#A circle skirt also would be better for when my weight fluctuates as it only has one measurement

[the-busy-ghost]

Ah yes, the dream £10 vintage Laura Ashley skirt (made in Great Britain), in good quality corduroy

The dream skirt that requires a fucking PHD in ironing

[stones-x-bones]

Pretty Weird Problems || Milo and Bex

TIMING: Last Night PARTIES: @wickedmilo and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex runs into Milo on a midnight walk and the two decide to stop skirting around what they both already suspect. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions, internalized homophobia, Medical blood

Bex was having a good day, and good days usually led to good nights. She’d opted to go for a walk through the Commons, enjoying the fact that it was no longer so flooded. They’d even managed to get the fairy lights that lined the gazebo working and Bex cut across the field to stroll over to it. Mina was busy this evening and Bex had needed a distraction, and what better way to distract herself than taking a nice, long walk. She’d...walked really far, actually. It was strange how free she felt. She’d rode the ferry across the canal and walked all the way from the station to here, without missing a beat. Being normal felt so-- normal. No aches in her body, no fear about being seen, no worries about having to go home and wondering which set of hands was waiting for her. No, she could just go out and do what she wanted, live her life. Live the life she’d always wanted. She finally had everything she wanted. 

She wondered if it would all go wrong at some point. That was something that would happen, especially here, especially to her. But, for now, she’d enjoy it. She circled back around the gazebo to the little rock archway and started down, when she heard a familiar voice. It was hazy through her drunken mind, but she recognized it. Moving quickly through the brush, she turned and came upon the boy that had helped her out not too long ago, by swiping a bottle of alcohol for her. She beamed, she couldn’t wait to tell him she was normal. And if she could get what she wanted, maybe he could, too. “Milo!” she called out, waving, “It’s Bex. What’re you doing here?”

Milo had been on the phone to Rio, talking about next to nothing as he cut across the common in a bid to make it home. There was plenty of time before the sunrise was due, but sometimes it was a nice change of pace to sit in the apartment he shared with Harsh. They would cook together, or watch tv, or even pay Summer and Quinn some attention. The older vampire had become a comfort, though he would never admit that out loud. When things were beginning to overwhelm him, he felt safe with Harsh. He felt capable. White Crest, as always, had other plans for him though. And despite having just left Orion’s home, he begrudgingly said goodbye, ending the call as he turned to face whoever had called his name. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, it didn’t take him long to notice Bex. She looked decidedly more upbeat than the last time he had seen her. He wasn’t sure whether that was due to the lack of alcohol in her system, or something else entirely. Glancing up at the sky, as though double checking it was dark, he caught her eye again with a quizzical grin. “How could I forget?” He teased, crossing the distance between them both so that she would no longer feel the need to shout. “What are you doing here?” He countered. “Isn’t it a bit late for a walk?” 

“No, I don’t really think so,” Bex said, shrugging. She looked back up and to the sky, fading quickly from sunset oranges to nighttime blues. “I mean, maybe, but the Common is pretty well lit and safe at night. Usually. Back when the portals were open, it sure wasn’t, but that’s all over now! Just a strange bit of gravity fluctuations and occasional snowfall,” she pointed out, grinning. “And I guess the constellations are all whacky, but there’s not much we can do about any of those.” Even if everyone else she’d talked to had been rather distressed about it all, she was finding it hard to be. Not when everything felt good, great. She brought her eyes back down level with Milo’s and smiled. “If you’re worried about me, you don’t need to be. And I uh-- never properly said thanks for last time.” It was still a blur in her mind, stumbling drunk in the park, then being walked back to his apartment and laid in a bed. When she’d woken the next morning, she’d crawled out of the apartment, wincing under harsh sunlight and pretending like she wasn’t curious about his ‘don’t look in the fridge’ rule. Her curiosity had always seemed to be a bane, but like this, it felt more like a boon. Asking questions didn’t get her in trouble anymore. At least, not with her parents. “You never answered my question-- are you just out for a walk, too?”

It wasn’t the first time Bex had said something Milo struggled to keep up with. He only knew about the portals through the experiences of others. Whatever was happening with gravity, and the weather hopefully wouldn’t affect him. Deciding not to ask too many questions, lest he accidentally tempt fate and start floating up towards the sky, he laughed quietly. “White Crest can be really fucking weird.” He muttered, glancing up at the stars himself to see if he might notice any difference in their arrangement. “I mean… it’s probably better to just ignore it, right?” He was only half serious, but it had proven to be a rather efficient coping strategy. Especially when he was faced with the supernatural, things he still didn’t understand, or feel familiar with. Turning his attention back to Bex he was glad to see she seemed to be taking the same approach of acceptance. If something happened to them, they could deal with it. Until then, how was worrying going to help? Returning her smile, he hurried to brush off her thanks. Taking her home to sleep off the alcohol had been far easier than first anticipated. As predicted there was human food in the fridge which he had encouraged her to eat before sleeping. And she had been more than respectful of the boundaries put in place to stop her from finding anything distinctly vampiric. “We’ve all got our shit to deal with.” He shrugged, letting her know he wasn’t about to baby her because she used alcohol to deal with her baggage. Wasn’t he guilty of doing the very same? 

“And I trust you.” He added. “If you say you’re okay, you’re okay.” It was the very least he could offer her. He had been told so many times that he had problems, even after adamantly denying the fact. It was important to feel heard, to know you could trust the person you were with. “I mean- you look okay. Good-” He corrected himself. “You look good.” He caught her eye, his smile growing in response as he properly took her in. There was something different, a weight that seemed suddenly absent from her shoulders. “Your question? Oh-” He laughed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I actually just left a friend’s house, so kind of? I’m supposed to be walking home, but if you’re up for some company I wouldn’t mind a midnight stroll.” He prompted, secretly hoping she would take him up on his suggestion. He wanted to know why she looked so content, what had compelled her to call out his name. “You can tell me about how miserable it was trying to get home with your hangover. That can’t have been fun.” 

“I don’t think ignoring it is really the right answer, no,” Bex said, wringing her hands together, “but knowing what you can and can’t handle is probably a good idea around here.” Her eyes went back up to the stars, and the distress they’d originally caused her was still there, floating just above their heads, millions of billions of miles away. Stars didn’t move. But she had to remind herself that that also meant she wasn’t capable of moving them, either, and therefore nothing could be done. Especially when she didn’t have magic anymore. And she didn’t want it anymore. She smiled. “True, we do, but, like, sometimes we can help each other out with our shit, you know? At least, I’d like to be able to be someone who can help others out, like how you helped me out. It was-- nice, not having to go home for a night.” And it was nice, now, to be able to go home to a life that didn’t threaten her every moment she did something wrong. “Well, thanks, then. For trusting me.” Not many people did, in that way. She’d always been too naive, too ignorant, too “out of the loop” as far as the supernatural was concerned. 

She let out a gentle chuckle, in stark contrast to the ridiculous laughter that had consumed her while she’d been drunk. “It’s fine, I know what you mean. I feel good, too. But sure! Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company. I was just gonna kinda walk around here, maybe towards the lake. Where the night takes me.” Even if she’d been reminded several times that the lake was dangerous and now, without her magic, maybe even more so. She didn’t really care, though. “Oh, god, please don’t make me recount that tale. It was miserable. More so because it was so damn sunny out. I’ve never hated the sun more so than that morning. Or...afternoon. I don’t remember what time it was, just that once I got home I slept the rest of the day.”

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. Despite strongly suspecting Bex was more than human, or at the very least somebody who knew about the supernatural, the idea of her being able to help him with his problems didn’t quite feel believable to him. Even his closest friends couldn’t take away the pain or the trauma. And apparently there was nothing he could do about the constant thirst for blood. “No offense, but I’m not sure what you could do to help me with my shit. Ignoring it has proven to be a pretty reliable mechanism.” Maybe not always, but on the few blissful nights he had been able to drink and forget, he almost, almost felt normal. Human again. And that was as close as he seemed to get to being genuinely okay. A smile tugging at his lips despite the bitter nature of his thoughts, offering Bex a place to stay had been the obvious course of action. He hadn’t considered the fact that he might be helping her beyond ensuring she was safe. “Oh, I- it wasn’t a big deal, you know?” He brushed off her comment with a shrug. “I just- you didn’t want to go home so… I wasn’t about to make you.” 

Watching her carefully, curious to understand why trusting her was something she felt the need to thank him for, his smile began to grow. He really did enjoy her company, he wanted her to know that. “You don’t need to thank me for trusting you.” He insisted. He figured he should probably thank her for trusting him too, for not going through his things, or trying to look inside of the fridge. But that would only draw attention to the strange rules he had put in place, and he wasn’t sure that would be a very smart move. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He added, hoping she could see he was being sincere, while simultaneously diverting the conversation. It didn’t take a genius to realise she was going through a lot, and everyone deserved a break from their struggles, regardless of how they managed to achieve that temporary escape. He laughed again at her reaction to her hangover being mentioned. But this laughter came easily, it was a product of good company. Of memories that were tinged with underlying emotion, but happy on the surface. He could look back on them with a strange sense of fondness. “Yeah, me and the sun don’t exactly get along.” He admitted. “I’m sorry about the blackout curtains, I guess they can make it pretty disorientating when you leave the apartment during the day…” Shit. He realised too late that he had essentially done exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he hadn’t drawn attention to the fridge, but he had just reminded her the entire apartment existed in a perpetual state of darkness. Nice one, Milo. 

Bex had never thought that she was all that good at making friends, but that was back when fear had dictated her every move. Fear of if people might judge her for how she was born, fear of if they would find out about her magic (although she hadn’t called it that back then), fear of if she might hurt them or them her. Fear of if her parents wouldn’t approve and they’d get taken away before she even got a chance to grow close. But that was before, and this was now, and maybe she liked the idea of being friends with Milo, because he was sweet and he was helpful, and she liked that she could make him smile in a way that seemed almost relaxed. “Well, if you ever do think of a way, anything, really, just lemme know. I’d like to, you know, pay it back somehow. Even if it’s just a small thing.” She was quiet for a moment, her face drawing pensive for a moment. “It was a big deal, for me, at least. Even if it wasn’t for you.” She smiled again-- whatever the situation was back then, it didn’t exist now. “But we don’t have to talk about it.” 

She perked back up, smoothing her hands along the fringes of her dress. It was one of her dresses that her mother rarely approved of, except at gatherings where she could catch the eye of some rich politico that could help the family. Bex liked it because she felt nice in it and she looked good in it and she’d wanted Mina to see her in it. “Thanks. I hope things are going well for you, too. There seems to be a bit going on around town, huh?” She shrugged, trying not to less the curious questions in her stomach bubble up. Her tendency to run her mouth and ask too many questions had been a downfall for her quite a few times. “Do you like, work overnights or something?” she found herself asking before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to automatically assume anything, but not being out in the sun, having blackout curtains, and an aversion to people looking in the fridge gave Bex a few too many questions. 

Milo wasn’t necessarily touched by the sentiment, many people had said similar things to him in the past. He was touched by the fact that Bex obviously meant what she was saying. There weren’t many people he felt like he could genuinely approach with his problems, but despite only knowing each other for a night, and maybe half of a day, Bex was quickly becoming one of those people. A rather impressive feat, all things considered. “I’m not making any promises.” He teased. “I have, uh- some of my problems can be pretty weird.” His smile faltering as he noticed his company’s expression shift, he fell silent again, giving her the space she needed to feel comfortable. “Oh…” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting her to say, and the rush of emotion that followed her words was unexpected. Not for the first time he felt the unusual urge to protect her, to keep her safe. Was this the way Dani used to feel about him? Before he changed? Before she stopped loving him? He cleared his throat, feeling awkward in the face of such unguarded honesty. “You know the offer is always there… I mean- if you ever need a place to stay. You know where I am.” He might be taking a risk but he almost didn’t care. Her wellbeing was suddenly far more important to him than being sensible. 

Not failing to notice the way she brushed herself off, seemingly putting the conversation behind her in preparation to move on, he nodded, taking a moment to contemplate her question. “I didn’t notice for a long time,” he scuffed his feet as he spoke, feeling ridiculous for being so oblivious now that he knew how obvious the Weird of White Crest actually was. “But yeah, there always seems to be a lot going on in this town. The chaos has become pretty hard to escape these past few months.” Would he ever be able to escape it again? He tried not to dwell on the question. “But you know… I guess it is what it is.” Lowering his gaze, the phrase never really helped him to feel any better, but every time he uttered it he found a part of him was secretly hoping it might. He only looked back up again when Bex mentioned the blackout curtains, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. Of course she was going to pick up on that. Of course she was going to be curious. “Oh, I… my roommate does.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Harsh worked nights more often than not, only sneaking out for the occasional day shift when the weather was dark, and gloomy. “I think it’s easier just to leave them up, his schedule can be pretty unpredictable so…” 

“Good, you shouldn’t make promises,” Bex said, perhaps a little too excitedly for the topic. It was hard for her to not be happy right now, really. She had everything she ever wanted, and while it wasn’t much, it made her entire life different. Better. “Especially to people you don’t know-- know well.” She caught herself, giving a chuckle at the end of her sentence to try and cover up the slip. “Just cause, you know, sometimes people get weird about that stuff. Especially here. Speaking of which, I was kinda like that, too. Technically I grew up here, but I didn’t ever notice how--” she chewed her tongue a moment-- “strange the place really was until recently.” Until she started leaving her home regularly. Until she’d met Nell in that computer lab. But those details weren’t important. She didn’t even remember telling Milo about Morgan and Nell last time they’d been together, drunk in the park. “And thanks, for the offer. I won’t say it’ll never happen again, but I think I’ve got a good thing going now, so hopefully I won’t have to crash your pad again any time soon.” But in a town like this, she supposed it was a ‘never say never’ sort of situation.

“The offer is there for you, too, you know,” Bex said suddenly, noting the way the conversation shift had turned a bit tense. Maybe not tense, but sometimes people had secrets that they didn’t want to share, and Bex’s curiosity could be seen more as nosiness or digging into things she shouldn’t be digging in. She hated that idea, but people were allowed their secrets, no matter how bad she wanted to know. “Does he? That’s cool. It’s nice that you don’t mind the curtains, either, then. I’m such a morning person. And a night owl. Actually, I don’t really sleep much, but I definitely have never been able to sleep long in the mornings.” Even when she was laying next to Mina, wrapped in her arms. “Are you like, more of a night person, then? The two times I’ve run into you have been at night, which technically isn’t enough for a pattern, but it could be leading to one. No judging if you are! Of course not. It’s just that this place is kind of-- you know, dangerous at night.” 

Milo had only been suspicious until now, but after hearing Bex warn him about making promises he would be willing to bet almost anything on her knowing about the supernatural. But how? She didn’t strike him as a hunter, although Dani had always presented herself as caring, and kind. If she was a slayer, wouldn’t he already be dead? So what? A witch, a mara, a werewolf? Or maybe even a human in the know? He wanted to ask, to sate his curiosity, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.” He said carefully, wondering whether she might out herself if he hinted at being a part of her world. Raising his eyebrows when she mentioned taking a while to notice the truth of White Crest, he ran over the implication behind her words. Had she been turned too? Was there any way for him to uncover that information without actively asking her? “I know how that goes.” He admitted, framing his words as casual. “Waking up and realising everything is just… different. It’s not an easy thing to navigate but… we’re still here.” He smiled at her, hoping she was right. He had never been the type to judge others but the idea of her being happy enough to no longer need her crutch was a genuinely nice one. One he was willing to root for. 

Surprised to hear his own offer echoed back to him, he felt his demeanour soften. Every instinct in him was telling him he could trust Bex. It was so hard to remind himself that those instincts could possibly be wrong. “They don’t… they don’t bother me.” He said, debating how far he could conceivably push the conversation before he was being too open, before he was putting himself at risk. “I don’t really sleep anymore… but I used to sleep until noon when I could.” Not that he hadn’t tried more than once to do so again, the best he could achieve was a strange, trance-like lack of consciousness. He hated it. “Oh, yeah… I’m definitely a night person. I always have been… before I started partying I used to study at night.” He laughed quietly at the contrast in activities. “My life would be very different if I didn’t abandon academia.” A soft sigh escaping him, he caught his friend’s eye when she told him the town could be dangerous. He could still remember what it felt like, living in blissful ignorance. He missed it. “Believe me, I know. I kind of found out the hard way… but I appreciate the heads up.”

“Really? Well, that’s good.” Bex nodded slowly. Her suspicion was slowly being confirmed-- Milo knew something about the supernatural. She didn’t know how he fit in, but she assumed he had the same thought about her. How did they both fit in? And who would break first? It would be Bex, she knew that. Being a witch wasn’t as precarious as being something like a zombie or a werewolf. Something that people actively hated and hunted. Witch hunters, for all she was aware, were a rare and unnecessary occurrence. She wasn’t in danger of them. “You should listen to that advice, then. And also maybe even hold off on saying ‘thanks’ too much. My girlf--” the word stuck in her throat, like it always did, and she swallowed it, “--one of my friends told me to try and replace ‘thanks’ with ‘I appreciate that’ or ‘I’m grateful for’. They’re better to say, anyway.” Smiled, trying to brush off the mishap. It was strange to her that possibly telling someone she had magic was easier to swallow than telling someone she was dating a girl. “I think, for me,” she started off, brows knitting together a moment, “it was less waking up and just realizing it and more...finally admitting to myself that things here were different. Like, I’d always known, but pretended I hadn’t. But then things happen and you can’t really deny it anymore, you know? And so I admitted it,” she shrugged, “I think things technically got better after that, although sometimes it doesn’t seem that way.”

She examined his face as they walked and wondered what the strange curve of his brow meant as he answered her. She’d never been good at reading expressions on people, unless they carried anger. She tilted her head in contemplation. “You know, you can always go back,” she said, “to school. College doesn’t have an age cap.” Sometimes she’d wished she’d been able to wait to start college, but not because she was disinterested. But because her life had been messy back then, and maybe if she’d been smarter, had known more about the world, she wouldn’t have fallen into bed with the first girl who cast her an empathetic glance. She turned away, cheeks slightly tinged. “Yeah, me, too. I-- I take it you’re okay now? It-- I mean, physically? Whatever happened. Was it--” had something attacked him, too? Did he also have the sting of scars on his body from an ignorance that had left him vulnerable?

“I guess my friends are much smarter than I am.” Milo was only half joking. Even after suffering at the hands of the supernatural, he was reckless in his behaviour. Without Rio constantly pressing him to stay focused, to pay attention, he would probably be in a lot more danger, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. “I try.” He admitted, being entirely honest. Trying meant he failed more often than not, but the warning was always there in the back of his mind. A knowing smile tugging at his lips as Bex stumbled over the word girlfriend, it was an act he had seen many times before, and one he knew not to interrupt. That didn’t stop his eyes from shining as he wondered who this ‘girlfriend’ might be. “My friend told me the same,” he thought back to his conversation with Orion. It was the first night he had ever spent in his house, and he held the memories very close to his heart. Falling silent to listen again, he dissected the explanation he was given in his mind. If she hadn’t woken up to a different White Crest then maybe she had been born into it. Surely it took Dani a long time to realise the way she was being raised wasn’t normal. Could it have been the same for Bex? “They did?” He asked quietly, hope lacing his tone as he wondered whether there was a chance for things to get better for him. Maybe one day he could fully embrace being a vampire. It could become what he was and not what someone had made him. 

“Go back?” It took him a few seconds to realise what his company meant. He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I don’t need to,” he explained. “I got my degree, you know? I did what my parents wanted me to do, even if it wasn’t in the way they wanted me to do it.” Hiding whiskey in his coffee during exams, and skipping out on morning lectures because he was hungover from the previous night definitely wasn’t a part of their plan. Neither was a degree in English Literature. But as far as he was concerned, it was an achievement, all the same. What would he study if he did decide to return? And how would he work around the schedules when the majority of classes took place during the day? Furrowing his brow, he forced the thought to the back of his mind. He had chosen his path, and it had led him here. There was no going back. “Oh- I-” He wasn’t prepared for the sudden change in direction, and his hand absentmindedly moved to rest against the scars on his neck. “That kind of depends on your definition of okay.” He murmured, thinking about Dani, how she saw him as a monster. Then Harsh, who told him he was dead, but being dead was simply an opportunity to start anew. Then Macleod, who insisted with vehement conviction that he wasn’t dead, he hadn’t died. Only changed. Evolved for better or for worse. “How did you find out?” He asked, uncharacteristically bold in his question. They had been dancing around the subject, but he wanted to know now, far more than he wanted to protect himself. Even if he wasn’t quite ready to give up his secret. “That White Crest was different?” 

“They did? Oh, well, then, you should definitely listen to your smarter friends,” Bex nodded. Had she said too much? Did Milo know about the fae? Was Milo’s friend a fae? Oh, she hoped she hadn’t just exposed someone, even if she was curious. But the tone in his voice stopped her short of any other thoughts on the subject, when he gave the smallest response to her announcement that things had gotten better for her. It was hope, and it felt like it might strangle Bex. Should she tell Milo about Erin? Was that her place to? Was his pain anything like hers? Did he need saving like she had? She swallowed. “They did. Get better. But not easily. Not out of nowhere.” She lifted a hand to her ribs-- the injury was gone, but she could still remember the pain. Still remembered what it felt like when her head had hit the dumpster, over and over and over again. “I had help, too. So, if-- just, you know, so you know...it’s okay to accept help, if you need it.” Maybe that was the best answer she could give for now. She clasped her hands together behind her back as they walked and watched her feet a moment, shoes brushing against grass under the rubber soles. 

“Well, you know, you could always go back and do what you wanted to, you know,” she pointed out. “Instead of what your parents wanted of you. But only if that’s something you want to do.” She didn’t much like his answer to her question, either. Things didn’t seem as at ease as she’d thought they were when she first spotted him. She bit her lip, then sighed. “I blew up a computer lab with my mind,” she blurted, suddenly. “Well, not my mind, technically. Maybe? I’m still not sure what magic actually comes from. My mentor says it’s from the soul or the energy inside of us, but if our bodies are our minds, then I guess technically it is my mind. From my mind. So, yeah-- I blew up a computer lab with my mind and after that, it was hard to deny all the things I’d known for so long but never wanted to accept.” She looked over at Milo. “What um...what about you?”

Milo laughed, nodding in agreement with Bex. “I don’t think I would be here if I didn’t.” He admitted. Maybe there was an element of exaggeration to his words, but the information provided by people like Rio, and Macleod was invaluable. There was no doubt in his mind that it might save him one day. Fingers still pressed against the base of his neck, he could feel the scars beneath them. A frown creasing his brow as he listened to Bex explain things were difficult, they hadn’t miraculously changed for her overnight, it was impossible for him to understand what she meant without a little extra context, so he nodded quietly. Letting her know she still had his full attention. “Help?” He asked, curious to know what kind of help. “Do you mean your friends?” Lowering his hand, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, he wondered what things would look like for him if they did get better. It was a vague concept, it could mean so many different things. “I don’t need help-” He insisted, breaking off as he reminded himself she wasn’t talking about his habits. Repressing the instinctive response, he forced down any part of himself that was becoming defensive. Bex clearly wasn’t about to order him to walk into an AA meeting. She was talking about something else. “I mean… thank you. But I think I’m okay… kind of, anyway. I have some good people in my life… when things get weird, they’re usually there waiting for me to freak out.” 

Thinking for a moment, allowing a few beats of silence to pass, he realised with a start that he didn’t know what he wanted to do. For so long he had told himself he was content with working in the comic book store, couch surfing to avoid any form of genuine commitment. Even English Literature had been the easy choice, not necessarily the choice he would have made if he was a different person. If he had more motivation, a determination to do well. “Even if I knew, I don’t know how possible it would be to just go out and do shit.” He shrugged, brushing off his honesty before it could hurt him, before he could dwell on it for too long. But then Bex was distracting him with her own honesty, honesty he had prompted, but definitely not been expecting from her. It took him a few minutes to fully process what she was saying, but when he did he faltered to a halt, eyeing her with an even mixture of disbelief, and satisfaction. “Wait- what?” So not only was she supernatural, she had totally caved first. Was it wrong to feel so smug about that? “You’re a witch?” He asked, despite her just having confirmed the fact. “I…” He trailed off as she turned the question back on him, not prepared to answer it himself. But he owed her, he couldn’t exactly walk away after she had put herself in such a vulnerable position. A soft sigh escaping him, he steeled himself to tell her his own story. Or a part of it, at least. “Someone with fangs decided I looked like a snack… I guess they overindulged because…” He offered her a hesitant smile, revealing his fangs in the way Harsh had taught him to. He tapped one absentmindedly, wrinkling his nose. “Well, I woke up with these.” 

Bex was a little perplexed at his immediate denial of needing help, clearly he needed help-- anyone in this god forsaken town needed help, if she was being honest. But just as much as she’d needed to understand that she couldn’t do things alone, so did he. She wouldn’t push it, it wasn’t a lesson she had the right to teach anyone, when she was still learning it herself. She nodded slowly. “Okay, well, if you do ever need it, just know I’m here. Don’t hesitate to ask. And--” she looked at him sincerely, genuinely hoping he understood that, even if they’d only known each other from two run-ins, she would help him. It was really all she wanted to do, help people. Understand things better so she could do that better. Understand this world. “I’m glad you have people there to help you. Having a support system is always good.” She wouldn’t have survived this town without hers, that was for sure. A subconscious hand ran across her chest. Kyle’s life would have been ruined had he actually killed her that first night. She wanted to make sure something like that never happened again. And it wouldn’t, now that her magic was gone.

“Why not?” Bex asked, not understanding the restrictions Milo might face without knowing what he was. She didn’t want to push, though. She turned away, even as he stopped in his tracks, and shrugged. “I prefer the term spellcaster,” she said, picking at a seam on her dress. And the proper wording would’ve been was a spellcaster, thanks to the wish. She didn’t feel like explaining that part yet, though. His hesitation brought her gaze back up. “I-I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer, I understand--” but then he was answering. Someone with fangs. A vampire. Bex felt her chest squeeze and she swallowed, trying to remind herself that vampires were people, too, and her one run-in with the woman outside the library wasn’t representative of all vampires. She had no reason not to trust Milo. What would Mina say? She shook her head. “Oh,” she answered, finally, “I-- that must be difficult, to-- to adjust to.” A pause. “But,, you know, night school is a thing. And there’s plenty of overnight jobs here. And-- I have a friend who’s also undead. They go to the butchers here to get food and they’re really good about it. And being discreet. Do you-- I mean the blood thing-- do you have enough? Do you get enough food? You drink animal blood, right?”

Milo looked at Bex as she paused, somehow everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her brief moment of silence, and he knew. He understood. “Thank you.” He said, his voice gentle and sincere. They hadn’t known each other for long but he felt as though they had more than a few things in common. Coping mechanisms, and trauma. The kind of things you could bond over. The kind of things that made you want to protect each other. When he had helped her into the bar, when he had stolen her that bottle of vodka, he had recognised something in her. Something that reminded him so deeply of himself. Even without the alcohol it was still there. He could still see it. “Do you have one?” He asked, remembering her mention of Morgan, and Nell. People she had been so sure she would never be able to see again. “A support system?” Making a vague gesture with his hands, brushing off her question as to why he wouldn’t be able to follow his non-existent dreams, he offered her a smile instead of an answer. “Spellcaster?” He echoed, using her correction as a way to move the conversation forward. Away from the things he could no longer do. “Is that personal preference, or just a general rule?” He was reminded of Macleod, the way she hated any terminology that referred to her as dead. 

His smile growing somewhat as she hurried to insist he didn’t have to tell her what he was, keeping the information to himself would feel incredibly unfair, but he appreciated her attempt at making him feel comfortable. “No, no- it’s okay…” He did his best to assure her. “You were honest with me… it’d be kind of a dick move if I wasn’t honest with you too.” His hand moving once again to rest over the scars on his neck, he heard her heart rate elevate, but she made no outward move to imply she was nervous. He didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring people, and hopefully it wouldn’t take long for her to realise he wasn’t a genuine threat. But it still hurt, jut a little. “It was.” He agreed. “It is… I mean- I was thrown into this world I didn’t even know was real. The guy who did this to me, he left… I literally didn’t know anything.” A quiet laugh escaping him at the mention of night school, he shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to imagine going back to school. What would he achieve? What would he gain from doing so? This was his life now, and there was no escaping it. “I assume you mean Morgan?” He asked, at the mention of a friend being dead. “You mentioned her when you were pretty out of it… but I know her. I’m pretty sure she hates me.” His eyes shining to let Bex know he was half teasing, he thought back to his last conversation with Morgan and wondered whether there might be some truth to his words. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye. “Oh-” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the mention of blood, caught off guard by what felt like an incredibly personal question. “For a while…” He admitted. “I got lucky. I don’t want to out anyone but I have a friend with a habit of taking a blood bag or two from the hospital... It’s enough to keep me going.” Maybe more than enough, but he didn’t want to make Harsh sound like more of a deviant than he technically was. If he got the man into trouble then their collective supply would be in danger. “Everything kind of worked out…”

“I do have one, yeah,” Bex answered with a nod. For a while there, she hadn’t. Or, well, she’d rejected it, because she thought they’d be hurt by her family if she’d kept trying. They’d all been hurt, anyway, though, so it hadn’t mattered in the end. She’d made the wrong decision. But that was the past, and she couldn’t change that past anymore than she could change the way she grew up. “It was...rough for a while, i tried to do it without them, but it was a mistake. There’s--” she took in a breath, wrapped her arms around herself, “--I learned the hard way that I can’t protect anyone by keeping them away. Even if keeping close means they might get hurt, it-- it’s better that way. It really is.” And she was still learning that, too. Even now, with a normal life, a regular life, she was learning to accept people back into her life, despite the possible threats she’d be introducing them to. She shook her head, grateful for the change of conversation. ‘Nope, just a me thing.” She glanced over at Milo. “I think it’s all kind of the same meaning, but I just-- witch carries a weird connotation for me, I guess. I’m not pagan so I just...don’t feel right being called that.”

HIs next words made Bex’s heart constrict a bit. He was right, it was really only fair of someone to be honest with another if they shared something deep and personal. Her thoughts jumped to Eddie and his confession to her and she bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to tell him. He deserved to know, even if she could barely admit it outloud still. “Oh, I-- i did? So you know about her?” she was surprised, but not too surprised. She loved Morgan, of course she’d talked about her while wasted. She rubbed her hands together. “I-- I don’t think she hates you. I think it takes a lot for Morgan to hate someone. I’d probably know if she hated you, she’s not subtle about it.” It was her turn to falter and pause, and she felt herself take a small step backwards. “You-- so you--” her eyes went to his fangs, then his eyes, his hand still pressed over his neck, presumably where his scars were. She had some of her own, even if they hadn’t turned into a reminder of death. “You drink human blood?” ethically sourced, at least. Well, more ethical than getting it from a warm body itself. Stealing blood from the hospital wasn’t exactly the most moral thing to do, but morality, she reminded herself, was skewed in the supernatural world. She rubbed her neck. “I-- I should probably um, head home, though. It’s getting late and Mina is expecting me back soon.” She didn’t want to things to suddenly feel tense, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know how she felt about a vampire who still drank human blood, and she didn’t think figuring out here was the best idea. She liked Milo, she didn’t want to ruin that.

“That’s good.” Milo smiled, remembering how insistent Bex had been when she was drunk, determined to believe she couldn’t let people in. The fact that she seemed to have changed her mind felt important, and he was reminded of her telling him things were better now. Better how? What was suddenly so different? “I think there’s always a risk of getting hurt… or of other people getting hurt. Isn’t that just the nature of friendship?” And romance, though he could hardly say he was experienced in that particular area. “What matters is that you care, and that these people care about you too… that’s all you can ask for, really. Isn’t it?” Staying silent as his company began to explain why she preferred using the term spellcaster, he hadn’t been expecting to understand her logic, even he was determined to respect it. But he did understand. It was so similar to Macleod, and sometimes even the way he felt. Vampire had connotations too, dark ones, and ridiculous ones. Honestly, there was something appealing about the theatrics of sleeping in a coffin. He was almost sad that wasn’t a legitimate thing. 

“I do, yeah. And you might have mentioned her.” He teased, catching her eye with an easy grin. “Only in passing, don’t worry. You didn’t tell me anything you shouldn’t have. You made it pretty clear you were friends, that’s all.” Laughing at Bex insisting Morgan didn’t hate him, he shook his head, remembering some of what was said during their last meeting together. If she didn’t hate him then she was about as close as a person could get before crossing that line. “Ask her about me, see what she says.” He wasn’t being entirely serious, but he had a strong suspicion the zombie wouldn’t have anything positive to say. Not that it mattered. If she wasn’t going to help him then he didn’t give a shit what she thought. Faltering at the sudden shift in the way Bex was looking at him, he saw her gaze flicker from his fangs, to his hand, and he realised he was still touching his neck. Lowering his arm, he retracted his fangs with a surprising level of ease, his own expression shifting too. “I do,” he said quietly, watching her with open concern, trying to ignore the way his heart was sinking. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she didn’t trust him in the way he thought she did. “I- what?” He cursed himself for being so emotional, but he couldn’t stop tears from stinging at his eyes. “I’m not- I wouldn’t hurt anyone... I swear…” He swallowed, unsure what he could say to make her believe him. If she was uncomfortable, he wasn’t about to force her to stay. But did she really want to leave because of what he was?

“Yeah,” Bex admitted quietly, “I guess it is.” Even if she still hated the thought of people getting hurt because of her, for her. But they returned the sentiment, and wasn’t rejecting their help hurting her? It was still confusing, but the one thing Bex did know was that being at Morgan’s, even if it put her and everyone in that house in possible danger, felt better than being alone, trapped in her room where people got hurt because of her anyway. She rubbed her palm against her cheek before folding her arms across her chest again, nodding. “Yeah, it is. And it’s-- a lot. But I know now I can ask for that. And-- I think everyone deserves that.” Even people others deemed bad or evil. No one deserved to suffer alone. She wasn’t even sure she believed her mother deserved that.

“Oh, good. Good. I...can run my mouth sometimes. I’ve been told it’s very unbecoming of me, but I don’t really care anymore,” she said, the last words bitter on her tongue. She swallowed it. Her heart clenched again, at the way Milo was looking at her. She was caught between her own trauma and her want to change, to accept people, to accept this world, and it felt sticky. She hated it there. But she’d forgiven Kyle, and he’d been the one to directly attack her. Fuck, she probably even forgave the wolf that attacked the Moose Caboose, even if everyone around her seemed to think that was wrong to do. “No, no! It-- I don’t mean it like that. I swear it’s not because--” she stopped herself, trying not to let the shame crawling up her throat tinge her words, “I just-- something happened to me. With a vampire. And I don’t want that to, to affect how I feel about you. I really don’t. But it’s-- you know, hard? I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Milo. And-- and if you did, I know it would be an accident. I promise it’s not because of you. I promise.” She’d promise to a fae, too, but there were none around, and she knew Mina would chastise her for it. She offered a hand out to him, instead, in a show of faith. “I really do need to be home, though.” She held up her phone, “they get worried if I’m late.” Because of the one time she’d been kidnapped by Frank, but that wasn’t important to mention. He was dead, now, and her life was normal. Things like that just didn’t happen anymore. 

Milo had a feeling Bex was talking more to herself than to him, so he allowed her to speak, listening patiently until she fell silent once again. It wasn’t something he considered very often, so wrapped up in the chaotic nature of his life. Friends used to come and go, aside from Dani who had stood by him for so many years. Only now was he beginning to realise how badly he had taken her for granted. Though he had new friends now, friends who weren’t about to abandon him because of something he couldn’t help, a part of himself he couldn’t ever hope to change. She was right. Everybody deserved to be cared for, to be surrounded by friendship, and unwavering support. Offering her a smile when she told him she had a habit of saying too much, he could definitely relate to that. His love of bitter quips, and sulking petulantly about his new state of being had resulted in him essentially outing himself on more than one occasion. “I can relate to that.” He admitted. “But don’t worry, you didn’t say anything you should be concerned about. And you’re right not to care. Screw unbecoming, just be who you are… there’s no point in trying to be anybody else. It’ll only make you miserable.” 

His expression faltering when Bex hurried to insist her sudden desperation to leave had nothing to do with him telling her he was a vampire, he wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. “No offense, but I don’t know how else you could mean it…” He muttered, letting out a quiet huff of breath. He averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact so that he could stare down at his feet. He should let her go, he knew he should. What use was there in trying to cling to a friendship as new as this one when she was so clearly uncomfortable now that she knew what he really was? Swallowing his emotion, he frowned, hesitantly catching her eye again. “No shit... something happened to me with a vampire too.” He pointed out. “I didn’t ask for this. You think I don’t know how hard it is to get over? Try waking up as the thing that attacked you…” Feeling his shoulders drop when she assured him she felt safe, part of him still felt worried she wasn’t being entirely truthful. But the sentiment mattered, the fact that she was even trying to assure him mattered. Allowing his anger to dissolve, he knew it was too late to take back his words. So he moved on. Caught off guard by the unexpected promise, a weak smile began to tug at his lips. “You know… you really shouldn’t make promises.” He teased, unable to help himself. He couldn’t think of a better way to alleviate the tension. Ignoring the phone as it was held out to him, he gently reached out to take her hand, linking their fingers for a brief moment, hoping to convey everything he didn’t know how to put into words. He was trying. He was good. He was a victim too. “You should, uh… you should get home.” He said finally, ignoring what was left of the awkward tension. “It’s okay…” 

Bex gave a sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t outed Morgan or Nell. She never would’ve forgiven herself, even if it was to someone who wouldn’t use it against them. She’d never had problems drinking before, but those nights had been spent locked up in the library or her room while she cradled the bottle as if it were her only lifeline. She gave a short, self-deprecating chuckle before her lips curled into a thin smile. “Trust me, I know that.” She’d been miserable her entire life because she’d done just that. But things were different now, she reminded herself. Things were better.

Her heart sank, knowing that she’d already done more damage than she’d ever meant to. But Morgan had told her to not just ignore her trauma, that wasn’t good for her. And as much as she didn’t blame the vampire on campus, she still thought about the attack and what Dani had said. She wasn’t going to stop. And if she hadn’t, Bex would be standing with the same pain as Milo, or not here at all. She let him be upset, he was allowed to be upset. She hadn’t asked for any of this, either. She understood that feeling. “You’re right,” she said, “I don’t know how that feels.” But she did know how waking up after being attacked by a friend felt. She did know the fear of thinking she might wake like that, or not wake at all. She rubbed her chest. Smiled enough to try and brush off the feeling. “You can if they’re really important,” she answered. Squeezed his hand back, before pulling away. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Maybe next time we can just hang out somewhere nice. I know a few good places.” Her phone buzzed again and she glanced down at it. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” she said to him, a small tease, before she waved and headed off back towards home. She wondered what Morgan might think. She wondered what Mina might think. She wondered if, at the end of the day, it mattered. She liked Milo, and she wanted to be his friend. She owed it to him to try, at least.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

What Did They Do? | Cliff Booth

Pairing: Cliff Booth (OUATIH) x Plus Size Reader

Word count: 2,131 words.

Request: Hi. Could you write a Cliff Booth one-shot with the reader being bullied at work because of her plus size, and Cliff comforting her? (If it's ok with you). Thank you.

Warnings: Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, angst, body-image issues, a little bit of fluff.

A/N: Listen, I didn't want to focus on how the scenes with the coworkers played, they're not the ones who suffer because of the words. ALSO: remember that it's your body, therefore your choice. If you want to try and change something about your routine or whatever, go ahead! But please do it for yourself, your happiness, and your health.

Weight was an issue, a metaphorical and literal one. You had fluctuated between Ignoring what everyone else said about your weight or body shape and obsessing over every little flaw they saw in you. It took a toll on you some days like on any other person who didn’t have what it took to be considered the standard for an attractive person yet the pressure of hearing comments constantly was getting too much.

A hostile work environment wasn’t new to you, school hadn’t been different, and sometimes even your family could get pretty annoying and borderline cruel with the topic.

The walk from your workplace to your house wasn’t long, but it sure as hell felt like it. Between the changing weather, how tired you truly were, and the weight of the comments and gazes you had to endure on a daily basis, the way home felt like sheer torture. You supposed it wouldn’t be too bad to move your body some more, maybe your workmates had a point when they told you you needed to lose some pounds although they could’ve been kinder while doing so.

Acting like you didn’t care was getting harder as the days passed, you didn’t know who were you trying to convince more when you said it didn’t matter. Many factors were at play, and their comments used every one of them to break you. You had tried to understand the reasoning behind those types of insults for years and at some point instead ended up believing they were simply the truth.

But why? Why did you have to be the one who changed instead of them? Why couldn’t Lorna understand that your body was different than hers? Why didn’t Michael accept that you didn’t exist for people to find you either attractive or not? Why couldn’t they just get over the fact that no one is the same and that not every single person can fit their personal standards? And why couldn't you either?

The lights from the living room were on and Cliff’s car was parked on the driveway. You sighed heavily, inwardly praying to not look like you cried all the way home even though you totally did. Before you could slide the key in, the door swung open. His bright smile greeted you, the usual kiss on your temple leaving your skin buzzing.

He said, very happily, that he bought your favorite dish from that dinner you love. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to find an excuse as to why you can’t eat it. It would be rude to say you’re not in the mood when he had to make a detour to buy the food, but you don’t feel like eating ever again in your goddamn life.

“I’ll just take a shower, yeah?” You didn’t wait for him to answer and made your way toward your shared bedroom.

Mindlessly taking a clean pair of underwear and a pajama set you entered the bathroom not before kicking your shoes off. The clothes were placed on the countertop just beside the sink, your reflection staring back at you; you didn’t recognize the sad eyes boring into yours— your own eyes.

The warm water wasn’t of too much help. You had expected it to at least ease the tension on your shoulders enough for you to not feel like you’d crumble at any minute. The dreaded part of the shower began when, while waiting for the conditioner to set and do its job, you started to scrub your body. A sob escaped your lips, your hand clutching the extra skin on your stomach— god, Lorna was definitely right when she said you needed to be on a strict diet.

You didn't dare to get out of the shower just yet, too embarrassed by the fact that all those things your coworkers said to you were true. You felt like the filthy cow Michael called you, you truly did, and tears just kept streaming down your face. Avoiding your reflection in the mirror while you put your clothes on, the wonderment of what Cliff really thought of you came to your mind.

Reminding yourself that you needed to focus on the fact that he had never complained about anything you exited the bathroom with the idea of going to bed and hoping for the best. If you were lucky, getting some rest would help you see things clearly, be kinder to yourself like you logically knew you should be.

Cliff stared at you with a frown, you supposed he had entered the room to change into sleeping clothes too because he had discarded his patterned shirt and was now only in a pair of shorts and the t-shirt he had been wearing earlier. You grew nervous under his gaze like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t have even thought about.

“You want me to reheat dinner?”

Your stomach churned upon hearing the question, not helping the feeling of nervousness at all. Excuses escaped you, there wasn’t a good one other than saying you weren’t hungry which was just not realistic. Opting for just nodding in hopes of calming down when your boyfriend wasn’t staring at you, you waited for him to leave the room to let out a light groan.

You felt stuck. No one likes to feel like that and lately, that’s all you can really feel. Stuck between accepting yourself and changing everything people found flawed, between skipping meals and eating properly to be healthy, between looking for another job where you weren’t verbally abused on a daily basis and just accepting that it would keep happening if you didn’t change your body.

You wished you could tune it all out, you knew some people were able to and you knew their lives were a little easier because of it. You wanted to be able to feel comfortable in your own skin without being told you were harming yourself— oh, how you hated the way they looked at you when you wore a skirt instead of a pantsuit, and God forbid if you felt confident enough one day to wear shorts...

It was tiring, it added to the weight on your shoulders and in consequence, deteriorated your health. The irony of how much their comments that — according to them— came from a place of worry for your health were harming you would have amused you if you weren’t in so much distress.

The clearing of a throat startled you. Your eyes landed on Cliff’s face as you turned to look at the doorway. “I’ll be there in a moment,” you rasped, surprised by how hard getting the words out had been.

He pushed himself into the room and away from the doorway, standing in front you four strides later. His warm palm landed softly on your cheek, an attempt to either get you to talk or comfort you, perhaps both at the same time.

Your eyes closed out of habit, your brain processing the gesture as one of the few things that gave it serotonin. His free arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you closer. There was a moment of silence, not uncomfortable because nothing was with him, one that he used to asses what could possibly be wrong while you tried your hardest to not cry some more.

“What’s wrong, love?” Cliff asked, so lowly and softly, so tenderly that you believed Samantha when she said you didn’t deserve to have someone like him in your life.

You shook your head, the movement prompting your lips to brush against his palm for a few seconds. It was deeply embarrassing to tell him how bad you felt for being yourself, it wasn’t fair for you to go through it, any of it.

He encouraged you to speak still, “you can tell me anything.”

Stubbornly, you shook your head again. “It’s nothing. How was your day?” Your question came with the opening of your eyes. You knew you had to be convincing, you could cry some more in the morning while showering after all.

“It was great,” he deadpanned. “Now, is my girlfriend telling me what’s troubling her or do I have to beat her coworkers up to know?”

A shiver ran down your spine, not because you were scared of him but because he talking to your coworkers was your worst nightmare. They could easily open his eyes, make him realize he deserved someone better than you. Shit... Cliff deserved better than you, it was true. Someone he could show off, someone who didn’t struggle to find pretty clothes, someone who could wear his clothes without them being tight or stuck.

Your reaction seemed to make him realize what was wrong. You saw it on his face, and he probably saw everything on yours. It surprised you, how upset he looked as it dawned on him. “What did they do?”

And just like that, you let it all go because there was no point in saying everything was fine, you were sad, he was mad— things could go terribly wrong or perfectly fine and you needed it to just happen already.

He listened, all his attention on your face as you both sat on the bed, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Your chest started aching as the hiccups began to interrupt you, between the crying and the eagerness to explain yourself now that you had the chance to let it out, you were desperate to find some relief.

Cliff shushed you, soothing sounds filling your ears. You heard him say he would get you some water to which you could only nod. You didn’t know how much time passed, you just knew you were still crying. Words flew out from your mouth when he was back, you hadn’t realized how many things you had bottled up until the moment you caught yourself speaking about your first day of work when everything had begun.

He hugged you tightly once the hiccups stopped, letting you cry some more on his chest as he played with your hair. Sweet nothings were whispered like second nature, how competent you were, how pretty, how attractive, how much he loved you. You even wondered why people called them sweet nothings when it truly meant everything to you.

“We’re going to find you another job, darling,” he assured, “don’t you worry your pretty little mind.”

You shrugged, knowing it wouldn’t change much. “Everyone will say the same,” you lamented.

“You can’t let them do that to you. I know it���s not your fault,” Cliff quickly clarified, “but we can’t please everyone and not everyone will like us. Maybe this is different and I can’t understand it because I’m not going through it, but I know it’s still true.”

Nodding, you looked down at your hands on your lap. It was easier said than done, no matter how well he meant he wasn’t the one who would go through it. “What if they’re right?”

You wanted to take the words back upon hearing his huff, wanting everything but to go through a fight that night. You were tired, drained actually, and fights with Cliff didn’t happen often but when they did you ended needing a lot of alone time to recharge.

“Look,” he sighed, clearly trying to mask his annoyance when he knew it wasn’t your fault, “if you want to make some changes to your routine, maybe become more active or eat healthier... that’s great, love. I will happily go through it with you.” His hand fell on top of yours, giving a squeeze to get the point across and to gain your attention so his next words were understood. “But if you don’t want to, if you feel fine, you don’t have to change a damn thing.”

“Can I make that decision later on?” you timidly asked. You weren’t ready to take such a big step, you truly just wanted to get some rest.

Cliff agreed, leaning to peck your lips in reassurance. You allowed yourself to smile which only made him kiss you properly that time around, hugging you by the hips when you kissed back.

Later that night, while laying on his chest, you focused on the sound of his heartbeat as he watched some TV. You were trying to pay attention to whatever was happening on the show but your mind was somewhere else. The next day would be big, you’d finally focus on what you needed instead of what people wanted and allow yourself to make a decision regarding what you would do to accomplish it.

The next day you’d finally start the journey to get what you truly deserved, and you would give it to your own self while your boyfriend accompanied you.