyways - all he did was kill nathan.

but in your eyes he had saved your life.

how twisted is that?

bo tried to kill you, and here you were clinging to his arm, like you’d float away if you let go. as if he was the only thing holding you to the ground.

and he was. and he knew it.

there was no saving you now.

not when you believed you’d already been saved.

bo froze as your feet sped up to catch up with him, and your arms circled around his waist.

you were hugging him?

heaven help you, you really were a lost cause.

“thank you,” you mumbled, your head buried in the front of his shirt. bo laughed to himself, and let his arms wrap around you.

“you shouldn’t thank me, sweetheart,” he replied, the double meaning to his statement flying over your head. “what kind of man would i be if i didn’t help you? my momma - she raised me better than that.”

he couldn’t help but smile to himself. “you can meet her too, one day.”

you smiled up at him even though you didn’t get the joke, and he leaned down to kiss your lips. you decided you would never get tired of the taste of his mouth on yours. his lips like a drug.

“you gonna let me walk or we gonna stand out here forever?” he laughed, as you hadn’t let go of him yet.

“just don’t leave me,” you asked pathetically. you would have got on your knees and begged if you had to, even if the gravel would’ve scraped your knees bloody.

“believe me, darling,” he grinned. “i aint never lettin’ you get away.”

#not sure if i like this #bo sinclair fic #house of wax imagine #house of wax 2005 #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair x reader #brian van holt

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