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wickedmilo · 3 years ago

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SORRY, BAD NIGHT | MILO, BEX & MINA

PLACE: Bex and Mina’s house TIMING: 4:12 AM SUMMARY: After the cemetery with Metzli, Milo turns to Bex for help with his injuries WRITING PARTNER: @inbextween @drowningisinevitable CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction tw, alcohol tw, medical blood tw, needles tw

Milo wasn’t in the greatest of moods, but the alcohol in his system was allowing him to repress the frustration, and pain that would otherwise cause him to spiral. Hiding his injury he had managed to pick up a fresh can of beer, and two cigarettes later he had very nearly reached his destination. With Harsh currently working a night shift, and his parents entirely unaware of his vampirism, he wasn’t sure where else he was supposed to go. It could probably wait until morning, but he wasn’t exactly sober, and sitting alone with his thoughts didn’t sound like his idea of a good time. Besides, he would rather deal with the issue now, while his pain receptors were out of action, and Bex seemed like the perfect person to ask for help. She always understood him, and over the course of the past few weeks they had grown far closer than he ever expected to. He had only ever seen her house from the outside, though he had no problem finding it again. Whether or not she was home, whether or not she would even be willing to invite him in, was another issue. She always assured him he didn’t make her uncomfortable, but part of him worried she was only telling him that so he wouldn’t feel hurt. The way she had first looked at him upon realising he drank human blood was permanently burned into his memory. He never wanted to see her look at him that way again.

Taking a long drink from his can, he stumbled awkwardly up the path to her front door, silently hoping she was already awake. Appearing outside of her house in need of medical attention was definitely bad enough, waking her up would only make him feel more guilty. Reaching out, he hesitantly pressed the doorbell, hearing it echo on the other side of the door. “Uh, Bex?” He called, his voice only a little slurred. “It’s Milo!” Finishing what was left of his drink, he balanced it near the entryway, just out of sight, forgetting about it almost the moment he set it down. “Bex?” He shouted again, seeing a light flicker on in the window of a house directly opposite. “Shit.” He muttered, knowing better than to say anything more. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwanted attention, and he was certain Bex felt the same way about her place of residence. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he carefully typed out a text, hitting send before taking a step backwards, looking up at the house looming over him.

Sory, bad night. Are yu awake?

I mightbe outside

Sleep was still hard to come by. Bex had assured Mina she was working on it, on sleeping more, but really, how was she supposed to when there was so much going on in her head? Dreams of her mother, of memories that weren’t her own, of Roy, of Mina dying. And sometimes, now, the worst dream was when her mother was replaced with Mina, and Bex’s hands were the things killing her. Those were the ones she woke up in a cold sweat from, and instead of checking Mina’s pulse, she’d scoot away and hold her hands close to her chest, afraid they might leak magic and reach out and hurt the girl she loved. That one day, they might be what gets Mina killed.

Sleep tonight was no different. She had slipped from the bed-- and she knew Mina was awake, and she was sure Mina knew she knew-- and gone downstairs to make herself a cup of tea silently. That’s when the loud knocking and voice sounded from the doorway, causing her to jump a little, nearly dropping the cup as tea sloshed out everywhere. “Fuck…” she muttered, fumbling with the mess, reaching for a paper towel to soak up the liquid before it dumped onto the floor. “Fuck, hold on--” she called, but she didn’t want to be too loud, and alert everyone in the house. She was already heading towards the door when the texts came in, so when she opened it to see Milo, she was only mildly surprised. The blood was concerning. Very concerning. “What happened?” she gawked, reaching for him. “Come on, come inside. Before someone else notices.” She pulled him through the door and shut it as quietly as possible, smelling the alcohol and smoke on his breath, soaked into his clothes. He clearly wasn’t okay, but who was she to judge? Sometimes the bottom of the bottle was her only comfort, too. She’d considered it tonight, instead of tea, but decided against it, if only because her stomach still churned at the thoughts of Mina’s eviscerated body.

“Sit,” she demanded, pushing him towards the couch before rushing into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit. Did vampires need first aid? Well, she’d find out. “Tell me what happened? Are you in danger right now?”

Milo felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard the sound of Bex’s voice. It was soft, almost a stage whisper, but it still managed to reach him and fill him with a familiar sense of comfort. At least he was safe now, with somebody who wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Listening to her footsteps, he offered her a tired smile when she finally opened the door. “Oh-” For a brief moment he had forgotten the reason for his visit, but her question soon brought him back down to Earth. Glancing at his ruined sleeve, he wrinkled his nose as his blood glistened, black, and congealed in the light of the moon. “A hunter, I think… or slayer. I never know what to call them.” Waiting to be invited inside, he hurried to cross the threshold the moment he was able to, leaning heavily against the wall as Bex quietly closed the door behind him. “It’s not bad,” he assured her. “I just- ‘m fine. I’m okay.” Allowing himself to be pulled towards a couch, he had time on the short journey to take in just how big the house was, and wondered how many people currently lived in it. He was only just realising they had never discussed her living situation before.

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting…” He fell back against the cushions, watching as she disappeared, only to return with a first aid kit. His smile growing at her level of concern, he wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her, but refused to give away just how drunk he was. So he waited for her to settle before answering her questions. “I was with Metzli… some asshole came at us with… jeez, with wooden arrows. I mean what century is this?” Carefully shrugging out of his hoodie, he peeled the sleeve away from his arm, staring at his skin where the blood was beginning to coat it. “I mean, it’s deep, but it’s not bad… y’know?” He wasn’t sure he was making very much sense, but hopefully his confidence would assure Bex he wasn’t about to bleed out. With no heartbeat the blood wasn’t drawn to the site of the wound, and it definitely wasn’t actively trying to escape his body. That didn’t mean he could leave the laceration open, he had a strong suspicion he might need stitches. Or tacking, at the very least. “No danger now, no… Metzli-” He broke off, a frown creasing his brow as he remembered what had happened. He could still see them, still see the way they had kicked the hunter’s head, the way they had been more than willing to abandon the unconscious body. No empathy, no concern. Just a cold, unfeeling self preservation. “No… no danger.”

Bex sighed. “I think either is correct,” she answered, and she felt herself bristling again. Of course it was a hunter. Of course it was someone who thought they could just go around hurting people who weren’t doing anything to hurt anyone, just because they weren’t human. She felt the anger prickle in her arms, her hands, and she took a moment to collect herself, and push the magic that was trying to come out back inside to a simmer. Like Mina had said, she couldn’t just go after everyone who hurt the people she cared about. But it was so hard to do nothing, not when she could do something. She swallowed the thought. “You were with Metzli?” Bex hadn’t seen them since the kerashag incident, and their last messages had been filled with anger and hurt. She was supposed to go see them the next night, but right now, focusing on Milo was more important. “Did they get hurt? What happened to the slayer?” If Metzli had killed them, she didn’t think she’d mind. And she hated that thought She ducked her head, grabbing a gauze pad from the first aid kit and soaking it in the rubbing alcohol. “This...might hurt? I don’t know your pain tolerance. Zombies don’t feel anything, really, that’s my only scale.”

She reached out and dabbed the wound, finding the black, congealed blood rather thick and hard to wipe away. She sighed and sat back. She’d need something stronger than a gauze pad to wipe it away, it was just getting caught and sticking to her fingers. “I’m gonna go get a rag, I’ll be right back,” she said, standing back up and glancing over her shoulder to the stairs, before she went back into the kitchen and to the hallway. It didn’t sound like anyone else was up, and she wet the rag before heading back in.

Milo nodded, still annoyed by the way Metzli had brushed him off. “I was.” He agreed, his expression softening again when Bex asked if they had been hurt. “I guess.” He shifted awkwardly on the couch. He couldn’t help feeling partially responsible. If he hadn’t encouraged them to drink, if he hadn’t laughed at the situation, was it possible Metzli might have taken it more seriously? “A couple of arrows… I tried to help them but they got mad- something about me telling them what they already knew. They stormed off and I just… I let them leave.” Maybe he should have chased after them, there were so many maybes. “The slayer…” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before deciding to be honest. Bex had probably heard worse, as much as he hated that thought. “Metzli kicked them in the head, they blacked out… they were okay, they’ll be okay. I checked their vitals but… I don’t know, it didn’t feel good, leaving someone like that.” Even someone who had tried to kill him. Mentally preparing himself for the pain, he was grateful for the warning as Bex held up a bundle of gauze. “They don’t?” He asked, curious to know more about zombies. “I do… It’s just harder to do any damage, the pain is still there.” Wincing the moment the rubbing alcohol made contact with the gash in his arm, it stung but nowhere near as badly as he was expecting it to. He supposed he had his state of intoxication to thank for that.

Only feeling a vague tugging sensation, along with a few jolts of a dull ache, he realised at the same time as Bex did that the gauze wasn’t going to be strong enough. A breathless laugh escaping him, he hesitantly caught her eye. “I told you it was gross, huh…” He said, calling back to their text messages, the first time he had ever tried to explain his blood to her. “Okay.” He murmured, leaning back further into the couch cushions, attempting to get comfortable as she headed back into the kitchen. He noticed her glancing around as though worried she might wake somebody up, and wondered not for the first time who might be sleeping upstairs. He took a deep, experimental breath, trying to recognise any of the scents lingering on the furniture. He recognised Mina’s almost immediately, but he wasn’t surprised considering she was dating Bex. There were two other scents he recognised. Deirdre, who had an attitude to match his own. And Morgan. Morgan Beck. “Hey, uh… you don’t know Morgan Beck, do you?” He asked, as Bex reappeared in the doorway. “She isn’t like… here, is she?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Bex to wake Mina up in the middle of the night, or vice versa. Or, more often than not, they were both already awake and just trying to sleep. It was more comfortable for Mina to just stay in bed with Bex, most of the time. She was trying not to go for as many runs in the middle of the night. She was trying to be better, more settled. So she didn’t get up immediately when Bex did, instead waiting a few minutes before she got up and headed to the bathroom, splashing soothing water on her face, her arms. Scales appeared, but she didn’t immediately send them away. She was in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by people that she cared about, and she could show off the scales and wear tanktops and shorts and feel safe. She felt safe. Sometimes, she didn’t quite know what to do with feeling safe.

Hearing voices from downstairs, Mina wondered if Bex was talking to Morgan or Deirdre and decided to head that way. She headed to the stairs and walked down, rubbing at her eyes, feeling tired even if she was unable to sleep. “Bex?” she asked as she reached the bottom of the steps and looked into the sitting room. “Mor--” But it wasn’t Morgan that was sitting on the sofa, and all Mina could do was blink at Milo from the last step, taking in the dark blood and wounds covering him. Dark blood. Oh. Oh. Well, that made sense, didn’t it? Because he only wanted to meet to play piano at night, and she’d never even thought to see him during the day. And he was friends with Bex. Because of course he was friends with Bex. Somehow, someway, Mina’s girlfriend was a vampire magnet.

“Sounds like Metzli,” Bex mumbled to herself. But as she reentered the room, everything else she had been planning to say-- like, “No, you did the right thing. If they’re angry, let them go.” or “You were more than kind to check on that slayer. They’ll probably be okay.”-- fell to the wayside, because Mina was standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Milo, and Milo’s wounds, and Milo’s black blood. This probably wasn’t at all how Milo had wanted Mina to find out he was a vampire, but Bex’s eyes stuck to the scales on Mina’s arms and wondered if she should say something. This probably wasn’t how Mina would have wanted Milo to find out about her, and now Bex was stuck in the middle, wavering between the injured vampire, and her scaley girlfriend who looked perhaps a bit disgruntled. Probably because there was a vampire in the living room.

Clearing her throat, Bex continued her way over to Milo, glancing at Mina. “He needed help,” was all she could think to say, “he was attacked by a slayer.” Before she kneeled in front of him and pressed the wet cloth to his wound, wiping away some of the blood. She turned her attention back to Milo. “Uh, yes, I do. This uh--” her glance went back to Mina before it returned to Milo, “this is her house, actually. I live with her and her partner.”

Milo heard Mina’s footsteps before he heard her voice, but it was only when she spoke that he realised exactly who had made her way downstairs. He wasn’t exactly surprised, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting her to make an appearance. Even drunk, he was able to understand the current state of him would give away what he was. But he didn’t mind. He had been planning to tell her eventually, and Bex had assured him she was familiar with the supernatural. He heard Bex quietly explain the situation, and if there was any doubt in Mina’s mind it would definitely be chased away by the use of the word slayer. Turning in his seat, he offered Mina a smile as he laid eyes on her, quickly noticing the strange scales on her skin. She had always smelled a little different, but he had put it down to perfume, or washing powder, anything that could create a lasting scent. Now, he was wondering whether he had been oblivious to something that really should have been obvious. “Mina?” He asked, watching her carefully. “I… you aren’t human either?” There was something amusing about the idea of two supernatural creatures assuming the other was human. How many hours had they spent together, holed up in the uni’s little piano room. And neither of them had noticed? Neither of them had realised? He could act shocked, or confused, but was there really any point? White Crest was full of people who weren’t human. Even Bex was a spellcaster. So he laughed quietly, moving again as Bex made her way back over to where he was sitting.

“You don’t need to make it sound like I’m dying.” He murmured good naturedly, holding his arm out so that she could begin brushing at the dried blood with a damp cloth. His smile slipping temporarily as Bex answered his question on Morgan, he could only hope she wasn’t hiding upstairs. Even if the idea of irritating her was enjoyable, he didn’t know if he had the energy to deal with her incessant lectures. “Jeez, you invited me into Morgan Beck’s house?” Another laugh escaped him before he could stop it, but it turned into a quiet hiss as pain shot through his arm. “Ow,” he complained, before moving the subject back to his old professor. “You know she hates me, right?” He asked, certain he wasn’t exaggerating. “And you let me into her house, she’s actually going to murder you.”

All Mina could do as she looked at Milo was blink, trying to process his words, and Bex’s words, and just what, exactly, was happening. He’d been attacked by a slayer, and, oh, that upset her. And not in the way it used to. It was similar to the way she’d felt when a slayer had attacked Morgan, albeit maybe not as strong. It wasn’t an “I hate that the monster escaped” kind of feeling and more of an “I’m upset that my friend was hurt” kind of feeling. She was friends with a vampire. And a zombie. And other Fae. A werewolf. Sometimes, all of that was hard to wrap her head around. And then she looked at her arms. Right. Scales. She could have made them disappear immediately, could have tried to cover it up and hide, but, really, what was the point? Milo was just an injured vampire bleeding on their sofa. Milo was just a boy that she’d played piano with countless times now, who had kept her company when she couldn’t sleep and when running led her towards music instead of the forest. She shrugged. “I’m not, no.” And that was that.

She walked further into the living room and moved beside Bex, looking over Milo’s wounds with a practiced eye. She’d never treated undead wounds before; Morgan never needed it, and she’d never been around an injured vampire. The blood was darker and thicker, but she imagined it was treated the same. He likely healed faster than her. It might just be slow going without blood in his system. “Do you need any help?” she asked Bex. As the conversation shifted to Morgan, Mina could only raise an eyebrow. “What could you have possibly done to make Morgan hate you? She doesn’t really hate anyone?”

Bex let the two of the figure out each other in silence, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud when Mina didn’t make her scales disappear. That meant she was getting more comfortable with them, right? Bex hoped so. She loved Mina and she, admittedly, loved her scales. They were such a pretty silvery-blue, and sometimes they would sparkle just right in the sunlight when they were out in the pool together, and Mina would look kind of like an ethereal angel. When Bex realized she was staring and hadn’t moved in a moment, she blinked and turned her head away, focusing back on Milo. “Uh, can you get some supplies out to bandage the wound once I’m done cleaning it? I...don’t know how fast vampires heal, but at least this way it’ll stop bleeding. Or...gushing.”

She looked up at Milo again, then to Mina, then to the stairs-- down that hallway was Morgan’s bedroom. “She doesn’t hate you. And she won’t be mad. She understands that it’s just me trying to help my friend. And even if she did hate you, I don’t think she’d turn away anyone who was hurt and needed help. That's the kind of person she is. She...saved me. I owe her everything I have right now.” It was a simple sentence to say, but the weight it held was inside of Bex’s heart and it clung to her and reminded her every day that she was loved and she was cared for, and she had someone in her life who would always help her, no matter what. She could have someone who was what a mother was supposed to be. Bex folded the rag over so that the blood was inside and reached up to wipe at his face. “You’re a mess. Clean your face off and I’ll get you some water.” She wondered if maybe Milo needed blood to help him heal, but there was no way Mina would let her offer her own. And she wasn’t sure Morgan kept blood around, only brains. “Do you need anything else?”

Milo appreciated the simplicity of Mina’s answer, and though he was curious to know more, he held his tongue, accepting the fact that she was willing to admit she wasn’t human. That was enough for now. No doubt the rest would come with time, and trust. He nodded quietly in response, offering her a smile as she moved to stand beside Bex. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he remembered his last conversation with Morgan, he exhaled a breath, his shoulders dropping. “It’s a long story.” He admitted, deciding now wasn’t the right time to tell it. For all he knew, he could be halfway through complaining about her attitude only to look up and find her standing in the doorway. Or he could say something to upset Bex, and Mina who were clearly close enough with Morgan to share a house with her. That was the last thing he wanted to do after disturbing them so late at night. Turning his attention back to Bex, he glanced back down at his arm again. “Pretty fast…” He admitted. “It’s like… you have to treat an injury in the same way a human would, but the healing is faster. I think I might need some stitches, but after that… y’know… I’ll be fine.”

His smile fading as the conversation turned back to Morgan, he wanted to tell Bex that Morgan’s saviour complex was exactly the problem. But even drunk, he knew better. He wasn’t about to hurt her like that after everything she had done for him. Whatever was happening between himself and Morgan could quite easily stay between them. And the way Bex spoke about her, the genuine love, and affection in her voice, almost, almost had him questioning his opinion on the zombie. “Wait- I am?” He asked, surprised by Bex telling him he was a mess. It made sense. After falling from a tombstone, and tackling the hunter he was probably covered in mud, and a few lesser scrapes. But he hadn’t considered that fact until now. Taking the cloth he began to scrub at his face with his good arm, pulling it away to see just how much dirt had stained the material. Taking a moment to contemplate Bex’s following question, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. He knew what she was really asking, but he wasn’t thirsty. They were both aware he had a habit of overindulging, so he very rarely found himself desperate for blood. And there were blood bags waiting for him at home that would help to speed up the healing process. So he grinned instead, doing his best to utilise his charm. “Maybe a beer?” He tried. “If you have one?”

Mina would have asked about the long story if she was more curious, but this wasn’t the time or place. Milo was intoxicated and injured and likely not in any sort of state to be telling them just why it was that he thought Morgan hated him. Though, there really weren’t that many people out there that Mina was aware of Morgan hating. It didn’t seem likely. She nodded to Bex and gathered up the supplies, pulling everything out that would be needed. “I can do the stitches,” she said, quietly. “I’ve done them plenty of times on people that heal fast.” Both herself and other hunters. She was sure, though, that vampires still healed faster than both of them. But Mina stopped seeing him as a vampire and only allowed herself to see his injuries so that she could focus, taking in the wounds and figuring out how best to treat him. The deepest sections would absolutely need stitches, but the rest of it could probably be simply cleaned and bandaged. No point in stitching something up when they were just going to come out quickly.

“You’re a little messy, yes,” she added, finally seeing all the mud and blood on him. And how many times had she come home looking like that? Less so, recently, since she’d been trying not to worry people so much, but still. Long ago, something very similar to this would have been routine: walk in, treat injuries, help others, rest. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. Add in hunting. Substitute hunting with Mina just standing there, turning away. Repeat. Repeat as necessary. She blinked it away, raised an eyebrow at Milo, at that easy grin of his as he asked for a beer. “You smell like a brewery.”

Bex didn’t know what “long story” meant, but she wasn’t about to ask about it, and neither did Mina. Whatever happened between Morgan and Milo to make her supposedly hate them could stay with them until either of them were ready to tell the story. She exhaled slowly, moving away from the worst wound so that Mina could asses it and start the stitches. She picked up some more rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, moving to work at dabbing the smaller cuts on his other arm and face. “You are. You look like you rolled down a hill made of mud.” They were all talking so casually, but the thought of a hunter, a slayer, going after two people Bex cared about made her arms buzz. She itched-- ached-- to do something about them. She could easily do something about them, like she had done so with the first warden that went after Mina, and like she had tried to do with Roy. But her magic still sat sour in her stomach, still recovering from the shock of the destroyed spell.

Bex furrowed her brow. She remembered what Milo had said when he’d gotten drunk with her in the park, that he didn’t need people judging him, that if he wanted to do it this way, then who was anyone to tell him no? “Sorry, I don’t think we have any. Morgan and Deirdre aren’t big beer drinkers.” It was enough of an excuse, and mostly the truth. They had other alcohol, but she wasn’t going to mention that. She got the glass of water instead and came back to sit next to him on the couch, holding it out. “What were you guys doing in the cemetery, anyway?”

“I guess I probably don’t want to know why you’re so good with stitches, huh?” Milo asked Mina, smiling sheepishly when she agreed with Bex. He had never been particularly vain, and he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed, or offended. Not after everything he had suffered through. His appearance meant very little to him, especially when he was under the influence, so he gave up on the effort to tame his hair, allowing a laugh to escape him at the mention of smelling like a brewery. “Guilty.” He agreed, shrugging off the comment. “But what’s a brewery without beer?” His eyes were shining, despite suspecting Mina might be avoiding his question in a bid to keep him from drinking himself into a stupor. Glancing back at Bex, his smile stayed in place as she commented on his current state. He wondered whether she was exaggerating. The cemetery felt like eons ago. The fear, and the adrenaline had long since faded away. He wasn’t about to pull out his phone’s front camera to check, and he could always shower when he got home. “I mean, I kind of did…” Technically he fell from a tombstone, and tackled a hunter to the ground, but the details felt unimportant in the safety of Morgan’s house.

Attempting to hide his disappointment when the one person he felt sure wouldn’t have an issue with letting him continue to drink denied him another beer, he tried to work out the probability of there being alcohol of any kind in the house. He didn’t see why it should be kept from him. He was fine. More than fine. There was no harm in having a little fun, especially after such a tiring night. “You don’t have anything else?” He asked, taking the water and staring down at the glass. He left fingerprints against the crystal, only realising as he stared at them that his skin was still marked by dirt, and dried blood. “It’s just- this kind of hurts, it would be nice to have something to… y’know- take the edge off…” The lie fell easily from his lips, he was far too used to finding an angle. Knowing what to say, and how to say it. He faltered, making it seem as though he was embarrassed to admit he was in pain, when in reality, he had faced far worse. “Oh, we thought it would be funny.” His smile only grew, he was still undeniably amused by the irony. “Two vampires in a cemetery… can’t say the ghosts were very glad of the company though…”

“Probably not,” Mina said quietly as she set to work, her fingers quick and sure as she started the sutures. The black blood still occasionally coming out of Milo’s wounds barely even stung, and she wiped away at it with the tips of her fingers. She was mostly worried about getting this done as fast as possible; without anything to dull the pain, it wouldn’t do to linger and draw it out. “Keep very still, please.” That was important, too. So was distraction from the pain, a trick that was hard to do when working on herself. When she first started tending to her own wounds, Mina would sing to herself. Now, focused on keeping up the conversation that Bex and Milo were having. As long as he remained distracted, it shouldn’t hurt as bad.

“We really don’t have any beer,” Mina said. “And I can’t lie. I’d have to tell you if we had any.” Not… exactly true, but it was true enough. There was no beer in the house. There was wine and stronger liquors, but no beer. The only beers that Mina had ever kept were the German ones that were still in her fridge at her little house next to the lake. “The pain shouldn’t last.” And, for a moment, she thought about offering Milo her blood. Fae blood was known for being sweet and addictive, and one of the better qualities of it was that it “took the edge off.” She’d been used to lure out vampires with her blood before. What was helping out a friend? But Mina had also been upset with Bex offering up her blood, so that was just an all around bad idea. “How quickly do vampires heal, anyway? I think I heal about twice as fast as a human, under certain conditions.”

Bex sighed. She remembered how much she would’ve liked something to “take the edge off” when she’d been half-dead in that cabin with Mina and the only thing there was an old bottle of what was probably homemade moonshine. And she wasn’t really one to judge Milo, was she? Plus, they were safe in the house. They weren’t away in the cemetery or lost somewhere or in a park. It was safe, right? As Mina started in on the stitches, she stood back up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, standing back up and heading into the other room. All the wine was kept downstairs in the cellar, but she knew where the liquor cabinet was, and she grabbed the cheapest looking bottle of vodka before making her way back. Cracked it open and took a sip before holding it out to Milo. “What do you mean ‘kind of did/? What happened? I thought you were just attacked by a slayer. Did Metzli do something to you?”

Bex didn’t look at Mina for a moment, watching Milo carefully before sitting back on her hands. Her eyes glanced back towards the stairs-- if Morgan came down, what would she think? Was Bex doing the wrong thing here? She bit her lip, she had to believe otherwise. All she wanted to do was help people, but, lately, it felt as if everything she did was the wrong thing. Her chest even still ached from her spell backfiring the other night. “Maybe you should chill on the hanging out in cemeteries for a bit? Even for the joke. Just, uh-- until you know the situation with that slayer.” And she was worried and she was tired and she wondered if she should offer to go check on him for Milo. “I-- could go see if he’s still there, if you want? Take him somewhere safe, if he is?”

Biting down on his bottom lip as Mina began to apply his stitches, Milo distracted himself from the discomfort by watching her focus. Now that he knew she wasn’t human it felt so obvious, not just in her scent, but in the way she looked. So ethereal and undeniably beautiful, he could understand why Bex wanted to be with her. Even now, after being woken up in the middle of the night to find out one of her friends not only needed medical attention, but wasn’t human either, she was soft, and gentle. Quietly sincere in her care for him. Forcing himself to stay still, repressing the desire to pull away from the needle, he exhaled a slow breath through his teeth. “Yeah, whatever…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. Why couldn’t she lie? He tried to run through the list of supernatural creatures in his head, despite knowing it was severely lacking. Maybe he didn’t know what she was, maybe she was something new. “It won’t…” He admitted, wanting to assure her. Waiting until she was pulling the thread taut, he shifted slightly, offering a one armed shrug. “It depends really… on how much blood I drink, and how bad I hurt myself. If I drink a lot and the injury is minor then it can disappear in, like… fifteen minutes? This one will probably take a couple of days.”

Glancing up at Bex, watching her as she left the room, he felt a spark of hope, followed by a wave of genuine gratitude. He grinned easily as she reappeared, accepting the bottle of vodka, not missing the way she took a drink herself before handing it over to him. “No, Metzli didn’t do anything to me.” He laughed, unable to help himself. It definitely wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. “I fell from one of those tombstones, you know the big ones- above ground? And then I had to get the hunter off of Metzli somehow because they insisted on encouraging whoever it was… but they didn’t do anything to me.” Taking a long drink of vodka, he paused to wipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Yeah, no shit.” He answered, smiling to let his friend know he wasn’t upset by her comment. “I stand by it being funny though. You know it is...” His smile fading suddenly as he processed her following words, as he understood what she was offering, the danger she was willing to put herself in, he shook his head, desperate to keep her away from any violence. Bex was working to keep him safe, the least he could do was keep her safe in return. “No, I mean… they’ll be okay, they were stirring as I left. I- you would really do that?”

“Fifteen minutes?” Mina asked, genuinely curious. She cut the string, the worst of the scratches stitched together. Fifteen minutes was close to the almost instantaneous healing that she’d witnessed with zombies. She wondered, briefly, what it was about the undead that allowed them to heal so quickly when they didn’t even have heartbeats to pump blood through their body. It was a kind of curiosity that she never really allowed herself to experience. “A few days isn’t bad, though. Do you-- I mean, you have ways to get blood, right?” She’d never considered the thought that her friend would have to go out and hurt people in order to live. It was hard to imagine, to rectify her image of this gentle boy that liked to play piano and maybe over indulge in things just a little too much with monsters that she’d been taught to kill. Shadows that lurked in alleyways that burst into ash when they were destroyed for the greater good. But that wasn’t Milo. It wasn’t.

Mina looked at Bex, then at Milo, and she couldn’t help but feel just a little exasperated at the whole situation. Frustrated, really, that other people that she was fond of were getting into situations that could get them hurt, especially so soon after Bex had confronted Roy. Of course Bex would offer to go do something. Mina hoped she knew that, if she tried anything, Mina was going with her. Instead, she told Milo, her voice light, “Hanging out in cemeteries would make you a horrible cliché, you know.” She relaxed as Milo said that there was no need for Bex to go back out there. There was no need. It’d be fine. Though, of the three of them, Bex would be the safest around a slayer. Still. She’d try to use her magic, Mina just knew it, and that wasn’t good so soon after she’d already hurt herself with it.

“Woah, fifteen minutes!?” Bex gasped, exasperated herself. “I don’t think my cuts even stop bleeding that fast. Jesus…” She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. Life sure would be much easier if she had super healing, or even knew healing magic. But she didn’t and she wasn’t sure Nell could teach her that, so she let out a puff of air, furrowing her brow. “Well, at least there’s that. I would’ve had to kick their ass if they had.” Bex looked over at Mina, then, shrugging-- she knew she probably wasn’t happy with her for offering to go investigate, and would certainly demand to go with her if she did, but Bex didn’t really know what else to do in the situation. How could she not? How could she not want to do everything to make sure her friend was safe from a threat? She’d done the same with Mina, with Morgan, with anyone who threatened the happiness Bex had so painfully fought for. This town wanted to ruin it and she wasn’t going to let it.

“Of course I would,” she answered simply, then, taking the bottle back and having another sip. Maybe it could make her tired enough to actually sleep, even as visions of blood and carnage still sat at the edges of her vision. Breath still hard to come by when she found herself panicked and woozy. “Besides, I’m just human, so they wouldn’t hurt me. And it’s not like they’d know I was friends with you.” She still hadn’t decided what she’d do if she did go find them. She supposed it depended on what they said. They had gone after not one, but two of Bex’s friends, and she felt her knuckles tightening on the table, looking away to clear her thoughts before she spoke again. “But if you think they’re okay, then, we can just focus on you. Did you want to stay here tonight, then? Or do you need to get home?” And why hadn’t Milo just gone home in the first place? Was his roommate out, or was his home not safe? She glanced between the two, though, wondering if the offer to let him stay here wasn’t the best idea. Still, she wasn’t about to throw him out. She’d deal with Morgan later, if she got upset.

“Yeah, around fifteen…” Milo agreed, wincing as Mina cut the thread. It didn’t hurt as badly as he assumed it would, so he hesitantly glanced down to review her work. Honestly, his parents would be proud of her if only they could see it. Apparently she had a lot of skill. Catching her eye again, he smiled, needing her to know he was okay both physically, and in the context of sourcing blood. “I do. My roommate works in the hospital… though I should probably stop telling people that before I get him fired for stealing blood bags.” Laughing at himself, he took another drink, the vodka burning his throat in such a comforting way. “Maybe I was trying to be a horrible cliché.” He pointed out, his smile only growing as he remembered how much fun it had been. At least until a slayer had decided to interrupt the party. “But I get it, okay? No more cemeteries.” Nodding in response to Bex’s obvious surprise, he tugged his sleeve back down to hide his injury now that it was no longer an open wound. “Weird, right? I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.” Letting his friend take the bottle back, he held her gaze as she insisted she would check on the slayer if he asked her to. It meant more to him than she would know. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her towards him and into a hug. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he murmured his thanks, forcing himself to let her go after a minute or two. If he could, he would stay in her arms for the remainder of the evening. She, and he supposed Mina now too, really did make him feel as though nothing bad could ever happen to him again.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to rush into shit like this.” He said, knowing he had no right to tell her what to do, but feeling the need to say the words all the same. “What if they do know you’re my friend? It’s a small town? Or what if they think you’re another vampire and shoot at you on sight?” Satisfied he had made a relatively decent case, he decided to drop the subject, turning to look at the nearest window. The drapes were shut, but he could see it was still dark outside. “I… I should probably go. Morgan wouldn’t want me here, and my roommate gets home around dawn.” If there was anything he could do to encourage the healing process then Harsh would be able to advise him. Home was probably the best place for him to be now that the worst was over. “Thank you though… for everything.” His gaze shifting between both of his friends, he let a few beats of silence pass before speaking again, allowing himself to fully process just how lucky he was. Some terrible things had happened to him, in fact they continued to happen to him. But without becoming a vampire, he wouldn’t have Bex and Mina. “I’m not just talking about tonight, although y’know… I guess showing up here was kind of a dick move.”

“I think it’s better to be stealing blood bags from hospitals as opposed to the alternatives,” Mina said. And maybe she should be more concerned for the humans that needed the blood, but this was better than Milo going out and attacking people, right? This was so much better than that. She’d rather him do that than just about anything else. She rolled her eyes. “If you were trying to be a horrible cliché, then you’d be sleeping in a coffin. Right? That’s what vampires do on tv?” She wasn’t particularly sure, only remembering one scene from Carmilla that included a coffin and a lot of blood. She started packing up the medical supplies now that they were done, adding, “Those are pretty basic, so they won’t come out on their own. If you need them removed, just let me know.”

Mina shot Bex a look before agreeing with Milo. “I think so, too, personally.” Then, to Bex, joking but serious, “At least put on decent shoes before you decide to pick fights with slayers in cemeteries. And allow me to grab a jacket.” Because if Bex was going to rush into this, then Mina was to, and she’d rather not do it with scaly arms exposed for the world. Not to mention that she’d like to grab a knife, just in case. But she didn’t think that going after slayers was on the agenda for the evening. She added to Milo, “They wouldn’t think that she’s a vampire. Slayers can sense the undead, so they’d be able to tell that she isn’t.” They also wouldn’t be able to tell what Mina was, which would be another reason for her to go. “Do you need someone to walk back with you? You’re still a little tipsy and wobbly. How far of a walk is it?” And she was looking him over for more injuries, just in case, even though she couldn’t see them. And then she was saying, quickly, “Don’t thank me. You don’t have to thank me.” Because it was important that he knew that. “Never thank me. Thank Bex.” She wasn’t unkind, but she wanted him to know. She needed him to know that, at the very least. “I think I’ve mentioned that before, actually.”

Bex thought back, for a moment, about what Metzli had told her about how they had solved their blood problem. Grimacing, she decided to keep that to herself. She was sure Mina would not approve, and Bex didn’t know how to tell her it was better than the alternative right now, too. Instead, she focused back on Milo, grabbing the bottle and taking one last drink before screwing the cap back on. With the injuries all patched up, there shouldn’t be a need to take the edge off anymore. And she didn’t want anyone to notice the missing amount, not that she thought they would, really. Or that anyone would get upset. This wasn’t her parents, after all. She was safe here. She let out a long sigh. “You so don’t wanna be a cliché,” she said, “then you’d have to sparkle and I think that might make you just a little too gay, if that’s possible.” She grinned, pleased with herself.

She was immediately ruffled, though, by the look Mina gave her and the two of them insisting she was being hasty about this. “I never said I was going to go after him,” she shot back, frowning, “I just said I’d check on him. See if he was still there and okay. Milo said he was worried for him.” Folded her arms over her chest. Mina explained why he would know she wasn’t a vampire and Bex was reminded how easy it was for people to underestimate her. She certainly didn’t look dangerous or act dangerous or feel dangerous. But sometimes, she wondered if the magic inside of her was more dangerous than a hungry vampire. Her eyes met MIlo’s. “It wasn’t a dick move. I’m glad you knew you could come to me. I-- want to be that kind of friend for you.” Words failed her, though, when Milo reached out and hugged her. She stayed frozen, unsure of what to do. She didn’t hug or get hugged often, except by Mina. Really, Mina was the only person she allowed to touch her that much, even Morgan was limited. She cleared her throat when Milo pulled away and just nodded. “We--” her voice faltered, “”we can totally walk back with you.” Because if Mina wasn’t going to let Bex go alone, then she wasn’t going to let Mina go alone, either. Not with a crazed bugbear hunting her.

“I mean they’re still donating blood, right? And it’s still potentially saving people… I consider it a grey area.” Milo teased, only half serious. If he was being honest he didn’t view his situation as any kind of moral, or ethical dilemma. Nobody was getting hurt, and people were always donating blood. A true victimless crime if there ever was one. Only if he and Harsh decided to deplete the hospital’s entire supply would he be able to see why it was problematic. “I wanted a coffin, my roommate said no.” He grinned, letting his company know he wasn’t being serious. He had joked on more than one occasion, and Harsh had always been quick to shut him down with an offhand comment and a roll of his eyes. But the idea of sleeping in a coffin, as trivial as it may seem in passing, made him uneasy. His memories of his death were hazy, but they were there, a constant reminder of how much he had suffered. A constant, physical reminder of that wouldn’t be healthy. “Jeez, a Twilight reference?” He wrinkled his nose at Bex, distracted from the medical talk. “I’m not drunk enough for Twilight references.” But he laughed regardless of his feigned distaste. Moving his legs so that Mina had better access to the table the medical supplies were laid out on, he hummed softly in response to her instruction. “Mom and Dad are doctors.” He explained. “I was practising stitches on orange peel as soon as I was old enough, I’ve just never actually had to give them to anybody, especially not myself…” He was confident he could remove them well, and if not Harsh would always be there to help him. “I’ll manage…”

Although he was glad to hear Mina agree with him, he couldn’t say he approved of her keeping Bex company. He would much rather the both of them stay at home, safe, and comfortable, and hidden away, than chase after a hunter who was probably long gone. “I know how it works,” he added, brushing off her explanation of the strange Spidey-Sense slayers apparently had. “I just meant- well, they’re probably on edge, right? If they’re still there. Regardless of whether their vampire senses are tingling they might try and jump you… it wouldn’t be the first time someone acted on impulse.” A laugh escaping him, it took him a few seconds too long to realise Mina was being serious. “Wait- I’m not tipsy.” He insisted. “This is my basically natural state of being.” He had been far worse on many occasions and somehow always managed to arrive home before the sunrise. He was falling into a routine. His smile slipping as Mina’s sudden concern pulled him out of his thoughts. He stared at her, his brain working to process what she was telling him, why her tone had changed so drastically. Almost in slow motion, everything fell into place, leaving him with a strange sense of clarity despite not knowing exactly what she was. Things were starting to make an awful lot of sense. “Shit, you’re the reason Bex keeps telling me not to make promises, aren’t you? And not to say thank you, or like- swear on stuff…”

Turning his attention back to Bex, feeling the need to make sure she didn’t decide to go and scope out the cemetery, he shook his head. “I know they’ll be okay… I just didn’t like leaving them behind like that, you know? But they weren’t showing any sign of trauma…” A smile tugging at his lips as she assured him appearing on her doorstep wasn’t unfair, he really wanted to believe her. Thinking about what he would do if she showed up on his doorstep made it far easier to accept as the truth. He would help her without question, she was only doing the same for him now. “You are that kind of friend for me… you already are.” Worried he might have crossed a line by hugging her, he gave her some space as she cleared her throat, composing herself after such an unexpected show of affection. “You don’t need to walk with me, it’s late for you guys... this was enough- more than enough.”

“A lot of things are a grey area,” Mina murmured, and she wasn’t really sure how to deal with that fact, despite being used to it for a while now. Everything was so much more grey that she’d thought it was when she was younger, the world of black/white morality and good vs. evil not really as simple as it should be. She wished it was simple. She just wanted things to be simple, sometimes. She was so, so glad it wasn’t simple. “Your roommate’s pretty smart.” And she tried not to be too disgruntled at the mention of Twilight, playing with the ring on her hand as she remembered the way that the rock trapped inside it had once made her sparkle similarly to Edward Cullen. Mina gave Milo a nod as she finished cleaning up, confident in his ability to tend to himself if he said that he could. Thinking about the slayer, she frowned. “They’re supposed to be trained not to go after humans, no matter what. If they don’t sense undead, they should… not retaliate.” At least, that was how it was supposed to be. She’d been proven wrong plenty of times, though, since she’d come to White Crest. She snorted. “I don’t believe you.” Mina scratched at the back of her neck. “Guilty as charged,” she said, her voice quiet. “You should never thank the Fae.”

Mina would have rolled her eyes at Bex if she thought she could get away with it. Because she knew how Bex reacted towards people that hurt people that she cared about. She might say she wasn’t going after them, but if she got upset, then Mina didn’t know what she’d do. Probably go after them. She watched the two of them interact, the tenseness in Bex’s shoulders, the way that Milo immediately let go when it seemed he was making her uncomfortable. She gave Bex a small smile, hoping to be comforting, before she looked back at Milo. Dryly, she said, “We don’t sleep much. It’s really no big deal. And we can handle ourselves on the walk back, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She let claws and webbing form on her hands. “Really, we can take you home.”

“Twilight is iconic whether you want to admit it or not,” Bex said with an affirming nod, as if there was no room to argue afterwards. But the subject had moved on quickly, even as she decided to hold her tongue when it came to black and white and grey matters. She had maybe too many opinions about it, but that was the thing-- morality was opinion, when it was all boiled down. She didn’t think either of them would agree with her, though, and Milo was right-- getting blood from the hospital was a much safer option than anything else. Certainly safer than what Metzli had figured out, but Milo had already said he’d asked if they would let him help with the blood source, and they’d refused. So, really, what was there to do. She let out a breath and noted Mina fiddling with her ring, letting her gaze drop to the matching one on her own hand. She suddenly wondered if using a rock that had made Mina so upset for so long had been a good idea, but she couldn’t forget the look on Mina’s face the first time she’d shown her the bit of meteorite she’d gotten for her. At least, before she’d told her how she’d gotten it, and about the redcaps. She frowned, when attention came back towards the hunter. “Yeah, well, seems like more and more lately, we’ve been finding hunters who really don’t care about all that,” she said with a sour tinge, before straightening up and grabbing the bottle of vodka. “But I’ll leave it alone for now, since you insist on them being okay.” Maybe she’d go check tomorrow, anyway.

Standing, she let out a huff, ready to change the subject again. “I’m gonna go put this back, then we’ll grab our coats and better shoes and walk you home. Or at least to your block. Is it far? Maybe we should drive…” Noting the way her head still felt light and her chest still felt heavy. She rubbed a hand over her sternum a second, as if trying to relieve the pressure, before she turned and went into the kitchen to put the bottle back. Mina was right, though-- neither of them slept much, and maybe Bex’s lack of it was finally starting to get to her. She felt exhausted, but, really, that didn’t matter when she had a friend in need. Brushing it off, she headed back in and put on a smile, wiping away the awkwardness her skin still buzzed with from the sudden contact. “Ready?”

“Yeah, he is.” Milo agreed, thinking of Harsh and how much help he had given him over the course of his time as a vampire. More than he probably deserved. Humming quietly as the conversation moved back to the hunter from the cemetery, he couldn’t help but doubt Mina’s confidence. Anybody trained in violence was going to make a mistake. Especially when their life quite literally depended on acting quickly, on acting without warning. Regardless of whether Bex looked threatening, the idea of her wandering into that cemetery made him incredibly nervous. He didn’t trust the hunter to have left, and he definitely didn’t trust their judgement. As if to prove him right, Bex decided to elaborate on her girlfriend’s statement, a dark undertone to her voice that made him wonder whether Mina had been hurt too, or attacked by somebody questionable. In spite of the subject, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of triumph when she admitted she was indeed the reason Bex insisted promises could be dangerous. And then she mentioned Fae. He didn’t know much about Fae, bar what Rio had told him, and he was infinitely curious. Ignoring the heartache he felt when his thoughts drifted to Orion, he forced himself to stay present. A difficult feat given just how much alcohol was currently in his system. So Mina was Fae, and Bex was a Spellcaster. He really was going to have to start making notes. “I really am fine.” He added, realising she had made it clear she didn’t believe his previous statements. “Besides, if you don’t sleep much that only means you need all of the sleep you can…” He trailed off, staring as Mina’s hand shifted, becoming claws, and webbing as he watched. He wasn’t disgusted, or horrified, only fascinated by what he could only assume was her true form.

Collecting himself, he pushed on. “I wasn’t saying that because... I mean, I know you guys can take care of yourselves… I just don’t want to be more of an inconvenience, y’know?” He did his best to clarify. He still didn’t know a lot about what Mina could do, but there was no question of just how powerful Bex might be. “Also Twilight is iconic. Rio made me watch it…” He lowered his gaze, a soft sigh escaping him. It had been so long now since he had last seen his friend, and he missed his company, the sound of his voice, how safe he felt in his presence. His expression briefly faltering as he realised the bottle of vodka was being taken away, he begrudgingly pushed himself to his feet. He was tired, and uncomfortable, he longed to crawl into his bed. “It’s not that far, maybe twenty minutes?” He guessed, feeling a spark of guilt as he realised they would have to walk back to their house again. It felt like too much, it felt too unfair, but they weren’t about to let him leave alone. There was absolutely no room for argument, and honestly, he didn’t want to argue with them. It would be nice to have company. It would be nice not to have to look over his shoulder every ten seconds for fear of being followed by some asshole who wanted him dead. “I’m ready,” he said, concern creasing his brow as he noticed Bex rub absentmindedly at her chest. “Hey… are you okay?” He asked, his voice low so that he wouldn’t alert Mina who had started to move towards the entryway.

“You had to have stitches and are wobbly on your feet,” Mina said to Milo, her voice deadpan. “I don’t think you’re particularly fine.” Especially not when he was a vampire of all creatures, someone that healed significantly faster than a hunter or a werewolf or herself or especially a human. Not to mention how shaken he was. If he was worried about their own well-being, then that meant that he thought this was a serious situation. And maybe it was, but Mina knew hunters. At the very least, she knew trained hunters. She knew that, as long as she didn’t reveal herself as someone supernatural, then she and Bex wouldn’t be at risk if they ran into this slayer. They. Plural. Because Mina wasn’t letting Bex go alone. The way Milo’s voice brought Mina’s attention to the fact that not many people were used to seeing silver scales and webbing and claws on people that were mostly human in appearance. He didn’t seem to be judging her, the look on his face more interested than anything else, but Mina still shied away from the attention, letting the inhumanity fade from her skin slowly.

“It’s not an inconvenience,” Mina added, giving Milo a small but sincere smile. The mention of Rio piqued her curiosity, remembering the rather thin but brave boy that she’d met who had been with her during the warden attack. The look of fondness and longing on his face was familiar, something that she could recognize. Still, she chose to address his next question. “Twenty minutes isn’t that bad. We should be able to manage.” She ran more than that some nights anyway. It was fine. She allowed the two of them to hang back as she moved towards the door, grabbing her coat off the rack and putting on a pair of boots, lacing them up as she waited.

“What Mina said,” Bex pointed out, but she did so in a lighter tone, a gentle smile, letting him know that even if he was in this condition, she didn’t mind. It was okay. “Definitely not an inconvenience.” She gave a little nod, glancing over at Mina as she headed towards the door to gather her jacket and shoes, noting as she made her webbing and scales disappear from her skin. She wished she could reach out and give Mina the confidence she needed to not be embarrassed by them, but slowly, and surely, she was getting more comfortable, and all Bex could do right now was support that. Her attention turned back to Milo as he hung back and whispered something to her. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been doing it until he pointed it out, and she dropped her hand, shrugging. “Fine,” she muttered back, not wanting to concern anyone with something so paltry, but wondering if Milo, with his superhearing, could hear her erratic heartbeat the way Mina could with her head on her chest. She’d pointed it out once or twice but Bex had brushed it off. It didn’t mean anything, not really. It wasn’t important, not when there were so many other things to be taken care of.

She gave Milo an apologetic look, though, and decided he deserved more than just a brush off. “Sorry, I--” she looked at Mina at the door, then back to Milo-- “I’m just having a hard time sleeping lately. It’s nothing, really.” It was just the nightmares and the memories and the headaches. She gave him a reassuring smile and motioned for him to follow her to the door. “C’mon, let’s get you home and worry about everything else in the morning, okay? I don’t know about you, but I could use a nice day to relax.”

Milo opened his mouth to argue with Mina before deciding he didn’t have the energy. Instead he shot her a look that made it clear he didn’t agree with her observations. Realising she had caught him staring at her hands, his expression shifted, and he offered her a sheepish smile. Any disagreements were quickly forgotten. Regardless of her assurance, it still felt like an inconvenience, but he was being forced to accept the fact that they were walking with him. There was nothing he could do or say to stop them at this point. “No minutes is better than twenty minutes.” He pointed out, but it was clear in his voice that he had resigned himself to their company. His smile growing somewhat as he watched Mina locate her coat in the hall, he turned back to Bex, who was smiling too. Jeez, he really was lucky to be surrounded by so many people willing to help him. Despite what he was, despite who he was. Surely he couldn’t be worth the stress he caused.

“Fine?” He echoed as her hand dropped back to her side. He had gotten remarkably good at tuning out the constant hum of heartbeats, but now he focused on the sound, listening to how Bex’s heart seemed to jump, wild, and inconsistent in her chest. Her pulse was clear, but it wasn’t steady, and he didn’t need to be the son of two doctors to understand that wasn’t healthy. “Is that normal?” He whispered, wondering whether Mina was aware. “Is that a magic thing?” His smile fading as he was overcome with concern, he longed to help, he just didn’t know how. Technically, he couldn’t even sleep anymore. How was he supposed to aid anybody else in getting rest when he could barely manage it himself? Following her to the door, he knew his words were useless but they fell from his lips before he could stop them. He wanted to say something, even if it wouldn’t make a difference. “Maybe you can get some sleep during the day?” He suggested, as though she hadn’t considered that thought herself. It was never going to be that easy.

Bex shrugged, as if trying to brush it off. She didn’t really feel like discussing the state of her health with anyone, let alone Milo. She didn’t want to worry him, or anyone, really. It wasn’t that bad, anyway. So her chest hurt a little sometimes, and she’d been having heart palpitations a lot, lately, but it would go away after a bit and then she’d push it out of her mind until the next time it happened. “Yeah, I mean, it might be-- could be,” she said back, nodding. She didn’t think that was really it, but she’d only first noticed it after Frank had electrocuted her and Nell had supposedly restarted her heart with her blood magic. So, maybe it was because of magic. Maybe she should talk to Nisa about it, she was a healer, after all. She turned back to look at Milo, giving as much of a reassuring smile as she could. “It’ll be fine, there’s no need to worry. It’s probably just cause I’m tired and stuff.”

She made her way over to Mina, then, and slipped her hand into hers gently, glancing back at Milo. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged, “you ready?” She held her free hand out to Milo, the hand that had her promise ring on it clutching Mina’s. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure tomorrow will be better for everyone, right?” At least, she could hope. She had to believe that it would be, otherwise, she wasn’t sure she’d get out of bed.

Milo frowned to himself. He didn’t like how unsure Bex seemed. She shouldn’t be so vague in her answer, not when he was questioning her on the condition of her heart. But he decided to let the subject go. She never queried his decisions, never asked him whether he really should be reaching for the bottle, or brushing off another hunter’s desperate attack. The least he could do was trust her to take care of herself. “Okay,” he said, his voice gentle, and hopefully comforting. He wanted her to know he wasn’t going to push for further elaboration. “I really hope you can sleep today…” He trailed off, holding back from apologising for interrupting her evening. She had already insisted he wasn’t being a bother, what more was there to say? Watching his friend as she made her way over to where Mina was standing, he felt a strange warmth spreading outwards from his chest. Together they were so soft, so aware of each other. And then Bex held her hand out, and he realised he was being invited into their circle. They knew what he was, they didn’t care. They saw every habit, every trait, every mannerism, and yet here they were; helping him heal, encouraging him to move closer.

Swallowing his emotion, he took a step without thinking, too drunk, and too distracted to watch where he was going. It would be less ridiculous somehow if his foot had caught on an object, or a platform. He had the excuse of being unfamiliar with the layout of the house. But even he knew, as he lost his balance and fell to the floor, hitting it with a resounding thud, that he had undeniably tripped over his own feet. Too clumsy, and sluggish to coordinate his limbs, entirely unaware of his own body, pain radiated outwards from a few points of impact, and he hurried to stand, brushing himself off before anybody could make a comment. Letting out a huff of breath, his annoyance genuine, but also playful, he looked Mina in the eye. “Maybe I’m a little drunk.” He admitted begrudgingly. “But only a little.” A smile tugging at his lips, he finally moved to take Bex’s hand, walking with care, glancing down so that he wouldn’t trip again. Slipping his fingers between her own, feeling the heat of her blood beneath her skin, her scent washed over him and he realised in some way she had become home to him. For the first time since leaving the cemetery, he knew he was safe. “Come on,” he pulled her towards the doorway, a laugh escaping him as he considered the teasing he was undoubtedly about to face. “Let’s get outta here…”

#c:bex #c:mina #milo and bex #milo and mina #addiction tw #alcohol tw #medical blood tw #needles tw

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chayacat · 4 years ago

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (12)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

WARNING: This chapter include a rather disturbing scene that is an organ exit, specifically, the intestines and...Other things. If you are a sensitive potato, I apologize for the potential disgust or potential nightmare following this passage. But if you are one of those who has already seen much worse with the saga Saw or Leatherface ... I don't know what to say. ('-') Well then... Have a good read!

***

Do you like to go out at night, when the starry sky honors you with its presence? It's always a fascinating show and it's even more so when a shooting star or an aurora borealis appear. For some, it's the perfect view, the perfect time to show your feelings to the person you love. For others, it’s the spirits of those who have left us who, from heaven, look at us and protect us. And for the Nordics, the aurora borealis is the bridge that connects Midgard and Asgard.

But tonight, it was just a starry sky. A beautiful and mesmerizing starry sky that Danny was looking, leaning against his van. If he had a cigarette on him, he would have smoked it while watching the sky. But Danny wasn't a big fan of cigarettes, in fact he didn't like it at all. He didn't understand why people were ruining their health with such a poison. And the same was true for alcohol. He had no more than two drinks. He had already had the bitter experience of both too many times with his parents.

Hmph. His "parents." Danny calls them his tormentors instead. He remembers his “life” with his parents, his HELL’S life. Since he was young, Danny’s parents treated him like a dog, beating him and insulting him every time for nothing. He did everything to have the attention and love that a child must have. But he received nothing but hatred and disgust from them. His father was an alcoholic and a huge smoker. His mother smoked very little but was obsessed with religion.

For them, Danny was just a mistake, an unwanted child that they had to treat as such. And that's what they did. And if he thought he would find solace in making friends... he was wrong. His classmates made fun of him, and he found himself alone... always alone. He always avoided problems, but when he had to defend himself from the bullies of his school... He did. And if his parents played the comedy in front of the teachers, once at home, Danny was beaten to the point of losing consciousness once.

His years of college and high school were no better... but no worse either. In high school, he had managed to make friends, with whom he often made the wall to go and have fun at night. At that time, he no longer feared the wrath of his parents, especially his "father". He was a cute little boy when he was a child, and as a teenager he was a handsome boy, who attracted a lot of attention. His current appearance, apart from size, has not changed since.

How many girls wanted to go out with him? hundreds. How much did he have been in a relationship? Just two. And one of those two relationships ended badly. Yet he remembered an evening at the fair where he and his friends consulted a fortune teller. He didn't believe in this stuff but it was always a good time to have fun.

“Your life has been nothing but sadness and suffering my boy. But soon, a new life will be offered to you and one day you will finally find the one that is linked to you. The chosen one of your heart, is not here young man, but elsewhere.” she said. He remembers smiling, holding a laugh so as not to offend the old woman. But later, one of his visions proved correct.

“Where do you think you're going like that, you dirty little jerk?! You're not going anywhere! you hear me??” His Dad shout, beating him again.

But this time... It had to stop. He had struck him in return, with a force he did not know himself. Her mother squeaked when she saw her husband on the ground, slightly frightened but still angry.

“I've done everything. Absolutely EVERYTHING to have even a little love! AND WHAT DID I GET?! ONLY BEATINGS AND INSULTS! ... But it's over. I get out of here and believe me that you will have NOTHING of me. You can both go to hell. I hope you die in the worst way there is in this f****ng world.”

And since that day, he has never felt so free and so alive. But what this fortune teller told him always kept him in mind. And if that person with whom he was related... the chosen one of his heart... was simply... You?

Since you both met, you are the only person who has been so pleasant, innocent and... kind to him. Of course, you’re acting like this because he was acting as Jed. But if Jed had never existed, if he had only been himself... Would it have been the same thing?

Maybe... that you'd be in a relationship. He would love you as much as you would love him. He'd protect you, do anything to make you happy. Of course, he would never tell you about his... second "job." But what if you get sick? To the point of ending up in the hospital and dying just like...

“Danny...” He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to remember that. NEVER again.

“Come on Danny. Stay focused. You can’t screw all you've made until now.” He whispers to himself before he puts his Ghostface’s mask on.

He faced Mike's house. Certainly, Mckellan had to die first on the list but... the desire to eviscerate Mike was stronger, more enticing, more... Exciting. Danny licked his lips, thinking about how he was going to take care of his next victim. He had prepared everything, orchestrated and imagined the faces of the unfortunates who would find his corpse.

He's going to pay. Oh yes, he's going to pay SO MUCH for all the humiliation that Danny has endured since he started working at Roseville's Gazette. He's going to regret every fucking word he's said about him. Every fucking blow he's given her. And his attempt to strangle him... in front of everyone... will be the fatal blow that Danny will return to him.

Danny took a gift package and sneaked up to Mike's house. Even if he knows that at this time, everyone is asleep in this neighbourhood, it is better to be careful of a potential walker. He had parked in the same place as last time; he knew that no one ever went there.

He reached the kitchen window and saw it slightly open, so he took advantage of this opportunity to enter the interior without making any noise. He immediately walked to the basement, which was right in front of the kitchen, and went downstairs, realizing to the sound of the water that Mike was in his bathroom, taking a shower. Just perfect.

He rediscovered Mike's "playroom", the one in which he practiced his... disgusting and twisted fantasies. And he's the one we call f****ng psycho? Hmph, Danny found the champion in this category. He admits to being a little crooked sometimes, but really far from doing that kind of crap.

He placed his "gift" on the table before taking an object heavy enough to knock Mike out. As well as a rope to be able to tie him. On the practical side, he didn't need to take anything. Everything was provided to him on the spot, for once.

"How nice you are Mickey... make it easier for me at this point, I would have almost taken you as an assistant ... if you weren’t a fucking pedophile and a drug addict. What a waste. Well, time to call.” Danny said taking out another disposable phone. He hid in a corner of the room, so that Mike would not see him and composed his number. Hoping he got out of the bathroom.

“Hello? Who the f**k is there?” said Mike on the other line. His voice was hoarse and tired. Looks like he smoked more than he should.

“Hello Mickey...Miss me? I hope so.” respond Danny sneering about this situation.

“You little...motherf***er! I don’t know who the f**k you are but you gonna regret everything you do to me, you little shit!”

“What a lovely language...Look since you didn't like my previous gift, I brought you another one... He's in the basement. Why don't you open it? I'm sure you'll like this one!”

“Go f**k yourself with your gift! You trapped me once! and it's already too much for me to leave you alive!” Said Mike enraged.

“You could make an effort Mickey... I bend over backwards to find you a gift to make me forgive and you don't even want to go and see what it is. You're breaking my heart. Too bad... I guess I can send your photos to the authorities... they'll be happy to put you in jail.” Replied Danny getting ready to hang up.

“Rrrrr...Okay Okay ! I'm going to open your gift! You psycho...”

He heard Mike heading towards the stairs before descending to the basement. the excitement caused Danny to tremble, he was waiting for only one thing: for Mike to open his "gift" and see his reaction before knocking him out. And once attached... the party can begin.

He went deeper into the darkness when he saw Mike advancing towards the table where the gift package was. Danny's hands trembled with excitement as Mike trembled with fear. After a moment of hesitation, Mike finally opened the package and backed away, swearing and holding back from vomiting.

Remember when I said a "head was going to fall"? Well, a head actually fell. A man's head now stood on this table, and for Mike it was not unknown to him because he was one of his drug dealers, the one who offered him the best drugs.

The head was cut with sharpness and precision worthy of a surgeon. the face was marked by the drug that this man was consuming and dark circles almost as black as coal were plummeting before his eyes. Teeth had been torn off and tongue cut off.

Mike recoiled a few more metres before feeling a hand on his shoulder, when he turned, he had no time to react and received a blow, strong enough to knock him out. Danny looked at his unconscious body, a diabolical smile on his face. He took the rope and a chair, then lifted Mike's heavy body to attach it to it. He weighed his weight the animal!

“Look at this... What a beautiful sight. Ah Mickey... I will make you my most beautiful bloody work the world has ever seen... I'm going to make myself a huge pleasure to cut you pieces into pieces... make you suffer until your last breath.” Said Danny before laughing, thinking about all this.

Mike awoke after 30 minutes and, quickly noticing that he was tied to the chair, he tried to untie the ties. Unfortunately for him, Danny had tightened them up to the max. The latter came up to him, sneering, passing his gloved finger over the blade of his knife.

“Sleep well? I was starting to worry I thought I'd killed you too fast... it would have been a shame after everything I've planned for you... Don't you think so?” He said taking Mike's face with his hand.

“You’re f***ing twisted! You’re a crazy psycho! Let me go! Said Mike giggling in his chair.

“Oh... Not right now. We've just met face to face... I'm not going to shorten this moment so quickly.” replied Danny approaching his knife to Mike’s cheek. “So, do you like my gift? I must admit It wasn’t easy to find him because...He’s like a rat running everywhere in the house to steal some food. But he was so cooperative after I ripped off his tooth and cut off his tongue.

“P-P-Please...Don’t do this! Take everything you want!”

“Everything?” Said Danny before exploding with laughter. “But everything I want is your SCREAMS and you DEATH. After all you did, this is all you deserved. Fair enough don’t you think? But you know what? Since you're going to die... you’ll see your executioner's face.” He replied before taking off his mask.

“Ol...Olsen...”

“Oh, it’s true. My name is NOT Jed Olsen.” He said cutting off each of his hands with a blow, which made Mike scream a lot. “I’m Danny Johnson...The Ghostface. And I'm gonna take a real pleasure to slaughter you for everything you've done to me... You're not going to be a loss anyway. Because unlike you... I don't spend my fantasies on children."

He put on his mask on and thrust his knife deep into Mike's stomach, killing him like a pig. he pulled out the intestines that hung like ropes. he stabbed him many times, piercing his eyes, cutting his virility and his tongue before finishing him off with a sharp blow to the throat. Blood squirted everywhere, and in this show, Danny's crazy laugh was heard, he had nothing to fear, Mike had soundproofed the room for his... Fantasies. No one outside could hear it... and no one was going to come to Mike's house at this hour.

But it wasn't over oh no... He has to finish his work. He took Mike's intestines and cut them into fine pieces before throwing them all over his corpse like confetti that’s thrown at a party. After all, it's a party, isn't it? He took the drug dealer's decapitated head and carefully placed it in Mike's arms with a little message on it: "I, Mike Harris, killed this man without any remorse." And he placed Mike’s d**k on his mouth instead of his tongue which layed on the ground.

“I don't like being robbed of the star Mickey... but I confess that making you look like a murderer on this one makes me laugh a lot... We'll keep you the worst image of your existence, pedophile, drug addict and murderer. Jackpot. Now...Say Cheese!” Said Danny before taking a picture. “One down. There's one left. Sooner or later McKellan...you’ll meet the devil himself. And then... I could focus a little more on my sweet angel.”

As with every murder, he erased all traces of his passage, and after making sure of it, he left as discreetly as he had arrived. Then he took the road to go home. But before sinking into the arms of Morpheus... A small visit is necessary.

The window of your bedroom was barely open, but that's more than enough for Danny to pass his knife and open the window just enough to pass. You were sleeping peacefully, the blanket almost covering your head but he could still see your face, your little and adorable angel face... He stood frozen in front of you for a few seconds, a smile on his face. Then he took a picture, an umpteenth trophy, an umpteenth memory.

“Don’t worry... Soon, all your problems will disappear... and I'd be the ONLY one to obstruct your thoughts. In a good way. Sleep well, my little sweet star...And never forget...” He said, kissing your forehead. “You’re mine. And only MINE.”

And then he vanished. As if no one had ever entered this intimate place... But little by little... The devil tightens his grip on you. Even if he will continue to scare you... He will do anything to be the only object of your obsessions.

And he won't let anyone near you.

***

(And it’s done! Phew thinking about Mike’s death wasn’t easy but I've made it! Again, I hope you’ll enjoy it like the other ones and if you got some questions or you just want to talk you can! For now, the French potato girl I am will get some rest! have a good week end everyone! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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suttttton · 4 years ago

Text

Elias Bouchard vs. Destiny

Febuwhump, Day 4 (alternate): Identity Reveal

***

Working at the Magnus Institute is… surprisingly normal.

At best, Elias expects to see his own terror reflected in his coworkers’ eyes. At worst, he fears they will all be like Wright, their eyes cold and monstrous and hungry. He expects to be brought into a world of darkness, to face true monsters that ordinary people never imagined existed.

Were you drawn here? Against your will?—

Instead, his job is just… paperwork. Spooky paperwork, sure, but still paperwork. He talks to a lot of people on the phone, most of whom admit that the statement they gave was just a prank or a dare or whatever. Even the people who genuinely believe their experiences were real seem… more than a little unhinged.

“It saw me through the pages, it’s coming”—

He avoids James Wright, of course. It isn’t difficult. Wright spends most of his time in his office on the third floor, only occasionally coming down to visit Research. When that happens, it’s easy enough for Elias to excuse himself for a smoke break, avoiding Wright’s eyes the entire way. Elias doesn’t understand why his coworkers don’t do the same, although he imagines it would get very crowded in the alley behind the Institute if all of Research tried to take a smoke break at once.

The first time he sees his line manager return from a meeting with Wright, Elias watches her very closely, looking for… unease. Fear. Anything to reflect the way he feels whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wright in the halls.

She notices him looking, and smiles at him. No sign of distress in her whatsoever.

Elias returns to his work, but the moment sticks with him. She’d just spent thirty minutes having a meeting with a monster, and she isn’t the slightest bit disturbed.

Have you ever had an experience that you would consider supernatural?—

They don’t know.

All of these people who work here, who interact with Wright every day, and none of them know. Elias is the only one who sees it. Elias is… different.

Elias doesn’t get much work done, that day.

***

Two months later, Elias’s line manager informs him that he has a performance review scheduled with Mr. Wright.

His mouth is dry. “But—I thought you did my performance reviews.” He tries for a smile, but it’s weak.

“Mr. Wright likes to do an in-person review with everyone at the end of every quarter,” she says. She notices the look on his face, and softens slightly. “It’s no big deal. They usually only take five minutes or so. He just goes over the reviews I submitted, and asks if there’s anything he can do to improve your experience here.” She rolls her eyes. “Standard management stuff.”

“Okay,” Elias says, his voice faint. He has to go into that office again? Sit across from the thing that looks out from behind James Wright’s eyes, and just—what? Pretend he isn’t terrified?

Allan’s lifeless body—

What did they do with his eyes?—

“He won’t fire you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” his line manager says. Her voice is gentle, very different from the thinly-veiled annoyance she usually addresses him with. “Wright hasn’t fired anyone the whole time I’ve been here, and your reviews are fine. You’ll be okay.”

“Right,” Elias manages.

The day of the review, Elias seriously considers going to work high.

He decides against it. Wright would know, and then he’d smile and ask Elias some question that he isn’t prepared for, that no one would be prepared for.

What are you afraid of? A very sensible fear—

Elias wonders what would happen if he just—skipped the review. It would be rescheduled, probably. He could skip it again, obviously, but he isn’t sure Wright would tolerate a farce like that for very long.

So, at 2:00pm, he climbs the stairs to Wright’s office. By now, his terror has faded to a blank numbness, an acceptance that he can’t stop whatever is about to happen. He almost feels like laughing.

“Do you enjoy your work here?” Wright asks, after he’s seated and the little introductions are complete.

“Yes,” Elias says, and it isn’t even a lie. He does enjoy the work. He enjoys the variety involved in followup, enjoys chatting with total strangers on the phone. He gets along with his coworkers, and even his line manager is more tolerable than other bosses he’s had. He’d be planning his career here, if not for James Wright’s unfortunate presence. As it is, he’s just trying to survive each day.

“Is there anything about working here that you… hate?”

Elias is not going to tell James Wright that he hates him. He’s not. That’s clearly what Wright wants, leering at him as he is, but Elias refuses to engage with these games.

“Uh—The commute,” Elias says. “It’s a bit far from my flat, and taking the tube every day isn’t exactly the height of luxury.”

“Yes, I’d imagine it would be difficult for you, dealing with the unwashed masses every day.” Wright is still smiling in that cold, slightly-bored way of his. Like what he’s just said is a normal sentence, and not—

“So many gifts, and you’ve squandered them all”—

“What?” Elias’s voice is soft now.

“Do you miss the luxury?” Wright asks, his smile curling up into something more vicious, and Elias—

“Enough! Your friend died in a tragic murder, and it’s well past time you accepted that!”—

No, no, Allan knew what was going to happen, he told me—

“You had a bad drug trip. That’s all.”—

It wasn’t—I didn’t imagine this, there was a book and—

Elias gasps, suddenly back in the present. Wright’s expression is exactly the same. Elias is trembling. This shouldn’t—Wright shouldn’t be able to—What do these questions have to do with his performance?

“Are we done here?” Elias manages, his voice soft to hide its shaking.

“Not quite,” Wright says brightly. “There’s still the matter of your past reviews.” Elias’ review forms are stacked on Wright’s desk, and Wright picks them up, flicking through them. “In general, Lydia’s feedback is very positive, but there are a few concerning things here. You chronically miss deadlines, and on a few of your cases you’ve neglected to follow very promising leads.”

“I’ll try to do better.” Elias’ voice is flat, toneless. The numbness is returning.

“See that you do,” Wright says. “I hope to see improvement by next quarter.”

Elias nods.

What are they doing to his eyes?—

Wright dismisses him, and he makes his way back downstairs. He should return to his desk, return to his caseload that he’s been largely ignoring in favor of panicking about his review.

But he—can’t.

He goes to the alley instead, lights a cigarette with trembling hands. His shaky legs won’t hold him, even when he leans against the wall, so he ends up sitting on the ground.

The first sob forces its way up his throat, and then—he’s crying.

Sobbing on the filthy ground in the alley behind his less-than-respectable workplace. Pathetic. What would Father say?

Probably, “Elias, I’ll be happy to talk to you once you get help for your drug addiction.” Christ.

While he cries, Elias tries to think of what to do. He could quit, he supposes. But he really does need this job. His bank account had been full when his parents first cut him off, and there were provisions in the trust to provide for his needs when he was still in school. Now, though, his money really is running concerningly low. He needs the paycheck.

His tears are just starting to slow when the door opens. Elias starts, turns his face away, trying to hide the fact that he’s crying while hiding from his job.

“Oh—sorry,” she says. Elias recognizes the voice, they work together in Research. He can’t quite remember her name—Megan, maybe? “I can go, if you want some privacy.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says, and his voice wobbles. If she didn’t already know he’d been crying, she definitely does now.

She sits down on the step just outside the door. “Um—are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Right. Yeah, I also like to come out here and cry when I’m feeling fine,” she says, her voice light with humor.

Elias smiles slightly, and wipes some of the wetness from his face. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m all ears,” she says. “Unless you really don’t want to talk about it, in which case, keep your secrets.”

Elias doesn’t respond to that. Doesn’t know how to reply, really. It would be nice, to talk to someone about it, but—It seems cruel, to force someone else into this mess. If she even believed him.

“I just—” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but… We look after each other, in Research. A lot of the people who work here don’t really have support networks in our personal lives—ghost stories attract lonely people, I guess—so we try to support each other. So… if you need someone to talk to about this, you can talk to me.

Elias takes a breath. Might as well try. “Have you—noticed anything… off, about Wright?”

“Oh, you mean his whole mind-reading thing? Sure,” she says. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t take a moment to consider.

“I—yes,” Elias says, a little unbalanced. She knew? “The way he—drags up all your worst memories.”

“Oh yeah, he’s like that,” she says, wincing. “Did you just have your first performance review? Those can be kind of intense.”

He nods, uncertainly. She’s talking about this as if it’s completely normal.

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” she says. “In research, we like to make jokes about it. She wiggles her fingers at him. “'Ooh, I know everything about you,’” she says mockingly, pitching her voice down.

Elias doesn’t laugh. Just stares. “Aren’t you afraid of him?”

She laughs, really laughs, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “What’s he gonna do, fire me? No. Why would I be afraid of him?” Then she sobers. “Are you afraid of him?”

Something sinks in Elias’s chest. He’d assumed that they didn’t know, that Elias was unique in being able to see Wright’s monstrous nature.

Turns out he’s just unique in being frightened by it.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Just—had a bad performance review.”

She nods in commiseration, and he excuses himself not long after. Returns to his desk, his heart loud in his ears. He looks around at his co-workers, all of them so happy, so careless. Why aren’t they afraid?

Why did you heed the call?—

He doesn’t know.

He can’t trust them.

***

He asks to be transferred to Artifact Storage, and his request is accepted, albeit with some strange looks. No one requests to go to Artifact Storage.

For him, it’s infinitely preferable to Research. The monsters in Artifact Storage are acknowledged, for one. Feared, treated with caution. Not allowed to run a so-called research institute. Not joked about. For two, the turnover rate is so high that he won’t have to deal with pretend camaraderie. He knows, now, that he can’t trust any of these people. He’s on his own.

For four years, he does his work, cataloging dangerous artifacts, sending the more junior assistants to do the more dangerous tasks. He doesn’t try to be good at his job, he doesn’t want to be good at his job, but after years of working in Artifact Storage, he is by far the most senior member of the staff. He starts to pick up a few tricks. He becomes knowledgeable. People respect him.

His line manager says he’s looking to transfer to the Library, and asks if Elias would like to be recommended for the promotion. Does he want to be Head of Artifact Storage?

He should say no, but some part of him that never quite managed to kill its ambition answers for him. “I’d be honored,” he says.

***

Meetings with Wright never get easier. In four years, he manages to drag up everything Elias would rather keep hidden, everything he doesn’t want to think about. Allan is a popular subject, as are his parents. And there’s always—

He cannot move. He cannot scream. What are they doing to his eyes?—

Elias doesn’t get used to it, and when Wright schedules a meeting with him to discuss his forthcoming promotion, Elias dreads it just as much as that very first performance review.

“I am very impressed with your progress,” Wright says, steepling his fingers over his desk.

“Thank you,” Elias says.

“Nearly five years in Artifact Storage,” Wright says. “I wouldn’t have guessed it, but perhaps I should have. You’re not a brave man by any means, but what does that matter, when you’re running from the most frightening thing you can imagine?”

What are they doing to his eyes?—

Elias swallows. There’s something heavy in the air. He always feels watched, in the Institute, in Wright’s office, but this is—different, somehow. Closer.

“If you were more curious, you actually might have guessed it. If you’d looked into the history of the Institute, investigated the men who preceded me in this position. You might have noticed certain similarities. You’re smart enough to have put the pieces together, but alas.”

—squandered—

“You never were the curious sort, were you? You were more interested in self-preservation than answers. Keeping your distance from anyone who might drag you away from your… destiny.”

Wright stands, and Elias flinches. “I-I don’t—” This is wrong. Something is wrong.

This is the place I know I should be—

But—

“What did you imagine was calling you here?” Wright says, and now he’s close, too close, towering over him. Elias wants to stand, want to retreat, but he doesn’t—He can’t move—

Wright places his hands on the two arms of Jonah’s chair, trapping him. Elias shrinks back, as far as he can get. “Did you think it was something noble, that you were destined to be a hero of light, to put an end to the sickness of this place? You would drive a knife into my eyes, killing the monster and setting everyone free?”

He doesn’t know what he thought. He thought he was destined for something better, to be something more than other people.

“You will be,” Wright says, leaning over him, too close. “Have you figured it out yet?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, a sob gasping from his throat.

Wright smiles. “James Wright didn’t either.”

***

When the thing that now controls his body takes over the Magnus Institute, they all think, nepotism at its finest.

Elias understands why he’s here, now. Understands the thing that called him here. Understands the many paths he could have taken, to reach a different end. Too late.

Elias’ eyes are carved out of his still-breathing body, and the Eye feasts on latent terror, cultivated so perfectly, for so long.

Elias is replaced, and no one misses him. He himself ensured that no one who worked with him knew anything about him. And everyone else is dead already.

James Wright is discarded. Elias Bouchard is taken.

Jonah Magnus lives on.

#tma #tma fic #tma spoilers #mag 193 #hey i wrote an episode fic! exciting!#febuwhump #febuwhumpday4 #scopophobia cw #manipulation cw #parents cw #my fic #fun fact! i had to write the first ~1500 words of this TWICE because my computer crashed and lost everything

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dreaminpeaches · 4 years ago

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(Welcome to the daydream drawing board, a tag where I share some my newest ideas not all of these ideas will be thought out--mostly just quick points-- but it's just nice to have them some where...oof)

TW: angst, mention of domestic abuse, child abuse, alcohol mentioned, father mentioned, bullying and guilt...

(Be sure you're mentally ready, you can come back later or take breaks while reading, it's kind of long...oof)

The most recent concept I dreamed up is about a couple consisting of a reformed/"retired" highschool bully/jock who falls for the new nerdy woman in town, this paracosm is mildly inspired by A Silent Voice, Bojack Horseman and Strange things (but only like a little bit)

Beau

He was the high school quarterback and star player

He was super popular and everyone wanted to be around him

His fave after school activities where smoking under the blenchers (after practice), going out to parties, making out with hotest girls in school (usually the new girls), bullying the weaker "outcast" kids, flirting with older women into getting him and his friends alcohol, and other dumb jock stuff

Beau always made fun of the weird nerdy kids; giving them swirlies, stuffing them in lockers, hiding their belongs (glasses, inhalers, backpacks, calculators, handle gaming devices etc), and throwing a few knuckle sandwiches at them on his worst days.

Beau bullied other because he had a rough home life, his father was abusive and usually came home angry and would take out his anger on the family (, mostly Beau's mom)

Beau's parents had him at young age, Beau's dad had big dreams at becoming a famous author but had a hard time getting his books picked up and blamed his career failures on Beau

Beau would try to protect his family from his dad's outburst but the only person he could protect successful was his little brother, Devin.

When Beau would try to protect his mother he would get brutally beaten by his dad in process, sometimes he would get hit so bad that he blacked out, because of this Beau's mom would tell him go to the treehouse and take his little brother with him in hopes they wouldn't hear their parents fight

In the treehouse, Beau would read books to Devin to distract him from what was happening, one of Devin's favorite books was "Is there a horse in your house?" A simple book about looking for a horse in a house, Devin would always find this book funny and hearing his little brother's laugh made Beau feel better, so Beau wouldn't mind having to read it over and over again. (This was back when Beau was in early middle school and Dev was in kindergarten)

Beau and Dev knew it was "safe" to come out, when their mother said dinner was ready, but there would be some days where they end up sleeping in the treehouse and waking up to their mom telling them breakfast was ready and they had to eat quietly while their dad slept

It was in middle school, Beau started to bully other kids, he liked the power and feeling of being able to fight someone and win, to be the one to be feared instead of being afaird, it was addicting

Football became a better way to cope with his feeling but he still bullied none the less.

Football was the only time where his dad wasn't as much of jerk, it was almost like Beau's dad was felt like an actual father when watching football, and being on the football team was an achievement his dad was actually proud of beau for, so thanksgiving and super bowl season was a somewhat peaceful time

Around sophomore year his mother finally got away from her abusive husband, soon after Beau's mom fell in love with a nice man, who actually cared about her and they got married and had a daughter together who became Beau's little sister, Carrie whom he loves dearly..

Beau is super over protective of his family (protecting both his siblings from other bullies, ironically), to the point where even when his mom found a new lover, Beau still keep his guard up and because of this his step dad is kind of intimidated by him

Beau was able to bond with his step dad over cars and mechanics, a topic Beau was obsessed about since middle school because he would dream of building a car that would be able to drive him and his family far away from his father as possible without stopping

Beau's step dad owns a gas station/mechanics shop, Beau would help out in the shop on weekends when he was free and occasionally steal beer for parties.

Despite his bully/typical jock persona Beau is actually quite patient especially when it comes to younger kids

Due how stressful her home life was, Beau would take it upon himself to look after his little brother and do chores around the house when his mom was unable to, he would even cook dinner and breakfast (a skill he learned to do at an earlier age compared to his peers), his dad often called him a "Sissy" for doing so..

Beau never asked for allowance, since his family was kind of tight on money he felt bad for asking, so he just took lunch money and allowance from the kids he bullied. Money would go to grocery money, money to buy gifts for his mother/brother, money to help with rent , or money just to buy the new NFL game or some alcohol or cigarettes.

In his high school days , sometimes when Beau didn't want to deal with his dad/home life he would crash at friends place or stay over after a party but he would call up to make sure his little brother/mother/sister were okay

Beau started smoking on a dare, when he realized it kind help ease the mental pain, he started doing it for real (same with drinking)

Even Beau liked to drink, he never drove drunk or let his friends drive drunk, if was a party mostly consisting of his friends he would try his best to be the sober one to drive everyone home

Beau was set to be a big football star once he graduated highschool he even got into an ivy league school, but there was something stopping him from focusing fully on his studies, (that and the fact he kind of cheated since he let the nerds he bullied do most of his homework since he didn't have time or just do lazy to actually do it himself in highschool), so he ended up flunking out

During the time he dropped out his step dad needed an extra hand at the shop, so he thought might as well go back home

At first Beau thought his family would be disappointed in him but they couldn't be more happy that he was back home especially his siblings

It was when he returned to his hometown that he finally realized what was feeling was haunting him this whole time it was the feeling of guilt he had gotten from being a bully for so long. Since most of his jock friends were busy with their college career, it left him with little to no friends in his hometown, Everytime he saw a familiar face around town it was usually one of his former victims, seeing them would give him a weird sick oozey feeling in his stomach, and it didn't help that his step dad ran popular mechanic shop that was frequented by the locals, the feeling of guilt got so bad at times, he would stay home from work but wouldn't really tell his parents why out of fear that they would hate him.

So, when Beau meets the new woman in town, Bonnie who works at the comic book shop/arcade/maid cafe, who becomes the only person Beau can talk to in town besides his family, and he starts to fall for her. He feels conflicted because this would be someone he would totally bully in high school, but shes really so nice and sweet to him, does he really deserve girl that nice, what happens if she finds out about his past, will Bonnie still love him.

Beau makes it his mission to try and make amends with the people he has bullied over the years, at first he does this on his own (with a little help for Dev whose middle school age now), without Bonnie knowing but one of the nerds used to bully kind of sorta also gets a crush on Bonnie and feels like she's too good for Beau, and tries to expose him for the "fiend" he is. This leads to Beau having mental break down when he knows Bonnie knows about his past, but she comforts him and accepts him for who he is, and helps him try to make amends with his past victims...

Some people accept Beau's apology right away (understanding his background), others take a while, some don't forgive Beau at all, which he respectfully understands, he was kind of jerk

Oof, this is prolly gonna be the most heavy paracosm I have if I continue it, but if I do post about it's mostly gonna be fluffy light stuff--nerd/jock dynamic interactions, along with toll/smoll dynamic interactions. OH by the way this paracosm is set in the 80/90s maybe early 2000s because they don't use smartphones in this paracosm it's mostly payphones, landlines, VHS tapes, DVDs and tape records (but I will use modern music if and when I make a playlist, so it might be a mixed timeline) also I don't have a name for this paracosm might edit one in later...

#immersive daydreaming #paraportal #paracosm #daydream drawing board #tw: alchohol mention #tw: abuse #tw: heavy angst #tw: heavy topics #para: beau

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springtimebat · 4 years ago

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Dragon-Smoke

The monster was born on an October morning.

The mother lay on a makeshift bed, her legs in the air, her hands grasping the iron bars of the headboard. Three midwives, three fates cutting a golden thread, three phantoms, three pairs of pincers held her down and interfered with parts of her body she never let anyone touch. Not even the father. Her hair, once golden brown, had greyed. Her eyes were squeezed closed, her nose was snotty and her mouth yelled obscenities at the autumn air. She screamed at the looming circus tent, at the freaks, at the demon, at the father, at the husband and finally, at the cross. It lay there. Just...lay there. Golden, holier than thou, on the old steeple wall in the mother’s mind; it scoffed at her with an imaginary mouth and wicked eyes. She’d been a nurse years ago. She’d wanted to be a nun.

“Bless you,” The cross snarled from another place not so far away.

The father stood outside the tent, his golden curls waving about his head as the wind danced. At every other birth he’d been in the operating room when the time came. The first few times holding this wife’s legs down with the rest of them, leaving sticky, silky marks all the way up her calves when he had a passionate turn. The last few times he’d sat in the back, smoking a pipe and yelling encouraging words over his wife’s curses. It had been in the afternoon then; that was no time for a man to lose himself to the throes of passion. His eyes were just slivers as he looked up at the warm morning skies, their golden reds and their dark golds twisting among the stars and the waxing moon. A waxing moon. All the others had been delivered on a full moon. The father took a puff of his cigarette (he had just moved on from pipes, at a companion’s request when the smoke became too thick to stand) and gave a smile that would make the devil shiver. This would be a special one.

The father, all alone, began to think of past times. He began to remember what it had been like to be Billy Young, over a lifetime ago. He’d never done that before. The name seemed so stifling then. Once it had chained him down, placed a giant padlock on his chest, directly over his heart. He’d not been a man of power. A man of importance. He’d just been Billy; the third son of Harold Young. After that, the fourth child out of a future nine. He was one of nine. That’s how he was seen. By his father. By his mother. By his older brothers and sisters. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. But he’d shown them. They were all gone now. He’d outlived them. Once, there had been a family of twelve, ruling the carnival freaks. Now, only Billy Young remained. The freaks answered to him and only him.

Lucy Albarn floated past him, a dove in the guise of a penguin. He’d noticed her one day. One ordinary day with a not-so ordinary outcome. Billy Young had been marching with his freaks; a top hat sat on his head, a smirk spread across his face, a clown and a blind girl held onto his sides, begging for scraps of his glory to devour. Billy Young was a king. The father sighed wistfully as he recalled his top hat; his crown. He’d seen all sorts that day, as usual, but no one stood out. A cold eight in the morning had turned into a boiling four in the afternoon and wearing his jacket hadn’t been such a grand idea. He tried to find a place where he could calm down, compose himself, as the heat threatened to strip him away. That was when he saw Lucy Albarn, her eyes like saucepans, staring. At him. At him! Not Harold Junior, not Allister Young two years his senior: him. She saw him gazing at her, taking notice, and her mouth opened slightly in a little gasp. He shifted a little, his stance grew askew. His hand flew up and gave a wave. Lucy Albarn waved back. He saw her now in the cigarette smoke, waving and grinning slyly. It was funny; he was there for a short time, always moving, always changing, always followed by a circus, always shadowed by the tent. She had been there, in that town (he couldn’t remember the name), probably all her life, and she stood there, looking him in the eye (and oh, how big her eyes were), smirking at him. Grinning. It was a secret smile, the one Lucy Albarn had given him that day, in the horrible heat, just before her other penguin friends whisked her away from him for a short while. It was a friend’s smile, it was a lover’s smile, it was a wife’s smile. It was a smile that he’d tried to get her to show him ever since. It was the smile that made Billy Young realise he liked Lucy Albarn. It was that secret, devious, evil little smirk that made him realise he wanted to marry her.

The next few years were a giant blur, cut into ribbons by his addiction to cigars, rum and producing heirs. An incident in an alleyway may have happened, involving Billy Young, Lucy Albarn and three or four strongmen and a burlap sack. At least, Lucy Albarn had testified that it had happened. But, as everyone knew, she wasn’t quite… right anymore. She hadn’t been since the first baby, the clowns would occasionally mutter. Billy disagreed. He’d say she went wrong on their wedding day. He stood at the altar with the priest who’d kindly agreed to officiate (abruptly, suddenly, there was a flash of a gun cocking, a bat being drawn from the carnival folks mass of hands, claws and hooves), waiting proudly, patiently, as she walked down the aisle. Her hair was still a golden brown, hidden by his mother’s old veil, and she hunched over as she stumbled up to them, ashamed. And, as the priest began to recite his scripture, she looked up at Billy Young for the first time in weeks. She gazed at him, her owl eyes glazed over like glass. Then, she gave him a small smile. It was not the smirk he desired; no she’d never pull it again, not after the first one got her into so much trouble. It wasn’t really a smile, if he was being honest with himself. It was just a slight curve of the lips. It was a small cry of mercy. Billy Young realised, then and there, that this was Lucy Albarn’s final attempt to plead with him. After being taken from her home, being beaten by a group of strangers and being caged in a freak show for three never ending weeks, she was about to break. As she gazed at him with those glass eyes, she searched this man for any sign of Billy Young; the boy with the top hat, the boy with golden curls, the shade of the sun, the boy who noticed her in a crowd of thousands. The boy she had smirked at. He smirked instead, when she looked down and her shoulders slumped. Moments later, a priest declared that Lucy Albarn was now Lucy Young, her husband lifted her off the ground and strode towards his tent (their tent now) and to their bed.

His wife’s silence finally brought Billy back to earth and he turned back towards the same tent, now threadbare and drenched of colour. The three midwives pushed their way outside, their mangled hands holding bloody towels. They began to bicker amongst themselves, about pay, about personal rights, but they saw their master out of the corner of their eyes and put on their brave faces. They were all simpering and sweet smiles. It made him feel sick. Lucy would do the same thing once he made his way to her. That was the worst part.

Billy Young of Young’s Cabinet of Curiosities cleared his throat, “Everything in order?”

“Yes sir!” One midwife with a missing eye said.

“A normal birth sir!” one with a snout for a nose said.

“Here’s hoping it’s a healthy one sir!” the last with a stump instead of a leg said.

“One to live a long and happy life sir!” They all croaked together as a loansome chorus.

“Hmm cheers,” Billy grumbled, “How’s Lucy?”

“Fine. Fine. Could have another ten chillies, if you wish it sir.”

“Good,” Billy changed focus to the tent. Inside was silent. Unnaturally silent.

“I’d like to see my family. I won’t be at the big top for the rest of the day,” with that, Billy let his cigarette fall to the ground and crushed it under his rider’s boots, “Wilson is in charge ‘till I return. You three get back to work.”

The midwives raced away towards the shadowy hills, grumbling about promotions and the unfairness of it all. Billy watched them go, taking his time. He had all the time in the world. Lucy had all the time in the world. The baby had all the time in the world. Slowly, he lifted the flap of the tent up and stepped inside to greet his family.

How many was it now? Surely it had been about ten right? Ten babies. That meant it had been at least twelve years. Twelve years full of babies, travelling, Billy Young. In all of those years, Lucy had never given birth to a child that didn’t scream. Margot, Janie, Billy Junior, Kyle…. All the others that had gone before she could give them names. They’d all had a powerful set of lungs.

“They all took after their father,” Lucy thought grimly as she pulled herself up out of bed. They’d left the tent in disarray; towels had been thrown onto the floor, a shelf had been pushed on the way out, leaving her books in disarray and a stained mattress growing strange, green fur out of its sides had been put next to Lucy’s bed. The monster lay on that mattress, wrapped in the threadbare blanket his brothers and sisters had been nursed in. Still, something else was wrong.

“Something’s missing,” Lucy realised, scanning the room.

Then it hit her. She turned to the tent entrance. The cross that had taunted her was gone, stolen from the patchwork wall.

Lucy sighed,”Strange thing to take,” she thought to herself as she went to meet her new baby. Still, she shouldn't be surprised. She knew she was surrounded by strange folk.

The baby was small and thin, which made Lucy worry.

“I can’t have another one,” She whispered, picking the thing up, “I know I can’t.”

Then, the baby’s hand, bright pink and chubby, grabbed onto her wrist and the mother’s fear faded away. It was a boy, which would please the demon once he decided to make himself known. He had hair; all his siblings had been bald. Not only that but it was a dark, dark brown, wild and curly as his little head swivelled around looking for food. Lucy pulled her dress down and put him to her chest, being rewarded with a clumsy slurp a few moments later. As he ate, his eyes went up to her face, startling her. He wasn’t squinting. No, he was staring at her, as if he were fully aware of everything. His eyes were blue. Forget me not blue. Lucy smiled. All the others had green eyes,their father’s eyes. These were her eyes. They were the one pair of friendly eyes she’d seen in a long, long time. It sounded crazy, but this baby looked almost...sad. It seemed to understand everything within minutes of its birth. Lucy relaxed and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, listening to her son’s noises as if they were a lullaby.

“You’re gonna be ok, aren’t you?” she asked her baby quietly. The baby blinked in response.

The father strolled in from the morning light, his top hat on his head, his eyes tired and weary. Billy smiled proudly once he saw his wife feeding their newborn son on the bed.

“You’re gonna be ok right?” He asked, with a voice like honey. Lucy grunted, trying to focus on her son, who’d stopped eating and was now nuzzling his head against her breast. Quickly, she hauled him over her shoulder and patted him on the back. The baby burped quietly soon afterwards.

Billy chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. Lucy tucked their son back into his blanket and pretended to look at the wall.

“Can I hold them?” Billy whispered. Lucy sighed. She hated when he begged her. He sounded so pathetic. She slowly handed the boy over to his father, taking extra care to support his head. Billy smiled at her then turned to his son.

“It’s a boy,” Lucy whispered, lying back on the pillows. Her back made a terrible cracking sound, making Billy turn to her.

“You just relax for a while. I’ll get the midwives to nurse him for you,” He stroked the baby, curling a few locks of his hair around his thin fingers. The boy gurgled and his father cooed in delight. Lucy furrowed her brow, suspicious.

“No, I want to do it. He’s mine.”

Billy shook his head, “You need to rest. You can’t even take care of yourself, much less a baby,” He stood up and walked the baby around the tent, bouncing him in his arms. The boy squealed, “You got a name in mind yet, honey?”

“No,” Lucy closed her eyes. She never thought of the names.

“Huh. Ok.” Billy stroked his son’s cheek, thinking. The baby began to gnaw at his nail.

“I like this one,” Billy chuckled. Lucy groaned, “How about Owen eh?”

“Sure that’s nice,” Lucy moaned. She just wanted to sleep. Billy bent down to sit next to his exhausted wife in bed.

“Look at that, you’re both out like lights,” He showed her Owen, who had begun to snore. Lucy rolled her eyes. Billy stroked her forehead with another hand, catching beads of sweat.

“You two get some rest for now okay? I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Sure.”

“Love you honey.”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Billy handed Owen back to her and lay down on the bed, staring happily at the ceiling. Lucy glared at the sleeping baby in her arms; the son her husband seemed to adore almost immediately.

“I thought we had a deal,” she thought, “This is not how you stay okay.”

The newborn answered with a snore.

Lucy kissed her son’s forehead and fell asleep with him her aching arms.

#a devil's palm story #creative writing #my writing #horror #fantasy #parallel worlds #supernatural #paranormal #carnivals #the outcome of burnout #cryptidcore #cryptids #oddcore #weirdcore #linked to the devil and the seer #sequel post #linked to a poem i wrote a while ago #southern gothic #american gothic

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gothealed · 4 years ago

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NINA GOTHEL - ARCS

inspired by @zzozo <3

𝐀𝐑𝐂 I : 𝐏𝐑𝐄-𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒

the youngest daughter of mother gothel , nina grew up isolated and almost entirely alone on the isle of the lost , with only her mother and her older half-sister ginny as company . an introvert at heart , she preferred to keep to herself rather than make allies with other isle born children or dedicate herself to a gang or faction . she reasons that it is too much baggage , that other people are too much weight to carry , but she knows that it is truly because no one really cares about her . when most ask what their opinion of her is , they would say that she is dull and entirely forgettable ; that there was nothing remarkable about her , even with her legendary heritage . she certainly wasn’t comparable to her older sister , that’s for sure .

it isn’t until the day she is fleeing a group of bog boys that she meets james stabbington , the son of sideburns stabbington . and suddenly , something has changed in her ; he tells her she’s beautiful , and unique , and clever , and she can’t help herself . she opens herself up to him , despite the worry in her gut that warns her against it . she’s sure that it couldn’t end too horribly .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈𝐈 : 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒

she had been wrong . it couldn’t have ended more terribly , in fact . after he had stolen half of nina’s personal belongings , made himself comfortable in her bed , inserted himself into every crevice of her life , the other shoe drops . he tells her that the sex was alright , but that he felt it was time to move on . and it all comes rushing to her head , that she had just been a toy , a plaything , that she had given him everything she had and he had taken it and had no intention of giving anything to her . and he had tried to walk away , but she wasn’t going to let him get away with this . in a blind fit of rage , she grabs the first thing she sees , a baseball bat , and chases after him . when she’s finished , his nose is permanently crooked and scarred , and she leaves him practically unconscious on the ground . she feels empty and used up .

but despite her revenge , he still manages to get the upper hand on her . when he recovers , the rumours begin to spread . how she’s crazy and possessive , how he had attempted to break off the relationship and she had thrown a fit and attacked him , wanting to ruin his face so no one could ever want him again . then rumours spread that she was easy , that she slept with all of his friends while they were together ; in fact , she slept with anything with a heartbeat , according to him . the rumours were nasty and they did not hold back ; and it had its desired effect . no one would go anywhere near nina gothel , not unless they thought they could take her home with them . and the worst part hadn’t even been that , but the aftermath of her mother finding out she had been disobediant and sneaking a boy into the house and seeing him in secret .

with no more privacy , no friends to defend her , and nowhere to run , she watches the limo carry the core four through the barrier and hopes to god that they succeed in taking the barrier down . not for the sake of evil , but so she can run far away from this place , from these people , and never look back . in the meantime , all she has to cope is cheap booze and the cigarette addiction that james gave her .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝟐

the barrier doesn’t come down , and so nina is left stuck in dire circumstances that she has no control over . all she can do now is control how she protects herself , how she guards everything about herself . she completely shuts out anyone who tries to get close , and practically stops appearing in public altogether to avoid the unwanted propositions thrown her way at every turn . she carries as many knives as she can possibly hold on her body , all concealed beneath her clothes , perfectly unassuming until someone gets too close . if she had been dependent on booze and cigarettes before , it was ten times worse now ; it’s a crutch now , it’s something she cannot last a day without . the cigarettes calm her anxiety , soothes the shaking in her hands that stems from her exhaustion , her lack of sleep , her shitty life at home . the alcohol tamps down the emotions she so desperately wants to stop feeling , muffles them , makes them harder to pay attention to . it’s the only thing she feels she can depend upon now .

time passes on agonizingly slow . she drinks and smokes like her life depends on it . she wants to hide in her house but can’t stand being around her mother . but going out in public means getting harassed . she lives at an impasse , until the cotillion happens , until uma nearly gives them a taste of freedom once more . stupidly , she allows herself to hope that escape was in her grasp . but it’s all for naught , and uma disappears into the sea like she never even existed . and nina retreats into darkness again .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈𝐕 : 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝟑

she’s at her wit’s end , it seems . no matter how many people she beats back , she can’t even seem to find the peace she’s desperately searching for . drinking herself into a stupor just makes her miserable , but she can’t seem to stop . the nightmares torment her , and when it isn’t nightmares , she can’t seem to get to sleep without a drink or a smoke . and though a handful of people have managed to at least insert themselves into her life in some way , though there are people that have become a part of her life , she still can’t find the bravery to open herself up to them . it frightens her too much , the thought of letting herself become open and vulnerable to a person who could easily use it all against her . she holds everyone at an arm’s length most days , though they may get lucky if they catch her truly wasted .

and then , to her shock , the barrier comes down . freedom is in her grasp , it’s close enough to touch , and she grasps for it like her life depends on it . it does . she will go anywhere , any place where the traces of her past cannot be found .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐕 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 ( graphic by @magdiron )

unbeknownst to almost everyone on the isle and in auradon , the demon sorceress zhan tiri had been contained and shipped off to the isle to prevent her from every attempting to gain control of the sundrop and the moonstone ever again . as extra precaution , she had been contained in an ancient amulet guarded by yen sid , and even should she break free of her prison , the barrier would have kept her contained . when the barrier came down , clean up crews ventured to purge the isle of anything dangerous that could potentially cause harm . one clumsy crewman accidentally knocked over the case that held zhan tiri’s amulet , causing it to crack open and the spirit to escape without a trace . a mad search occurs to search for the demon , but it’s too late . zhan tiri attempts to immediately go for the sundrop and moonstone , but finds that the museum has barriers in place to prevent spirits like her from entering .

at this point , nina is adjusting slowly to the environment of auradon . she opts into attenting auradon prep for a single year , to fine tune any skills that could potentially get her a decent job to support herself in the adult world . in the meantime , she discovers that she has a second half-sister in cassandra , a close friend of queen rapunzel and prince consort eugene . reluctantly , she accepts cass’ offer to let her stay in her home , and even begins to form a rather pleasant relationship with her . though she is wary of rapunzel and eugene , she does not shy away from them . on one night , after experiencing a crippling night terror involving her mother , she leaves the house and steps into the woods to get some fresh air , but comes upon a shadow with glowing eyes that leaps at her , causing her to black out . the next thing she knows , she’s waking up in a hospital bed after cass found her unconscious in the grass . the following month brings a series of episodes that cause nina to fall into a faint ; every time it happens , she sees a series of flashing images like a flower , an opal , glowing spikes erupting from the floor , beaming golden light , then nothing . she has no memory of any of it upon waking . it would become bad enough that cass would insist that nina come home until they get a diagnosis , but nina asks to at least hold out until the break .

their last day of classes end up entailing a trip to the museum of cultural history . nina isn’t exactly thrilled by it , but she attends anyway , out of sheer curiousity . at the mid-point of the tour , they come across the exhibit for the sundrop and the moonstone , encased in a magical barrier . they seem familiar to her . she begins to feel lightheaded and nauseous , ready to pass out again , but this time , she doesn’t : instead , she feels something take control of her limbs , feels magic crackling at her fingertips , she watches the barrier holding the moonstone drop . her mouth opens and a voice that is not her own spills out , people scream and jump out of her way as she moves forward against her will . her mind screams for help , she tries to fight the possession , but there is nothing she can do ; zhan tiri has taken full control of her body , and she watches her hand grab the moonstone and knows that there may not be a chance for her at redemption .

the moonstone’s magic sears her flesh , but zhan tiri is delighted by this . the transformation is agony for the human vessel , but the demon sings as the black rocks begin to shoot up from the ground , as light blinds every eye in the room . when the dust settles , nina is transformed ; neon turquoise hair , practically glowing along with the eyes to match . the power is electrifying , and for the first time in her life , and entire room of people are cowering in fear of her , but for once , it is the last thing she’s ever wanted . she tries to scream for help , but nothing comes out ; zhan tiri has full control , and the crone’s voice drawls from her lips instead of her own . before the demon can even attempt to reach for the sundrop , the alarms begin to sound , and reinforcements have already begun to barrel into the room to disarm the newly freed demon . zhan tiri decides to leave the sundrop for later , and uses her vessel’s new powers to make their grand escape .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐕𝐈 : 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑��

the moonstone debacle nearly kills nina . auradon’s best healers fought to keep her alive in the aftermath of not only the moonstone being ripped away from her , but the process of having zhan tiri exorcised from her body . her body was never meant to wield that much power , nor was it meant to handle being possessed for such a long period of time as well . when she awakens , she waits for the inevitable punishment that will surely be given for what has happened , but king ben seems to have the opposite idea . while she had been preparing for a lifetime of imprisonment , he had already been fully informed on the circumstances of the incident by multiple witnesses , as well as the testimony of rapunzel , eugene , and cassandra . though they barely knew her , they vouched for her innocent and pleaded for mercy on her . and it was granted , much to her complete and utter shock .

the incident had too great of a toll on her body for her to return to school without having to repeat the year , so she opts to instead drop out . her body’s recovery is long ; physical therapy is required for her to regain the use of her legs , and a lot of her fine motor skills are shot for a long time . and unfortunately , the incident has left her with the choice to either drink and smoke herself to death or to choose to become sober , for the sake of her own health and safety . therapy is made mandatory for her recovery as well , much to her chagrin , but she goes because cass asks her to . when she is ready and willing , she already has a position lined up for her in rapunzel’s castle . and she thinks , perhaps , that things might turn out alright after all .

#☾✶☽ ( arc i ) rose-coloured glasses are distorted .#☾✶☽ ( arc ii ) what a shame she went mad .#☾✶☽ ( arc iii ) drink what i want . be what i want .#☾✶☽ ( arc iv ) my past has tasted bitter for years now .#☾✶☽ ( arc v ) plus est en vous ( there is more in you ) .#☾✶☽ ( arc vi ) i'm shattered porcelain glued back together again .#☾✶☽ ( my edits )

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namorres · 5 years ago

Text

ON HIS KNEES, HE WILL PLEAD ∞ E. MIKAELSON

wc | 1.6k

warnings | major character death, graphic description of death. super angsty

notes: i had this idea and i had to write it down and i’m sorry but i’m not sorry because i love this so much

masterlist

Elijah’s feet felt heavy, arms hanging loosely by his sides. He trudged up the stairs — he felt his sibling’s eyes on him, the weight of their worry and their stares. But he did not care. He used every wall he passed for support; he wasn’t sure he could sustain the strength to keep straight much longer.

Then he stepped into Niklaus’s art room, where a roaring fire, warm and bright and so, so vivid, burned in the fireplace. He leaned against the doorframe for a long moment, choking on the knot deep in his throat, then pushed off. Elijah walked until he was directly in front of the fire, and he took in breath, his nostrils burned and tears formed in his eyes. His chest was ablaze, the air so tight in his lungs that he was suffocating.

His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees with a thick thud on the carpet. He sobbed quietly, a deep sound that came from his stomach. His eyebrows quivered, his lips shook, his hands were pressed hard into his legs. The ring on his finger dug into his skin, the opening of his bracelet scratching against his wrist. The heat of the fire breathed across his face and everything in him shattered.

He screamed into the flames, yelled so loud his chest hurt, his throat was raw. He leaned forward, collapsing into the carpet and he cried. He cried and he cried and he couldn’t stop crying because it had been his fault. His fingers clawed into his short hair, scraping against his scalp, and he continued to sob into the floor beneath him. The aching in his body, settling so deep in his stomach and sending a cold chill up his spine, lingered like his hunger for blood.

He pulled up from the carpet with a deep inhale, lips still parted as he stared up at the ceiling. “Forgive me,” he whispered, voice so broken, so weak.

A thousand years of pain, of betrayal and heartbreak, could not begin to measure up to this. This thing that had implanted itself in his organs and infested his body like a parasite. It was the stark memory of everything he’d ever done wrong, it was the weight of every heart he’d ripped from someone’s chest, the sound of every scream. It was the sight of her.

The first time he’d seen her — glowing, smiling so brightly it rivaled the sun. The first time he’d spoken with her, she’d told him he was interesting, that he caught her attention because no one walked around New Orleans in suits everyday. The first time he’d spent more than a few minutes with her, he knew she was going to become his weakness. And then she did. The first time turned into the second, the third, the fourth, until it was regular. She was in his home, she’d met his family, learned of his existence, learned of his wrongs. And she’d stayed. She hadn’t been scared of him.

She was so loyal to him, even during the times when he questioned even his own motives. She was loyal to him even in the days of loneliness, whenever she was left without him for days,weeks, maybe even months, on end. She never strayed.

Then he’d fallen in love with her. And love was something so rare, so beautiful, and for her to have captured him in the way she did — he was addicted to her. She was a drug for him. She was nicotine in cigarettes, the one thing he craved the longer he spent time with her.

His eyes searched the walls for something he couldn’t find, darting aimlessly across the decorated surfaces. There was nothing he hadn’t seen a thousand times, nothing that would give him the closure he’d needed.

She wasn’t coming back. She had been human. She had no magic, she was not immortal. There was no ring to keep her alive. There was nothing. She was gone.

Another sob racked his body, tightening his ribcage and squeezing his heart as hard as it could. He let out a choked gasp, remembering every second, every minute, every word, every movement he’d made just hours prior.

Hours ago, she was alive. Hours ago, she was lying in his bed wrapped in his sheets and smiling that dazzling smile. She had been laughing at him; he wasn’t sure which sound was more melodic — her laugh or the way she said his name in the heat of the moment, when his fingers were searching her skin, when his lips were attached to her collarbone and her fingers were tangled in his hair.

Then all at once, the bright image was stained with blood, with gore, with everything wrong. Compulsion of a human who hadn’t been taking vervain, convinced that she must off herself if Elijah was to survive.

She had to have known. She had to have known that Elijah couldn’t die. But compulsion ran deep, and when he saw her walk in front of him, after remembering having left her in the compound with Freya, the fear that seized his bones, that snatched at his breath and clawed at the back of his eyes, was unmatched. She looked him in the eye, shaking, crying, terrified.

“Y/n,” he whispered, stepping closer, hands out. She shook her head violently at him, her fingers shaking. That’s when he noticed it — the shard of glass clutched so tightly in her palm, blood was dripping from her hand. How he hadn’t seen it before, he wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t begin to rationalize any of it. “Y/n, what are you doing?”

“I can’t let it go, Elijah,” she whimpered, “I can’t— I can’t stop— I can’t.” Her voice is shaking, cracking at each syllable and there are tears running down her cheeks. With a quaking grip, her eyes widen and she follows her hand as it raises to a position directly between the two. Y/n looks at Elijah with terrified eyes and her brows worry and she sobs.

Elijah tries to walk forward, to reach for the glass and wrench it from her grip, but a magic is holding him in place. He’s forced to watch it happen. His chest is heaving, his stomach is tight and his lips twitching as he tries to find a way to make it stop. But he can’t. His eyes are glued to her hand as it finishes its path, pressing the glass slowly into her throat. She lurches forward at the pain, breathing harsh and eyes locked on her lover.

A strangled scream leaves her chest as she drags the glass across her throat, blood pouring from the wound with reckless abandon. Elijah screams for her, again moves against the barrier that glues him to his spot. Y/n drops the glass, it shattering across the floor into even tinier pieces, and clutches at her throat. She drops to her knees, falling into the shards coating the ground. Another hand is reaching for Elijah and he can’t help her, and he can’t help himself, and he can’t help but think that this was the worst way for her to die, that this wasn’t what should’ve happened.

And then she’s gone. She falls the rest of the way into the ground, the remainder of her blood pooling around her and Elijah can’t look away. He can’t stop looking at her bloody, dead body. He’s crying, shaking, chest is heaving like hers had, and he’s still terrified, but he no longer has any reason to be. The adrenaline sparks a bomb set in his chest, and he feels himself succumbing to something he kept buried, feels himself losing the inner battle he wages.

Then the barrier was released and he was able to move. He doesn’t go to her body. He smells the blood on the air and he feels the ache of his gums and the thrumming of the veins underneath his eyes. He’s quick to find whoever else was around. He’s quick to lose himself in the monster that he is, quick to charge for the other entities in the room. They scream and they try to chant something, try to place a spell, but it doesn’t work.

Elijah flinches away from the rest of the memory, closing his eyes and hearing the sick slap of a bloody heart against concrete, then another and another and another until everyone in the room was dead. He breathes around the knot that’s gotten bigger, and he’s rocking back and forth and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to handle this kind of pain.

After a few minutes pass, he finds himself simply sitting in front of the flame, still. His eyes are dry, but they burn in the heat, and his eyelids are fluttering as they watch the flickering, but otherwise, he is simply breathing, simply existing. He hears someone walk in behind him, knows by the sound of their breath, by the weight of their step, and by the beat of their heart that it’s his younger brother. Still, he does not move.

His gaze falls to the space between his knees, tracing the lines of the carpet and hardwood. Then he feels the weight of Niklaus’s hand on his neck, feels the warmth of the hybrid beside him. His presence mingles with the heat of the fire and he feels entirely consumed by his environment, and then the despair, the pain, draws him back in. “I lost her, Niklaus.”

His words are muttered, his gaze never leaving its spot. Niklaus says nothing, for there is nothing to say. They both suffered a loss that day. They both know nothing but despair, wrath. Elijah feels his heart sink again, and he knows that Niklaus feels it, too. He is gone, he is so far gone. And he has no hope of finding himself, again.

#elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals imagine #the originals x reader #elijah mikaelson #*to #my gifs

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 5 years ago

Text

Missing Home

I’m re-posting in hopes to fix the format issue I have with the last one.

Connor missed you. There was no easy way to put it. He wanted to hold you in his arms, hear your voice, taste your lips. He wanted you to explain some of the jokes the other human detectives told. Hank finds the constant barrage of questions exhausting, but you never tired. A new exhibit had opened up at the zoo, featuring mythical animals. He wanted to see it with you.

But you weren't here.

"I have to go. I match what they're looking for and it's their best lead."

You both were sitting in the meeting room, an hour after you had been asked to go undercover in another precinct for a human/android trafficking ring. You would be working at a seedy strip club, as a bartender. Everything about this was terrible to Connor. Putting your life in peril while lecherous men tried to touch you? If he had any say, he would adamantly reject the idea, but... It was your choice. It tore him apart, wanting to support and protect, conflicting with each other.

You kept trying to reassure him, that you had back-up, that your outfit had a tracker in it, that you would not be stripping. Then one of the officers you would be working with handed you your uniform, a skimpy two-piece that only covered the essentials, then had the audacity to check you out, a wolfish grin on his face. Rage threatened to boil over. Noticing, you grabbed Connor's tie, reeling him in and kissing him hard. The officer's smile fell, and he quickly exited. You pulled back, smiling up at the android, bringing your hand up to his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"I don't want you to think I want to do this. According to their data, the ring is getting bigger. It needs to be shut down." He knew you were right, that innocent lives were at stake, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. "I have to leave for debriefing tomorrow, but why don't we have some fun tonight? We can do whatever you like." You ran your hands up his stomach and over his chest, resting them on his shoulders under his jacket. His eyes fluttered, and for a second, he forgot everything. You were... And he was...

You took hold of his tie again, pulling him to follow.

"Let's go, lover boy."

..............

That was over three weeks ago. They had spent the whole night tangled together, relishing in the closeness. All too soon, you had to pack up and leave. You kissed him one last time, told him you love him, promised to be careful, and then you were gone.

To protect your cover, he wasn't allowed to contact you, only receiving updates through the department. Apparently, you were fine and they were getting a lot of Intel. It should only be a matter of time before they have enough evidence to raid the location. He hopes so. You'll be free to come home then.

To think, at this very moment, some drunken idiot could be hassling you, trying to grab you. You were capable of course, but how much could you do without blowing your cover? It burned him up to think you might have to 'tolerate' any of it, for the good of the mission.

He was walking home after another shift. Without any outstanding investigations, he wasn't allowed to stay after anymore. Apparently, not everyone appreciated his help, though he doesn't understand why. He only pointed out details they were missing or errors in their assessment. He wasn't rude about it, just factual. Hank gets tired of it too, though he has far more patience with him. He knows Connor isn't doing it to show him up, it's just how he was programmed. Deviancy can't fix everything.

The car has been sitting in the driveway for weeks. He just doesn't see the point in rushing home. All he does is stare at his fish or at the tv. He tries going over casework, but it just all leads to him worrying about you. Were they treating you alright at the other precinct? Were you getting enough sleep? Eating properly? Dragging his feet, he looks to the ground. This city always seems filthier without you, trash and cigarette buds littering the walkway.

This is ridiculous. He had a life before you. He had hobbies and did things... Didn't he? He put in a lot of hours at the department, that's for sure. He went home to Hank's house and took care of Sumo, listened to music and read some of Hank's old paperback novels. Everything seemed so dull then. It wasn't that he was unhappy, in fact, some of those days were the best of his life, but then you showed him he could be happier, that every day could be like the best day of his life, opening doors he didn't even know were there. He sighs, kicking an empty can.

The epitome of scientific artificial intelligence can't be left alone for five minutes.

A call flashes on his HUD, bringing his attention away from his self-pity. It was Markus.

"Hey, Connor. Are you free tonight?"

"Yes. Why?" Did they need some help at New Jericho? Or a meeting for the leaders? Maybe some legal advice?

"Wanna hang out?"

...hang out? He didn't even consider that. It's been a while since the last time they met up that wasn't on professional terms. Between his work at the DPD and Markus being the ambassador for androids, free time hasn't exactly been on the table. Still, wasn't he just griping about not being able to be left on his own? Wouldn't this just solidify that? He must have taken too long to answer, as Markus reiterated.

"There's a bar downtown that is offering drinks tailored to androids. Simon believes it would be a good way to unwind." So, Simon is going? He has no issues with Simon, but it makes him wonder.

"Who all will be attending?"

"Just the leaders."

Which means North will be there.

"I think I'll just stay at home." Markus knows his issues with the psychotic woman. Staring at fish for several hours sounds like the better option.

"North will be meeting up with a few of her friends."

"What about your image? You represent our people. It won't look good if someone were to see you acting intoxicated." Connor made it to the front of his house, sitting down on the porch steps.

"The club is for androids only. The owner has already made arrangements for us. Everything will be fine."

"Android only? I thought we were against segregation."

"Are you being difficult on purpose?"

"No." Maybe. He doesn't really feel like going out.

"Connor, I think you need this. You can't live your life working all the time. Come out with us. It'll be fun."

"I'll think about it."

"Great! We'll be there to pick you up in half an hour!"

Connor sighed, running his hand down his face. I guess he was going out tonight. He should probably feed the fish before he goes.

........

Markus showed up and eyed Connor's outfit.

"Do you own other outfits?" The RK800 was wearing his usual button-up and tie, though rather than his labeled blazer, he was wearing a brown jacket.

"Is there a problem with my attire?" It seemed adequate, just a bit casual. He adjusted his tie, to which Markus took it and pulled it off. The leader knew of Connor's ticks, and he wasn't about to spend the whole night watching him play with his tie. Connor said nothing, though he pouted a little. You bought him that tie. Still, he left it off. When it came to fashion, it seems that Markus knew best.

"I think we should go clothes shopping sometime. Are you ready?" Connor nodded, giving his friend a half-smile.

In the car, Markus and Simon sat upfront while North, Josh, and Connor sat in the back. Josh was brave enough to be the barrier between North and Connor. She still hasn't forgiven him for hunting his own people, or Jericho, or pointing a gun at Markus on stage at Hart Plaza. Connor, on the other hand, does not understand her desire for senseless violence or her hatred for all humans. Some resentment was understandable, considering her background, but she takes it to the extreme.

"So, where's Y/n? I didn't see her inside. Is she at work?" Markus asked. He met you on several occasions, watching Connor light up when you were in the vicinity. This time, however, Connor's expression darkened.

"I don't know. She's working a case. I'm not allowed to know where."

"I'm sorry to hear that, " Markus internally cringed. Not a good start to the night.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" Simon looked at Connor through the rearview mirror, seeing him cross his arms as he curled into himself.

"No."

"Well, hopefully soon."

"Way to go, killing the mood, Connor, " North smirked. It was apparent she didn't want him there any more than he did her.

"Nothing a few drinks can't fix. Let's just enjoy tonight, " Josh placated.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Connor knows how Hank struggles with his addiction. He has personally had to deal with some of the lieutenant's worst days, spewing insults one moment then adamantly apologizing for the next. With his help, Hank had cut down significantly, but he still occasionally has his bad days, like on anniversaries.

"From what I understand, it's perfectly safe. It's thirium-based with several chemicals that affect androids in a way similar to alcohol in humans. It all gets worked out through the filter, though if you drink too much, you need a way to remove the excess fluids." Simon explained.

In other words, unless an android planned on purging his system, they needed functioning genitalia. In this aspect, Connor was fortunate, as he was actually built with such a thing. It was the easiest way to remove evidence that he samples. It's all collected in his filter where it gets broken down in a specialized, biodegradable cleanser, and once a month he drains it and has to drink a bottle of said cleanser to replenish his system. When he started dating you, he upgraded so his component could have "other" functions.

It still sounded like a bad idea, but he didn't want to dampen the mood any more than he already has.

.........

The bar had reserved a private table for them in the back. North was quick to break off from the group, leaving the men to gather at the table. The music was pumping out deep bass, androids dancing together and having fun. Connor just felt out of his element. The owner, upon seeing them, sent over a round of blue liquid in shot glasses.

"Let's loosen you up!" Markus handed Connor one of the drinks, then held his shot glass up, prompting everyone else to do the same.

"To freedom!" He cheered.

"To freedom!" Simon and Josh agreed, downing their drinks. Connor hesitated. He dipped his tongue into his glass, wincing at the flavor. This seemed more like poison than a drink.

"Are you aware that some of the elements in this drink can be quite harmful to us if consumed in large quantities?" Connor asked, incredulous that they would be so willing to put that in their systems.

"Yes, but so is alcohol in humans." Markus set his glass down and a female android wearing a tight-fitting black dress took the glass and replaced it with a full one. "You don't have to, but you should try it. Live a little!"

Connor regarded the drink once more. Maybe he's being a bit over-cautious. He downed the drink, coughing as it burned down his throat. The table cheered again, patting Connor on the back. It seemed safe enough. His system didn't immediately try to purge it. He didn't feel any different either. When the next round of shots was set, he drank it down. Then, another. And another.

.........

"Have you ever met him? He's an asshole." Connor shook his head.

"But it was he who created the basis for all androids." Simon intervened.

"So, because he's the reason we exist, he's not an asshole?" The RK800 scoffed.

"According to ancient mythology, that should make him even more of an asshole," Josh added.

"What are you talking about?" Markus was walking back, or rather, stumbling back. Apparently, intoxicated Markus likes to dance.

"Kamski," Simon answered.

"Assholes." Connor and Josh answered at the same time. They all shared a laugh.

Connor drank down another shot. Was this his eighth or twelfth? He didn't know and, for the first time, he didn't care. He felt pretty good. Loose. Like his body was made of jello. He tried to join Markus on the dance floor, but when he went to stand, his gyroscope was malfunctioning and before he realized it, he was on the floor, joining in with his friends laughing as they attempted to help him back to his seat, dropping him twice and Josh fell down himself. Instead, they started talking about how much has changed in the last two years, what they hope to do in the future, and now, they were talking about when Kamski returned to Cyberlife. It might have been a good move for the company, but that didn't mean Connor trusted the man. Still, it was fun, just talking and joking.

If only the other patrons at the bar would leave him alone with his friends. There must have been a dozen women who tried to get him to dance with them or buy them a drink. Even after he explained he was in a relationship, they didn't seem to care. One even sat on his lap, which he instinctively pushed her off. She did not appreciate that.

Despite it all, the atmosphere was light and jovial. Connor was glad he went out. This was significantly better than sitting and waiting. Maybe, when you get back, he'll invite you...

"Why can't humans come here?"

"Because most of them are assholes, " Simon joked, taking another shot.

"Not all of them." You weren't.

"Aww, does the detective miss his master?" North chided. She rejoined the table. She was with two other women, one of which he recognized as the woman he shoved to the ground.

"She's not my master, she's my lover, and she's far better company than you or your friends, " Connor sneered. The air did a sudden 180°, filled with hostility.

"Okay, let's calm down, " Markus tried to come between them, to keep the peace, but for North, peace was never an option.

"What? Too good for your own kind?"

"Too good for this conversation, " Connor smirked, taking another shot. North, not the type to take being dismissed, knew exactly what to say to rile him up.

"I bet you think you mean something to your "lover". Your little human would fuck any android that asks. Probably what she's doing now."

That did it. Connor was on his feet in seconds, though he stumbled slightly as the world turned.

"Listen here, you conniving bitch! You can talk shit about me all you want, but you leave her out of your goddamn mouth. Because you had a tough start to life, everyone else has to suffer? At least you didn't have a psychotic, murderous AI controlling all your actions, though, you two probably would have had a lot in common." Connor got in her face, next venomous words leaving his lips as a growl, "It's a shame you had to kill someone before the new laws. I would have loved seeing you carried to prison, kicking and screaming."

She punched him in the face. It threw him off balance and he fell back, catching himself on Josh. She stormed off before anything more could be said, her friends laughing. Connor got back to his feet, about ready to go after her when Markus took his shoulder.

"Why don't we call it a night?"

.............

Connor sat in the passenger side of Markus' self-driving car, poking at his cheek. A ring she had been wearing had cut into the syn-skin, making it leak. It was already sealed and healing, but he was still pissed off. To avoid conflict, North caught a ride with one of her friends.

"I just don't understand her problem with humans. Not all of them used her for sex. Y/n definitely wouldn't! She loves me, not that sour... Tart. If she was there, she would have kicked North's ass!" He was ranting, and Markus had to keep himself from laughing.

"I know, Connor, I know."

"Who's that on your porch?" Simon asked. There was someone in a gray hoodie curled up on the front step. When Connor saw, he jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, falling to the ground. He quickly made it back to his feet while scrambling to get closer. The commotion awoke the person sleeping there, looking up to see what's going on.

"Y/n!" Connor bowled into you, knocking you back onto the porch. "I've missed you!" He nuzzled against you, making no moves to get up.

"I've... I've missed you... God, you're heavy! I've missed you, too." Markus came up, trying to pull him off you, but Connor's iron clasp brought you up with him. He was still snuggling against you, swaying on his feet.

"Markus, what's going on?" You asked, noticing he wasn't exactly the portrait of perfection either, over-correcting his steps and laughing.

"Have you heard of the new drinks for androids?" Markus smiled. "It looks like you can handle it from here. See you later, Connor!"

"Wait, Markus! What..." But the man sped off to his car, tripping on the front bumper, and you were certain you heard laughter coming from inside. You stood, six feet of drunken android hanging off your shoulders.

"Do you have your keys?" You asked.

Connor pulled back, checking each pocket thoroughly. After a few minutes, he smiled in triumph, pulling out his keychain. You took it from him and unlocked the door.

"Well, this explains why you weren't answering my calls."

"You called me?" He was baffled. He tried to pull up his call log on his HUD, but it glitched out and closed on its own.

"Yep. At least ten times. I lost my keys. I knew you weren't at work, and Hank has his phone turned off again, so I couldn't ask for his copy. I figured you were at Jericho, so I'd just wait for you." Connor won't answer calls if he's in a meeting. He has a number for emergencies, but it's not like the two of you lived in a bad neighborhood, and it was a nice night, if not just a tad chilly.

"I'm sorry, " he sounded so sad, you made the mistake of turning and looking at him. Eyes doleful, wet with unshed tears, lips pouted. No human or android should be able to pull off the sad puppy look so well!

"It's fine! You should hang with your friends more!"

"I'm sorry."

"It was only ten minutes, tops." Actually, over an hour.

"I'm sorry." A tear escaped one of his eyes.

"No! It's fine! Don't cry!" You pulled him into a hug, which he immediately sank in to. "Come on, let's get you to the couch." You more carried him to it, tripping on the end table in the dark. You finally got him down, breathing a sigh of relief. You went to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Where are you going? You just got home!"

"To turn on the lights and get a glass of water." You kissed his forehead, "I'm not going anywhere."

He reluctantly released your arm. Still pouting as he leaned back.

You went about turning on the lights.

"How did everything go?"

"Professionally? Very well. Personally? Worst time of my life." You came back, setting your drink on the counter. With the lights on, he had a clear view of your face. Your left eye was bruised, and you had a split lip. Your neck was also discolored, as if someone had tried to choke you.

"Who did this to you?" He cupped your cheek, trying to get a better view, but his damn vision kept swimming. Who would dare to hurt you? Death will be a blessing when he gets his hands on them.

"Connor, I'm fine. They're already behind bars anyway. Some guy was plastered and wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Where was your back-up?" You didn't answer him. They didn't want to 'risk the investigation' over something you should be able to handle. Just because they were right, doesn't make it right.

"I don't want you going undercover again. I don't care how many lives are at stake!"

"Calm down, " you took hold of his hand, but he pulled out of your grasp, taking your upper arms as he pleaded with you.

"No! I want you to promise me you won't do this again! I can't lose you! I didn't want you to do it before, and now you're injured! Next time, it could be worse! Just, please... I can't control your life, but please don't do this again." He leaned his head forward, resting against your stomach. "Please."

"Okay, " your hands went to stroke along the back of his neck, "I promise." You lifted his head, gazing into his eyes. "I promise, okay?" He closes his eyes, savoring the words, knowing you will be safe, that he can help keep you safe.

He felt your lips on his, your hands running along his scalp. He was quick to respond. In this moment, he was no longer sitting in a house.

This was what home felt like.

When you pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a moment, lips curling into a smile. You giggled as he opened his eyes and you weren't sure if he was dazed from drinking or from the kiss. It was a perfect moment...

Ruined when your stomach started to grumble.

"Sometimes, it really sucks to be human. All I wanna do is love on my man after not seeing him for almost a month, but my stomach can't go twelve hours without making a fuss." You gave him a final peck on the forehead before heading to the kitchen. Unwilling to leave you alone for a second, Connor stumbled after you.

Opening the fridge, you were met with bottles of condiments and nothing else.

"I cleaned out the fridge last week. I didn't know when you'd be back." Connor found himself staring at your ass when you bent down to look in the crisper, as if food will magically manifest in the little drawers. He found the way it moved to be quite hypnotic, swaying back and forth.

"Guess I'm on frozen dinner." You grabbed one, fiddling with the package before chucking it into the microwave. In that time, Connor had moved behind you.

"You're very pretty, " he spoke, pressing up against you and hugging you.

"And you're very drunk, " you giggled. He started to sway back and forth, dancing to music only he could hear.

"Wanna go to the zoo?" He mumbled in your ear.

"I'm pretty sure they're closed right now."

"They have an android dragon, now."

"That's cool but they're still closed."

"And a mermaid."

"And despite that, they are still closed!" You exclaimed.

"But... I wanna go..." Came his whine.

You turned in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulders as you both continued to sway. Connor was pouting again. So cute.

"We can go tomorrow, when they are open, okay?"

"...fine." He smiled down at you, happy to have you home. He wants to hold you close for the next month to make up for lost time. You rested your head against him as he pulled you closer. "I've missed you, " he whispered, closing his eyes as he rested against your head.

"I've missed you, too. Not one minute went by that I didn't wish I was curled up next to you, " you murmured, listening to the thrums of his thirium pump. You didn't even hear the microwave go off, nor did you care at this moment.

Connor's hands slowly started roaming, creeping from their place on your hips to your ass, gently kneading it. You would be lying if you said it didn't feel nice. Three weeks of running around a bar wearing high heels can really put a strain on your body. Your soft moan encouraged him to grab just a little harder, pushing you flush against his pelvis, getting a good idea of just how much he missed you.

"Someone's feeling frisky, " you chuckled.

"I think I have an addictive personality. I just can't get enough of you. Will you enable me?" He punctuated the last sentence by grinding against you.

"You must be drunk to think you need pick-up lines to get to me, " your own hands started to wander from his shoulders, sliding across his pecs to his waist, then his hips where you traced along his pelvic "bone" before pulling away, just as your stomach decided to make you aware of your food cooling in the microwave. "Human needs overpower human desires. You have to wait."

Once again, Connor pouted, but he agreed. As you ate, you both sat on the couch, tv on but at a low volume. You asked about what he's been up to and if he had fun tonight. He told you about North being a bitch and how you should kick her ass if you ever meet her, earning a laugh from you. When you finished your food, you got up to put your dish in the sink. On the way back, you started undoing your shirt buttons for what is to come.

Or rather, what was to come. Connor had laid down and must have found it so comfortable, he entered sleep mode. His LED spun a lazy blue. He looked so relaxed. You turned off the lights and grabbed a blanket. Then, you took off your jeans and laid down on top of him. Other than his LED flickering a little faster for a moment, he didn't react. Lastly, you tossed the blanket over you both, laying your head down and letting his artificial heart be your lullaby.

.........

The next morning, Connor woke up in a daze. The sunlight seemed too bright from the blinds, prompting him to close his eyes as he connected to the house system and closed them. There was a pressure in his lower abdomen. A warning was flashing on his HUD informing him of his need to remove excess fluids. He went to sit up, only to realize there was another weight on top of him. He opened his eyes, finding you laying across his body. You looked so peaceful, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as you lightly snored. He could lay here forever, but the warnings kept flashing, and the pressure in his groin felt so uncomfortable. Why did he have to drink so much?

He fought with himself, trying not to move until it was getting to be too much. Gently, he rolled over, trying to ease you onto the couch. He did not notice how your arms wrapped around his neck, locked together. When he stood up, your weight pulled him back down. You whined out a protest to being moved, making him freeze as he tried to get you to let go.

"Love? Could you let go, please?" He whispered into your ear. Your lips curled as you kept your eyes closed.

"I could, " you mumbled. He sighed.

"Would you please release me? I need to use the restroom."

"No, I don't really want to." The warnings started flashing brighter, making his head throb.

"Please, love? Sweetheart? I really need to go, " he spoke, borderline desperate. When you didn't answer, he stood, once again bringing you up, practically carrying you towards the bathroom, all the while you were giggling. The blanket tangled around his feet and he fell backwards to the ground.

"Please, Y/n, let me go! I'll do anything!"

"Say, 'Y/n is the nicest, most beautiful woman in the world and it is an honor for me to be graced by her presence'!"

"Y/n is the nicest, most beautif-" you cut him off with a kiss. It was so brief, he chased after your lips when you pulled back.

"Close enough, " you snickered, releasing him and pushing off from his chest. You offered your hand to him to help him up, which he took, laughing as you struggled to haul him up.

Quickly, he pulled you close and kissed you.

"When I'm finished, we're picking up where we left off, " he smirked before dashing off, leaving you shook for a moment.

"I'll hold you to that!" You called after him, looking forward to a proper 'Welcome Home'.

#Cute Girls and Hot Androids #Connor #Connor fanfiction #connor x reader #rk800 connor reader #rk800 #DBH #Detroit Become Human

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