I Have So Many Different Fandoms I Want To Write For. There Are Years Of Main Character Syndrome And

𖤓 - completed series

ʚɞ - smut

જ⁀➴ - personal favorite

✬ - series

𝕯 - dark

ׂ╰┈➤ HOUSE OF WAX

ೃ⁀➷ Bo Sinclair

bad day - part two 𝕯

one more spring 𝕯

ೃ⁀➷ Vincent Sinclair

bad day - part two 𝕯

ׂ╰┈➤ SCREAM

ೃ⁀➷ Billy Loomis

wicked influence 𝕯

ೃ⁀➷ Stu Macher

wicked influence 𝕯

the boy next door જ⁀➴

Hi! I just wanted to say that I just finished reading broken promises and I LOVED IT. Logan was so so SO well written I could cry!!! You are by far my favorite logan writer and if you ever continued broken promises TRUST i would be the first to read it every time lol!! Regardless, cant wait to see whats next from you <3

YAY! I'm so glad you liked broken promises. I was worried that my stuff for him was going to start sounding repetitive bc it's very easy to do that when you write for the same character so often, but I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying it.

I don't see myself doing a continuation for it. Mainly because in my mind they traveled around for a while and then discovered Charles' school, but I don't think my writing all that out would be very enjoyable for me or for anyone who reads it.

If requested, I would probably do a few blurbs of them on the road together and her having a taste of the real world for once lmao

I might not be posting anything for the next two weeks or so, possibly shorter. I've been dealing with a lot of life stuff and some mental health problems that I need to start making my priority.

The current series I'm working on will be finished, just not right now.

I usually bounce back fast, so fingers crossed I won't need much longer than a week. I think I just need to rediscover my love for writing.

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII

Series Masterlist

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I see a lot of comments talking about how you guys wished they would just communicate. They are communicating its just that neither of them know what they want. Summary: All you want is to just be clean. He offers to show you a nice little spot where you can finally scrape the grime off of you. What could go wrong?

“So,” you shifted your bag further up your arm. You were favoring the left today on account of the giant gap he had left in your right bicep. You were still pretty pissed off about that. “Do you ever, you know, bathe?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed caught off guard by the question. “Bathe?” He repeated, face raised in surprise.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, bathe. I’ve been out here over a week. I’ve got about twenty layers of blood and sand stuck in every crevice.” Your skin crawled thinking about the different types of bodily fluid you’d been sprayed with since coming out of the cryo pod. 

There was a lot of blood, of course, but Hollywood doesn’t show everything that gets excreted in death. You were itching for a good shower. You know that’s out of the question, but there’s got to be something. 

He laughed and ripped off a piece of jerky. He offered you some, grinning when you shook your head. “Buckle up, sweetheart, you’re in for a rude awakening. You can always use the water, but that’s a waste of Radaway if you ask me.” You should have known. It’s not like anyone you’d encountered seemed particularly gung ho about personal hygiene, but you had hoped there would be something. 

You reached down, digging your nails into your arm and scratching off flakes of blood and who knows what else. You shouldn’t have bothered, though, it only made the rest of you feel a hundred times worse. You looked crazy, scratching at yourself like a dog but you couldn’t help it. 

“Alright, damn, I’ll give you some of my Radaway, you look half rabid.”

You stopped with your scratching and stared at him in shock. “You’ll give me some of your Radaway?”

He rolled his eyes, stopping only when he noticed you’d quit walking. “Is that not what I said?”

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “You’re not exactly known for your generosity. What’s the catch?”

He frowned and clutched at his chest like you’d actually done damage, “Now, that hurts darling. I’m just trying to help you out.” He turned around, walking to the right now, further towards greenery and away from the desert. “Plus, it’ll get rid of that fucking smell.”

You kept your mouth shut but he was one to talk. He hadn’t exactly tasted wonderful when he’d kissed you. Nor did he smell amazing. Still, he had made your heart race and it wasn’t from pure terror for once. Though, any positive feelings he’d caused within you had been negated the second he dropped you to the dirt like a used up toy. 

You knew better than to try and bring it up to him, but it had stung. Attacked that vulnerable part of you that made you want to put up walls so high even the sun couldn’t get through. 

With no other choice you sped up and caught up to him. Your hip was still bothering you, but it wasn’t dragging behind you as much as it was a few days ago. The only thing really bugging you now was your throbbing arm. He’d assured you that it couldn’t rot, he’d dealt with that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. 

“Through here is a lake you can use.” He pointed towards the area where the trees started to thin out. 

You looked at him skeptically, “You’re really letting me do this?”

He scoffed and glared at you, “The fuck did I tell you?” You don’t know if he’s talking about his new rule to stop questioning him or about giving you the Radaway, but you keep your mouth shut anyway. He hasn’t been as much of a dick today and you’d rather keep it that way. 

“Here,” he motions through the trees and you stumble into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s been submerged in water, you can spot some old apartment buildings peeking up through the top. 

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve ever passed your old home and just never realized it. You dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes, not willing to let your mind linger on thoughts like that today. 

You slowly make your way to the water, still not entirely trusting of his intentions. He’s made it clear he’s keeping you around for the long haul, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped tormenting you. “You’re really gonna let me use your Radaway?” You call over your shoulder. 

He sighs and leans against the trunk of a tree. “Get your ass in the water, I won’t wait around all day. 

You’re not dumb enough to fully submerge yourself in radiated water. You just rip a piece of your shirt off and dunk it into the startlingly blue lake. You use it to scrub yourself down, rubbing your arms until they’re raw and feel clean enough. 

You shuffle closer to the water, trying to bend over enough to scrub your face a bit. But when you gaze down into the water you find something gazing back up at you. You scream, scrambling back just as that thing leaps out of the water and towards you. 

Something pink and wet slams into your chest and knocks the air out of your lungs. You grope blindly in the mud for your gun as it opens its mouth. Horror and disgust fill you when you see what’s in its mouth, human fingers dangle like disgusting uvulas. It darts forward, jaw posed to clamp around your whole face. 

A loud bang echoes through the lake. The thing goes flying back and causes ripples to drift across the surface of the water. You clutch your chest, trying to get your breath back and scoot closer to get a better look at whatever attacked you. It’s the size of your torso and looks startling like some deformed axolotl. He’s left a large bullet hole in the middle of it’s head deformed head.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, shakily getting to your feet and groaning when you realize whatever you’d manage to clean off had been replaced by a thick layer of mud. 

You turn around, hoping for some sort of explanation from him, but he’s just bent over laughing, gun still smoking. You grab your bag out of the muck with a huff and glare at him. “Really?”

He straightens up, still grinning and shakes his head. “You should have seen your face, you were petrified.”

”Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed that.” You glare down at the corpse, eyes wide with horror, “It’s got fucking fingers in it’s throat. Human fingers!” He saunters over to you, entirely too pleased with himself. He grabs his inhaler out of his bag and loads it with Radaway. He tosses it over to you and you catch it with your good arm. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” You press down and take in a deep breath, ignoring how bitter the juice tastes. 

“Never trust anything, rule number one of the Wastelands darling. Can’t even trust the water.” There was a loud roar off towards the middle of the lake and he nodded his head back towards the tree line. “Come on, that one was just a baby Gulper. Momma’s gonna be by soon and I can’t imagine she’ll be real happy.” He walks off without you and you’re stuck staring at the dead mutant. 

“That was a fucking baby?” He laughs at you again and when you catch up with him, you can't help but laugh a little yourself. You probably looked ridiculous, wrestling in the mud with what, apparently, was only an infant. 

He grins at you, “You got a lot to learn.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

He’s kneeled down beside you, fingers prodding at the reddened area around your wound. It feels a bit better now, more like touching a fresh bruise rather than raw nerves. He poured some water from his canteen over the area and retied the bandage. He stood up and moved away from you while you dug around in your bag for another ration bar. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You’ve got the bar positioned between your knees, and you’re trying, hopelessly, to open it up with one hand. Your fingers, now dusted with dried mud, slip uselessly against the packaging. 

He looks up at you and lets out a loud sigh. “Give it here.”

”I’ve got it-”

“Give. It. Here.” You huff but toss the bar over to him. He rips it open in one smooth move and throws it back to you. You catch it with your good hand and take a large chunk out of it. It feels like rubber and tastes oddly like dried out meatloaf. You’re not exactly sure what flavor it’s supposed to be replicating, but you figure it’s so old it doesn’t really matter as long as it fills you up. 

He pours some water from his canteen onto a ripped piece of cloth and tosses it at you. You’re unprepared, bar in hand and midchew, it slaps against your face and you scowl under the fabric. “Really?” You mutter, mouth half full. You yank it off your face and give him a questioning look. 

“Just clean yourself up.” 

You drag it across your face and arms, trying to get off as much residual mud as you can. Your clothes are a stained, lost cause, but this will do for now. Not like you’re going to get much better without going up against some mutant monster. 

“You’re being nice today?” It comes out like a question more than anything. Probably because you’re having trouble trusting him, especially after the Gulper incident. You wished you could say you can’t believe he would do something like that, but you’re pretty sure he’d been hoping the mom would get you, not the baby. 

He shrugged and leaned back against a fallen log. “Feelin’ chivalrous.”

You hummed but didn’t push. You forced down another lump of your ration and reached for your water. “Where are we heading anyway? Been walking for a long time but we haven’t seem to have gotten anywhere.”

“There’s a compound I took a bounty for. We’re on our way to deliver it.”

You tilted your head as far back as you could, tongue out and hoping to catch the remaining drops of your water. “Shit,” you tossed the canteen back in your bag, already knowing it was hopeless. 

“Ah, hell,” you glanced up and saw Cooper rifling through his supply box. 

“How are you on Radaway?”

He sighed and chucked the box back into his bag. “Got two vials left.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, a pensive expression on his face. 

You sighed and rubbed idly at some mud left on your fingers. “You’re gonna need more soon.”

He cut you off with a sharp laugh. “Faster than soon, this is the diluted shit.” He rubbed at his chest and you wondered if he was already starting to feel the effects of being so low on the medicine. You can’t believe he gave you a vial of his own with so few left. 

Bastard must’ve really wanted to see you get jumped by a gulper. Your face twisted up in distaste and any twinge of sympathy you’d felt for him dissapeared. You wished he would cough so hard he’d choke on his tongue, at least then you wouldn’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore. 

He looked over at you and then your bag. “Got any of that purified water left?” You shook your head, crumpling the wrapper of your bar up and tossing it somewhere behind you, 

“Just ran out, not sure where I’m gonna find more.”

He chuckled and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I do,” you stood up and grabbed your own bag, following behind him. 

Loud laughter and rowdy conversation drifts into the night air. You sit perched behind a large boulder, staring into the building across from you. It’s an old supermarket, refurbished to fit the Wastelanders' needs. “They’ll have what we need?”

He doesn’t look at you, his sight is dead set on the men milling about in front of you. They’re clearly guards, switching positions every couple of minutes and loaded to the teeth with weapons. Cooper silently tracks them, eyes darting between them as they switch positions yet again. 

“Yep,” he lifts up into a squat and watches as one of the men turns his back to lace up his boot. “Now!” He grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you along as he weaves between the guards. He throws you in front of him, practically tossing you inside the store. 

You hold back your gasp of shock and duck behind a waist-high shelf. There are only seven or eight men walking around inside. They’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the store, the empty shelves pushed back against the walls. Behind them is about the largest pile of supplies you’ve seen since being up here. They could give Ma June a run for her money. 

You peek your head over the shelf and try to get a look at just how many weapons they have. You hear the familiar sound of spurs walking behind you and twist immediately to see Cooper walking calmly towards the group with his hands raised in surrender. He catches your eye and winks before he fully addresses them. 

“Gentlemen!” You sigh and sink back against the shelf, an irritated look on your face. The shelf screeched forward slightly and you scrambled off it, you caught Cooper twitch a little in irritation but he didn’t say anything. He’s been fully noticed at this point, the others all glaring at him with their guns raised. 

He had a full view of all eight men from his perspective. What he couldn’t see, which you could, was a ninth man sneaking up behind him with a knife. He had it poised, aiming to strike right through the back of Cooper’s neck. 

Without thinking too much on it, you leapt out of your hiding spot and used your good arm to point your gun in the man’s face. He came to a stop almost cartoonishly, eyes wide and the knife in his hands trembling when you popped out. 

Cooper barely gave you a glance out of the side of his eye and you figured he knew all about the ninth man. He must have been testing you, see if you really had his back. “Hey!”

“Who the fuck is she!”

“What are you doing here?”

You ignored the sounds of their voices, you kept the gun trained on the boy and motioned him towards the left of the room. He followed, letting you guide him backwards until he was scrambling to hide behind his friends. It’s then that you finally got a good look at just how many guns were trained on you. 

One of them pumped their shotgun and you pulled back the hammer of your gun. Cooper’s guns were still tucked away in their holster, it was just you and however much firepower they could cram between ten pairs of hands. 

“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen put those guns down or my friend here is gonna get a little too friendly with her trigger.”

One of them scoffed, gesturing with the barrel of their pistol towards your right arm hanging limply by your side. “She got a bad arm and a shaking hand.”

“Maybe,” you call out, “but I got a working finger. I only need one of ‘em to kill you.”

Before he can respond there’s another one stepping forward. “She can get real friendly with me.” He’s got a lecherous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You sigh, sick of the men up here being so predictable, and turn your gun on him. His eyes widen, like he hadn’t seen you pointing it at his friends, and you pull the trigger. 

Your aim is a little off and the recoil is harder to handle with only one hand available to you, but you’ve got a sawed off shotgun in your hand, don’t have to have a great aim to kill a man with that. His twitching body has barely hit the ground before you’re diving to the right and ducking behind a shelving unit. 

Cooper goes to the left, eyes wide in the same astonishment as those men. Bullets started flying the second their friend was on the ground. They were shouting all sorts of insults and threats at you but it was hard to make out over all the shooting.

“You shot him!” Cooper shouted over the hail fire of bullets.

You rolled your eyes and did your best to reload the gun with your wobbly hand. “He pissed me off,” you shouted back at him. You leveled the gun over the top of the shelves and fired blindly. There was a loud yelp and then another Bitch shouted at you, so you must have hit something. 

“You know, I was trying to handle this civilly,” Cooper jumped to his knees and turned around quickly. He fired off a quick succession of shots, four bodies dropped as he did. The rate of gunfire slowed a bit as more men fell. He ducked down and ran across the room, throwing himself down next to you. He tossed his guns at you and tugged yours out of your hand. “Reload me,” you nodded and tugged some bullets out of his bandolier while he used your gun to shoot at them. 

“I’m sure you handling it civilly would have ended the exact same fucking way.”

He grinned and sat back next to you, “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not, doesn’t matter now.” You handed him his reloaded guns and he dropped yours in your lap. “Only a few left, use the shelves as cover and circle around behind ‘em.” He didn’t stay to make sure you understood his plan, he immediately set off, drawing the fire away from you and making a run for it. 

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling to your feet and following his instructions. With only a few of them left it should have been quick work to get rid of the last few stragglers, but the guards from outside had heard the scuffle and were rushing in. Cooper shot most of them but one got close enough to snatch his gun from his hands and throw it to the floor. 

Cooper struggled against the man, his towering form easily overpowering Cooper. Though, your friend didn’t seem particularly worried, if anything it looked like he was letting the man live to draw out the fight, like he was enjoying it. 

You were going to just leave him to it when you saw the same bastard from before with the knife sneaking up behind him again. You rush forward, scooping up Cooper’s gun as you go and shove the man backwards. 

He grunts at the impact but he refused to be deterred. He charges at you, eyes red with rage and blackened mouth frothing like a rabid dog. You try and keep your guard up but you’ve got a gimp leg and a useless arm, it’s not a fight you’re going to win. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you into him. You grunt, breathing out slowly as you feel his knife slide into your gut. You glance down at the rusted blade and shove your gun under his chin. His eyes widen when you draw the hammer back but you don’t flinch when you pull the trigger, not even when chunks of skull and hair start raining down on you. 

Cooper must have finally noticed the tussle happening behind him because he draws his second gun out from under his coat and ends his little fight with the last of them. You must be in shock, you still haven’t fully experienced the pain that you should. 

There’s a knife sunk past the handle slammed into your gut, you should be feeling something shouldn’t you? You’re sure it’s the adrenaline still pumping through you. Your body is warm from how fast your blood is pumping, your ears ringing from all the gunshots and head spinning from the amount of blood steadily leaking out of the wound. 

“Hey,” you turn around to face him and his eyes widen ever so slightly. You lose your footing and he darts forward, quick arms grab you and draw you into his chest. You clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket, letting all of your weight rest on him while you try and get your panicked breathing under control. 

You’ve had worse injuries than this. As hard as it is to believe, in your time up here, you’ve survived a lot worse than some measly stab wound. 

So why does this feel so fucking bad?

“Oh,” you moan in pain, nearly doubling over. A feeling like a million exposed nerves being set on fire stops you from falling to the floor, instead you push off Cooper and struggle to your feet. 

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your arm again and you have the ridiculous urge to just shove him off you. Your head is swimming,  you feel like you could float away. You look down at the knife again and finally realize just how large it is. One of those hunting ones that was about the width of your hand curled into a fist. 

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” he snaps when you stumble away from him again. “Sit your stubborn ass down, you need help.” He yanks on the straps of your shirt, holding you up and dragging you to a chair, you don’t have much choice as he forces you to sit. Though, the motion causes a wave of excruciating pain to flare through you. 

He kneels in front of you and rips your shirt open, you’re in too much pain to complain about it right now. He hums low in the back of his throat as he takes in the wound. With no warning whatsoever he grabs the knife by the handle and yanks it out like he’s ripping off a fucking bandaid. 

You nearly scream, lurching forward and shoving him away from you. The sudden shock of pain has left you half blind and panting like an animal. “What the fuck was that?” You force out through gritted teeth. He plants a hand on your shoulder and presses you firmly against the back of the chair. 

“Need to get you a Stimpak.” He takes your hand in his and presses it against the wound. Where blood was once oozing, it’s now gushing. You hadn’t realized just how much keeping the knife in had kept the blood at bay. With how rapidly it’s leaving you now you’re afraid. 

You’re afraid that you might not be able to make it back from the edge with just a Stimpak. You can already feel your fingers going cold, pretty soon you won’t be able to flex them and then you’d lose feeling in your arms too. 

“Hey,” he uses the grip he has on your hand to press down on the wound. You groan but he keeps the pressure steady. His eyes bore into your dazed ones, some odd expression in them. “You don’t get to give up. Keep pressure on this, understand me?” Your head flops forward in a lazy nod. 

He could have been gone for a minute or an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Your head is foggy, coherent thoughts replaced by loopy ones. You’re struggling to remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing. 

Just as your hand slips from the wound, he comes back. He grabs your hand and places it back, holding it there with his own. You appreciate the way he warms your fingers back up, but the rest of you is freezing too. Maybe he’d share his jacket. 

The thought of him sharing anything makes you laugh and he gives you a frustrated look. “Don’t go losing it on me. Not yet at least.”

You lean forward, face nearly pressed against his and grin. “You know, I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

He scoffed, opening the Stimpak with one hand and preparing the injector. “Yeah, for what?”

“Saving your life, dick.”

You’re caught off guard when he slams the needle into your stomach, your lips part with a silent gasp and you wince at the cool rush of medicine. He grins at you, “Well, thank you for being the only dumbass to get herself stabbed in a gun fight.”

The medicine works fast, you learned that from when he’d shot you. You can already start to feel the pulse of blood slowing and your head clearing up slightly. “Asshole,” you hiss, leaning away from him. But his eyes stay trained on you, on both of your blood covered hands and where they still rest, linked together, on your stomach. 

You find yourself taking advantage of his distraction to really look at him. It bothers you, how after everything, his eyes are still so pretty. It’s the first thing that drew your attention when you were younger. Those eyes of his had you swooning from the first time you saw him on the big screen. 

He catches you but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There’s something odd in the air, a lingering tension from the kiss you’d never discussed. From the silent partnership you’d never voiced. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed for him tonight, the thought finally seemed to be dawning on him. 

His eyes drop to your lips and he leans in. He doesn’t get very far, lips just barely brushing yours before you’re jerking back in surprise. You’re bleeding out in his hands and he kisses you? Your hand is up and cracking across his cheek before you can think about it. 

His head whips to the side with a satisfying crack. He lets out a breathy chuckle, using his free hand to soothe the area you’d hit. He stretches the tension out of his jaw and shakes his head before he looks at you again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you. You definitely shouldn’t be further entertaining his ideas that he holds any sort of possession for you, but you’d just realized what that look in his eyes had been earlier. He had been worried about you. 

Cooper has always been the one who protected you. Not the other way around. And as twisted as he’d become, it still relatively remained the same dynamic today. You’d caught him off guard earlier, putting yourself in danger like that for him. And he had been worried about you. 

You grab him by the collar of his jacket and drag him forward before he can decide what to do with the fact that you slapped him. Your lips meet again and he hovers over you on your chair. The hand on your stomach pushes harder against you, deepening the pressure and making you groan into his mouth. 

He doesn’t waste time, deepening the kiss and letting his other bloodied hand drift into your hair. His fingers curl around the strands and he yanks your neck back, manipulating you how he wants and bending you to his desires. You melt into it, into the complete control you allow him to momentarily wield over you. 

You let your mind go blank and just focus on him. You can pretend, for now, that you’re in his old house. You’re coming back after a date at one of those fancy restaurants that he hates, but he takes you there anyway so you can have an excuse to dress up. 

He’ll whisper I love you and drag you to the couch. You’ll start there, his kisses traveling lower until he’s dragging you back to his bedroom. You’ll feel valued, cherished, loved. Cooper will take care of you. 

He parts slowly from you, still keeping a firm grip on your hair. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open again. You’re sure you look like a mess, staring up at him with glossy eyes and swollen lips, completely drenched in your own blood. 

“Don’t think about him when I’m the one kissing you, darling.” Your eyes widen and he lets you go. He shoves back from you and paces towards his bag. Any warmth in his eyes, any care, was gone. 

You want to say something to drag him back but the moment has passed. It’s not like he was wrong, you were pretending he was someone completely different to make yourself feel better. 

But you couldn’t make yourself feel guilty when you remembered half the reason you needed the comfort was because of who he was now. He comes back with a needle and thread. He lets the needle hover over the men’s fire for a moment before he approaches you with it. “Stimpak will only do so much, need to sew you up.”

You nodded and looked away as he knelt down and pressed the needle into your skin. You barely felt it,  could barely pay attention to him when your thoughts were on what it was like before. What he was like before. Sometimes it makes you sick to your stomach to look at him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Guess who got Baldurs gate?

Idk what’s wrong with everyone else’s flirting, but I got him into my bedroll immediately.

Call me the Rizzard of Oz.

The pale elf has ruined my life

literally a puppy

Should have something ready for y’all soon!!

Sorry it’s taking so long, I was injured and thought I was going to write more but I was just essentially in a coma my entire week off lmao

Heading into work again, wish me luck 😋🔫

Bad Day

pt. two

part one

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) warnings: reader embracing the dark side, graphic descriptions of violence Summary: Another set of tourists, but this one’s different. You actually have to meet this group. They’re particularly difficult, too, causing more damage than any of you expected. Can you survive the night, again?

You focused on the way the knife glinted as it spread mayonnaise over the bread. You watched it glide through the thick substance and brought it back down, flipping the blade and smoothing and spreading it-

Your fingers tightened around the handle and you winced as you slammed your eyes shut. You couldn’t be around blades, even ones as dull as this, without thinking of that night. 

You’d fought, more than anyone else ever had, Bo told you. You’d also killed one of your friends in cold blood, no one had ever done that either. 

He had been tied up and vulnerable and you hadn’t even given him a fair shot at surviving you. 

You didn’t feel guilty about it, and that’s the part that haunts you. You didn’t try to justify your actions and cry yourself to sleep over the guilt you felt for being alive while your friends lay scattered throughout town. You slept deeply, peacefully, in the arms of the men who murdered them. 

You’d wake up after having a dream about that night and you would feel exhilarated because it had been the first time you’d ever truly stood up for yourself. You reveled in the power you’d felt when you’d swung that ax into his neck. 

You didn’t even remember their names. 

How fucked up was that?

You basked in the memories of their demise but their faces were lost to you. One blur that bled together the more you tried to picture them. 

You didn’t mourn them or feel pity, you felt no guilt, and that’s what fucked with you. Were you a bad person?

You had to be. 

But you’d never been one before Ambrose. 

You distracted yourself from the thoughts. You’d spiral and never get back up if you let yourself go down the rabbit hole. You tore off a piece of turkey and threw it at Jonesy, she pounced on it the second it hit the floor. 

You finished the sandwiches, one going into a brown paper bag the other a plate that you wrapped with plastic. You left the kitchen, winding around boxes and junk that they called sentimental. You’d gotten into a nasty fight with Bo a few months ago about cleaning the house up a little, but he had refused. 

You hadn’t realized how many beers he’d had that night and chosen the wrong moment to suggest change. Something he was staunchly against. He hadn’t hit you, never had, but he’d thrown a bottle near your head, the glass shattering and bouncing off the wall. Some of it had hit you, scraping up the back of your arms and legs. It wasn’t too bad, but you hadn’t felt that terrified of him since the night you came here. 

You’d been petty, stolen his keys and camped out in one of the houses in town. You hadn’t been able to get any sleep, not with the wax family watching you, but it had gotten the message across. Lester had told you Bo thought you’d left and lost his fucking shit. Vincent, apparently, had been even worse. 

By the time you got back the house was in worse shape then when you’d left. 

Bo had told you he’d think about cleaning some of the stuff out. That had been three months ago.

You grabbed the flashlight off their father’s desk and used the hatch in the office, dropping down into Vincent’s lair. Vincent, when he’d discovered just how much you hated the darkness that led into his workspace, had started leaving a flashlight out for you. 

When Bo got pissed at you he’d hide it. You’d have to crawl to him and beg for it back. 

You’re pretty sure he didn’t care what it was that he stole, he just wanted to exercise some control over you. Remind you of your place in this town, under him.

The flashlight was a nice thought from Vincent, but it didn’t really help you much. You used it anyway, wanting him to know you appreciated how much he cared. Because you’re pretty sure he’s the only real reason you’re alive. 

When Bo had caught you down here, standing over Owen’s dead body, he told you he didn’t know if he was going to keep you alive or not. You knew he meant it, he wasn’t teasing you or playing around, he genuinely did not know what to do with you. You were an outlier in a long list of repetitive victims. 

Vincent swept in behind him, glanced down at the ax, the injuries all over your body, and hesitantly stepped towards you. They looked at each other, a silent conversation laying in their gazes.  

Vincent took a slow step towards you and you recognized his actions for what they were. A test. 

Earlier, you’d seen Vincent try to help his brother, ease his pain and wrap up his wounds. Bo had reacted cruelly, the only thing he seemed to be capable of. 

You watched with a blank stare as Vincent kneeled down in front of you, brushing his fingers over the scraped skin of your knee. 

You jumped slightly at the burn of flesh against your wound, but otherwise didn’t react. Slowly, he stood back up, grabbing your arm with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your first meeting. He led you back to his desk, flipping over the drawing of your face and pulling out bandages. 

Some of them he had to toss to the side because they were covered in wax, others he used on you. 

Bo watched it all with a frown on his face and crossed arms. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Vincent’s head shot up and his arms tightened around you. Again, you forced yourself not to react, not to flinch away from his hold and grimace as you heard his muffled breath next to your ear. Vincent didn’t say anything, didn’t move his hands to communicate, he blocked you in like a guard dog and after a moment you heard Bo cussing and storming out. 

He mentioned something about getting the restg of your group, but nothing after that. You could only relax once you heard the basement hatch slam shut. “Thank you,” you whispered to Vincent. He grunted, but offered nothing else. 

His fingers were quick, precise in the way they cleaned and wrapped your wounds. They were also surprisingly gentle for someone who had just slammed a blade through your friend's skull. 

Vincent kept you squirreled away down there, sleeping on a cot in the corner of his large and stuffy studio. You weren’t sure how many days or weeks had passed with him idly sketching you and sculpting different wax animals for you, the lack of windows made it hard to tell, but you do know you were much better off here than in Bo’s dungeon. 

You’d learned bits of sign language from him, you were bored and he seemed eager to teach you. To finally have someone who would speak his language too. 

He was kind in his own way, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager to get the fuck out of there. 

Bo had stormed down one day, saw you, and lost his goddamn shit. Apparently, he’d thought Vincent was only keeping you around for a bit of fun and then killing you. The fact that you were still alive, and being taken care of, nearly gave him an aneurysm. 

Again, Vincent hadn’t let Bo hurt you. He’d protected you from his brother’s wrath and forced Bo to accept that you were staying. 

Sometimes you wished you weren’t kind to him. That you had yelled, kicked, and clawed at him. Called him a freak and told him to go to hell and find his precious momma. You would be dead, sure, but you wouldn’t be here. 

Thoughts like that had disappeared a long time ago, left with the summer heat. You knew it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, you’d been a psych student before your world was flipped on its axis. You knew what the signs were, but this wasn’t loving them to save yourself. 

This was accepting that there was no place for you in society anymore, not after what you’d done. Not after you’d actually helped Vincent sculpt his wax around Allison’s pretty face. 

You’d enjoyed it, a sick satisfaction from seeing the bitch dead, your survival a victory over her. 

When she’d been alive she had a top. This really cute white, lacy number and no matter how many times you asked, she would never let you borrow it. She had no qualms stealing your clothes and never giving them back, but god forbid you ever even looked at that top.

It hung in your closet now, yours to do with whatever you pleased. You smiled every time you thought about it. 

“Vince?” You knocked on the doorway and clicked the flashlight off as the door creaked open. The warm glow of candlelight leaked out into the dark abyss. You slipped inside, shuddering at the rush of heat that hit you. It wasn’t always hot in here, only when he was preparing a new batch of wax. 

You frowned, he only did that when there were visitors coming. Lester must’ve called ahead, told them he spotted someone on the road. You closed the door behind you walking towards his desk and dropping the plate on top. Your fingers skimmed over the sketches, catching on another one of you. 

You picked it up and smiled, it was a sketch of you curled up on the couch with Jonesy, your face pressed into her fur as you slept. You remember waking up from that nap, frowning when you heard wood creaking behind you but not seeing anything. 

What a weird little stalker. He knew he could ask to sketch you and you didn’t mind, but he always ran away like you were gonna be mad at him. You shook your head, placing it back down, and walked further into his studio. 

You found him sitting at his table, curled over something you couldn’t make out. You could see his wrist flicking, the carving tool in his hand, and figured he was making another animal for you. You already had a whole shelf full of different animals, practically your own wax zoo. 

“Hey,” you whispered, hands creeping slowly along his shoulders. He tensed slightly before he leaned into you. “Brought you lunch.” His movements paused to sign, Thank you.

You glanced down at his hair, curling around him like a dark curtain and frowned. “Vince, you got wax in your hair again.” He shrugged and continued working. You sighed, walking back towards his desk and rustling through drawers until you found the brush you’d left down here for him.

Sometimes you think he does this on purpose because he likes how you take care of him. You ran the brush through his hair a few times trying to make sure you’d gotten all the wax out. He let out a low groan, his head tilting back and thudding against your chest as you stood behind him. 

You chuckled, scratching your fingers along his scalp and he let out a long sigh, melting into you. You’d have to force him into the shower later, to wash everything out of his hair. It was astounding how stubborn both brothers were about just showering. 

You weren’t sure why they resisted so much, maybe it was something that happened between them and their parents. Either way, it was a fight to get them near the water and even then you had to bribe them with your body, luring them in like a siren just so you could wash the grime off. 

You braided Vincent’s hair away from his face and he stilled, temporarily becoming your doll while you did what you wanted to him. He was always a bit easier than his brother. He was eager to please, even more eager for your praise. For you to tell him you were proud of him. 

You leaned down, pressing a kiss against the waxed cheek of his mask. “Eat your lunch, please.” He nodded but the second you backed off he was back to carving into the block of wax before him. You sighed and glanced around his space, collecting the dishes of other half-eaten meals you’ve brought down. 

The bell rang above you and you let out a sigh or relief as you stepped into Bo’s shop. A cool breeze rustled the fabric of your top. Seems like he got the air conditioning up and running again, even in winter you could still wear a tank top and shorts and be sweating. “Bo?”

“Back here!”

You walked towards the garage, brown bag clutched tightly in your hands and poked your head in. He was bent over, head under the hood of a car and oil smeared all over his coveralls. Your eyes traveled over the car he was working on, wincing when you realized it was yours. 

You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten here. You’d seen Bo towing it in, along with Owen’s but you’d always avoided paying too much attention to it. You weren’t sure why he bothered working on it, maybe it was a taunt towards you or he was just bored. You never really knew with him. 

“Brought lunch,” you offered, walking towards his work table and jumping on top, the bag going next to your thighs. He lifted himself up, looking towards you and smiling. 

“Thanks, hun,” you hummed in response, sticking your neck out as he approached. He chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

He reached for the bag, pulling out his lunch and taking too big of a bite. “‘M gonna have to go up to the house,” he mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. “Need to change before our visitors get here.”

You nodded, staying quiet as he stared at you. You’d gotten used to this look and even more used to what was about to happen after. He’d tell you to follow him and would help you off the desk, deceptively sweet as he tugged you down to the room below the garage. 

Then he would tape you up, muttering to himself about not letting you leave. You’d submit easily, letting him do what he wanted. It was easier than trying to tell him you were staying. 

But his gaze shifted back to the car and you frowned at the side of his face. He should’ve told you to move by now. Instead he leaned back against the desk, his hand skimming your own. He didn’t look at you while he spoke. 

“Want you to work on your car.”

You blanched, eyes going wide as you stared at him. That wasn’t even close to what you were expecting. You had gotten so used to sitting under that grate, listening to the screams of his victims as he hunted them down. Now, he wanted you up here, wanted you to see it. 

What was he doing?

“What?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “fucked somethin’ up, want you to fix it.” He crumpled the bag into a ball, tossing it into the trash can and turned back towards you. You didn’t see anything on his face that would give away why he was keeping you up here on the surface and it set you on edge. 

This had to be some sort of test. Maybe he was seeing if you would try and use the new victims to escape or warn them off. Or he wanted to see if you could pretend like you belonged, go along with his act and keep the victims feeling safe and compliant while he killed them off. 

What the fuck?

You were used to how things worked in Ambrose. There was a system set in place, one you had learned to follow. This went against what you’d come to know and it was setting you on edge as you watched him walk off, heading up the hill and towards his house. 

You stayed glued to the desk for a while, you weren’t sure how long, but it was enough time for Bo to have cleaned up. He popped his head inside the garage, suit on, and frowned. “What’re you doing? Move your ass.”

You jumped, leaping off the work table and rushing towards the car. He laughed at your panicked movements, staying a moment to admire your ass as you bent over the hood before you heard his boots on the gravel, heading towards the church. 

You didn’t appreciate this switch up with him, how erratic his moods and behaviors were. He made it impossible to track and read him, to fully understand why he worked the way he did. 

You were grateful that, at the very least, he had given you a distraction from trying to figure out what this test was and if you were in trouble or not. 

You inspected the car, forcing yourself to remember everything he’s taught you while you’ve lingered in his shop. 

“Oh, they're right here.”

You jumped, rolling out from underneath the car and glancing towards the doorway that connected the garage to the auto shop. Two unfamiliar voices echoed within Bo’s shop. 

“Fan belts?”

“Yeah,” a guy and a girl. You poked your head over the top of the car and saw the guy was a lot taller than you and broader. Shit, you really hoped you didn’t run into him once they figured out what was going on up here. “But he doesn’t have the right size.”

“Just pick one, Wade, I don’t want to be in here much longer.”

“Alright, just hold on Carly.” You grabbed a rag, wiping your hands off and stepping towards them. 

“You plannin’ on stealin’ that?”

They both jumped, whipping around towards where you leaned in the doorway arms crossed over your chest. “No,” the guy rushed to defend himself, his girlfriend shaking her head frantically. “We left some money on the counter, we just needed to get out of here, that’s all.”

“There you are,” you all turned towards Bo. His posture matched your own, leaned against the entrance to the shop, hands tucked in his pockets. God, he looked good. Now that you weren’t fighting for your life you could fully appreciate how handsome he looked all cleaned up. Bo glanced at you then back to the other two, “She botherin’ you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, glaring at him over their shoulders. He winked when they faced you and you figured he was putting on another show. Huffing out an irritated breath you rolled your eyes and turned back towards your car. You frowned at the oil streaked along your skin and clothes, you’d never be able to get the stains out. 

“Oh,” Carly started, shaking her head and glancing back at you again. “No, of course not, we just didn’t know that there was anyone in the shop.”

“She’s new, don’t like lettin’ her around customers, too much attitude.” You could practically see his smirk from under the car. He was probably so proud of himself, being able to tease you without you snapping back for once. 

“She’s fine, um, I left some money on the counter, but you don’t have any fifteens.” You watched as Bo’s feet moved towards the register, most likely pocketing the money. “Is that enough?”

Bo’s tone was easy going, the perfect southern gentleman as he helped a poor lost couple. “Close enough. You know, I’ve got the right size up at the house. Only a couple blocks from here…”

You forced yourself deaf, trying to block out the rest of their conversation. These people weren’t exactly assholes and they didn’t seem particularly deserving of what was about to happen. Your friends were bad people, you didn’t feel guilty about them, but there was something about this couple that had your stomach burning in anxiety. 

Maybe this was why Bo had you outside, playing mechanic with him. He wanted you to see the harsh reality of what it was they did here. you couldn’t always cover your ears and pretend it wasn’t happening. Was this what the test was? See how committed you were to him and Vincent, to Ambrose. 

You used the car as a cover, dropping the wrench beside you and covering your face as you tried to decide whether you were going to cry or throw up. It was fine, the idea of all this, when you were hidden under the grate. The straps were a reminder that it could be you up there being hunted again. 

Being face to face with the victims was entirely different. 

A hand slammed down on the roof of the car, the metal reverberating around you, “Hey!”

You screamed, jumping up and nearly hitting your head on the underbelly of the car. You rolled out, glaring at Bo while he stood smiling down at you. He kneeled down, laying a hand around your thigh and squeezing. 

“You’re gonna stay here, keep an eye out for any more of their friends, and behave. Okay?”

You nodded and he dug his nails in, “Yes, Bo.” 

“Good girl,” he stood up and walked towards the garage door. You watched him, afraid to take your eyes off his back. He turned back around, one last lingering look that had you feeling cold, “Don’t fuck up.” You flinched as the garage door slammed down behind him. 

“Help! Help me, please!” You jumped up and ran to the front of the auto shop. Carly ran face first into you, her fingernails digging painfully into your skin as she looked behind her. 

“Shit,” you grabbed her biceps and pulled her away. “What’s going on?”

She backed up, wiping her eyes and gulping as she tried to catch her breath. “That- that guy, Bo, I think he did something to my boyfriend.”

“Alright, calm down, it’s okay.” God, you were just as freaked out as her. What the fuck were you supposed to do? “Let me get the phone, we’ll call someone.”

She nodded, running to the door and locking it. She pressed her face against the glass and peered outside, keeping an eye out for him. You knew you didn’t have long before she started to get suspicious. The station had a working phone, but there was no way in hell you were actually about to call the cops on Bo. 

You paced back and forth, running your hands through your hair as you looked around, trying to find a solution. Your eyes snagged on the wrench by the car. You whipped your head over your shoulder, Carly was still stuck to the window. You ran for it, grabbing it and turning back towards her. 

You raised your hand up, wincing as she caught your eye in the reflection of the glass. “What’re-”

She crumpled to the ground with a thud, crimson pooling around her arms. 

You saw in the reflection Bo approaching you from behind, back in his coveralls. “Atta girl!” You didn’t react when he slung his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Did good, baby.” He released you, huffing out a big sigh and walking over to the girl, “Alright, grab her ankles.” His tone was no longer adoring going right back to business. 

You looked at him like he was crazy, ”Bo, what?”

You dropped the wrench to the ground and he frowned from where he was picking up her wrists. “You got a problem?”

”Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? Why am I doing this?” He dropped her arms unceremoniously and you winced at the crack they made against the cement. He stepped over her, stalking towards you and you stumbled back, heart beating faster in fear. 

His hand snapped out, grabbing you before you could make it far. You whined as he dug his nails into your cheeks, puckering your lips and gripping your jaw hard enough for it to creak. “You’re doing this ‘cause I said to. Do we have a problem?”

He was so good at making you feel small. You wonder how Vincent’s put up with it all these years. “No, Bo,” your words were muffled by his grip, but he got the message. He released you, but you didn’t go far, his arm wrapping around waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his hand coming up to push some of your hair back. “It’s alright, darlin.’ We all make mistakes, right?” His tone was condescending, his smirk even more so, but you played along like he wanted you to. Nodding and accepting when he pressed a violent kiss to your mouth, your teeth clashing together and lip splitting from the force of it. 

He backed away from you, chuckling loudly and going back to the unconscious girl on the floor. You grabbed her by the ankles like he’d told you to and helped him drag her down to the basement. He propped her head on your shoulder while he unlocked the door and you struggled under her dead weight. 

“Why is she going down here, Bo?”

Your mind went to the Polaroids covering the walls, the things he’s had you do in that chair and you felt anger burning in your gut. Not worry or fear for her like you should feel, but white hot burning rage at him for trying to pull something like this.

He looked over his shoulder at your expression and grinned, “Nothin’ like that, baby. Little bitch put up a fight and wrecked my truck, I ain’t done with her yet.” 

A good person would wince and whisper and apology to the unconscious girl, say they were sorry for the pain she was about to experience. Instead you felt sated, relieved, and completely fine with hauling her body up into the chair and taping her down. 

You held her legs down as he taped them and she started to move around. Bo tossed you some superglue and you gripped her by the jaw, clamping her lips shut and pouring glue over the seam of her mouth. She whimpered and you ignored her, moving mechanically, distancing yourself from the fact that she was a real moving person. In her place was a wax statue, full of imperfections that you needed the glue to fix. 

All three of you looked up through the grate at the sound of the boots stomping in the garage above you. Bo shared a look with you and nodded towards the door. You let the girl go, slipping out of the basement and closing the door behind you. You came up through the entrance behind the register, glancing outside to see a man in front of the garage. 

You let out a breath of relief, closing the door to the shop as you stepped into the garage, he hadn’t got a chance to see the pool of blood. “Can I help you?”

He turned around, a particularly bitchy look on his face. “Looking for my sister, Carly, seen her?”

There was a loud yelp and you frowned. You walked towards the work table, reaching for the stereo and turning the volume to Bo’s music on. You covered the grate from his view as Deftones blasted through the small garage. 

“Sorry, it’s my dog, she hates new people.”

He gave you an awkward smile and nodded. “Yeah, might’ve seen her. Pretty girl, blonde hair?”

He nodded his head, giving you an appraising look. You weren’t sure if he didn’t believe you or was checking you out. You really preferred that he didn’t believe you, you weren’t prepared to deal with Bo if he thought someone was moving in on you. ”My boss, Bo, took her and her boyfriend up to his house a few minutes ago. They were lookin’ for a fan belt.”

“His house?”

You shrugged, “He keeps extra shipments there. Wasn’t too long ago, you want me to take you?” 

He sucked on his teeth, shaking his head and backing away. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

You panicked, fists clenching as you watched him retreat. “It's really no problem.”

“I said I’m good,” he snapped. 

You could see Bo creeping up behind him, the same wrench you used on the guy’s sister in his hand. If he turned around he would see Bo. Carly was easy to take out, she was small, trusting. This guy looked built and like he’d been in a few too many fights. “Wait!” You shouted, too scared to come up with a good distraction. 

He glared at you and opened his mouth to say something just as Bo struck. The wrench came down on the guys head with a disturbing crack, but he didn’t fall like he should have. He stumbled forward and whirled around on Bo, his fist catching him in the jaw and tackling him to the ground. 

You could clearly see blood pouring down the back of his head, but he remained unphased as he  pounded into Bo. “Shit,” you cursed, darting to the side to pick up another weapon but you failed to notice how the man had stopped beating Bo. He must’ve seen you moving somehow because in a split second something was slamming into your side and the air was leaving you as you were slammed into the cement. 

You groaned, feeling like your lungs had collapsed and curled up in an attempt to protect yourself as he directed his attacks towards you. “Nick!” A shrill voice screamed from the grate. “Nick!” He leapt off of you, heading back towards Bo and ripping the keys off his belt as he made a run for it. 

Your vision was red, blood pouring down from a cut on your forehead. You took in a painful breath, your lungs wheezing, your ribs had apparently taken the majority of his punches. With your brain pounding against your eyes you rolled onto your knees and crawled towards Bo. 

He wasn’t as badly injured as you had thought he would be, must’ve gotten in a few hits of his own. “Bo,” you grabbed his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Bo!” You tried again, shouting this time and slamming his head down on the cement. 

He groaned and you let yourself fall back, head lolling on your shoulders as you tried to get your vision to stop swimming. “Shit, he got me.” Bo sat up, wiping the blood from under his nose, “Get home.” He ordered, tone not leaving any room for an argument. You nodded as he stormed off, but instead of going home like he told you to, you laid down on the cold cement and groaned. 

Should lungs hurt?

You eventually managed your way to the house, once you’d got breath back, your injuries weren’t as bad as you’d thought they’d been. You stumbled into the doorway, glancing at a trail of blood leading into the office and trudging your way to the fridge. You grabbed a beer and threw yourself down on the couch. 

It didn’t take long to hear footsteps creeping towards you. Your heart clenched when you saw how hesitant Vincent was to get near you. You loved Bo, but he could be a real fucking dick to his brother. You leaned your head against the cushion, rolling it to the right and smiling at Vincent. 

It seemed to be enough for him to feel comfortable approaching you. He kneeled on the floor beside you and fussed over your scrapes. “I’m fine, really,” you reached up, taking his hand in yours and trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I think they got Bo pretty bad, though.”

He tugged his hands from yours, taking off his gloves and signing. How bad

”One of the guys, he’s pretty strong, busted his sister out from the basement after attacking me and Bo. Actually managed to knock Bo out for a minute.”

Stay here

“Wait-” you reached out, trying to grab the back of his sweater but he was already making a run for the front door. It slammed closed behind him, his truck starting up a minute later. You sighed and fell back against the couch, letting your eyes shut as you tried to relax. 

You hadn’t realized just how relaxed you’d gotten until you heard the door slam. You jumped up, glancing out the living room window and realizing how dark it’d gotten. You moved off the couch, placing your beer on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. 

Bo was leaning on the counter, already a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was completely soaked in blood, his nose leaking and a bandage wrapped around his arm. “Holy shit, Bo, what happened?” 

You ran forward, hands instinctively going to the arrow buried in his arm. “Back off!” He snapped. You frowned and stepped back from him, trying not to upset him any further. You heard the rumble of a truck on the driveway and you glanced through the window. 

Two bodies lay in the bed of Vincent’s yellow truck, a blonde girl and some guy you hadn’t seen before. Vincent jumped out, Jonesy following behind him, and made his way towards the door. You opened it before he could, grabbing him by the cardigan and making sure he wasn’t hurt like Bo. 

He took your hands in his and shook his head, gently moving you back. “What have I told you about leaving without me?” Bo shouted. “You wait for me!”

Vincent nodded, not bothering to respond to Bo. There was a moment of tense silence before Bo offered a half-hearted smile to Vincent, “We’re almost done, Vinnie, momma would be proud of ya.”

It was the closest to an apology Vincent would ever get, you all knew it. Bo can’t apologize, his parents had permantly fucked with his psyche, and it started with his dad doing a risky surgery to seperate his boys. Vincent’s face would permanently be ruined but you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Bo had gotten the fucked mental end of the separation. 

“How many are left?” You asked, reluctantly releasing Vincent’s hands. 

“The girl and her brother,” Bo paced, taking a swig of his whiskey. He hissed and clutched his hurt arm. “Alright, help me out with this.”

You had to hold yourself back from snapping at him. Oh, can I help now? Dick. You grabbed hold of what was left of the arrow and yanked as hard as you could, Bo clenched his teeth and let out a loud pained groan. You winced at the amount of blood that started coming out, Vincent moved you to the side, already having a bandage ready and tying it tight around Bo’s arm. 

“Where do you think they headed?”

Bo grunted, speaking through clenched teeth, “House of Wax.”

You nodded and stepped back from him once it seemed like Vincent wouldn’t need your help. “I’ll go with you both.”

”No,” Bo shouted and Vincent shook his head wildly. 

“Don’t be a dumbass, you need my help. They’ve already kicked your ass, I’ll stay out of sight, promise. I just want to be there in case they get the upper hand.” Bo looked unsure and Vincent was still shaking his head. You placed a comforting hand on both of their arms and begged, “Please. Let me help.”

Bo shook his head and your stomach dropped, worried he would say no. Finally he let out a long sigh, “Stick with Vincent.”

You nodded, feeling Vincent’s hand grab onto yours as he led you outside. Bo grunted and slowly followed after you both, his left arm stiff beside him. 

You followed Vincent into the bowels of the House of Wax, he moved slowly, keeping one hand behind him to make sure you didn’t bolt. You weren’t planning on it, but they didn’t seem to completely trust you for some reason. 

You heard footsteps ahead, quck and frantic, rushing through his workshop. Vincent pulled out his bone handle daggers and ran down the rest of the steps. You stayed on the stairwell, keeping your head peaked around the corner. 

The brother was in there, rushing through the workshop and knocking shit over without a care in the world. He hadn’t noticed Vincent yet, too busy looking for something. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or what the plan was until you saw him grab a pile of sheets, getting ready to throw them in the fire that kept the wax warm. 

Shit, he was going to set the whole damn place on fire. 

Even if you did manage to kill these two, it wouldn’t matter, the police would come, they’d see the bodies. Bo and Vincent would be locked up and you…

Well, you didn’t really know what would happen to you. 

You could always plead insanity, show the jury the scars from your bonds and they’d think you were just a victim forced to do the unimaginable. 

You considered it for a moment, letting him get away with this, thought about the freedom that might await you. There was an empty feeling associated with that image, you’d miss Bo and Vince, miss the fucked up life you were living here. 

There weren’t any worries here, just make sure the victims didn’t make it past the woods and you were fine. No taxes, or wondering how you’d afford to keep living in your overpriced apartment, no fucked politics. You were free to be whoever you wanted, do whatever you wanted. 

You grabbed a lead pipe off the stairs and threw it at the wall. It provided enough of a distraction for him to drop the sheets, not yet making it to the fire, and for Vince to grab him. You watched long enough to see the knife go through his throat and then ran back up the stairs towards Bo. 

You heard screaming before you made it through the door, Carly shouting something at him. What worried you was that you didn’t hear him respond. You turned the corner, feet sticking to the wax as you gripped onto the doorway for balance. 

She was standing over him, baseball bat in her hands poised to bring it back down over his face. You could already see blood leaking down his face from where she’d hit him before. Without thinking you charged at her, wrapping your arms around her middle and taking her down to the floor. 

She let out a surprised yelp but you didn’t let her get much else out before you were wailing on her. You don’t know what happened after you grabbed her. You only remember punching her the first time, remember your knuckles splitting and your blood mingling with hers as she wrestled with you. 

All you could see was Bo laying on the floor, not moving, as this bitch stood over him with a bat. You were blinded by rage, a hot fury burning in your gut and keeping you moving as you pounded your fists into her. You felt satisfied by the sound of her bones crunching under you. 

She screamed at you, words you couldn’t hear as your blood rushed through your ears, and threw her hand up into your chin. You groaned, jaw whipping to the side. She pounced on you, digging her fingers into your throat until you couldn’t breathe and flipping you both over. 

You dragged your nails down her face, the skin digging under your nails like warm wax. You dragged your palms down until you could feel her throat, the movement it made as she took in a deep breath. You felt it bob up and down under your touch and you squeezed. She let out a strangled yelp and you could feel yourself slipping. You were becoming lost in a place of animalistic panic. 

You were almost dead, the man you loved was most likely lying dead next to you as you fought for your own life. Your vision was cloudy until it went completely black and then you felt arms wrapping around your chest and pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, still in fighting for your life until you recognized the voice in your ear. 

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s over.” You slumped back at the sound of Bo’s whispers. You ignored the feeling of his blood leaking into your shirt as he sat down with you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing until it hurt. 

You didn’t mind the pain, though, embracing it because it meant you were both alive. Both of you were okay. You reached back, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into him. Carly lay dead a few feet in front of you, her face mangled and you looked down to see her blood soaking into your clothes. 

You had your own wounds from where she’d fought back, bleeding lacerations that you’d fix later. For now you sat with Bo, watching as Vincent stomped towards you both. In a minute you’d get up, help them clean up the house and the bodies. Then you’d all go home, you’d make dinner, pass out on the couch and wake up in one of their beds. Probably Bo, if his panicked grip was anything to go by. 

Life would go on as it always had, except you’d never have to see that chair again. You’d never be looking up through a grate as blood pooled on the garage floor. You’d go with Bo when he went to the city for supplies, you’d be able to pick out clothes that weren’t plucked from the hands of the dead. 

It wasn’t right. 

You weren’t a good person. 

You didn’t deserve salvation or heaven after all of this. 

But you’d found it and you were perfectly happy. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

You struck again!! The newlywed fox was everything!! The fake neighbors reminded me of the Don’t Worry Darling movie and listening to the soundtrack while reading was 10/10!! You’re so incredibly talented!

I'm so glad everyone liked the newlyweds, I was worried that I had rushed the ending for it. Listening to the soundtrack is such a smart move, you could say a movie like that influenced the fic, but I was thinking of the Stepford Wives (with Nicole Kidman) the whole time.

That was my jam as a kid, I was obsessed with that movie.

Thank you so much for such a sweet message ♥️

Broken Machinery

Pt. 5 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I wanted drama but my hatred for miscommunication tropes has thwarted me. 

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), adult conversations about feelings, sex androids, perverts, Gavin

Word Count: 5k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

Connor was in your living room.

Connor was in your living room staring at a flower. 

Connor was in your living room. 

Why was he still here? You’d thought he had left last night. You looked around your home, like someone was about to pop out and attack you. He obviously hadn’t planned an ambush, but why else would he be here?

“It was a guess.” You jumped ten feet out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You’d assumed he had been in sleep mode. Once the scare wore off you finally processed his words. 

“What was a guess?” You really didn’t want to care, but curiosity got the best of you.

Androids didn’t guess they came to educated conclusions provided by their software. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee, but Connor stopped you by putting a mug in the air, you could still see the steam coming out of it. 

You took it from his hands and sniffed it like it was poisoned. After his display with the noodles last night you really didn’t trust his prowess in the kitchen. It didn’t seem like he had messed anything up. You took a seat in the armchair across from the couch.

The repairman must have already come, your window was fixed, the blinds were open on all the windows letting the morning light inside. 

It didn’t escape your notice that Connor’s LED had been a steady red since you had walked into the living room. Or that he had wiped off your drawings. “On the roof I took a risk.”

You stiffened at the mention of the roof. The fear was still present, the feeling like you had wasted your entire life and would have nothing to show for it was still heavy on your chest. 

When you’d been faced with certain death, you hadn’t gotten a pretty flashback of all the good points in your life. You hadn’t felt at ease, like what you’d been put on the earth to do had been completed. You had felt absolutely worthless. Like you’d never amounted to anything and had disapointed everyone around you.

You felt like no one would miss you when you were gone, and that hurt worse than anything.

To avoid feeling, you’d been shoving any thoughts of the roof deep down into the abyss of your other repressed memories. You didn’t feel like reliving any of that with the android that had left you to die. Connor must have seen how quickly you’d become defensive because he rushed to finish the rest of his thought. 

“I could hear Hank coming up the stairs, he was barely three feet away from us. You had a 40% chance of survival without my help. You were guaranteed survival by Hank’s arrival. My mission took precedence and I pursued the deviant.” Connor finally looked away from the flower and at you. “I’ve replayed the memory a hundred times since it happened and I keep coming to the same conclusion; I didn’t want to leave you.”

Connor gets up from the couch and kneels in front of you on your chair. You’re still struggling to process what he’s saying. “I wanted to stay and be the one to catch you. You were my priority, but my programming forced me after the deviant and I had no choice but to pursue.” 

You were reeling from the bomb he had just dropped. The fact that he wanted anything was a problem, androids didn’t want. They followed orders. They weren’t allowed feelings or desires. 

His LED was still red, you were starting to worry about what this would mean for the stability of Connor’s programming. If anything he was saying was true then he was at risk of being deactivated soon.

Therein lies the problem. Was any of this the truth or was it just another form of manipulation to gain your trust back?

“How do I know you actually mean what you’re saying?” Connor looked up from where he had been staring at your hands, his head tilted at your question. “I know your favorite dog isn't a St. Bernard, Connor, okay? I know that you can illegally acquire documents if it’s necessary for the succession of your mission. I know you’re capable of actions that other androids aren’t. Including manipulation.” You leaned in towards his face. “How do I know that you’re not using those tactics on me right now?”

Connor’s face scrunched up in something that looked a hell of a lot like frustration. “Damn it, Y/N, just listen to me! There is something happening inside me that I have no control over. Every glitch in my software, every instability, every irrational instruction it all revolves around you! I wanted to save you and I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

What Connor was asking for right now was trust, another chance, a leap of blind faith. He was asking a lot for someone who just left you to die. But he was also trusting you, trusting that you wouldn’t report him or have him deactivated for signs of deviancy.

Trust needs to go both ways.

So, you would take the leap, the small risk that he was lying to you. You would take it and believe him, because you were desperate.

Desperate for this to be the truth, to be so special to someone you were literally breaking their programming. That innate desire for someone to just accept you as you were was ripping down any walls you were attempting to build between yourself and Connor. 

Yes, you were still upset about what happened on the roof, and no, things wouldn’t be the same as they were before. But maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing. 

“Okay.”

Maybe it’s better to go into this again with the sobering reminder that he was an android. He wasn’t a stray puppy or someone that needed protection. He was a machine with programming and rules to follow. It wasn’t fair to be so mad at him for something he had no control over. 

But this moment, where he’s staring at you with a desperation that mirrors your own, also reminds you that they can feel. Sometimes they just need that push in the right direction. 

“What?”

“I believe you.” You didn’t give him a second to process that information before you asked your next question, “But that still doesn’t tell me what your guess was on the roof?”

Connor reached up and fiddled with his tie, he apparently still needed a moment to register the fact that you were trusting him. “The guess was that you wouldn’t hate me afterwards… and that perhaps the Lieutenant being the one to save you would help your relationship.”

“Well, it didn’t. He hasn’t talked to me since I got out of the hospital.” Connor frowned at that. “Look, I appreciate the honesty and the attempt at fixing my relationship with him. However, partnerships are built on trust, I need to be able to trust you completely when we’re out in the field together. If I can’t then we have no chance of closing this case, so override whatever you need to override to make your first objective your partner's safety.” 

Connor nodded and fixed his sleeves, “Done.”

You nodded, “Good, now let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.” It was only when you got up to change that you noticed what the flower was on your coffee table.

A black dahlia.

“The Lieutenant really hasn’t contacted you?” You glanced up at Connor from your breakfast sandwich and shook your head. The thought made your eyes sting. “That’s unacceptable,” you snorted at Connor’s indignation. His LED had gone back to a cool blue once you had given him the objective of feeding you. “I’ll be staying with you until you’re healed, then.”

You choked on the water in your mouth. Connor’s hand came down in pats hard enough to dislodge the water but not enough to further damage your ribs. “What?” You croak out as you attempt to blink tears out of your eyes. 

“You needed assistance dressing yourself this morning,” you rolled your eyes.

That was a bit dramatic, you just needed a bit of help getting your shirt on, and your jeans… and tying your shoes, plus your hair. It wasn’t even a lot.

“And bathing, plus, keeping a tidy living area will help with your psychological recovery. There’s nothing wrong with getting some help, detective. All I need is somewhere to sit so I can recharge.”

“Do I have any choice?”

Connor stared at you in silence for a long moment before responding with a stern, “No.”

Moving him in was easy. 

He literally only owned the flower.

The same flower he tried to give you at the hospital. You feel a bit guilty everytime you look at it. You just end up thinking about the way you acted when he came to visit you at the hospital. You were a bit blinded by your own terror and rage at the time, but thinking back it was clear he had wanted to make amends with you. 

And android ‘recharge’ just meant he sat somewhere and shut down while his software repaired any damage he had acquired during the day. So you set him up on the couch. You didn’t really do much after breakfast, Connor forced you to stay on the couch or in your room. He had also forced you into your sling, you hated the way it scratched on your neck, but every time you went to take it off he would appear out of nowhere and place it right back on. 

He was like a parent with a sixth sense for when their toddler was sticking something in their mouth they shouldn’t. 

Your entire day was spent with Connor hovering around somewhere in the background while you let your TV make your brain dumber. 

At around eight Connor stopped from where he had been digging around in your bookshelf. He stayed completely still in his squatted position and his LED turned yellow. You’d gotten used to his random stopping and going so you just ignored him and turned your attention back to the god awful soap on TV. 

It was when he made his way to your front door that you finally turned your attention towards him. “Where’re you going?”

“I just received information on another deviant case, I’m going to retrieve Lieutenant Anderson.”

You quickly shot off the couch and stared at him in offense. “Without me?”

He gave you a deadpan look, “You’re still injured, detective. You need rest, it would be unwise for you to come with me.”

Well that’s sure as hell not happening. Time to engage in some manipulation tactics of your own. “Fine. But I’m going to follow you anyway. I’m probably gonna get changed on my own too, see if I can drive with only one arm,” you totally could, but he didn’t need to know that. “You know I still have a minor concussion,” you began walking towards your bedroom, “I wonder how badly that affects someone’s ability to drive.”

The taxi pulled up to the curb of Lieutenant Anderson’s house and Connor let you out first. He followed behind and made his way to the door. You wandered towards Hank’s car while he tried to get his attention at the door. “Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor glanced over at you, you had accidentally triggered the perimeter light in front of the garage and were quickly tip-toeing your way back to him. 

He tried the doorbell, “Anybody home?” You brushed against him and shoved your finger into the doorbell, holding it there for a few seconds before making it play a discordant tune. 

“Huh, that usually works.” 

FIND A WAY INSIDE

Connor left you to play with the doorbell while he searched around the perimeter of the house. He peered into every window until he found an open one by the kitchen. A quick look inside showed him the Lieutenant was passed out on his kitchen floor. “Lieutenant Anderson?”

Non-responsive. Connor didn’t waste any time breaking the window and jumping through. He landed on his back and a large St. Bernard was immediately standing over him. “Easy… Sumo, I’m your friend, see? I know your name, I’m here to save your owner.” He was a little worried that he might attack him until his tail started wagging and he turned back around, out of the kitchen. 

You were standing in the entrance doorway, holding a key up for him to see. You looked at the broken glass under him and then to the window. “Dude… You have a problem.” Your gaze drifted, landing on the Lieutenant. “Shit, dad.” You pocketed the key and rushed over to Hank’s side. “Oh, god, gross.” You backed away slightly when you caught sight of the vomit on Hank’s face and chest. 

Connor kneeled next to Hank and quickly scanned him. “He’s got slight arrhythmia, but no sign of trauma to his heart.” He kept the information about the gun to himself, but from the way you were looking down at it he had a feeling you already knew the game the Lieutenant was playing. “I suspect it’s an ethylic coma.” Connor lightly slapped the Lieutenants cheek in an attempt to wake him, but you pushed his hand away. 

“I’ve got this,” you were more than eager to land a harsh slap to the Lieutenants cheek that left a bright mark in the shape of your hand. “Wake up, asshole.”

The Lieutenant came to and Connor leaned over, “It’s me Connor, and Y/N.” Connor reached over and grabbed Hank’s arm, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m going to sober you up for your own safety.”

“Hey! Leave me alone, you fuckin’ android!” 

“I have to warn you, this may be unpleasant.”

Hank looked towards you and frowned, “Get the fuck outta my house, I told you I didn’t want you around!” There were tears building in the corner of your eyes, but you helped Connor lead the Lieutenant to the bathroom anyway. “Sumo! Attack!” The dog’s tail hit the ground but he made no move to get up. “Good dog.”

Connor propped Hank onto the wall to open up the bathroom door. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“The fuck do you think happens when you drink a whole bottle of whiskey?” You were frowning at the Lieutenant, hostility clear in your voice. 

“It was only… half.” His words were slurred and he seemed disoriented. He was no use to either of you in this shape. “Leave me alone, asshole! I’m not going anywhere…” When the Lieutenant attempted to hang onto the bathroom door frame you were quick to slam your fist on his fingers, making him yelp and pull back in pain. 

Connor saw four notes on the bathroom mirror, two were in Hank’s handwriting, ‘I’m not grumpy I just don’t like you!’ ‘To shave or not’ 

The other two he recognized as yours from your written reports; ‘Today will be fantastic!’ ‘You’re doing great :)’

Connor shoved the Lieutenant down with a little more force than necessary when he saw the sad way you were looking at the notes, and the way you seemed to hunch down more into yourself. “Sorry, Lieutenant. It’s for your own good.” There was a slight satisfaction as he turned the water on cold and watched the Lieutenant struggle, it left him when he turned around and realized you were no longer in the bathroom. 

“OH GOD! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” He was certainly aware now. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“A homicide was reported forty three minutes ago. We couldn’t find you at Jimmy’s bar, so Y/N suggested we see if you were at home.”

“Jesus, I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin’ android… Can’t you just leave me alone?”

Connor ignored the lack of concern Hank displayed at the fact that you weren’t at home, like you should be, resting. “You seem to have personal issues. You should consult a professional who can help you.” Connor would not be offering his support to Hank. 

“Beat it! You hear me?! Get the hell outta here!” Connor helped the Lieutenant back onto the edge of the bathtub when he stumbled. 

“I understand. It probably wasn’t interesting anyway… A man found dead in a sex club downtown…Guess they’ll have to solve the case without us…” Connor promised not to use any manipulation tactics on you, he didn’t say anything about not using them on the Lieutenant. 

“You know, probably wouldn’t do me any harm to get some air… There’s some clothes in the bedroom there.”

BRING HANK CLEAN CLOTHES

“I’ll go get them.” He closed the door as Hank began throwing up. 

“Hey, cutie.”

Connor turned towards your voice, “Hello, detective.” You were leaning over petting Sumo, your eyes widened when he responded to a compliment clearly meant for the animal you were interacting with. 

You smiled at him, “I was talking to Sumo.”

Connor cleared his throat, “I knew that.” He moved towards the bedroom and then paused, you were still watching him. “Even if I didn’t, it would be understandable that I would be confused, you call me by a myriad of nicknames.” You were still smiling as he walked into the bedroom. 

You seemed to be pleased by other people’s embarrassment. He chose an outfit he thought might be embarrassing for Hank to wear, in an attempt to lift your mood after the Lieutenants drunken outburst. A streaky zebra patterned shirt that was out of date according to the fashion catalogs Connor had on file. 

He left the clothes on the sink as Hank threw up some more. 

Why did his humans have to be so complicated?

When he walked back towards the living room, you were in the kitchen. You had Hank’s gun in your hand and were staring at a picture on the table in the kitchen. Connor scanned it and recognized the child in the photo to be Cole. 

He gently took the gun from your hand, you used it’s newfound freedom to lift the picture towards your face. Connor chose not to say anything about the gun, but kept the information logged away. 

HANK HAS SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

Connor stared down at the large amount of empty takeout boxes on the kitchen table. “The Lieutenants diet is nearly as bad as yours.” That startled you out of the trance you had been in, staring at the picture. 

“Excuse me?”

Connor shrugged, “I told you, you need more fiber and protein.” 

You scoffed indignantly, “At least I eat fruit. This shit’s all sodium.” Connor engaged in friendly banter with you in an attempt to keep your mind off whatever has been bothering you since you found the Lieutenant passed out on the floor. 

Hank came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, you immediately snickered at the sight of his shirt. “Snazzy, Hank.” Connor’s assumption was correct, you had an immature form of humor. You quickly moved Connor to hide the damage he had done to the window

Hank chose to ignore the comment as he walked out the door, “Be a good dog, Sumo.”

“Gross,” You were staring up at the entrance to the Eden Club, watching the video of the sexiest androids they had to offer play out. “This is creepier than sex dolls, at least those don’t breathe.” 

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Connor turned off the ignition and looked at the Lieutenant in the back seat, “It’s the address in the report.” Connor got out and moved to open your door, you gave him a small thank you as you exited. 

“Sexiest androids in town. Now I know why you insisted on coming here.” Connor ignored the Lieutenant in favor of observing you. You seemed uncomfortable watching the androids dance on the poles. 

“Is there something wrong, detective?”

You frowned, “It just creeps me out, they’re standing in boxes waiting to be picked and then they just get fucked. There’s no consent or pleasure for them, they physically can’t even say no.”

Connor was confused, “That’s their purpose detective. To pleasure humans.”

You gave Connor a long look that he couldn’t decipher. “Doesn’t mean it's right.”

You follow Hank towards the briefing and Connor lags behind in favor of observing the androids in the club, processing your words. He couldn’t fathom their meaning, androids were designed with one purpose, and programmed to carry out that purpose. Saying it wasn’t right was like saying it was wrong for a washing machine to clean your clothes. Androids were objects and you seemed to have trouble understanding that. 

“Connor! The fuck are you doing?” You and Hank were staring at him watch the Traci model dance, you had a frown on your face. 

“Coming, Lieutenant.” 

He barely heard you mutter, “I bet.”

The congested voice of Ben rang out through the club and the three of you moved towards him. He directed you towards the room the murder occurred in. Ben stopped you before you could enter, “Gavin’s in there, watch out.” 

“Ugh, as if this night couldn’t get any worse, thanks Benny.” He nodded and moved back towards the owner of the club. 

You walked through the room first. “Look, it’s Detective Y/LN, and her plastic toy. The fuck do you want?”

Connor answered before you could, your adrenaline had immediately spiked at the sight of the detective and he didn’t need you getting in another physical altercation. “We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time.” He turned towards the body and laughed. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle.”

“You’re such a-”

Hank quickly grabbed your uninjured arm. “We’ll have a look anyway. If you don’t mind.” 

Gavin scoffed, “It’s starting to stink of booze in here anyway.” He purposefully knocked into Connor on the way out and Hank had to physically hold you back from jumping at him. Your willingness to engage in physical conflict while in already damaged condition was worrisome to Connor. 

Chris bade you all goodnight and you just barely muttered one back before he was gone. Hank was unbothered by your anger as he let you go again. “I hate that son of a bitch.” You continued talking to yourself about your hatred for Gavin as you looked around the room. Connor only caught bits and pieces of your rant, it was disturbing how well you could plan out a murder. 

EXAMINE VICTIM

EXAMINE ANDROID

Connor went to the victim first and reconstructed the scene. He was strangled deliberately, this was not a failure of the heart like Gavin had dismissed it to be. “He didn’t die of a heart attack, he was strangled.” You barely glanced towards Connor before continuing to angrily look around the room. 

“-can’t even do his job right.” 

Hank confirmed his conclusion, “Yeah, I saw the bruising on his neck.” You walked over and peered at the dead body.

“How did he miss that?”

“He most likely assumed it was a consensual part of their time together.” Heat rose to your cheeks at Connor’s words and you quickly turned away from the body and towards the android. You were very cagey when it came to discussing anything sexual in nature around Connor, he assumed it was due to your attraction towards him and how easily you were aroused. 

EXAMINE VICTIM

EXAMINE ANDROID

Connor frowned at Hank’s words that it didn’t prove anything. He was right, it was circumstantial. “We’re missing something,” you mumbled, kneeling down near the android. Connor walked over and joined you, he provide a more thorough examination than you could. “Think you can read her memory?”

“I can try…” It wasn’t a guarantee. It seemed pretty badly damaged and if it was reactivated, it might not be working for long. 

Hank went through the victims wallet while the both of you looked over the android. “A credit car, cash in the wallet… Picture of his wife and two daughters… I wouldn’t want to make that call.” You stood from your position and stretched out your legs. 

“We’ve made worse.”

He finished his analysis of the android. “The only way to access its memory is to reactivate it.”

“Think you can do it?”

“It’s badly damaged… If I can it‘ll only be for a minute, maybe less… I just hope it’s long enough to learn something”

You both watched him from the corner of the room as he worked to reactivate the android. Connor quickly stood as the android shot up and crawled to the corner of the room. He approached slowly, trying not to startle it too much, being mindful of the limited time he had. “Calm down, everything’s alright. All we want is to know what happened.” Her eyes shot to you in the background. Ignoring Connor’s presence. 

“Is he… Is he dead?” You seemed surprised she spoke to you, but quickly stepped forward and kneeled next to Connor. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you kill him?” Her head shot back towards Connor.

“No, no it wasn’t me.”

“Who was it? Was there someone else in the room?” Your line of questioning caught Connor off guard. After your interrogation in the police station he assumed you to be incompetent in that part of your work. You seem to have a better read on this situation then you did with the HK400. Connor moved to the side and let you take over, the android seemed to respond better to you. 

“I- I don’t know, he said he wanted to play with two of us. He just started hitting me again, and again.”

“Do you know what the model was? Did she look like you?”

“I can’t remember, I was so scared. I’ve never felt that before.” You reached out and took it’s hand. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” It nodded before it’s eyes stopped blinking and it shut down. “So, there was another android.”

“This happened over an hour ago, it’s probably long gone.” You nodded at Hank’s assumption. 

“If it were smart, but Connor’s said it before, deviants work on irrational instructions. There’s no logic to their behavior, it might still be nearby.”

“Plus,” Connor added, “it wouldn’t be able to walk around dressed like that unnoticed.” 

“Think you could find a deviant among all the other androids in this place?”

Connor considered Hank’s question, “I could try.”

You seemed to be enjoying watching Hank pay for so many different androids. You were still laughing as he bought a male model, “God, Fowler’s gonna have a field day with this one.” You wiped your eyes, “Oh, this is amazing.”

Hank frowned, “This is about to be the most expensive investigation of my career.” He glared at you, “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Very much so.”

“I know where it went! Follow me.” Both you and Hank turned to follow Connor down the hallway he saw the android go down.

Hank stopped Connor from progressing, “Wait. I’ll take it from here.” Connor nodded and moved back, pushing you behind him. You started to follow them down the stairs when Hank stopped you. “Stay there.”

“What?”

“You’re injured, you shouldn’t even be out of the house. Stay. There!” Hank pushed you back onto the stairs and you threw yourself down onto them, crossing your arms and glaring at Hank. 

You waited until he had walked away to whisper a, “Like you even care.” From the way his shoulders tensed and his footsteps stuttered he had heard you clearly. 

Connor ignored the open warehouse door and continued to search through the storage room, keeping an eye on you to make sure you stayed put. He heard a small gag from the stairs when he sampled a small puddle of thirium off the floor. 

SEARCH FOR BLUE BLOOD TRAIL

The trail led him to a group of androids in the back. Seemingly unactivated, except a blue-haired Traci’s LED was circling through different colors. Connor was hyper focused on watching the blue-haired Traci. It made him blind to the brunette Traci at the front of the group. It had already lunged for him by the time he noticed its LED was also changing colors. 

Your voice was a distraction as the brunette tackled him to the floor, “Shit! Connor-”

Hank stopped his pursuit towards Connor to turn towards you. He pointed his gun at you, “Stay put!” He made it over to Connor to try and help him but the blue haired Traci grabbed Hank and threw him to the ground.

Connor grabbed the brunette Traci by its bra straps and flipped it over a container, only for her to grab a hold of his tie and take him down with her. She straddled him and slammed his head down onto the concrete floor so hard his visual processors temporarily malfunctioned. It was enough of a distraction for her to grab a screwdriver off a nearby shelf, she leapt back onto him and attempted to stab it down into his face. He threw his hand up-

Thirium splattered across his face as the screwdriver stabbed through his palm. He shoved the Traci back and off of him, he whirled around, desperately looking for something to use as a defense. He heard a pained shout and watched as a shelf flew into the Traci. You had managed to sneak behind them both and were panting as you held onto your arm. 

Connor was too busy trying to scold you to notice the Traci getting back up, you let out a surprised squeak and ran behind him, back towards the safety of the stairs. He watched you, confused why you were running, until he felt himself being slammed into a wall. He grabbed the Traci’s hands and threw her back.

He made a run for the table that held an android being worked on and threw the stool near it at the Traci. She swatted it aside like it was nothing. There was a deactivated android standing next to him, he grabbed onto it and threw it at her. 

“Oof-“ 

He was thrown out the open warehouse door and onto his back, standing above him was the blue-haired Traci. She went back inside and grabbed the brunette. He caught a glimpse of them holding hands before Hank was standing up and trying to grab them, only to be knocked back into a pile of trash.

“Hey! Not fighting! Not a part of this,” at some point, while Connor was trying to recover from the fall, the blue haired Traci had dragged you outside, it threw you down next to Hank.

He made his way towards you, scanning you for any possible injuries. You shoved at him, “Connor, move!”

He jumped up from checking on you to see the androids trying to jump the fence at the end of the alleyway. Connor ran over and managed to grab a hold of one of their biceps. Throwing it to the ground, the other one leapt down and onto his back.

He rammed into the alleyways wall to get the one on his back to release him. The blue-haired Traci ran at him, grabbing at his throat while the other attempted to ram its knee into his gut. He grabbed the blue-haired Traci’s wrist and bent it back until he heard the uncomfortable creak of metal, then grabbed the brunette’s leg and shoved her to the ground. She looped a foot around his ankle and tugged him onto the ground next to her. 

Hank at some point, had managed to lose his gun. It was a foot away from Connor’s hand. He kicked the Traci’s face and scrambled to snatch the gun off the ground. It nearly slipped out of his hands, wet from the rainwater, before he managed to get the safety off and was pointing it at the two androids. 

He had it aimed, safety off, poised to fire. His finger pushed against the trigger and then just stopped. 

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

The brunette was back up and took advantage of his hesitation. landing a kick to his face that knocked him to the ground. You quickly scrambled over to him, helping him to his knees. 

The blue-haired Traci began speaking to him, her counterpart still holding the gun to his head. “When that man broke the other Traci… I knew I was next… I was so scared, I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t… And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed until he stopped moving. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive. Get back to the one I love,” her eyes were pleading as she looked to Connor.

“You have to understand that. Being held by the one you love, forgetting the rottenness of those who use us, just for a moment.” The Traci looked at you, standing next to Connor, holding onto his arm. He wondered why she would speak to him of love. He was incapable of something so illogical. She turned towards the brunette, “Come on, let’s go.”

You all watched them gracefully climb the fence and run down the street on the other side of the alley.

“Holy shit, I think that’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. Did they just climb that, in stilettos?” You walked over to examine the fence. Hank walked over and gave Connor a strange look.

“It’s probably better this way.”

You walked back towards them and laid a gentle hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You did a good job.”

He was still struggling to process what had happened. He had let the deviants go, gone against direct orders. He failed his mission, nothing about what he just did was good or a success. 

So, why did he feel like he had just done something right?

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.