#dad bo

"Yea sure you weren't the best kid"

"But being locked up cuz of a stupid paper assignment was crazy "

"Dad lock me in my closet cuz I didn't get my school work done"

"Like what? "

You say this as you were on the phone with someone. Not knowing that bo was behind that door.

The door open quietly before your phone was smash against the wall

"I could treat you like my parents did to me if I am so fucking horbale" he said way to calmly as he grabs you and drags you to the kitchen.

"Fucking eat before I fucking regret it" he said leaving you alone again

Tag list:

@oh-shit-i-spilled-my-genderfluid

@thatweirdbitchjax

Yay, your dad was teaching you something you had been helping him out with for years.

Grabbing every tool and or screw he needed into he had you under the car with him one Friday night.

He was laughing at how you held your tools or well as he adjusted it to his liking

He helps the entire time letting you do it by yourself

Three days has past since you came here with your child. Three days since the hole in your stomach grew and shrunk all at once. Three days since you've moved from the bed, letting a stranger care for you baby girl along with you. He shot your husband and sunk his body at the bottom of the creek. Only Louisiana and his shot gun know what he did, and you weren't sure if you were thankful or scared. If he could kill your husband, why hasn't he turned the barrel on you?

Sometimes, you would look over to see him cradling your daughter in his arms lovingly. He seems to know how to hold a child, you noticed, but you can see how scared he was when he bounced the child slightly in his arms and hands, whispering to her gently. Yesterday, you woke up to find him in the chair in the corner of the room feeding her and talking to her in a low voice.

"Ya think Mama will move t'day?" He asked Jasmine. "If not, 'at's fine." His eyes met yours, kind and gentle, then looked down at Jasmine. "Until then, ya reckon she might lik' steak? Been itching t'cook sum. Fire up the coals 'n cook." Then he chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Bet ya if I put som' in t'blinder, I reckon y'all drink it."

You couldn't help but shake your head. "She can't have meat yet."

Bo's eyes meet yours and gave an award winning smile. "Yer talkin' now, huh?" He stands up with the child in his arms and sat at close to you. As he walked, he talked to Jasmine as if she was his own, saying, "Wanna see Mama, lil' sun-dew?"

He passed her to you, and her bright smile warmed your heart. His little giggles filled the room as you took her from Bo. You cradled her in your arms and kissed her head. You met his gaze as he towered over you his his hands on his hips, his eyes lingering over you and Jasmine.

"She's a good kid, Mama," said, licking the bottom of his lips. "I... I hope I wasn't oversteppin'."

You shake your head as you laid her on her back on your legs. "Normally, I would snap and yell, but you seemed fit for the job in a way."

"Job?"

"Yeah," you locked eyes with him. "You act like as if you're her dad." You let a sad smile form. "Thank you for taking care of us. Of her."

He returned the smile in kind, his hand taking yours and lifted it up to his lips. He left a kiss on your knuckles like a gentleman from one of your romance books. When his eyes met yours, you felt your heart flutter slightly. "Yer welcome, Mama," he drawled, his voice deeper.

But that was yesterday, and yesterday is history.

Last night, you were reminded of who these men truly are: killers, blood chasers, hunters, murders.

A group came in yesterday and one tried to come to the house, but Bo was quicker. You didn't see the kill as you shielded Jasmine from the screams, but you could hear Bo laughing at the man as he tried to fight, to get away from him. You heard the sickening sound of a knife gutting him while he was still wiggling and very much alive. You heard his blood in his throat until there was silence. The hair on your neck stood as you hard his boots come to your door. He knocked before opening the door slightly. He didn't come in, but you could tell his face was painted with crimson red. "Darlin'," he said breathless. "I'm sorry ya had to hear 'at," he said, his voice light and apologetic. "Stay in here, kay? Don't wan'ya or Jasmine seein' t'livin' room."

Since then, you haven't heard him, and you were scared. He could end you today or later. Why hasn't done it yet?

You heard the door open and his boots walk into the room. His boots were heavy as he walked across the floor, and the weight of the bed lowered when he sat at the end. His oil stained mechanic jumper hugged his arms from the Louisiana heat, and the curls under his trucker's hat stuck up from the sweat. He looked over at you then back at the crib where Jasmine slept, taking it off his hat and hung it at his fingers. He brought it down from the attic a couple hours after he brought you to the house with the help of the wax masked man, Vincent. He folded his hands as he leaned forward on his knees.

"Hey," he said lowly, his voice careful when he talked. "I made somethin' fer ya at t'church." You didn't move or give knowledge of him, but you were listening. He knew you were listening. "Le'me change outta these rags an' take ya there. Sound good?"

"Why?" You whispered.

He clinched his jaw and looked up at the the crib again. "Because ya need t'see it, darlin'--"

"Don't call me darlin'," you spat. "I'm not yours."

Normally, he would've hit any woman who would say that to him, but he understands this pain, your pain. You lost something too close to your heart. "Le'me change and I'll come get ya, okay?" He held up his hands. His hat was on his knees, and he put it back on.

As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you nodded. To find the strength to get up from the floor and move on; it will be a long race and it would be an even longer time before you find a way to be better. Is 'better' a good word? To be better after this? You closed your eyes and allowed a tear to shed. The amount of times you've cried and screamed in your pillow in the past three days would've made Todd laugh, his voice calling you pathetic.

You felt a callous finger brush your tear away. You wanted to slap his hand away but you welcomed the touch. It's been a while since you felt actual care. You were hurt, and they knew. They let you mourn for your loss, but...

His hand left but you caught it, pulling at his arm. "Hold me?" You whispered. "Please? I-I don't wanna be alone right now."

Your voice being that soft nearly broke him. He waited for you to scooch over and he kicked off his boots and placed his hat on the nightstand before laying down next to you. You buried your face into his chest and started to cry against. His hand raked through your hair, shushing you gently, as his arms held you closer. There was something him inside that wanted to keep you safe forever and a day. There was something that he wanted to do to keep you alive and well in his life, but you had to say it. He couldn't force you or make you. Bo closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. There are no words in the world that could comfort you, he knows this, but he'll try.

"My brother, Vincent-- you remember him? Well, he'll be 'ere watchin' your kid while we go," he whispers in your hair. "She'll be safe 'ere wit' 'im."

"Why the church?" You whimpered. "Why?"

"Y'all see," he promises. "But, listen... listen," he pulled away and brushed your hair back. "Le'me change. Can't le' t'Lord see me in 'is." You chuckled at his words, giggling at his drawl, and he loved it. He loved hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. He made it his mission to make you smile everyday as long as you were in Ambrose. "I'll drive ya there. Sound good, Mama?"

You closed your eyes and calmed yourself, nodding. "Yes, that's fine."

Bo gave you one last hug before getting up. "I hung a dress on the door if ya wanna wear it." He looked back at you as he stood at the door, looking back at you. "If not, 'at's fine. Ya don' have'ta." He gave you a sad smile and left the room, closing the door softly so he didn't wake Jasmine.

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

Bo combed his hair back with grease and made sure his black suit looked perfect in the mirror. He worse it to see his mother, to visit and mourn still. It's been 4 years since his mother's death, and it's been 5 years since he started killing. His mother died by his hands, and he'll look for forgiveness until his dying breath. Even in the grave and beyond he'll keep looking for it. His mother wouldn't let him in until her dream was filled, and he promised to kill any soul that wondered into this town.

Then you and Jasmine came along, and he had to think back on his words and care. He thought of your smile and your cries. He thought of your blood and how scared that baby was. He didn't like men like Todd, and he didn't want that man in his town part of his mother's dream. What to do with you? He didn't know, but he hopes you stay.

Gods, he hopes you stay with your kid. He always wanted a family, but he never found the right woman to make that happen. He wonders if you're that person, that woman who would learn to love a monster. His father told him he was beyond love, beyond help. He was just a teenager when his father told him this, and he believed him for a long time. Even after killing his father, those words were tattooed over his heart.

But every time he holds Jasmine, her hand wrapping around his finger, and giggle and cooing up at him, his aching heart just burns deeper and brighter for her. She has his heart wrapped around her little fingers the moment she reached up to take his hat.

If there's a God, please, have her stay. Have them stay here.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked at himself. He looked like a true southern gentleman that his mother craved him to be.

Bo came pattering down the stairs and froze when he looked at you. You were dressed in the sundress he picked for you with your hair in a braid. You had Jasmine in your arms as you rocked back and forth in his father's rocking chair. You had a bottle in your hand as you told your story, and it caught Bo in a web.

"...and the wolf huffed and puffed and blew the house down," you cooed, a smile over your lips. He came down the steps quieter as you continued the story. "So, the two little piggies went to the house of bricks and said, 'Brother, the big bad wolf is coming! He knocked down my straw house. He knocked down our brother's stick house. Please, help us!'"

At the bottom of the steps, Lester sat between Vincent's legs, and Bo joined them to listen to the story. Lester rested his head in his hands, a content smile on his face. Vincent had was drawing in a sketch book, and his pencil moved over the paper with ease. The pencil outlined you and Jasmine in lovely shadings. Bo leaned against the railing, looking at you with warmth. Again, something inside him ached as the emptiness filled his lungs. You're such a good mother...

"And the older brother said, 'Of course, brothers! Come inside! The Big Bad Wolf won't get ya!' And they entered the brick house and waited for the wolf. When the wolf came, he said to the house, 'I'm the Big Bad Wolf! And I'll huff and puff and blow the house down and have you little pigs for dinner!'" You pushed Jasmine's light brown curls back, smiling warmly.

The sunlight in your smile made Bo blush, and the fears came over him: what if you leave? What if you don't want to stay? Then what? What would he do? Then something terrible formed. What if he was falling for you too fast?

"And the wolf huffed and puffed and tried to blow the house down, but it didn't move. The bricks stood strong and still. So, the wolf tired again. He huffed and puffed and tried again! The three little piggies were safe inside the house of bricks as they watched the wolf grow tire and tire until there wasn't enough air in his lungs. Soon, the wolf gave up. He turned away and ran off." Your voice grew softer and softer as you pulled the empty bottle away from the sleeping girl's mouth. "And the three little piggies were safe, living happily-ever-after in the older brother's house of bricks."

You stopped rocking and put the bottle aside. The little joy in your arms was all you had left in this strange town. You were afraid of this town, and you would be a fool for not fearing these men.

But that tugging came back inside you, and it said to trust them. They cared. If the didn't they would've let Todd beat you then and there in the House of Wax. If they didn't care, they would've killed you after they too Todd. It's a funny feeling and you didn't know what to do. Even when Bo said Vincent was going to watch your daughter, you felt... comfortable? Certain? Safe? What was that feeling inside you that made you trust Vincent?

You slowly stood up from the chair and cradled your daughter. You nearly jumped to of your skin when you saw the three men sitting at the bottom of the steps, and they were looking at you like a blind man seeing a sunrise for the first time.

"Ya a good mother," Lester hummed, his smile still there. "Mama nev'a tol' us stories lik' 'at."

You gave a sad smile then looked down at your child. "I try to be good," you whispered. you didn't want to wake Jasmine. "I really try."

Bo stepped over his brothers and recomposed himself, straightening his tie. "I'll let ya put the babe down then we can go." He kept his voice down because he was afraid he'll wake her. "Vince and Les will do a good job takin' care of 'er while we go."

"Will we be long?" You asked as you rested Jasmine's head against your shoulder.

"Depends, ma'am," he answers honestly. "But I'll be wit' ya t'whole time." His blue eyes shined as you gave you a grin. "Promise."

You looked between Lester and Vincent, who were starting to stand up from the steps, then you looked down at Jasmine. "Do you two know how to hold a baby?"

"Is it like holdin' a racoon?" Lester asked, tilting his head. "Gotta keep the head up an' mak' sure it don't bite?"

Vincent's hand shot up and smacked him upside the head. He shot him a glance then looked back at you apologetically.

You giggled as you walked towards them. "Hold out your arms." Vincent looked down at the baby then at you. He did as he was told as you placed the baby in Vincent's arm. "Support the neck, watch the head. Yeah, that's right. Hold her there but not too tight..." He followed your instructions. "Now, every now and then, just tap her on the back and rock back and forth. She's already been fed, so she don't need to eat for a couple hours. Hopefully, I'll be back soon." You gave Vincent a smile. "I also changed her nappy, too, so you don't need to worry for a while."

Vincent looked down at the girl and smiled warmly under his mask. She's so tiny in his arm as she rocked back and forth gently. He always wanted a kid.

"We'll be back soon," Bo hummed, looking between Vincent and you. "Won't be long." You followed him to the door and looked back at the two men. Lester was looking over Vincent's shoulder at the little girl, his brown eyes bright and filled with love for her. Vincent swayed gently back and forth, and his mind was already thinking about turning on the classical station to keep the soothing atmosphere. "Be back," Bo promised.

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

The drive from the house to the church was silent, but it was comfortable and heavy. Bo would look at you then back at the road. The short drive ended, and Bo got out of the truck to open your door, helping you out.

"You didn't need to do that, Bo," you said, a sad smile forming.

"Hush," Bo answered. "Was betta than t'let it happen." He held out his arm and you took it. "Com'on. I... we did something for ya."

He led you to the side of the church and entered the small cemetery. He stayed silent as he led you down a small stone path, passing older stones and markers. His boots clicked over the stones and stopped. There's an area that looks new and fresh. Flowers covered under a freshly caved small angel stone with the date you came in Ambrose. The angel held their hands as if they were in prayer, their head looking down at the grave. The carving didn't looked rushed but carved with care and timeliness. You looked at Bo then at the stone. You looked at the stone as you let go of his arm. you took steps forward and knelt in front of the stone. You touched it as tears started to build up. The lump in your throat tighten as you looked up at Bo.

"You," your words broke, "made a grave? For them?"

His jaw clinched as he looked down at his feet, closing his eyes. "It didn't feel right not t'do anythin', Mama," he admitted. "I... I'm sorry. Just thought it... it would..." his words fell as his eyes locked with yours. There were tears falling from his baby blues. "I wanna do righ'. I thought 'at, well..." He clinched his jaw and looked away. "I'm sorry, Mama."

You looked away from him to look at the tombstone. "Vincent made this?"

"Lester did, not Vincent," he answered. "He c'n carve stone. Vincent and I picked t'spot an' flowers." He closed his eyes. He needed a cigarette. "Thought it would help."

Your fingers ran over the stone. Careful hands took so much time with this artwork, and it was all for someone you lost. You rubbed your eyes then moved the fresh flowers around the stone to make it look filled and loved. It doesn't bring back what you lost, no, but you felt like you were healing. It'll take forever to heal, but this is a start; a damn good start. "Thank you, Bo," you whispered. "This... this is beautiful. Thank you." You looked up at him and held out a hand.

He took a step and took it, and you brought him down to the grass to sit next to you. You two stayed silent as you looked at the stoned angel and listened to the world around you. The birds chirped their songs as crickets hummed from the marsh. You felt comfortable to rest your head against his shoulder and closed your eyes. You made up your mind, and you were glad that it came to you.

"Bo, may I ask something?"

"Anythin' y/n."

You lifted his head and looked up at him. "Can... can Jasmine and I stay here? In the town? I have nowhere else to go."

His heart leapt to his throat. Someone up there heard his prayer, but reality kicked in. He knew this town. He knew himself and Vincent. "We ain't the nicest men," he warned. "An' it might get dangerous from time to time." Then a warm smiled formed. "But I promise, I swear, you an' ya kin will never be harmed. No hands, smacks--nothin' like 'at as long as ya livin' 'ere." His hand lock into yours and brought it up to a kiss. "I swear it, Mama."

You lifted your arms and pulled him into a hug, and he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight embrace. "Thank you, Bo," you said in his jacket. "Thank you."

He pulled away and looked down at you. "Do ya wanna stay a while? Or head back to t' house? No rush or nothin', hon."

You looked back at the stone and leaned against him. "Can I stay? Just a bit longer?"

He wrapped an arm around you, his eyes looking over the stone, mourning with you silently. He'll never forgive himself as long as he lives, but he'll try to make up for it. He's beaten himself up in the garage whenever he was alone. He'll look for forgiveness between you and the stone forever and ever. For now, he'll keep you and Jasmine safe and happy.