Latest Posts by not-neverland06 - Page 8

I think I’ve got something interesting for DBH in the works. Would anyone be interested in Connor RK800 x fem!android rebel reader?

I made text dividers from some paintings I liked. I think it's good?

Like and reblog if you're going to use it!

Aesthetic Dividers for Fics & Masterlists | Part 1 | Part 2

AESTHETIC - CELESTIAL

— Stars & Space | Sun

— Stars & Space | Moon

— Stars & Space | Planets

— Stars & Space | Purple

— Stars & Space | Beige/Grey

AESTHETIC - FLORAL

— Bees/Honey/Flowers

— Cherry Blossom / Peach

— Cherries

— Cute Flowers

— Dark Romantic Florals

— Daisies

— Fall Florals

— Lavender

— Pastel Floral

— Pastel Green & Blue Florals / Navy Blue

— Red Poppies

— Roses/Chains / Gothic Roses

— Sunflowers

— Tulips

AESTHETIC - HEARTS

— Black Hearts

— Hearts

— Heartbeat Dividers

— Lilac Hearts

— Pastel Blue Hearts

AESTHETIC - OTHER

— 50’s Neon Diner

— 70's Music / Flowers

— Angel / Cherub

— Arrows

— Art Deco (Blue Version)

— Art Nouveau

— Beige Daggers

— Black and Grey

— Black & Red Grunge

— Blue & Yellow Dividers

— Blue & Orange Feathers

— Cameras/Photography

— Car/Roadtrip

— Celtic

— Clouds

— Christmas & Winter (part ii)

— Citrus

— Cottagecore / Dark Academia

— Cowboy (part ii) (dark) (space) (christmas)

— Cute Pastel

— Dark Space

— Dog/Puppy

— Dragons

— Fish

— Gems & Pearls

— Ghostface

— Goblincore

— Halloween

— Maroon & Purple

— Minimalist Neutrals

— Mothman

— Music Notes

— Ocean | Part ii | Part iii

— Orange & Green Dividers

— Pale Pink Dividers

— Pancakes / Waffles

— Peaches

— Pink/Coquette (blue & purple)

— Pirate/Mermaid

— Pizza/Spaghetti

— Purple, Pink & Blue Dividers

— Rain/Storm

— Ravens/Moons/Roses

— Red/Black Scroll Work

— Red Riding Hood

— Red & Yellow Dividers

— Rings (Engagement/Christmas)

— Royalty

— Smutty | Pastel

— Stained Glass

— Taylor Swift (Folklore) | illcit affairs | reputation

— Valentine's Day

— Vampires

— Warm Grey Dividers

— Werewolves

— Windows/Webcore

✨(Everything was made in and using Canva - so check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

You’re gonna make me blush ♥️

One More Spring

One-shot

Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.

You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 

For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 

You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 

“Trying to get some color back.”

You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”

“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”

He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 

You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 

As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 

Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 

You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 

You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”

You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”

He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”

I thought you would like it. 

I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.

You always look pretty in this color, baby.

You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 

And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 

Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”

He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 

You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 

You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 

Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 

You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.

Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”

You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 

A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”

You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 

He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 

When would it happen?

When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?

You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 

You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 

Alright, you’ll take that. 

Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 

You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 

You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 

You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 

You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 

You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 

Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 

You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 

You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 

He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 

You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 

You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 

Your one act of rebellion. 

It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.

You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 

You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 

You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 

You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 

A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 

Or she would. 

If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 

Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 

You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 

You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 

One more spring.

You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 

You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 

“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 

You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 

He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 

You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 

On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 

What happened to her?

Is she still alive?

Was she the first?

Will we ever know?

No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 

To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 

Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 

You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 

You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 

“I want to go with you.”

Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”

You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 

You could hardly believe it yourself. 

Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 

You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.

You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 

Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 

Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 

He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 

You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 

You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 

“What do you think?”

Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 

“You know I don’t read much, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”

You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”

He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 

His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 

Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 

“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”

You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 

Maybe he had won. 

There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 

You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 

Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 

You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 

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.

One More Spring

One-shot

Tagging: @dumblittlebunbun bc you’d commented on a previous slasher post

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader A/N: This was a strange little Drabble I came up with when I was experimenting with a different writing style. Summary: You only have one wish, to make it to one more spring in Ambrose. You know that the women don’t last long, used and tossed aside, you don’t have big hopes. Just one last prayer.

You could always tell what kind of day it would be by how the door closed. Maybe it was because you’d grown up with strict parents, but you could read a mood based off their footsteps. 

For now, you felt comfortable and remained lounged on your crappy lawn chair, trying to get some sun back on your legs after winter. The screen door closed lightly behind Bo as his heavy boots made their way to you. 

You didn’t bother lifting your sunglasses as you felt him hovering over you. “What’re you doing?” His voice was gruff and he sounded like he was panting. 

“Trying to get some color back.”

You could hear him scoff and glanced to the side to see him stealing a swig from your beer. “Don’t have better things to be doing?”

“Like what?” You snarked, rolling over and huffing when his eyes immediately went to your ass. Probably a good thing you chose a skimpy pair of bottoms, he was always more agreeable when he was horny. “Playing housewife?”

He chuckled under his breath, kneeling down beside you and flicking your sunglasses up. “Yeah, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. You propped your head up on your arms and glared at him. “I’ll put on an apron for you later, for now, buzz off.”

He shook his head and stood up. “Don’t know where all this attitude came from.” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass. He laughed loudly, walking away much too smug for your liking. “Better not be a damn thing under that apron later!” He shouted as he went back into the house. 

You looked up to tell him off and finally caught a glimpse of his coveralls. Blood coated the bottom of his pants and you shrank back into your chair. You put your head back down on your arms, closing your eyes and ignoring the way your stomach twinged in anxiety. 

As requested, you’d made dinner in an apron and nothing else. Bo had subsequently banished Vincent from the kitchen. You’d felt bad when you’d woken up in the morning, you hadn’t gotten a chance to slip him any food. You’d passed out pretty much the second Bo was done with you. 

Your eyes darted to the bloody coveralls on your bathroom floor. You sighed, legs aching as you got off the bed. You collected his dirtied uniform and the laundry basket and made your way downstairs. 

You got started on the laundry, kicking the old washing machine a few times to get it going. It had been on its last leg for a decade, it was a matter of months before it finally conked out. You threw the clothes in, fingers snagging on a lacy number at the bottom. 

You frowned, tugging it out and holding it up to the light. You’d never seen this before. It certainly hadn’t come from your bag. “You like it?”

You jumped, whirling around with the shirt clutched to your chest. “Jesus, Bo, you scared me.”

He chuckled, face still slightly mussed from sleep. He was only in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rare to see him in anything other than working clothes. “Snagged that off a tourist yesterday, thought you’d look good in it.”

I thought you would like it. 

I know you’ve got a few shirts like that in your closet.

You always look pretty in this color, baby.

You’d heard it all a thousand different ways. The same sentence over and over and over again. You were haunted by the women of Ambrose. The ones who came before you, who’d tried and failed to play house with him. The ones who were yet to come. 

And the woman who would inevitably replace you when you messed up for the final time. 

Your nails dug into the lace, feeling it give beneath them as you smiled at Bo. “I love it, thank you.”

He hugged you, lips lingering against your forehead before he wandered off to start some coffee. You turned around, eyes going back to the shirt. You’d burn it if you could. Rip it apart and scream, instead you tossed it in the wash with the rest of your clothes. You let the lid slam shut, the noise jarring you out of your stupor. 

You forced on a happy face and walked into the kitchen. Vincent was lingering near the entrance and you offered him a gentle smile. “Sorry about dinner,” you whispered as you passed him. He shook his head and took a seat at the table. 

You grabbed the ingredients you needed, rustling through Bo’s ancient cookbook for the French toast recipe you’d found the other day. One day, you’d run out, you wouldn’t have any more delicacies to surprise them both with. 

Bo would tire of the same repetitive food. The same face every morning. The same sounds and movements in the bedroom. You’d become used up, lose the new shine everyone loved on their toys. 

You clenched the spatula in your hand, gritting your teeth as you cooked some eggs for the both of them. You brought it over to the table, scooping it onto their plates, Bo got the bigger serving. Bo always got what he wanted.

Your mind flashed to the garage, the straps there waiting for you. “Hey!”

You jumped, pan nearly dropping out of your hands as you stared at the dropped eggs on his lap. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” You rushed to the counter, grabbing a towel and kneeling down, frantically trying to get them off his pants. 

A calloused hand landed on your head, you jumped and looked up at Bo. Your heart raced, expecting malice or a sneer that meant the last nail had fallen and your time was up. Instead he was smiling gently down at you, hand smoothing the hair from your face. “Just a spill, darlin’, get the bacon ‘fore it burns.”

You backed away instantly, taking the egg filled rag with you as you went back to the stove. You flipped the bacon, turning off the burner and risking a glance over your shoulder at Bo. 

He was sipping his coffee peacefully, not a worry in the world. But you could see how tightly Vincent had his fork gripped, the way it shook slightly as he placed it back on his plate. Seems you weren’t the only one who’d thought your time was up. 

When would it happen?

When spring returned and the birds started chirping their early morning song again?

You wouldn’t mind if that was when it ended. If you got to make it to another birthday, that would be even better. You’d like to experience another holiday, or Halloween. Perhaps that was too much to ask for. 

You’d settle for just seeing the buds return to the trees in Ambrose once more. Pink blooming in the absence of death. That would be lovely. 

Alright, you’ll take that. 

Make it through one more spring and you can happily let go. 

You could hear the women screaming as you walked down the stairs of the house. See glimpses of who they used to be. Hair clips you knew weren’t yours, underwear buried in the back of drawers that you’d never touched. Necklaces and jewelry that didn’t match yours. 

You could hear their voices, disorienting and panicked as you hung the laundry on the line. Felt like the birds echoed their mourning cries in their melody. 

You saw the red lines around your wrist as you pulled off the dry sheets. You tried not to look at them too much. Bo liked to touch them, rub his fingers along your wrist and admire them. He thought it brought you closer, linked you together somehow. 

You hated looking at them. Hated the sight of the worn skin. All it reminded you of was the time below. Your pictures that were tacked above the others. 

You heard a scream further away from the house, bloodcurdling and echoing through the air of Ambrose. It would never make it out. Never travel past the forest bordering the ghost town. You wondered if it was a product of your own fractured psyche or another masterpiece in the works. 

Your question was answered when you sat on your knees in the bathroom that night, trying to scrub the crimson out of Bo’s coveralls. 

You liked your time with Vincent. You like the candles he kept scattered around his studio, nails dug into them to help him keep time. He’d sit you down on the couch and would position you like a doll. You’d let him, mind going numb as you lost time for as long as he wanted to draw you. 

You knew he liked you the most out of the other girls. You learned sign language for him, communicating with him when Bo got sick of both of you. He enjoyed your face the most. It wasn’t model perfect or the type of beauty people wrote songs about. 

He liked the normalcy of it, the slightly blandness. He’d told you once, on a nice night, that it was your eyes that gave you life. Not the color of them, but the light behind them. 

You wondered if he would draw you again when Bo snubbed them out. 

You folded Bo’s clothes, tucking them neatly into his drawers and tossing the basket back into the hall. You moved towards the bed, straightening the sheets and tucking them in tight. You liked it tight, he hated it. 

Your one act of rebellion. 

It honestly wasn’t hard to fall into this role with Bo. You’d known if you’d wanted to survive the only chance you had was to make him happy. In a way it was peaceful here. It was quiet and you never had to worry about anything.

You cleaned the house, cooked the food, were the perfect housewife and he’d be content and so would you. He let you have your own time, surprising you with journals to write in. Or he’d dig through tourists bags and bring you back books he’d thought you’d like. 

You didn’t get to go into the city with him, doubted you ever would, but you were okay with this. 

You picked up his watch, opening up his night table’s drawer to tuck it away. Your eyes landed on a bright splash of red and your fingers froze from where they hovered above the handle. You glanced over your shoulder, heart thrumming. 

You turned back towards the drawer and carefully slid the Polaroid out. 

A picture, a woman with gorgeous red hair splayed along her pillow. She looked beautiful. 

Or she would. 

If it wasn’t for the gash across the neck, so deep it showed you the inside of her throat. Crimson dripped from the wound, pooling around her and onto the bed below her. 

Your eyes darted to the bed to your left, hands wrinkling the pristinely kept picture. Without thinking your hand dove further into the drawer, probing, digging, searching for something. 

You didn’t know what until you hissed, hand jerking back as blood blistered out of the gash on your finger. You placed the picture back, popping your finger into your mouth and licking up the metallic taste of your blood. 

You used your other hand to wrap around the handle of the blade, tugging out the large kitchen knife and staring down at it blankly. 

One more spring.

You put the knife back, straightening out his drawer and leaving the haunted bedroom to clean your wound. 

You woke to the sound of birds chirping. To your left was the window, pink buds blooming across the branch of the tree across from the house. Above you was Bo, straddling your waist, a knife held tightly in his hand. 

“Well,” you wrapped a hand around his, calmly pulling the knife down to your throat. You’d thought you’d be more upset. Fight, beg, plead for one last winter, or just another day. One last good day. But you were tired, you’d been slipping since summer. Bits and pieces of yourself floating along the wind, joining the cacophony of lost women. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

Bo stared down at you, his brows furrowed. The whites of his eyes were red and you knew he’s been struggling with this for a while. You weren’t sure how long he’d been sitting above you, but you knew it had been before you’d woken. 

You were thankful, at least, that he had let you see the spring morning before he did this. 

He yanked his hand out of yours, “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He scoffed and shook his head, jumping off of you. Your head lolled to the left, you opened up the window, inhaling the fresh smell of new life. 

You made it another winter and another spring. Your face was plastered along Vincent’s wall. Statues of you adorned Ambrose but you didn’t occupy a single one of them. 

On the outside MISSING flyers with your face faded and fell from lamp posts. Your name was forgotten from the minds of those who’d been alive to mourn you. You became another statistic, another lost soul. An old news story that would be used in classrooms. 

What happened to her?

Is she still alive?

Was she the first?

Will we ever know?

No. They wouldn’t. You were the girl on the paper trampled beneath frantic feet as they rushed to work. Tossed aside in the garbage when they were done with the morning paper. To the rest of them, you were forgotten. 

To Ambrose, you were their muse. Inspiration behind their every move. 

Every morning you’d wake up to a blade pressed against your throat. And every morning Bo would leap away from you and shake his head. He’d never do it, you knew that now, and it provided you with a careless freedom that freed you from the shackles you’d placed upon yourself. 

You didn’t spread your legs and let him take what he wanted anymore. You didn’t submit under his temper, you fought back, raised your voice and threw glass bottles right back at him. You didn’t let him bend Vincent under his thumb or scream at him just because he could. 

You pushed, every day, that invisible line that separated you from the other ghosts in town. Yet, somehow, you never breached it, only managed to extend it. 

“I want to go with you.”

Bo froze, after a moment he fixed his cap and grabbed his keys from the tray. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, “Well, come on then.”

You followed him through the front door, hopping in the truck when he opened it up to you. The engine rumbled, vibrating the seat below you and his hand slid from the keys to your thigh. He squeezed, as if reminding himself you were there, he was really doing this. 

You could hardly believe it yourself. 

Bo rounded the bend from the gas station and you felt your heart racing. A hummingbird flitting through your chest, frantically trying to break from the cage of your ribs. He pulled through the old campground, the one you’d been on before your car had mysteriously broken down. 

You couldn’t remember who it was you were with. What their names were.

You’re halfway certain one of them had been a lover. His name lost to the past. 

Bo pulls onto the highway and you brace yourself. You’re not sure for what. Perhaps for him to change his mind, a blade buried in your gut. To start pouring blood down the front of your shirt. Or maybe the car will wreck, divine intervention deciding that neither of you get another day. 

Nothing happens. Bo slams his hand against the truck’s stereo and rock crackles through the speakers. His hand returns to your thigh and he hums along to the music. After a moment you relax, rolling the window down and letting the breeze cool you down. 

He makes it to the city, smaller than where you used to live, but a mammoth compared to Ambrose. You buy groceries, marveling over products you’d forgotten even existed. You finally manage to buy the tampons you like instead of getting lucky that another woman has them in her bag. 

You harass him into letting you go to a secondhand store, buying a shirt for you. Yours and yours alone. It’s simple, long sleeved and white, nothing special, but it means everything to you. When you make it back to Ambrose, the familiar stifling air and aged walls, you bury the shirt in your dresser. 

You’ll never wear it and never part with it. This shirt will never be anyone else’s but yours. You’ll never allow another woman to get her hands on it. Even when you’re gone you’ll protect it. 

“What do you think?”

Bo shrugged, taking another swig of his beer as his eyes roved over the journal in his hand. You sat on the edge of your seat, eagerly watching him read. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, he sensed it, pouncing on the chance to make you vulnerable. 

“You know I don’t read much, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to sit next to him. “I’m aware, it’s real sad, Bo. Now,” you nudged his shoulder with your own. “What do you think?”

He chuckled, marking the page and tossing it on the coffee table. His legs spread and you took the invitation, slotting yourself in his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He grinned up at you, “It was good. Real fuckin’ good.”

You smiled, cheeks puffing out with the force of it. “Really?”

He nodded his head, “Mhm.” He leaned forward, taking you with him, and placed his beer on the table. You reached behind yourself, blindly readjusting it onto a coaster. He rolled his eyes, but you saw the fondness in them. 

His hands moved down your back, squeezing your ass before they landed on your thighs. Rough calluses spread along smooth skin and goosebumps prickled under his touch. You don’t know why you let him read the strange disjointed novel you’d been writing. 

Maybe because you knew no one would ever see it. Maybe you wanted some part of yourself permanently embedded into his brain. Either way, you enjoyed the way his face changed as he took it in. The expressions shifting with each new sentence. 

“You got a fucked up little mind, you know that?”

You hummed, nodding your head and leaning forward to slot your lips against his own. It was his own fault you were like this. He’d bent you, broke you down, used you until you were a shadow of the woman who used to exist within your body. 

Maybe he had won. 

There was a part of you, a spirit, floating somewhere beneath his garage, that had once belonged to you. 

You ground your hips down against his, biting down on his lip until copper flooded your mouth. He didn’t get angry, just gripped your hair and moved you both to the cushions. He groaned into your open mouth, pinning your body below his and manipulating you how he wanted. 

Then again, maybe you’d ruined him too. 

You shouldn’t be alive. You shouldn’t still have a throat to drag air down, but here you were. Shoving against him and forcing him to submit to your whims. You weren’t the only one who’d changed, and you both knew it. 

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.

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.

Bad Day

part two

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) A/N: I don’t usually think about slashers until Halloween, but I’ve just had House of Wax brainrot for the past two weeks, so I wanted to get this out Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence (barely) Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with shitty friends, you’re forced to visit Ambrose, home of the infamous House Of Wax. Unfortunately for you, you manage to catch the attention of not one, but two of the Sinclair brothers.

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

Sarah looks over her shoulder at you and shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”

You roll your eyes and tap Dean on the shoulder, he grunts, the best answer you’ll get from him. “Pull over, I think something’s wrong with the car.” He gives you a questioning glance over his shoulder but shrugs and pulls onto the side of the desolate road. 

You could hear the rest of your friends pulling up behind you in their truck as you hopped out. You walk to the front of the car, popping open the hood and immediately regretting it as a cloud of smoke blasts you in the face. “Shit,” you hiss, backing up and fanning the air in front of your face. 

“Oh, fuck,” the angriest you’d ever heard your stoic friend Dean, and his voice was still barely above a whisper. Alison, Owen, Gwen, and Damien hopped out of their truck and came rushing over to the three of you. 

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Y/N’s piece of shit car.” You rolled your eyes at Sarah’s bitchy attitude, you don’t know why you agreed to this trip. You barely like any of them, they were horrible people and worse friends. You’re pretty sure the only reason they invited you was because Owen’s truck couldn’t fit all of them and you were the only one they knew with a big enough car for the rest. 

“I saw a sign, some place called Ambrose, we could try there. Might have someone who could help.”

You all glanced at each other, each of you trying to come up with a solution, but nothing was better than Owen’s suggestion. What's the worst that could happen?

Your car had managed to make it long enough to get to some campground, you really hadn’t been willing to just abandon it on the side of the road to be stolen. Now, you all sat in the grass, debating who should head into town. 

“Y/N should go. It’s her car.”

“Thank you, Allison,” you glared at her, “but I’m not willing to go into some strange town all on my own.”

Owen let out a loud sigh before he reluctantly said, “I’ll go with you.” You were overwhelmed by his kindness. Not. 

There was a high pitched scoff and you glanced over to see Allison glaring at her boyfriend. “You volunteered real quick.”

“Ally-”

She held up a hand and walked off, struggling slightly over the damp ground with her heels. Owen trailed after her, offering you a barely there apology as he left you with everyone else. You were acutely aware of how none of them would meet your eye. 

Up ahead, Ally was laying into Owen, probably another fight because she always thought he was trying to sleep with someone else. It didn’t take you long to realize you were on your own. You really hated these people. 

You stood up, shooting dirty looks over your shoulder as you started towards the woods Owen had determined would take you to Ambrose. “Thanks babe!”

You flipped Gwen off and kept walking. You grumbled to yourself as you tripped down the steep hill and cussed each of them out every time your foot sank into mud. The further down the hill you got the worse it was starting to smell. 

At first it was just musky and you assumed the stifling atmosphere was from the humidity. Then it started to really stink, putrid, rotting flesh stink. You gagged slightly the closer you got to the source of the smell. Your stomach was twisting and turning and you thought the skin inside your nose was burning as you tried to breath through your mouth. That only seemed to make it worse. Now you could taste the rot, feel it spilling down your throat.

“Y/N, wait!”

You jumped, looking over your shoulder at Owen approaching you, the rest of your friends behind him. The distraction cost you, though, your foot got twisted in a root and you let out a loud yelp as you went flying headfirst down the hill.  

“Oh, shit!” You could hear them laughing behind you as you rolled down the hill, your ribs and elbows busting against random rocks and roots. You hissed in pain when you finally came to a stop, already feeling a dozen different scrapes all along your body. 

You went to sit up but your hand sank into something soft and gooey, and oh god you were going to lose your lunch. 

You actually did throw up in your mouth, swallowing it with a burn as you scrambled desperately to get out of whatever putrid pit you were stuck in. You glanced around, finally coming across the source of the smell, dozens of carcasses surrounded you. Some of them so rotted you couldn’t even tell what animal it was anymore. 

You screamed as your hand finally found purchase on something. You glanced down at the hand wrapped around your own and shot up, your feet slipping and sliding against the gore. Two hands wrapped around your biceps and helped you, finally. 

You grasped onto the arms of whoever had you and practically leapt onto them in your attempt to escape. They pulled you away from the pit and you let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

You glanced up, finally getting to see the face of your savior. He had yellowed teeth, a sweat stained tank top on, and a very adorable smile as he patted your shoulder and backed off. “You alright?”

You let out a strained, “mhm,” as you attempted to catch your breath and not vomit on his feet. “There-“ you covered your mouth as bile rose up. You pointed towards the pit, taking in a deep breath, “Hand. Human hand.”

The man titled his head in confusion before walking over to the pit and digging around where you just were. You winced at the sound of squelching before he managed to reveal the hand once more. You jumped as he grabbed onto it, he laughed as he tugged at it until there was a loud pop and the hand came loose. 

“Anyone need a hand?”

Your friends, who had been standing at the top of the pit watching you struggle, stared at him with varying expressions of disgust. You let out an awkward laugh, relieved it had only been a mannequin and nothing worse. 

He turned around at the sound of your laughter and gave you another goofy smile. “Thank god,” you breathed. 

He came back towards you, completely unbothered by the death around him. “Sorry ‘bout your clothes.”

You glanced down at your shirt and grimaced, it was completely covered in brown blood and old bits of roadkill. “Not your fault.” You glanced towards the back of his truck, seeing old blood in the bed of it and realizing this is where he dumped the animals people hit on the highway. 

“Hey!” You both jumped at the booming voice and looked over to see Owen hopping awkwardly down the hill, skirting the dead bodies, and coming to stand next to you. The others hovered further behind. “You know where Ambrose is?”

The man ignored him, glancing at you. “That where you were heading?” You nodded and he scoffed, “Woulda been walking a long way. ‘Bout fifteen miles up the road.”

You elbowed Owen in the side and glared at him, “You said it was close!”

He rubbed his side and shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the walk was longer than I thought.” He evaded making any eye contact and stared at his shoes. You rolled your eyes, what an asshole. 

“I could give you a ride.”

You blanched at the man's suggestion, he seemed nice enough, but you really weren’t eager to get into a stranger’s truck. “No need, we’ll just take Owen’s truck.”

He shrugged, “Alright. But good luck getting in, there’s only one way to town and it’s not on any map.”

You let out a deep sigh, this day is just getting better and better. “We won’t be bothering you?” He shook his head and walked towards his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. 

You gave him a tense smile before digging your fingers into Owen’s arm and dragging him behind you. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother arguing.”

“Owen?” Allison shouted after him. 

The man answered before Owen could, “I’ll come back for y’all. Don’t you worry!” Something about the smile he shot at them, it was different than the one he’d directed towards you, there was something swimming between his yellowed teeth and honeyed smile. His eyes glittered with malicious intent and you shivered when he looked back at you. 

You didn’t really have another choice, you’d have to follow him. He, apparently, was the only one who could get you into town. You forced a kind smile on your face and thanked him as he helped you up in the truck. “I hope I don’t stink up your seats too bad,” you added as he rounded the front. 

You’d realized you’d spoken too soon when you actually got a chance to smell the interior of his truck. You clutched the seat as your eyes bulged out. Somehow, the inside was worse than the pit outside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he hopped in the truck. You heard Owen groan under his breath beside you as he slammed the truck door close. 

“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his stomach and trying not to make a big deal about how fucking awful the truck smelled and felt. 

“I’m Lester,” the man told you, offering a hand for you to shake. You paused on holding your breath to tell him your and Owen’s names. “You’ll want to find Bo when we get into town. He’s the mechanic, he’ll be able to fix you up.”

You clutched the edge of the seat for the rest of the ride, trying to remain polite as you made small talk with Lester, but you could only hold your breath for so long. He seemed to pick up on your discomfort and rolled the windows down, “AC don’t work no more.”

“Maybe Bo could fix it.”

He glanced up at you, eyes lighting up like he’d never thought of that before. “Yeah! Maybe he could!” He let out a goofy laugh, slapping his thigh and smiling at you. “I ain’t never thought of that before.”

You let out a weak chuckle, the reaction was pretty extreme for something as simple as suggesting you got to a mechanic for car problems. Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Fuckin’ Christ.” He muttered, glancing at Lester out of the corner of his eye and shaking his head. 

You elbowed him again, ignoring his noise of pain and silently threatening him to shut up. You understood that Lester might stink and have strange reactions, but Christ, he was giving you both a ride fifteen miles out of his way. He could be a little more appreciative. 

“Alright,” the truck slowly rumbled to a stop. “We’re here.”

You glanced at Lester and then the clear lack of town through the windshield. “Um, what?”

He chuckled slightly, “It’s around the bend. Truck can’t go over that, though.” You followed the direction of his gaze and lifted yourself from the seat to see a little creek and a broken bridge. “Go ahead and I’ll go back for your friends.”

Owen opened the door, practically flying out of the truck. He took in deep and dramatic inhales as the stifling Louisiana air hit him in the face. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back towards Lester, “Thank you so much for the help.”

He gave you a strange look, not quite mean but not very friendly, “Don’t thank me yet.” You had barely closed the door before he was peeling off. 

You turned towards Owen but he just shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

You nodded, turning towards the creek, “Agreed.”

You were thankful you’d chosen a black tank top, the sun was beating directly down on you and you were pretty sure you had already sweat through every layer you had on. You were desperate for a hair clip or rubber band or literally anything to get your hair off your neck. Another minute sweating like this and you were just going to chop it all off. 

“Hey, up there.”

“Finally!” You and Owen both sped up, rushing towards the auto shop, eager to get somewhere with air conditioning. But when Owen tried the door it wouldn’t budge, he pulled and pushed, wiggled it way too many times and you snapped. “It’s locked, dipshit!”

“Think I don’t know that?” He snapped back. 

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “Then let it go and give up.” He let out a pissy sigh and whirled around, canvassing the rest of town. His eyes landed on the small chapel and he nudged you, pointing at it.

“Maybe there’s someone in there.”

You followed hesitantly after him as he walked towards it. The closer you got the louder the voices inside were. “Wait, Owen, I think there’s a service going on. We shouldn’t just barge in.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored you, throwing the door open without care and glaring inside. You shriveled up in embarrassment when you saw a man kneeling at the front of the chapel. You dared a step closer and winced, he was kneeling in front of a coffin. 

God, you guys looked like such assholes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, grabbing Owen by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back outside. You shoved him down the steps and he stumbled, glaring at you. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“It was a funeral service you jackass!” You hissed back at him, unwilling to raise your voice and further disrupt those poor people’s mourning. You were halfway across the street when you heard the door behind you open. 

You tensed up, mentally preparing yourself to face whoever had decided to scold you both. “Can I help you folks?” You turned at the sound of a smooth southern accent and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Well, more heat, you were about as hot as you could get right now. 

But the man in front of you seemed perfectly comfortable in his all black suit, glaring down at you both from the top of the stairs. You were a little ashamed how attracted to him you were. He was mourning, attending the funeral of someone who was probably close to him and you were drooling over how good he looked in a suit. 

To be fair, he did look very nice in a suit. 

“I am so sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”

Owen nudged you slightly, “Shut up, Y/N.” You glared at him but he just crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the man in front of you. “We’re looking for Bo. You seen him?”

The man’s voice was full of anger as he sneered at Owen, “You’re talkin’ to him.”

Owen glanced back at you, a mean look on his face. “Her car broke down, can you fix it?”

Bo scoffed, staring down at Owen with a disgusted expression. You knew what he was thinking, how demanding and dickish Owen was. Especially when he knew what Bo had been doing only moments before. You intervened before Owen could dig a deeper hole. 

“Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m really sorry we interrupted you.”

“Y/N-”

“Shut up before I make you,” you leveled Owen with a glare. You let the group get away with a lot, talking shit to you and about you constantly. You didn’t really care enough to stop them, but you weren’t about to let him continue to disrespect the only person who could actually help you out of this hellhole. 

Owen seemed to get the message and scoffed, walking off with an attitude. Though, he didn’t have anywhere to go considering pretty much every business was closed. So he stood in the street, kicking at gravel like a toddler. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Bo, a little surprised to find him already staring down at you. 

You couldn’t decipher the look he was giving you, but it didn’t make you feel very comfortable. Though, that could just be the anxiety from your rude companion. “Sorry, again.”

You turned around, ready to walk back to the others, when he stopped you. “I’ll help you!” 

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, “Give me a little while to finish up here and I’ll meet you at the shop.”

You nodded, a smile slowly rising on your lips. Maybe this day wasn’t completely lost. “Of course, take your time, thank you so much, seriously.”

He nodded, still looking unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Uh, you could check out the House of Wax, might make the time pass quicker.”

You nodded again but he didn’t bother waiting for a response, already heading back inside the church. He left just in time for the rest of the group to come walking up the street. Owen ran towards them, leaving you behind. You noticed a clear lack of Gwen or Damien and figured they’d stayed behind with the cars or something. 

You caught up with them just as Owen finished filling them in on what was going on. “So we have to wait?” Sarah whined, practically stomping her feet. 

“Yes, because he’s currently burying someone,” you deadpanned. You glanced towards the building towering over the town on top of a hill. “But we can always check out the House of Wax.”

”Yippee,” Allison mumbled sarcastically. 

You broke off quickly from the rest of the group, immediately embarrassed by how they behaved in the museum. Owen had started off strong, catcalling one of the wax women and groping her. You wandered towards the back of the building, a figure of a dog catching your attention. You hadn’t seen any other animals in here. 

Wow, its fur looked so realistic. 

You knelt down, getting closer, and shot back in fear as it barked at you. You let out a loud yelp as you landed on your ass, watching the very real dog growl at you. 

“Holy shit, did not think you were real.” You held up your hands in surrender, “Good girl, it’s okay.” After a minute she stopped growling and slowly moved towards you. You smiled as you pet her, running your fingers through her fur and laughing when she licked your hands. ”Aren’t you sweet?”

You heard a creak in the doorway behind her and your head shot up. A man loomed over you, a wax mask over his face and long black locks hanging over his shoulders. “Hi,” you whispered, completely thrown off by his appearance. 

“Do you work here?”

Nothing. 

He had to, if the mask was anything to go by, maybe it was like some outfit they made the employees wear. You glanced down at his hands, you could see wax covering them and sculpting tools in the belt slung around his hip. “Oh, are you an artist?” You asked, tone a little more excited. 

He tilted his head, and you felt your heart speed up when he stepped closer. The dog left you, walking over to him with her tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. He reached down, not breaking his stare with you, and pet her lightly. 

You got to your feet, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was making you. Finally, he nodded. 

“Well,” you stuttered slightly over your words, tongue tied with anxiety. “They’re all amazing. I accidentally bumped into one and apologized because I thought it was real,” your words trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “I even thought your dog was real, she scared me half to death when she moved.”

God, kill me now, this had to be the most awkward one sided interaction you’ve ever had with someone. “D-,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your voice to stop cracking. “Did you do this?” You pointed to the scene behind you, a family eating dinner at a dusty wooden table.

He shook his head, slowly lumbering past you and lifting the woman’s hair. You took a hesitant step forward and peered at the back of her neck where he was pointing. 

TS was carved into the wax. “TS?” Your eyes narrowed before it finally clicked in your head. “Trudy Sinclair?” He nodded and you smiled. “Oh, yeah, I saw an article about her up front. She’s the woman that runs the museum, right?” Another nod. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he wasn’t some freaky serial killer that was about to use that scalpel in his belt to slit your throat. 

Please just be extremely socially awkward. 

“Whole place is wax,” you dumbly pointed out, because clearly he knew that. “Pretty impressive.” He straightened up, moving the woman’s hair back in place and carefully brushing it out with his fingers. The care in which he treated the mannequin was a little off putting, he was acting like she was living and breathing, something to be coddled. “Um,” you stopped staring at his hands, focusing once again on his waxed face. “What’s your name?”

He took a step forward, then another and another until he was standing right in front of you, sharing the air you breathed. You couldn’t help but gulp, feet glued to the floor as the dark holes in his mask burned into you. In your peripheral you watched as his arm stretched out and winced slightly, prepared for a hit or stab or something. 

But it just hovered in the air, after a moment you realized he was pointing at something. You turned around and found a signature scrawled into another wax figure. 

Vincent

“Vincent,” you let out a sigh of relief and held out a hand, giving him your own name. After a moment he took your hand, grip tight to the point that it hurt. But he didn’t shake it like you’d expected, instead he moved his hand up your arm, digging his fingers into your forearm and dragging you back to the front door. You whimpered when he opened the door and threw you outside. 

You clutched your forearm to your chest, rubbing the forming bruises as the door slammed in your face. “Well, fuck you too then,” you muttered under your breath. You turned around glancing down the street and seeing Allison and Owen already walking towards the auto shop. You bound down the steps and run after them, panting when you finally catch up. 

“Where’s Sarah and Dean?”

Allison snorted, “Said they found a bed upstairs.” She glanced at you, “I think you can put two and two together.”

Your nose wrinkled and you groaned, “That’s disgusting. The guy that runs the place is literally in there.”

“Don’t be a prude,” Owen admonished. “They’re just screwing around.”

You glanced back at the House of Wax, seeing a figure moving in the window of the upper floor and shook your head. Jackasses. 

Bo was waiting for you all at the door of the auto shop. He was still in his black suit, except this time he had an easygoing grin on his face. A complete 180 from the man who looked ready to rip Owen’s dick off for interrupting a funeral. 

He gave you a particularly large smile as you approached, holding the door open for you as you entered the shop. You didn’t get the relief you were hoping for, the air in here almost as stifling as it was outside. It was maybe two degrees cooler. Whatever, you’d take what you could get on such a shitty day. 

“You know what the problem is with your car, sweetheart?” 

It took an awkward moment of silence to realize he was talking to you. When you looked up from the floor you saw his gaze drilling into yours, not missing the way his eyes flitted down to your low cut top and then back up. You couldn’t really blame him, you’d been eyeing him since he introduced himself. 

“Um,” you glanced towards Owen. “What did Dean say it was?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure look on his face. “Something about a hose.”

Bo nodded, sucking on his teeth before he went to the back of his shop. You rocked back and forth on your heels, ignoring the other two who were wandering around his shop and whispering to themselves. “Hey, honey, you mind comin’ back here a minute?”

You peered around the doorway and saw Bo bent over rummaging around in some boxes. “Me?”

He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “Who else?”

You were about to step forward when you heard Allison hiss your name. You turned around and she pulled her top down mouthing ‘maybe he’ll give you a discount,’ pointing to your own shirt and laughing. You crossed your arms reflexively, covering your breasts from her view and tugging your shirt higher up to be petty. She rolled her eyes, clearly called you a prude, and turned back around. 

You really needed new friends. 

You walked into the back of Bo’s shop, taking in the different tools and boxes along the walls. “What’s up?”

“Any of these look right?”

You glanced down at the hoses he had laid out, the blood draining from your face when you realized you did not know anything about your car. You really hadn’t even known a hose was a thing until today. “Um, I’m not sure.”

“Well,” he started, losing some patience as his tone took a curt edge. Your stomach toiled with anxiety, not liking the idea of him getting pissed at you. “You know what size ya need?” 

You cleared your throat, “Owen!” You called out the door, you heard a grumbled what in response. “You know what size I need?”

“Two and a half!”

You missed Bo sliding a hose under his work table as you turned back around, scanning the tags and frowning when you saw he didn’t have the right size. “There’s a two, would that work?” You asked, picking the hose up and holding it out to him. 

His tongue poked into his cheek and he shook his head, “‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you placed the hose back down and rubbed your face, wincing as you remembered you were still covered in innards. “Ugh, gross,” you pulled your hands away from your face and could already feel streaks of blood on your cheeks. 

Bo chuckled and reached for a clean rag off his work table. He gave you a charming smile and wiped the blood off your face. You tried not to let yourself be too affected by how close he was, but it was hard, really, really, hard. So, as you always do in situations you don’t know how to handle, you blabber. 

“House of Wax was really cool,” you mumble.

“Hm,” he hums, not interested at all as his gaze darts down to your lips. 

“Yeah, the guy, Vincent, I don’t think he liked me very much,” you let out a barely audible laugh, remembering his harsh treatment as he tossed you out. 

Bo froze, his eyelids dropping slightly as the tender look on his face melted away, replaced by something you didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand. The hair on the back of your neck was standing up as goosebumps traveled along your arms. You weren’t cold, not in the slightest, this felt like something else. Like an instinctual response to a predator. 

You backed away a step, no longer feeling comfortable being so close to him. “What’d you say?” His voice was low, so low you could almost mistake it for a growl. 

“Um,” you swallowed harshly, throat parched and lips completely dried by the humidity. “Vincent,” you didn’t like how small your voice was. Didn’t like how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from something charged to something dangerous. “He- he showed me some wax sculptures and then he tossed me out.”

“You saw Vincent?” You nodded, backing a step further when he approached you. He noticed and let out a low laugh, the grin returning, but there were entirely too many teeth. “You say anything? ‘Bout his mask? How quiet he was?” He probed, his tone almost teasing like he wanted you to say Yeah, called him a freak and laughed at him. Like he wanted to use your response as an excuse for something. 

You shook your head quickly, “No. No, of course not,” you were quick to defend yourself, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You didn’t want him to think you were as rude as your traveling companions. “I thought maybe all the museum workers had to wear those. Like a theme or something. And,” you stumbled slightly over your words as he moved towards you again. You stepped back towards the doorway, trying to get back in the view of the others. “And I can be pretty quiet myself, I didn’t think it would be kind to pry.”

He finally stopped, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You still could feel your heart pounding against your chest, going so fast you felt a little dizzy. You weren’t an idiot, you knew how risky it was approaching so many strange men in one day. But you had been trapped, like a mouse dropped in a maze, constantly searching for a way out. 

You’d had no choice but to accept help from all the people you’d interacted with in this town, but you didn’t forget how much danger they could pose to you and your friends. You were all too aware of how stupid it was to be in a room with this stranger. 

This stranger who switched between masks so fast you got whiplash. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was back, still just as handsome, but no longer disarming. He shrugged, “Vincent doesn’t show himself to anyone, really. Just a little curious, that’s all. And that mask is all him, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you forced a smile, moving out of the way so he could walk back into the main part of the shop. 

He clapped his hands together, getting the attention of the others. “Sorry folks but I don’t got the parts you need here.”

Allison and Owen both let out loud groans, their voices blending together in anger as they harassed Bo for not having the one car part they needed. You winced as they yelled at him, demanding to know how he even called himself a mechanic if he didn’t have one simple part. You could see Bo’s patience leaving him again, jaw clenching and teeth grinding together. 

“Shut up!” You shouted, glaring at them from behind Bo. “Jesus, act your fucking ages,” you muttered, storming past Bo and going to stand near them. You didn’t bother looking at any of them, despite the stares you could feel boring into you. 

“Thank you,” Bo mumbled before his voice rose again. “As I was sayin’ I got some parts up at my house. Only about a ten minute walk, you could use the bathroom, clean up, I’ll see if I have what you need.”

Allison and Owen shared a look before turning towards you, the both of them huddling around you. “I don’t want to go anywhere near that freak’s house. He’s probably got some redneck sex dungeon.”

“Allison,” you admonished, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bo hadn’t heard. He seemed preoccupied with something under his desk. “Shut up, he’s being nice and putting up with our shit. I mean, he just buried someone guys, and he’s still trying to help. Least you could do is be respectful.”

Allison huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes before finally nodding, “Fine. But I’m using you as a human shield if shit goes south.”

“Fine by me,” you muttered, pushing away from them both and smiling at Bo. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to go.”

He nodded, smiling at you before walking to the door. He opened it but he didn’t leave until he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I was taking anyone to my dungeon it’d be this one.” You squeaked as he pinched your waist and walked out. 

Allison scoffed, like she was offended, and followed after him. 

“So,” Bo started, slowing down so you could catch up to him. You sped up slightly, matching his stride and giving him a small smile as he stared at you. “What’re you doin’ with these jackasses?”

You couldn’t stop a snort from slipping out at his blunt language. You glanced behind you, watching Allison and Owen bicker about something and turned back towards him, shrugging. “I don’t know, they needed my car and I wanted to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Well, how long you been friends?”

“Not long, I met Allison a year ago and I guess I just started hanging around them.”

“You don’t seem to get along real well.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a fact in his eyes that you didn’t belong with them. And he was probably right, you hated them, they hated you. 

“Only reason I’ve stuck around this long is ‘cause I don’t have anyone else.”

You didn’t notice how he perked up, how quickly he tuned into the loneliness in your words and pounced. You should have, for someone so perceptive and paranoid, but you were too busy grimacing at a chunk of dead something in your shorts pocket. 

“No one? No family? No other friends? No one to notice-” He cut himself off, once again sending you a smile, though this one seemed more sympathetic than anything. Like he knew your pain and could relate to it. 

“Yeah, no one.”

“Hm,” he offered nothing else. Just another hum and a nod as you approached the house at the top of the incline. He walked up to the front door, unlocking it, and turning around to survey you all. “Anyone need the can?”

Owen stepped forward, Allison clinging to his arm with a paranoid look on her face, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the house. Bo glanced behind them at you, “Sweetheart?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He might be charming but there was no way in hell you were just gonna wander in blind to his house. 

“You sure? I could give you a change of clothes.”

Before you could figure out a polite way to decline again, Allison had grabbed onto the strap of your tank top and was dragging you up the porch. “Please, fuck, I can’t stand the smell anymore.”

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, jumping as the door slammed closed behind you. For a moment the house stayed dark, no light and no noise other than the sound of your breathing. Then you heard a click and light shone down on a cluttered living room and outdated kitchen. 

“Sorry, haven’t had time for the maid,” Bo muttered sarcastically. He turned towards you, motioning you forward and, reluctantly, you followed. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.” Owen nodded, heading down the hallway while Allison stayed planted by the door. 

“I’ll show you my room and you can get changed.”

”Thanks,” you followed him wearily up the stairs, jumping every time the old wood creaked. “I really appreciate this, I know we’ve bugged you a lot today.”

”Yeah, you have.” You frowned, taken aback by how honest he sounded. In your defense, he had offered up his house to you guys. He turned around and must’ve seen the disgruntled look on your face because another grin broke out and he laughed, “I’m messin’ with ya. Relax, it’s no trouble at all for such a pretty lady.”

He opened up the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. You heard him moving around, drawers opening and slamming shut before he emerged again a pile of unfolded clothes in his hand. “Here, you can use the room to change.”

You nodded and stepped inside, quick to lock the door behind you. You waited until you heard his footsteps going back down the stairs to strip out of your clothes and change. You moved as quickly as you possibly could, a little paranoid that he had cameras in his room or something, watching you. 

You weren’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was Allison’s insistence that he actually had a sex dungeon, or that you were in a stranger’s room, but you felt scared. You felt watched and uncomfortable and like you wanted to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, put Ambrose in your rear view and never look back. 

You held up the shirt Bo had left you and frowned. It was big, much bigger than he was. This didn’t seem like something he would own, the fitting all wrong, this seemed like something that belonged somewhere else. To someone else. 

You stared at it a moment longer before shaking the thought away and pulling the button up over your arms. As you worked on the last button you realized he hadn’t left you with any pants. Hopefully just a simple oversight on his part. It went down to your thighs, so it’s not like you were completely exposed. You’d just pretend you were wearing a dress. 

Your eyes scanned the room, you would go through his drawers and look for some pants but it didn’t feel right to dig around in his stuff. The room itself was a clusterfuck of boxes of clothes and sprawled sheets. You jumped around a box full of men’s clothing and frowned at the labels on the box. Each box had different sizes and different dates. 

Your heart beat just a little bit faster when you spotted women’s clothes shoved under his bed.

There could be plenty of explanations. 

He swung every which way and this was all clothing from his conquests. 

He liked to dabble in drag. 

He was collecting clothes for the homeless. 

You went with the last one, despite the fact that it didn’t make you feel any better. You walked into his bathroom, smiling when you saw a hair clip on the sink. You picked it up, hoping it wasn’t someone’s favorite and that they wouldn’t mind you borrowing it for a bit. 

Just as you were about to clip up your hair you noticed a smudge of red on the corner. The claw itself was completely white, the red was pretty hard to miss. You frowned, bringing it closer to your face and running your fingers over the color. 

It flaked off under your thumb, the copper falling into the sink. 

There were only so many things you could ignore. 

A blood covered claw was not one of them. 

You rinsed it off in the sink, shoving your hair up and running towards the bedroom door. You didn’t bother collecting your clothes, there was no saving them and you had bigger things to fuss about. Mainly the fact that Allison was right. 

This dude definitely had a fucking sex dungeon. 

You forced yourself to slow down when you reached the top of the stairs. You peered over the railing, listening for any noises or creeping shadows. It was almost worse when you didn’t hear anything. Allison should be at the door, bitching about how long it takes Owen to pee. Bo should be walking around somewhere. 

Instead, the house was still, you barely even heard your own breath over your racing heart. You were careful as you made your way down the stairs, avoiding the boards you know creaked and lightly making your way towards the front door. 

“Allison?” You whispered, looking around the den or kitchen for her. 

Nothing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should look for her or make a run for it. You heard footsteps getting closer to the door and made your choice, grabbing the keys off the tray nearby and racing through the doorway. 

“Y/N?”

You turned around as you reached Bo’s red truck, looking just in time to see a knife split through Allison’s jaw. You couldn’t even scream, the noise locked away in the deepest part of yourself as you struggled to process what was happening. 

The blade stuck out grotesquely between her teeth, her eyes remained blinking, that was the worst part. They blinked, tears pouring down her cheek before the man behind her was shoving her forward and her body was toppling to the ground limply. You jumped at the thud, eyes wide and burning with your own tears as you looked into the dark holes of Vincent’s mask. 

“Vincent?” You whispered, the only thing you could actually manage to get out. His head tilted and he stepped over Allison’s body like she wasn’t even there. Your hands shook, the keys slipping out and landing in the dirt under your shoes. He was about ten feet away before your flight instincts finally kicked in 

“Fuck,” you whispered, abandoning the truck and taking off just as the knife he’d thrown landed in the dirt where you’d been standing only a second earlier. 

You used to run, it had been an easy form of therapy. A way to get out unresolved and pent up emotions that left you feeling stunted. You’d loved it, reveled in the burn in your thighs, the buzz that thrummed through your blood as you pushed yourself to your limits and then further. 

But you’d stopped, got caught up in a group of shitty friends and stopped taking care of yourself. Now, the once thrilling buzz was slowing you down. The muscles in your thighs unprepared and unused as you forced them to go faster. You felt like you were trying to run in a dream, your muscles working as hard as possible but you were stuck in a limbo, never moving fast enough. 

You could hear heavy boots pounding behind you and you tried to push through that limit that you felt locked around your legs. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move faster and you already felt yourself slowing down. Your lungs heaving as your throat burned, struggling to take in any air. 

“AH!” You let out a strange sounding scream as something heavy and hard rammed into your back. It sent you flying, knees scraping against pavement as you were pancaked to the road. 

“There ya are, darlin’! You don’t know how bad my feelings were hurt when I saw you’d run off.” You whimpered as Bo pinned your arms behind your back, his knees digging into your spine until you both heard it crack and you cried out in pain. 

“Bo, please,” you begged. “Please.”

He chuckled, leaning down until his mouth was next to your ear. “Please, what, darlin?”

”Please fuck off,” you growled throwing your head back and listening to Bo’s nose snap. You used the distraction to wrestle your way out from under him, rolling onto him, legs straddling his waist as you grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down.

His hand shot up and gripped your wrist, squeezing until you couldn’t feel your fingers and were forced to let go of the rock. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You slapped at him as he tried to sit up and pin you down. You didn’t care how rabid or unorganized you were. You clawed, screamed and kicked until you’d gained the upper hand and were jumping away from him. “Fuck you,” you hissed, glaring at him as you clutched at your hurt wrist. 

His nose was no longer pouring blood, instead it was a slow steady drip as he glared at you with what could only be described as an animalistic snarl. “Bitch,” he spat back. 

“That the best you got?” You taunted, “You’re the backwoods freak who's killing off college kids. Lemme guess, Vincent’s your brother, he wears that mask because mommy and daddy were actually Uncle-Dad and Aunt-mom? Your weird little incest freak didn’t want to let mommy’s dream die? I bet one of you fuckin’ killed her, too.”

”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted, lunging for you. You darted off to the side, leaping over a wooden picket fence and through the yards of the silent neighborhood. The sky was turning pink, your favorite time of day, right before night finally fell. 

But you didn’t have time to enjoy it, crying as you ran away from the feral man behind you. You could hear him breathing, stomping his way behind you, it was like being chased by a wild animal, not a man. Maybe that’s what was terrifying you so bad, humans were predictable. You knew what type of torture to expect from them, the cruelties they were capable of. But a man like this, a beast like this, you had no idea what he would do to you. 

Tear you apart right here in the street?

Take you back to his home and keep you until better prey came along?

You didn’t want to find out. And you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of your death. 

You had been screaming as he attacked you, shouting as you ran from him. Not once did a light click on or off as you ran through the neighborhood. No curtains drew back or faces pressed against the window pane in curiosity. 

You knew you were alone, the rest of your friends were most likely dead. 

You gasped, losing your breath, as you slammed into something hard. “Y/N? What the fuck?” You whined in pain, looking up to see Owen standing over you. He kneeled down, like he was going to help you up, until you heard the sound of laughter behind you. 

“Got you,” Bo taunted. And you knew he was talking about you, he didn’t give a shit about Owen, he just wanted you. 

“Owen, please,” you whispered, begging him to, just this once, help you. Be a decent guy, make the right choice. You should have known better. Just as you’d gotten to your feet, two strong hands had gripped your shoulders and sent you flying. 

A different set of hands found their way around your waist, coiling around you like a python until their grip was so tight your face was turning purple from loss of air. “Told you, jackasses,” Bo whispered, the last thing you heard before you were blacking out. 

Nine Inch Nails. 

That’s what you could process when you woke up.

The next thing you felt as your eyelids slowly peeled open, a near painful process, was the jostling around your legs. You whined, your throat completely raw and glanced down. Bo was standing at the end of some sort of chair, similar to a gurney, and duct taping your legs down. He glanced up, hair plastered with sweat and grinned at you. He had changed, you hadn’t noticed before but he’d ditched the suit for his coveralls. 

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and glancing towards the ceiling as you blinked back tears. 

You were going to die and the last thing you were going to hear was the blasting of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. 

Fuck my life

Bo moved up, holding your wrists down on the metal armrests and duct taping those too. You looked to the side, and saw strange circular markings on his wrist. You assumed, whenever they disposed of your body and took the tape off, you would have matching scars. 

You heard footsteps clomping above you and the sound of Damien and Gwen’s voices. “Where did they all go?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the auto shop.”

Gwen sounded unsure, “Maybe, it is the only place that’s open.”

Bo ran behind you, his warm hand clamping over your mouth and keeping it shut as they passed the grate above you. You hadn’t even tried to open your mouth to scream for help, you knew you couldn’t, your throat was destroyed already. 

“I’m gonna take my hand off and you’re gonna be quiet. Yeah?” You nodded your head, feeling the salty warmth of your tears trailing down his hand and building up on your cheeks. “Yeah,” he whispered, the tone too intimate as he slowly released you. 

He remained beside you, poised and ready to strike but you didn’t make a move to call out. “Good girl,” he chuckled and placed a hand over yours. “I’m gonna go up, deal with those assholes, and you’re gonna behave. Right?”

You nodded again and he dug blunt fingernails into tender skin. You whimpered out, “Yes, Bo.”

He laughed again and walked towards the door, keys clinking as he locked it behind himself. “Fucking sicko,” you spat the second the door was closed. You moved your legs, wincing as the tape picked at your bare skin. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you were sweaty enough, the moisture on your skin providing enough glide for you to wiggle one leg out of the tape. Arrogant bastard had given you too much freedom, he probably didn’t even think you were going to run. 

Now, your wrists. 

Your arms were sweaty, sure, but these were tight. You tried to use a jerking motion you’d once seen in a stupid action movie, bringing your wrists to your chest. But your muscles were fatigued and you didn’t have enough strength to rip the tape off. 

You flopped against the flattened cushion of the chair, trying not to sob incoherently as Bo’s rock music blared in the garage above. You could hear voices speaking. You didn't know how much time you had left until Bo just got rid of them and came back down for you. 

You’d been pointedly ignoring the wall of Polaroids since you’d woken up, not wanting to see what they were. Afraid you already knew. 

You ignored the unnatural bend of your shoulder, how much it screamed out in pain as you contorted your body over your right wrist, teeth picking at the duct tape until you felt like they were coming loose. But you didn’t stop, you kept going until you felt the slightest tear under your lips. 

You had to stop yourself from crying out in victory as you used whatever remained of your strength to jerk at the tape again and again, your muscles crying as you finally ripped yourself free. You stuffed down your cries, using your free hand to unwrap the other. 

You allowed yourself a moment to roll out your wrists and shake off your legs before you were shooting off the gurney and stumbling towards a corner of the room. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew that wasn’t good, but you pushed past the fear as footsteps stomped down the stairs. 

Your heart rate picked up and your throat clenched as you pushed sweat-matted hair out of your face. You took in a deep breath and then held it as the door slammed open. You winced, grateful you hadn’t chosen to hide behind that. Bo stepped into the room, there was a blind spot of about five seconds before he would see you were out of your chair. 

You needed to use that to slip behind him and out the door. 

You heard one boot enter. Then the next. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline making your muscles tingle back to life. 

Another step, you inched forward, another, you slid against the wall. Bo finally made it all the way in. “What the fuck!”

You shot behind him, racing up the steps and bursting through the door of the garage. You didn’t give yourself time to celebrate or look to see if he was following you. You darted down the street, suddenly grateful Bo had only given you a shirt to wear. 

You were sure it was for his own pleasure, but right now all it meant was that your legs weren’t constricted by tight denim and you could run as fast as your body would allow. You turned to the right, bursting through the doors of the chapel. 

You froze at the entrance, taking in a deep heaving breath as you tried to find a hiding spot. The pews were too noticeable, the casket probably wouldn’t fit you. You nearly cried as you tried to figure it out. 

Outside you heard Bo stomping, his voice calling out your name. Fuck it, you dove for the priest, using his large robes and throwing yourself under them. You had just managed to clamp a sweaty palm over your mouth as the doors of the church opened, deceptively quiet. 

Bo’s footsteps were soft as he walked through. You feel dizzy sitting under this preserved priest, the air stifling and you felt like you were running out of oxygen. Sweat beaded at your hairline, dripping down into your eyes as you tried to blink it away. 

You jumped, nails digging into your palm, at the sound of wood crashing against the wall. “Get out here!” He roared, and you knew he was slowly making his way through the pews. He tossed each of them around, checking under and around them for you. 

You ducked down, lifting the robe a centimeter off the floor. If you closed your eyes, put your hand over your ears, you were a little girl again, hiding under the table as your mother counted down. She’d find you soon, you’d giggle and she’d pretend she didn’t hear it before popping under the table cloth and catching you. 

Her fingers digging into your sides, searching for that ticklish spot. No, she’s poking too hard, that hurts. 

Shit, that hurts. 

You kick out, your shoe catching Bo’s jaw as you make a run for it, darting out from the priest and back through the chapel doors. The only thing you can focus on are the bright lights, blinding against the night sky- when did it get dark?

You stumbled over your feet, legs not moving the way you wanted them to. Shit, you don’t feel good. Did he drug you? Is it the heat? You haven’t eaten all day, or drank anything. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. 

Through blurry eyes you ran towards the movie theater, the brightest beacon you can actually make out. You trip through the doors, slamming them closed behind you. You spot one of those metal poles, the old one with red cloth they used to keep people in line. With limp arms and struggling steps you lift it up and slam it through the handles, just as Bo starts to shake them on the other side. 

You back away from them slowly, eyes scanning the lobby for anything you could use. Behind the concession desk you manage to spot something. 

BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

You’d say this constituted an emergency. You kicked through the glass, ignoring how it dragged along your legs, and pulled the ax out of its case. There had to be a back door out of here. 

Your eyes widened and you cursed, there had to be a back way out of here, and Bo would know it. You threw the ax on the ground, ripping the pole out of the handles before scooping the ax back up and running back into the dark.

Apparently you’d made the right choice because Bo was no longer where you left him. He was probably sneaking through some secret exit waiting to grab you. You looked towards the end of the street, up the hill, and back at Bo’s front door.

There was still light shining through, but you were sure Allison’s body was long gone. You glanced behind you before taking in a deep centering breath and shooting off again. 

You held your breath, hiding underneath the table as Bo came stumbling into his home. You could see him clutching a wound on his arm and Vincent materialized behind him. He reached for his brother but Bo jerked back, “Get, get, back!” He spoke like he was talking to some dog, “Fuckin’ freak.”

You winced as you watched them interact, Bo tossing shit at his brother and his brother ducking like he was used to it. Vincent walked over to a candle, heating a spoon over the flame and picking up a toaster. He used the metallic reflection to smooth over a dent in his mask and Bo came up, appearing on his shoulder like the worst kind of devil. 

“Momma would be proud of you.” Vincent’s movements paused at his suddenly tender brother’s voice. “I told you this would look better. The last two are gonna look great,” he assured, kindly, and you grimace in disgust. Should’ve known this was his idea. Your knuckles creaked around the handle of the ax and you debated just ending this now. 

Vincent turns towards his brother, spoon discarded, and signs something. You know enough about the language to recognize the hand movements when you see it, but you can’t understand it from your angle. 

“What girl?” Bo snarled, Vincent winced and signed something else. Bo snorted, “Her? What you gotta crush or somethin’?” Vincent shook his head quickly and Bo rolled his eyes, voice cruel. “What, one girl’s nice to you and you wanna break our rules? She’s dead when I’m done with her. That’s it.” Bo buried his finger in Vincent’s shoulder, shoving harshly. “Understood?” Vincent didn’t respond immediately and Bo shoved again. “Understood!” He shouted and Vincent finally nodded. 

You watched them move out of sight, followed their shoes out of the house and finally slinked out of your hiding spot. You’d seen where Vincent had emerged from earlier and retraced the steps, finding a hidden basement in their father’s office. You glanced behind you once before jumping down into the hole.

“Damien? Gwen? Fucking anybody?” You kept glancing behind you, ax ready as you creeped your way through Vincent’s tunnels. Finally, you started to see the warm glow of candles at the very end of the section you were in. 

Caution thrown to the wind, you made a run for it and burst into what looked like Vincent’s workshop. You looked around, not seeing anything of interest besides one torture chair. You’d slit your throat before they got you in that. 

You found his desk, sketches scattered around the edges. You took a peek and were surprised to find a partially done profile of your face. You glanced around, making sure you were safe, before picking the sketch up. 

You looked pretty, even half done, he might have been a little to generous with you. Made you too elegant, noble, untouchable. Flattering if he wasn’t going to try and kill you. You saw something scrawled at the very bottom and your heart clenched, She was nice.

Perhaps you were too tender-hearted, to feel any pity for these monsters. But you’d seen the news articles in their father’s office, what had happened to their family, the chair Bo was once strapped in. What they were was their mother’s final project, the legacy she left behind, one of pain and hatred. Each of them hating themselves for different reasons because of her. 

But you weren’t an idiot, you saw the was in the title of your drawing. You might have been kind, but he wasn’t planning on letting you live. Something rattled in the room to your right and you threw the drawing down, turning towards the door and carefully opening it. 

“Y/N!” Owen cried out, relief making itself clear on his face as he saw you. “Get me out of here.” You rushed forward, kneeling down and trying to undo the straps around his ankles. But your fingers weren’t working properly, they felt like they were swelling and burning and useless. You whined in frustration as you tried to get the metal through the hole. 

“Fuck!” Owen kicked out as much as he could and you jumped back. “Can you do anything right? Just get me out of here!” He screeched. 

You went momentarily blind with rage, anger boiling in your gut so quickly you nearly keeled over. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dick! You left me behind to that psycho earlier and I’m still trying to help you!” You screamed at him, not paying attention to the raw feeling of your throat or the footsteps behind you. “Why don’t you ever just shut up!”

You weren’t aware the ax was still in your hands, or maybe you were, as you brought your arms down in frustration. It landed in his thigh, barely missing the femoral artery, and he screamed. That type of scream you only hear from squealing pigs right before their butchered. 

You didn’t think you enjoyed it.

Didn't want to enjoy it. 

But you dug the blade in. 

He’d made your life a living hell, he’d tried to get you killed earlier, and even when you’d ignored it and tried to save him he still yelled at you. Granted, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever said to you, but it was the worst thing he could say at that moment. You pressed on the handle, not realizing you were smiling as he squealed some more. 

You got a headache after a second, struggling to rip the blade back out before you were lifting it once more and bringing it down over his neck, the blood splattering your face, bleeding into your open eyes as you watch his head topple to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” you turned around and looked at Bo, the fight draining from your body. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He glanced at the ax in your hands and smiled, this one looked real, the realest he could manage. “Gonna kill me too?”

You shrugged, tossing the ax at his feet. “You gonna kill me?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, standing there covered in your ‘friend’s’ blood and unknowingly smiling at the carnage. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered. 

Part two

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.

This was actually so fun, plus I’ve always known my stubbornness would be helpful eventually

pov: you’re in a horror movie

1. create your own look here

2. find out what role you are here

I kind of love the result I got :)

no pressure tags: @foodiewithdahoodie @queereldritch @elhaspowers @gothbower @ohfallingdisco @josephandjamie @josephfakingquinn @johnsimms @cuethemulti @can-of-pringles @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @nebulousfishgills @mimisempai @thelostsisters @lokisgoodgirl @cultofsheep @onesmainbitch @jcbbby @whumpzone @catboysienna @lussiane333 @erdarielthewhumper @abitofboth @galactic-magick @llywenn @chaos-monkeyy @highwarlockofphilly (only if you feel like playing, no pressure or anything 🥰)

if I didn’t tag you and you’d love to join, please don’t hesitate to do so. I’d love to see the results you got. everybody is welcome!

“But I’ve already written this a hundred times” <- write it a hundred more times, this is not your job, do what you want

“But who is this for” <- do it for yourself so that your soul doesn’t die

“But what if I don’t get any likes or comments” <- this voice is the death of all creative joy, ignore it as much as possible

Alone And Forsaken pt. 2

Joel Miller x fem!reader

A/N: clearly I don’t do one shots, I tried, I failed. I can’t help it he’s just so fine (@woodland-mist you asked so, here you go)

WC: 5.6K

Part one

You weaved through the throng of people in the town square, hoping to get by unnoticed. Maria had told you where to find Tommy, you should have known it wouldn’t be easy, nothing with him ever really was. 

“Y/N! Hey!” 

Nope

You had one goal and it was not to meet and greet with all your neighbors. You ducked your head down, hiding yourself in the passing throng of people and evading them. It was a new couple that had just moved to Jackson a few days ago. 

You, of course, had protested anyone new coming in after the incident with Abby and her people. But because you and the brothers had been less than forthcoming with what happened and no one had any reason to listen to your doubts. 

They’d been moved into the big house across from you and Joel, because they needed the space. 

Because she was pregnant. 

In three months your life was going to get very loud and very miserable. 

The couple was too nice for your taste. You’d just barely gotten used to staying in Jackson for longer than two weeks, then Maria went ahead and shoved the two friendliest people you’d even met down your throat. 

Maybe you were too bitter. Maybe everyone was right, you should try and socialize, give people the benefit of the doubt before you write them off. 

“Do you see where she went, honey?”

Then again, maybe not. 

You rushed into the Tipsy Bison before they could spot you. You were sure they would tell Joel about this when they spotted him on the porch with his morning coffee. And you were sure he would give you hell for it, but you already have to deal with Tommy this morning. They can go bother someone else. 

You glanced around the bar, spotting some blonde hair in the back. When you rounded the tables you could see Tommy was busy haggling with Sam, trying to trade a shirt for some of his roast beef sandwiches. 

“I think I’m offering more than enough for some sandwiches, Sam.” Tommy, being the de facto leader after Maria, was trying to maintain a semblance of diplomacy. 

Sam was a stubborn jackass and you knew if you didn’t do something this would take all day. You walked up and nodded a greeting to Tommy before glaring at Sam. “Give him the sandwiches.”

Sam glared at you, trying his damndest to look down his nose at you. “Mind your fucking business.”

Tommy straightened up, a frown on his face. Neither he nor his brother had ever been good at losing the whole Texan chivalry thing. They didn’t do well when someone disrespected a ‘lady’ in front of them. “I think you need to watch your tone, Sam.”

You held up a hand towards Tommy, stopping him from getting too riled up. You already had a less than respectable reputation in Jackson, didn’t need to drag him down with you. “Give him the sandwiches, and we won’t need to get Joel involved.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth, he glanced between you and Tommy, like he was trying to call your bluff. You couldn’t really help yourself as your hand drifted down to land on your holster, your fingers idly drumming against the leather. Finally he huffed, mumbled something prickish under his breath and shoved the sandwiches into Tommy’s hands, snatching the shirt. You watched until he retreated into the kitchen to address Tommy. 

“You probably coulda kept the shirt.”

Tommy shrugged, tucking the food in his pack. “Yeah, but we do things a certain way here. Can’t just go flashing your pistol at people.”

You scoffed, “Didn’t flash my pistol, I used your brother.”

Tommy chuckled and nodded his head towards the bar’s exit. You followed him outside, looking around to make sure the coast was clear of your neighbors. When you turned back to face him he was giving you an odd look. “What’re you so jumpy for?”

You sighed, “Your wife decided to move Mr. and Mrs. Rogers next to me and Joel.”

Tommy smiled and laughed, most definitely at your expense. “You mean Ann and James,” you nodded, ushering him along the sidewalk in case they popped up again. “They’re nice people, I think she’s just trying to get you to branch out.”

“Don’t need to,” you grunted out. Though, hunching over, hiding from anyone who wants to talk to you, you weren’t sure you were making a great case for yourself. You straightened up and glared at him, “‘Sides, I didn’t come out to chat about my new neighbors. I want to talk about the Harvest Festival and my ‘date.’” You couldn’t keep the disdain out of your voice if you tried, which you weren’t.

“Bob,” Tommy offered. You rolled your eyes and nodded. “What about it?”

“I’m not going.”

Tommy crossed his arms and smirked. “Says who?”

“Me,” you weren’t sure what he wanted from you. 

“And why not?”

Oh. Oh. That stupid smug little look was back on his face. How in the hell does he know? “I think you know why.”

He shook his head, “Nope, don’t think I do.”

He was really making you do this? “I can’t go because of Joel.”

“What’s my brother got to do with this?”

You opened your mouth, some argument at the tip of your tongue, but it was lost to you the second you tried to speak it into existence. Why couldn’t you go?

You broke apart from Joel slowly, neither of you in any sort of rush to end this. Idly, and without much thought behind it, your fingers traced the shape of his lips. You didn’t realize you were smiling until you saw the same soft expression mirrored on his face. 

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” his voice was quiet, as if he spoke any louder the trance would be broken. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a while,” your smile grew when the hands around your waist squeezed you tighter. He pulled you closer and you got comfortable in his lap, your hands moving down to play with the fabric of his shirt. 

He didn’t seem to mind the subtle exploration, his own hands mimicking yours. Now that you finally had the chance, neither of you seemed able to stop touching each other. You weren’t sure where to go from here. 

You hadn’t realized how desperately you had wanted this, wanted him, until you had him. You didn’t want to ruin the moment by overthinking or complicating something simple. Still, is everything going to change now?

Did that kiss mean as much to him as it meant to you? 

What did this mean-

“Hey,” you startled slightly, jolted out of your thoughts by the heavy weight of Joel’s hand on your cheek. “I can see that brain going. I can practically hear the rust flaking off the gears in your head.”

You scoffed and smacked at his chest, “Shut up.” But he was right, it was far too easy for you to get lost in your own head. Especially concerning him. You were grateful for the way he could anchor you in the present, drag you back out of a trap of your own making. 

Joel stood, his arms wrapping around you and dragging you along with him. You could hear his bones popping, you wanted to protest, tell him to just let you walk, but you knew he wouldn’t listen. He had that determined look on his face, the one that meant he was ignoring how old and worn out his back and knees were. 

Besides, you liked how strong he was. Relished in these little displays of strength, even if it was something as simple as carrying you to bed. You knew you needed to talk, you needed some sort of verbal confirmation that this was more than just two lonely souls looking for company.

But Joel just dropped you on the mattress, grumbled about getting your stuff from the guest room, and left. You changed out of your clothes, brushed your teeth, and waited for him to come back. When he did, he had changed too, he dumped a pile of blankets on the bed and got in beside you. 

He laid down and wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you into his side. You looked down at where he was holding you, lacing your fingers together, and let yourself fall asleep. You two didn’t say anything else, you just reveled in each other's warmth, let the comfort you provided lull you both into an easy sleep. And when you woke up in the morning, he had breakfast ready for you, but he didn’t say anything about the night before. 

In fact, for the next week, there was no mention of you two kissing or what his vague, half-confession meant. Sure, now he greeted you with a kiss each morning and night, but other than that nothing had changed about how you two operated. 

You didn’t have anything to appease Tommy with as he looked at you expectantly. No, nothing had majorly changed between you and Joel and you hadn’t had a real discussion about anything. But, you didn’t really need one, you knew what you meant to each other. And you knew how hard it is for people like you and Joel to have those discussions. 

Emotions, romance, love were all such distant concepts, it felt so foreign to you. If you tried to date, or speak into existence how much weight he held in your life you know inevitably it would just end up complicating and ruining things. 

You were together, alive and not some mindless fungi outside Jackson, the rest was inconsequential. 

You just said, “Cancel it, I’m going with Joel,” and walked off before you had to be subjected to more of his smug face. 

You made your way back through town, the morning rush having calmed down now that everyone had gotten their supplies or found their assignments for the week. You were thankful not to spot any nosy neighbors as you made your way back, that was the last thing you needed after having to deal with Tommy’s questions. 

Neither you or Joel were really big fans of talking about your emotions, hell you’d have punched someone out back in the QZ just for telling you to look for the light. Gooey stuff was practically a foreign language to you now. 

You could function based on actions; setting out his coffee in the morning or a new book appearing on your nightstand when he’d gotten back from patrolling. It was all you needed to understand what you were to each other.  

You trudged up the stairs to the porch, Joel was sitting in his favorite rocking chair, a mug resting on his knee. His supply was running low, you were gonna have to find someone to trade with again. You had been keeping an eye out on your patrols, trying to see if you could find any beans. 

You weren’t really sure how coffee plants worked, if you planted the beans whether they would even grow or not. But it was worth a shot. 

“How’d it go?”

You let out a long sigh and threw yourself down on the chair next to him. It creaked under your weight but held up against the strain of its old age. You rocked back and forth, plucking at a string on your jeans. “Fine.”

He snorted slightly as he took another sip of his coffee. “Looks like it. Oh, Jason and Anna stopped by.”

It was your turn to laugh, you smirked at him, propping your head in your hand. “You mean Ann and James?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded, “Yeah, them.”

“You’re losing it, old man.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, they were concerned about your hearing. Said they must’ve called your name ten times and you didn’t hear them.” There was a shit eating grin on his face as he stared at you, like he knew it was complete bullshit. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Please.” You sat up and leaned forward, irritation forcing you upright, “If I have to listen to her complain about how tender her breasts are again, I’ll shoot myself.”

Joel grimaced, giving you a disgusted look as he put his mug down. “These people know what T-M-I is?” He put too much emphasis on each letter and you couldn’t help yourself as you laughed. It was always funny to hear him get an attitude with that gruff Texan accent, he ended up sounding like a poor attempt at valley girl. He swatted your knee, trying to get you to stop making fun of him. 

“Tommy, come on, what’d he say?”

You shrugged, looking down and away from him, going back to playing with the loose thread of your jeans. “I don’t know, he was asking all these questions.”

Joel was quick to ask, “What questions?”

You rested your head on the back of the rocking chair, “Why I didn't want to go on the date.”

“What’d you say?”

Jesus, he was barely taking a breath. “I said,” you paused and looked at him, not really surprised to already find him looking at you. His gaze wasn’t as intense as you were expecting, more eager? You weren’t sure Joel got eager. “I said I couldn’t go with what’s-his-face to the festival because of you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, leaning back in his rocking chair, a strange sort of male pride clear on his face. “How come?”

You scoffed, glaring at him from where you sat. The hell was he getting at? “Why do you think, genius? Why would I go out with someone when I’ve got you?”

“You got me?”

You paused, irritation draining from your body as you stared at him. His face wasn’t giving anything away, he wasn’t closed off, just staring at you expectantly. “Don’t I?” You hated the way your voice went quiet, you wished it had been more confident, teasing, like you knew the answer and were screwing with him. You sounded too vulnerable. 

Joel let you squirm for a minute, you’re pretty sure he thought it was funny. Finally he sighed and leaned forward, his hand landing on your thigh and you could feel the warmth of it through your jeans. You hadn’t realized how cold you’d gotten until he was this close, walking furnace that he was. 

“Yeah, you do.”  You tried not to let the relief show, though you’re sure it did if his little smirk was anything to go by. He squeezed your thigh once before he stood up to go back inside. 

“Oh,” you suddenly remembered the last bit of your conversation with Tommy. “And I told him you were taking me to the harvest,” you called over your shoulder. It was your turn to screw with him, and if the way his shoulders tensed up as he paused in the doorway was anything to go by, he was just as excited as you about that ridiculous festival. 

“When’s your next patrol?”

Joel had found you an old mystery book on his last run, the same one you were reading now. You marked the page and put it down on the nightstand as he got into bed next to you. “Not sure, I think thursday. Why?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the pillows and gazing at you. “I was thinking I could go with you. We could go exploring that old art museum Maria told me was a couple miles out.” He reached out, tucking some hair behind your ear and you tried not to lean too much into him.

You smiled, almost accepting when you realized what he was doing and the smile dropped. You huffed out a breath and rolled your eyes. “Nice try, Joel, we’re going to the harvest festival.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, “Got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He shook his head, oh-so-innocent. You scoffed, “You’re so full of it. If I went with you, we’d miss the harvest festival. And who would have to listen to Tommy’s bitching? Me.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Then you deal with him!” You picked your book back up, deciding on ignoring him for the rest of the night. You should have known he would try and weasel his way out of this.

Honestly, once you’d decided you were going with Joel, the festival didn’t seem that awful or daunting. You’re a little hurt he wants to get out of it so badly. You weren’t that bad of company. 

“You ignorin’ me now?”

You shrugged, flipping through the book, not really absorbing anything. You’d have to reread this chapter tomorrow. 

A big hand found itself in front of your face, blocking you from reading anything more. Joel dog-eared the page, something you loudly protested to, and threw the book on his nightstand. “Joel, you know I hate when you do that.”

“Yeah, I know,” you rolled your eyes at his little smirk. “But you’re talkin’ to me.”

“Child. You’re a child.”

He leaned over you and shut your lamp off, ignoring your snippy still usin’ that. He settled down in bed and patted the spot next to him. You hesitated, only for a moment, debating whether you wanted to give him more of a hard time or just give in. 

It wasn’t a hard choice. 

You settled down beside him, your head falling on his chest and his arm naturally wound itself around your back. You tried to ignore the way your legs fit together, how you felt like a complete puzzle when you laid down beside him, the two of you fitting together perfectly. You tried even harder to ignore the way the thought made your heart race, but it was nearly impossible. 

Sometimes you resented Joel a little bit. Resented him for the way you lost control of yourself and your emotions when you were around him. Resented all the power he held over you and how unaware of it he seemed to be. 

“I really don’t want to go.”

You scoffed, your fingers tracing the design on the worn out t-shirt he was wearing. “You think I do?”

“Then let’s just skip it.”

“Joel, I already said-”

“We used to be able to just do whatever we wanted.” You paused as he interrupted you, closing your mouth and tilting your head up so you could look at him. “We went where we wanted, when we wanted. There weren't all these bullshit obligations like patrol, or making sure our shifts match up.”

You were silent, taking in what he was saying. It wasn’t hard to miss the resent lingering in his tone, or the way he spoke fondly of your past. Before you had responsibilities. But you must have been quiet for too long because he reached over and turned his lamp off, closing his eyes with a sigh. 

You stayed awake a while longer, just thinking about what he said. He was starting to sound like you, the same frustration and anger at being expected to provide for others. You were at everyone’s beck and call here. People viewed you as do-ers. Someone needed something done, you were the one to do it, and there was no arguing either, because everyone worked together here. 

The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue as you went to sleep.

“Come on, hurry up!”

Ellie was sitting on the couch, she ran the towel in her hand over her hair roughly. You stood behind the chair, scissors in your hand as Joel trudged down the stairs. You wrapped a towel around his shoulders to keep his wet hair from dripping on his shirt. 

Years ago, a time that feels nearly as distant as 2003, it was Tess who would cut yours and Joel’s hair. You’d sit down in the crappy apartment you had in the QZ and she’d use some blunted ass scissors to saw off your hair. 

Neither you nor Joel should have been trusted with any scissors, but when Tess was gone and you were on the road for too long Ellie and Joel would start bitching about their hair. Neither of them liked how it would touch their neck. 

Luckily while you were still learning there were no mirrors. They couldn’t see how horribly you had done. They would always run their hands through their hair and frown, like they knew something was wrong, but they just couldn’t prove it. 

The only thing you had to worry about for a while was just not busting out laughing every time you saw the bangs you accidentally gave them. 

Thankfully, by the time you reached Jackson you’d gotten good enough at it that they would still come and badger you for a haircut. They’d never had a chance to see just how horribly you had done in the beginning. 

“Oh, Jesse wanted me to ask you if you’d do his hair soon?”

You gave Ellie a noncommittal hum, running your fingers through Joel’s hair. “I like it long.”

“Cut it.” He didn’t exactly leave any room for arguments, he even crossed his arms, like you were actually going to pester him about it. You weren’t, but you were leaving some length, it’s not like he could cut it himself. 

He tilted his head slightly towards Ellie, “What’s Jesse want with her?”

You pushed his head back in place and started snipping. “What do you think he wants?” Ellie snorted, she got off the couch, probably already bored of sitting there. She went over to the mirror on the wall, running her hands through her hair and grinning. 

“Isn’t he with Dina?” You weren’t proud of it, but you might have picked up some information about people around town. Would you say gossiping? No. Would others? Probably. 

“Not anymore, they broke up a while ago.” Ellie turned around, hands on her hips as she stared at you. 

You momentarily paused in cutting Joel’s hair, ignoring his disgruntled complaint. “Am I missing something?”

Joel turned to face her as well, matching confused expressions on both your faces. “Yeah,” Ellie paused, like she was waiting for the two of you to connect the dots. You glanced down at Joel but he just shrugged. 

He tried, “I thought Jesse and Ellie were dating.” 

You rolled your eyes and shoved Joel’s head forward, going back to the haircut. 

“God! You guys, me and Dina are dating, we’ve been dating for like three months.”

”I thought you were friends,” Joel offered unhelpfully. 

“Clearly not,” Ellie sniped back. “You guys seriously didn’t know?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know what you kids get up to.” Ellie sighed and sat back down on the couch seemingly disheartened by your underwhelming reaction. “At least you can’t get her pregnant.”

Ellie sucked in a breath, “Right.”

Joel swatted your hands away from his hair, he better pray that doesn’t screw you up. “Ellie, what was that?”

“What?”

“That noise you just made.”

“Joel,” you interrupted, forcing his head back in place, “stop moving, dammit.”

“Dina’s pregnant,” Ellie rushed the sentence out in one, jumbled breath. 

You watched as Joel’s shoulders tensed and then slumped in front of you. “How’d you even get her pregnant?”

“What’re you doing?”

Joel closed the patrol log and shook his head, “Nothing, come on.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion as you watched him walk off. He had spent way too long by the log book for him to have just been writing - Couple runners, took ‘em out -J

You wanted to open it up and look but he was watching you from the entrance of the garage. You shoved aside your curiosity and followed him out to the horses. He grabbed the reins of his horse, “Come on, Sunny.” He shook his head and scoffed as he mounted her, “Still think their names are ridiculous.”

“Sunny and Cher,” you pet the black mane of your own mare and huffed out a laugh. “How’s Ellie even know who they are?”

“I don’t know, must’ve heard it from someone ‘cause she don’t even spell Sunny’s name right.”

“And she’s a girl.”

He laughed, “And she’s a girl.” 

He led you both outside into the sunny woods. Snow’s completely melted now, you weren’t sure how Maria and Tommy managed to time their ‘Harvest Festival’ so perfectly but it was a good time to celebrate the incoming warm weather. 

“So,” you nudged Cher forward to walk alongside him. “Where are we going?” Joel shrugged but didn’t provide you any answers. “Clearly not Jackson,” you were going the opposite direction of the town. 

You glanced at the back of Sunny, the bags he had tied to her saddle, each of them far too stuffed for a simple patrol. “You kidnapping me?”

“Maybe.”

You sighed, rolling your head back and taking in the greenery of the woods. You were definitely eager for winter to be over. Something about the cold weather makes the infected go fucking insane. They're faster, meaner, and just over all bigger pains in the ass. Not to mention the fact that they travel in huge fucking hordes. 

Tommy always tries to pretend he knows about them, something about the barometric pressure making them migrate but you know he’s just full of it. You watched a pair of hare’s dart in front of you and Joel and took in a deep breath. 

God, you’d forgotten how nice it was to be outside without the sound of people around you. There was the sound of the horses' hooves squishing lightly over wet grass, the wind moving the leaves above you, and the distant sound of birds singing. But no voices, or kids, or people demanding favors.

You’d missed this, with Joel specifically. It’d been a while since you had this type of quiet with him. So, you didn’t push him too much about where he was taking you, just followed him down the path. 

You were fine not bugging him while you were on a lovely jaunt through a pretty forest. But it’s been an hour and you can’t feel extremities that really need blood flow. “Joel,” you tried to remain friendly but your tone was strained as you shifted on your saddle for the nth time. 

“Yeah?” He grunted out. 

“How much longer?”

“Not much longer.” He turned around and frowned at you, “Have some patience.”

You tugged on Cher’s reins, forcing her to stop while you glared at Joel’s back. “Patience? Joel, we’ve been out here since six. I’ve had a lot of fucking patience. But that ran out about three miles ago, right when I stopped being able to feel my a-”

“We’re here.”

Of course you were. 

Joel got off Sunny and offered you a hand down. You took it eagerly, more than happy to finally stretch your legs out. You were a bit surprised when he kept your hands locked together, he wasn’t normally one for touchy shows of affection. 

Not that you were complaining, you were more than happy to revel in the comforting feeling of his hands in yours. Though, his were definitely rougher than your own, you weren’t without your own callouses, but he’d had years of carpentry and being a contractor under his belt before the apocalypse. 

He’d paused in a field, the grass here was up to your waist which made it difficult to see where you were stepping and what you were stepping on. You kept close to Joel, the horses trailing behind you both as he led you through the field. 

It took a moment for you to realize you’d never been out here. You’d only been vaguely paying attention to the direction you went while you were on the horses, trusting Joel to know the way. But this was definitely unrecognizable, which was strange, you thought you’d found everything when you went exploring on your own. 

Out in the distance you could see a vague shape forming, some brown structure that you couldn’t really make out as the grass was getting taller. It only took a few feet to finally figure out what was looming over you. 

A fence. 

Fun.

You said as much to Joel, probably in the most sarcastic tone you could muster. He rolled his eyes and kneeled down. You couldn’t help but admire his arms as he dug his fingers into a rotten plank of wood and pulled. He managed to make a hole large enough for you to crawl through and motioned towards it. 

“Well, go on, smartass.”

You huffed, getting down on your hands and knees and squeezing your way through. You didn’t bother seeing what was in front of you, turning around so you could keep the way through open for him. The wood dug into your palm, splinters burying themselves in your skin. 

God, this better be worth it. 

He groaned as he straightened up, pulling you to your feet and stretching his back out. “Alright. Ready?”

”Yep,” you rolled your eyes as he walked in front of you. What could have been so amazing he had dragged you out here?

A house. 

Well, it was a nice house, better taken care of than you’d seen out here. Looked like an old farmhouse, two stories, and a wraparound porch. Something you would have loved a long time ago. Surrounding it was a tall fence, it went out pretty far, there was room enough for a large garden and then some. There were bits where the wood had rotted or had holes in it that looked like someone had broken through. But the grass was trimmed, a normal height instead of tickling the ends of your hair. 

Overall, nice, but you had no clue what Joel was doing out here. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s nice.”

Joel scoffed, he crossed his arms and stared at you, “Just nice?”

You laughed and walked up the stairs of the porch. It was cleaner than you thought it would be, no signs of aging on the wooden boards. “It’s a nice house, Joel. I just don’t get why we’re here.”

He sighed and walked up to you, you took in a deep, centering, breath when he placed one hand on your waist. He moved you slightly out of the way as he leaned in, opening the door up behind you. “We’re here ‘cause this is ours,” admittedly your eyes were on his lips and your focus was how close he was to you. 

It took you a second to actually process what he had said. You blinked and your eyes shot back up to his, “What?”

He nudged you inside and you stumbled over your feet as you went. The interior was even nicer than the outside. There wasn’t a spec of dust or decay, it was like time hadn’t had a chance to touch it. There was a couch, bookshelves, even an old record player. 

“Joel, what the hell are you talking about?”

He sighed and threw his backpack down on the ground. He walked over and took yours off your shoulders, nudging you to take a seat on the couch. “Been working on this for months.” He smiled a little, the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes crinkling with the movement.

You were still a little confused, eyes darting around the living room as you sat there with a dumb look on your face. “Look, Jackson was nice for a while.”

You tuned in enough to grunt in opposition. Joel chuckled, “Alright, fine, it was never my favorite. I was out here one day, looking for you,” he added with a light nudge to your knee. “Found this place.”

“And… What? Decided to test out Jesus’s favorite pastime?”

“I was a contractor before the world went to shit. Like riding a bike, it just comes back to you.”

“I just don’t understand. Why? Why put in the time and effort and materials?”

He scoffed, “Why do you think?” When you didn’t answer he rolled his eyes. “We always talk about disappearin’ and I thought this would be a nice place to do it. There’s already a perimeter up, just have to make some more repairs. Worked something out with Tommy, it’s close enough to Jackson that we got some power from the dam,” he stood up now pacing around the living room a little as he talked to you. 

You slowly became aware of the stupid grin growing on your face. The warmth that was spreading through your cheeks and stomach as you realized he’d done this, fixed up this old house for months in secret for you. 

That explained why he’d been complaining about his back so much lately. 

You stood up, cutting him off from his tangent about how you were still close enough to Jackson for supplies and to see Tommy and Elllie. You fisted your hands in the flannel he was wearing and tugged him down. “Joel.”

He smiled at you as his hands landed on your waist, squeezing a little. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Have I ever told you I love you?”

He pulled you in and grinned, “Not once.”

This kiss felt different than all the rest. Felt like something more final, like you both knew you’d reached the end and there was nowhere left to go. You’d explored all you could, fought your way here, and now you stood in this old house. The one he had fixed up and you knew you didn’t need to fight anymore. 

You just needed this, him in this moment. 

“Ellie?”

Ellie turned around at the sound of Dina’s voice. “Yeah?”

She nodded her head towards the patrol logbook, there was a strange smile on her face. “Might want to take a look at this.”

Ellie walked over, shooting Dina a confused glance before she took a look and let out a laugh.

We aren’t gone, but we’re disappearing for a while. You won’t find us, don’t come looking (I mean it Tommy) - J

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

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00 @marimarvelfan

Alone and Forsaken

one-shot

Joel Miller x fem!reader

A/N: I got COVID and haven't had a coherent thought in five days, so if this doesn't make sense it's not my fault, it's the virus. (Thank you @benkeibear for the dividers)

Summary: You're aren't anything to Joel Miller. You're a comfort, habit, and necessity. But you've never been anything more. It gets to you and you do what you always do, you run. When you make the permanent move to Jackson you've got no choice but to face the truth of what you are to each other.

WC: 9.4K

Part two here

You glanced down at Ellie, sweat was beading on her forehead and she was shivering in her sleeping bag. You glanced towards Joel, he was staring down at his gun, he’d been cleaning it for the past ten minutes. 

“We’re right near Jack-”

“No,” his voice was rough, a command rather than an interruption. You sighed and went back to crafting some arrows for Ellie. “We’ll find some medicine tomorrow.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, you could hear him sigh from across the fire. You’d managed to clean out an old office today, you were camping out on the roof. Joel had determined the fog provided enough cover to not have to worry about others seeing the smoke. 

He placed his gun down and leaned his elbows on his knees, you could feel his stare boring into you but you refused to give in. He wasn’t the only one who could be a stubborn bastard. “Y/N-”

“You’re acting like an old fool.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that old.”

“Joel,” you finally glanced up. “Ellie needs medicine, we’re right near your brother’s we might as well see if he’s got anything.” He stared at you for a long moment, not saying anything, until his shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He went back to cleaning his gun and you could tell he had conceded. 

You’d made it to Jackson a year ago after the Firefly incident at the hospital. But it had been too much for all three of you. Years of killing, fighting to keep yourself alive, all on your own, it was too jarring to be in such a quaint little place. 

You couldn’t wake up every morning to a “Howdy, neighbor!” like nothing had changed. There were too many people and it was too forceful a transition from fighting for every last resource to suddenly having everything willingly handed to you. 

Eventually, when it became too tiring to keep fighting, you were sure you would move back to Jackson. For now, each of you enjoyed the freedom of not having to fight for anyone but yourselves. It was an occasional pit stop for supplies and a dose of normalcy. 

You’d been on the road for about six months now, it was time to cycle back onto the path towards Tommy. 

Good timing too, about two days ago Ellie had a sore throat and now she’s pretty much deadweight behind you both. “We’ll head out at dawn.” Joel stood up, nothing more to say, and took first watch. You tucked your arrows away and laid down, hoping to get some sleep before you were on the move again. 

“How much further?”

“Another few miles,” Joel glanced over his shoulder at you. “How’s she doing?”

“I’m doing fine,” Ellie interrupted. But it was hard to believe her when her voice was a barely audible croak and she was leaning against you for support. 

Joel sighed and glanced towards his right, there was a creek and a sunny patch of grass. He started towards it, dropping his pack on a rock and coming to a stop. “We’ll stop here for a break.”

“I said I’m fin-” 

She interrupted herself with a cough that was so jarring you winced. It sounded like her throat was being ripped apart. When she finally caught her breath she reluctantly followed you towards the creek next to Joel. “I’ll check out the area, we shouldn’t be out here long.”

Joel nodded, standing guard next to Ellie while she wheezed trying to catch her breath. You moved away from them, going to check the surrounding area. Just when you deemed too much time had passed and were about to turn around you could feel something cold pressing into the back of your head. 

“Don’t move.”

You slowly dropped your rifle to the forest floor, raising your hands in surrender as the person behind you pulled back the hammer of their gun. “Okay, it’s okay, we can talk about this.” The gun pulled back abruptly and then they were in front of you. 

“Y/N! Damn girl, almost killed you.” Tommy tucked his gun into his holster and pulled you into a brief hug. You sighed and picked your gun back up. 

“The hell are you doing this far out?”

“Been seeing a lot of infected, had to start patrolling out further.” Tommy peered around you, looking for something. “Joel with you?”

You nodded, leading him back to Joel. There was a brief reunion, nothing much considering they’ve been seeing each other a lot more than they used to. Tommy took Ellie on his horse back to Jackson, said it would be faster that way. 

You and Joel still had a few more miles left, walking in silence side by side. 

The silence, as always, had you contemplating your something with Joel. Because you wouldn’t say you and Joel were in a relationship. You’d both loved and lost too much in your life to ever truly be open to something like that again. 

But you granted each other a softness you didn’t offer anyone else. There was an unspoken connection between the two of you that never went acknowledged. You glanced over at him, nudging his arm with your elbow. “More excited about coffee or a shower?”

“More excited about you finally showering.”

You scoffed in faux offense and shoved him lightly. His eyes crinkled, the crow’s feet becoming more prominent as he smirked at you. “Jerk. I smell amazing,” that was a blatant lie. Neither of you smelled great. It’d been about a week since you’d had a chance to really freshen up. Still, it was always fun to mess with him a little bit. 

When you finally made it to Jackson you moved quickly through the inspection station, showing the medics your bite-free body and then headed towards Ellie. 

She was already knocked out, whatever flu medicine they’d managed to scrounge up had done its job quickly. Maria led you to a house at the far end of town, you watched as Joel entered the one across from you. 

You showered, enjoying the foreign feeling of fresh, hot, water running over your skin. You used the clothes Maria provided you, but after an hour of just wandering around the house you were starting to feel restless. 

You had sat on the couch, stared at the black screen of the TV, and gotten back up about three times. You huffed out an irritated breath and headed towards the door. You weren’t sure where you were going but the quiet was starting to feel suffocating. 

The pristine, cozy house, was overwhelming you with memories of a past best left forgotten. You opened the door-

“Why!”

“Shit,” Joel grimaced, offering you an awkward pat on the shoulder instead of an apology. You rubbed your forehead, pain radiating from where he’d hit you. “I was trying to knock, didn’t think you’d open the door.”

You sighed, glancing up at him and shrugging. “I can’t stand being in here. House is too…”

“Big,” he finished. You nodded, stepping outside and joining him on the porch. You both started walking, heading towards his house, the one that actually had chairs on the patio. Luckily the houses you were staying in this time around were farther away from everyone else. 

People walking with their families was a distant noise that was barely discernible. 

Families

The thought made you want to scoff. Families in the apocalypse, fucking ridiculous. “It’s peaceful here.”

“For them,” you glanced at Joel and he seemed to share the same thought as you. You’d changed too much, spilled too much blood to ever let yourself be fully comfortable in a place like this. 

“Do you think you could ever be happy here?” 

You glanced across the street at the large looming house you had just been in. “Not in there, it’s too big for one person.” He nodded, his fingers drumming a soundless tune against his jeans while he sat with you. 

“Went down and saw Ellie while you were cleaning up. She’s making friends.”

You looked at him in astonishment. Hard to believe she was bedridden and being pleasant. He laughed a little and shook his head. “Well, I suppose they were interrogating her more than anything.”

You smiled slightly, “That’s more like it.” 

He was looking off at the town, viewing the few distant people you could see. “She’s been asking to come back a lot more. I think she likes movie nights.” You sighed, knowing where this was going. You supposed the change was inevitable, you had just really hoped that you could push it off a little while longer. 

You just weren’t ready. 

“House is too big for me, too. Maybe it needs two people.” He was already looking at you when you turned to face him. His face didn’t betray anything but a type of tiredness that was set deep in someone’s bones. 

You could say no, go off on your own. You’d make it a little while longer but the loneliness would get to you and eventually you’d slip up. Be torn apart or turned. 

Besides, you weren’t ready to leave them, leave him. Not yet. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

One Year Later

“Morning.”

You groaned at the sound of Joel’s voice, rolling over and covering your head with a pillow. He laughed and you could feel it reverberate through your back where his chest was resting on you. 

“Come on, darling. It’s noon, you have to take care of the sheep today.” 

You weren’t exactly verbal when you’re woken up abruptly. So you just grumbled-most likely something incredibly rude-under your breath and curled up into a ball.

Joel chuckled again, his arms wrapped around your waist and rolled you over. He dragged you out of the warmth of the blankets and directly back into the sunlit room. “Joel,” you groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Nope.” He stood up, you still slightly in his arms. He half carried and half dragged you out of bed. You held onto the blankets and kept your eyes closed as long as you could. But when your feet touched the cool wood you conceded that your day had started. Whether you wanted it to or not. “Ugh, you’re a real piece of work. You know that?”

Joel let out a surprised scoff as you walked past him into the bathroom. You could hear him muttering under his breath about who was really the piece of work in this home. But he didn’t say anything to you, just joined you at the sink to brush his teeth.

Sometimes the normalcy was nice. You’d wake up and most days Joel was there next to you. Or he was making you both breakfast, or occasionally a note left next to a plate of food telling you he was out on patrol. 

You spent most of your time together, sharing the big old house while Ellie slept in the converted shed out back. But days like today, where he tried to joke with you while he brushed his teeth but his voice was too thick with sleep and you couldn’t understand his accent, they made you ache. 

Your heart would pulse painfully and you’d have to look away from him. You shared the same bed, lived in the same house. But you didn’t mean anything to him. You were just an old friend there to keep him warm at night. 

You’re pretty sure you’d both been traveling together for so long that it was habit and necessity that kept you together more than anything. You wished, yearned for more from him, but you knew he could never give it to you. You knew it was an impossible ask. 

Which made staying with him start to feel more suffocating. You feel like another part of his routine. Something akin to brushing his teeth rather than genuinely wanting you around, a chore. And you couldn’t handle that feeling anymore. 

You were drowning in the comfort of Jackson. But you were too much of a coward to ever fully leave him. Too hopeful to let go of that one fleeting feeling that maybe one day you could be more to him.

Joel smiled at you as you made your way downstairs. “I got your lunch, you should probably head out now. You’re already late.”

You took the bag from him, thanking him and left for the sheep. And that night when your shift was over you’d look over at Joel’s house. You’d see him strumming lightly on his guitar as he waited for you and you’d slip out of Jackson’s walls. Unwilling to face another night of heartache that made you feel so ridiculous. 

2 Years Later

“Y/N in here? Jesse’s looking for her.”

Joel glanced up from his guitar, he had been tuning it when Ellie’s head popped over his porch rail. “No, haven’t seen her in a couple days.”

He’d known being in Jackson was too much for you. Sometimes when he was getting a drink at the bar he could feel his skin crawling with how many people were surrounding him. His instinct to always be on guard, always be alert, was not easily lost after so many years. 

There was the siren’s call of peace here in this town, but he still had to patrol. Still had you, Ellie, and himself to look out for. He could never afford to let himself fully settle into the calm reprieve of Jackson. It would end up screwing him over only when he was outside the safety of the walls. 

So he sat, always a curling, burning feeling in his stomach as he tried to untense his shoulders. Join his brother for a ‘family’ dinner. Plaster on as friendly a grimace as he could when his neighbors would wave in the morning. 

You were not the same. You didn’t bother with pretending to be happy for Ellie’s comfort. You patrolled near constantly, outside the walls more than you were in. Which set him even more on edge. You’d be gone for days at a time before mysteriously appearing in his bed one morning. 

You’d smile then, as genuine a smile you could manage. Every time he’d ask where you’d gone and you would tell him you needed some air. He never asked what you did on the outside, where the bruises came from or what you’d done to earn them. 

You would eat breakfast, listen to him strum on his guitar and in a few more days disappear again. He thinks one of these days, now that Ellie’s grown, he might just disappear alongside you. Ellie sighed, “What’s Jesse want with her?” Joel asked. 

“He was gonna have her patrol with him today,” she had a shit-eating grin on her face as she propped her head in her hand. “I think he’s got a crush on her.”

Joel barked out a laugh, imagining Jesse pining after someone as disinterested as you. He’s sure he just admires you like he admires Joel. He looks up to you, probably just presents differently. “I’d love to see him try something,” he said through laughter.

Ellie shook her head, walking up the stairs and sitting next to him. “I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of her.”

He shook his head, “Rough combo.” Poor kid probably didn’t realize you weren’t mean, you just had a real bad resting face. “Ya know, I gotta head out soon. I can see if I can find her.”

Ellie perked up, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the rocking chair. “Would you?”

“Sure,” Joel went to place his guitar down but Ellie stopped him. 

“What’re you working on?”

“Oh,” he glanced at the instrument and shrugged. He wasn’t sure, really. He’d had to step back from patrolling as much as he used to. The cold was fucking with his back and knees. Made it harder for him to be as fast as he should be. You liked to tease him about it, call him an old man, but he caught you rubbing your shoulder every time it was about to rain. 

But without the ability to go on rides or kill infected, he was beginning to feel restless again. An uncomfortable thrumming under his skin that screamed at him to move, do something. So he screwed around with the guitar, tried to sing something, but nothing came out. 

He passed it over to Ellie, she immediately propped it on her lap, strumming something soft. “Nothing really, just needed something to do.” He sat with her a little while longer, giving her pointers as she went over some songs she’d been writing. 

He groaned as he got off the old rocking chair, saying goodbye to Ellie and heading to the stables. He was sure you were nearby, somewhere in a three mile perimeter of town. You’d been gone about four days, usually you’d be coming back by now. 

Tommy was waiting for him as he got his horse. “Partnering up today.”

“Alright,” Joel rode up to the barred gate of Jackson, waiting for the doors to open. “Ellie wanted me to look for Y/N while we’re out here.”

Tommy’s brows furrowed as he glanced at him. “She still gone?”

Joel hummed an affirmative, brushing the hair out of his eyes in irritation. You’d have to cut it again, it had gotten too damn long. He felt like one of the stupid teenage boys in town, always blowing his damn hair out of his face. 

“Where’d ya wanna head first?”

“She likes lurking around that old ski resort. We’ll see if she’s there first. If not, I’m sure she’ll pop up soon.” 

They rode in silence for a little while before Tommy sighed. Clearly growing bored with the lack of conversation. Joel let his brother suffer, watching in amusement as he shifted back and forth in his saddle and tried to think of what to say. 

He finally broke, showing Tommy some mercy. “Jesus, boy, spit it out.”

“It’s just,” Tommy paused, slowing down his mare to match Joel’s slow pace. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“Her being out her on her own all the time. I mean, if Maria left as often as Y/N does I’d be losing my mind.”

“Well,” Joel sighed, “I’m a lot tougher than you are.”

Tommy scoffed, glaring at him. “Whatever smartass, I wasn’t screwing around, I want to know.”

“Fine. Don’t know why you’re so damn interested.” Joel shrugged, thinking about it before finally answering. “Yeah, I guess it bothers me, a little. I mean, I’ve known her a long time. I know she can handle herself, I’m not really worried about her dying or nothing. I’m more worried about her just deciding she wants to be gone for good and leaving.”

Tommy was quiet for a bit, leaving Joel uncomfortable. The answer wasn’t very deep. It didn’t share a lot, but it left him feeling a particular shade of vulnerable that had him shifting around. He rolled his shoulders back, focusing on the feeling of snow nipping at his cheeks rather than his younger brother’s nosy stare. 

“I woudln’t worry about that.”

“Yeah,” Joel’s voice was curt, snappier than usual. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know why, but she likes you. Likes Ellie, she might not love Jackson, but she wouldn’t just leave you guys.”

“Since when the hell are you an expert?”

Tommy smirked, “Since I got married.” Joel rolled his eyes, his brother had gotten entirely too smug when he married Maria. Suddenly, being married, made him an expert in anything and everything. He certaintly didn’t know a damn thing about Joel’s love life. 

Or lack thereof. 

Because you’d never talked about what you were, if you even were anything. That’s probably why it set him on edge so much when you left. You weren’t his to love or keep-honestly he wasn’t sure he was capable of that type of love anymore. 

You were friends. Allies more than anything, which was arguably more important in this world. There was nothing to tie you to him or encourage you to stay. 

He wasn’t deluded enough to believe you’d stay for Ellie. She was pretty much an adult now, and you’d never been a parent before. You didn’t know what the pain of losing a child was, she wasn’t as important to you as she was to him. 

He had no damn idea what had kept you here for so long. But he knew you were getting restless and he didn’t know how to help. 

They made it to the ski lodge and immediately leapt off their horses. There were screams coming from inside, screams that sounded a lot like yours. Joel ran for the doors, finger already on the trigger when the doors blew open. 

You looked up at him in surprise, “Joel! What’re you doing out here?” He drew back, stopping himself from slamming into you. 

His eyes scanned your form, you were covered head to toe in gore. The bandanna pushing your hair back had been a light blue, but now it was completely dyed red. Your jacket was in shreds. But you were still smiling up at him, then Tommy. 

“Jesus H Christ woman,” Tommy muttered behind him. 

You looked down at yourself, “Oh, yeah.” You sighed and once again were staring at Joel. “Fucking clickers, weren’t here before.”

“Are you alright? Were you bit?”

You waved off Joel’s concern like he was being dramatic. Like you weren’t standing before him covered head to toe in guts. “I’m fine.”

“Dammit,” you jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was getting a little louder, voice a little deeper as his frustration grew. He hated when you were this flippant about basic safety. “I told you to stop coming out so much, that we’d been-”

“Seeing more hordes. I know, sorry Joel, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ll,” you trailed off, your eyes darting around before reluctantly landing back on his. “I promise I’ll stop leaving.”

Joel glanced behind himself, but Tommy had wandered back over to the horses. He was the opposite of subtle as he whistled, clearly giving you as much privacy as he could. Joel turned back towards you and took a step closer. 

“I’m not telling you to stop coming out here completely. I don’t want to take that from you.”

You shook your head, stepping closer as you shivered. Joel figured your jacket was in tatters and you were probably freezing your ass off. He took off one of his own coats and draped it over you. “I’m being reckless, risking infecting you and Ellie by coming out so much. Besides, it’s starting to get a little lonely.”

“Well,” Joel gave you a brief smile, “maybe one of these days you should wake me up when you slip away. I’ll come out here with you.”

You grinned, “Think you’d be able to keep up, old man?”

He scoffed, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you back to his horse. “Could you?”

You laughed, “With you? Probably not.” He was just about to join you up on Sunny when all three of you heard a strange noise coming up towards the lifts. You had cleared out the resort. So, what could it be?

You hopped off Sunny quickly, pulling out one of your guns and following Tommy and Joel as they went back through the clicker infested hellhole you’d just cleared. The noises got louder, it sounded a lot like feet pounding up the mountain. 

You made it outside, near the resort's old supply sheds. You were checking out the area, double checking you didn’t miss any infected. You were about to turn back around when you heard a scream. 

You ran towards the source of the noise, watching as a woman was crushed under a swarming body of infested. The only thing separating her from them was a flimsy metal gate. Tommy rushed forward before either you or Joel could stop him. Grabbing her and dragging her out from the bodies. 

“Fuck!”

“Tommy!”

Both of you wanted to scream at him. That was such an unbelievably stupid thing to do. She’d had at least fifty infected on top of her, there’s no way she wasn’t bit. But beyond that she was a stranger, you had no idea if she was a piece of shit that would lead raiders right back to Jackson or not. 

You didn’t have time to scold him, though, the swarm was screaming, racing towards you all. You ran back into the resort, heart racing as you slammed the doors to the lift closed behind you. “Tommy!” Joel called out, “Help me move this!”

They worked on wheeling a broke down lift towards an open window. You turned towards the hulking woman, “Got a gun?”

She nodded and you tossed her some ammo, “Good. Don’t fucking miss.” You raced throughout the station, trying to keep infected off Tommy and Joel while they moved the lift. But there was only so much you could do. Your rifle had jammed and you had used most of your supplies taking the clickers out earlier. 

And these bastards were fast, they seemed faster than normal. Maybe the cold irritated them or something. 

You screamed, taken off your feet as a runner threw itself at you. You rolled over, shoving your gun in its mouth and pulling the trigger. Brains splattered onto your face and before you could even roll it off of you there was another one leaping at you. 

Before it could sink its teeth in your neck there was the warm feeling of blood trailing down your chest. Joel stood over you, machete buried in the infected’s back as he yanked you to your feet. He didn’t let you walk, grabbing you and practically sending you flying towards Tommy. 

You scrambled up the lift and through the window, running towards the horses and mounting Sunny. You grabbed Tommy’s mare and rode the horses back to the open window. You watched the others spill out, keeping an eye out for any more infected and letting Joel hop up in front of you. 

Tommy and the woman shared a horse as she screamed out instructions to head towards the old mansion at the top of the mountain. You were too busy keeping infected away from your group to fully realize where you were going until it was too late. 

You were already through the gates of the mansion, infected being set on fire behind you when you grasped the situation at hand. 

You’d just wandered into some stranger’s camp, nearly completely empty on ammo, battered and tired. You didn’t know who she was or who her people were. Joel and Tommy seemed to be realizing that too, each of them tensing up as they got off the horses. 

“Thanks for the help back there. I’m Abby.”

Joel offered you a hand down, you hopped off Sunny and glanced around the garage. You were definitely fucking outnumbered and they had way more ammo than you. 

You hid slightly behind Joel, taking in the amount of people and trying to gauge how many guns were in the garage. Your eye snagged on a lone shotgun on a workstation and the bullets surrounding it. 

“I’m Tommy, this is my brother Joel…” Tommy’s voice trailed off before he could introduce you. Instantly everyone in the room had turned to stare at Joel, and every single one of them looked hostile. Like he’d punched each of them in the face at one point. 

And honestly with the amount of people he’s screwed over you wouldn’t be surprised. Still, this was not promising. 

Joel tensed up in front of you, nudging you slightly behind Sunny. You ducked behind her, hoping to go unnoticed by the rest of them and praying that Sunny didn’t buck out at you. 

Abby sucked on her teeth. She stared at Joel for a long minute before nodding her head towards the door and heading up the stairs. “Joel,” you whispered.

He shook his head, subtly waving you back into place as he was forced to follow the others up the stairs. You watched them herd him and Tommy out, one of the men in the back checked his ammo was loaded and you felt your throat seize in panic. 

Shit shitshitshitshitshit

Okay, this turned into a clusterfuck so insanely fast. You waited until every set of footsteps was a distant echo to move out from behind the horses. You were nearly out the door when you double backed for the shotgun. 

You heard a shout from upstairs, your head whipping towards the open door. You raced up the stairs, “Tommy!” It was Joel shouting, panic lacing his voice. 

You can never say what happened next exactly. You made it up the stairs, heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked and you’d never run that fast in your life. 

The door to the room was open, all you could see was Abby with a gun in hand, pointing it towards Joel. Your finger was on the trigger before you could even aim properly. The shot missed, hitting the wall behind her, grazing her back slightly. 

But it caused enough of a distraction, Joel wrenched the gun from her grasp, using the butt of it to knock her out. You shot at one of the men pinning Tommy down, it caught him in the side and he dropped to the ground. Crimson pooling out around him. 

The room went quiet, each of them staring at their dead comrade. “You cunt,” the woman leapt at you, knife raised in the air. You didn’t notice her protruding stomach until you had pulled the trigger. Her legs flew out from under her, nearly completely blown off from the shotgun blast. 

There was a primal sound of pain. One you’d heard many times in your life. It came from two directions, the pregnant woman bleeding out on the ground and the man who was now  flying at you. 

He knocked you to the ground. You wrestled for control of the shotgun, his hips pinning your pelvis painfully to the floor. You groaned out in pain and panic, shoving all your weight into the gun, bringing it up to catch him in the jaw. His head knocked to the side and you shoved him off of you. 

Shots were firing all around you, different screams and insults flying past your head. You were tuning in and out, ears ringing as you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck. You pulled until it snapped. When you were done you swiped his pistol from his holster, stepping over the twitching woman below you. 

There were only three people left when you walked back into the room, Tommy and Joel disposed of them quickly while you grabbed some rope and tied up Abby. She was still knocked out, a bad bruise forming on her head. You can imagine her day was going to get a lot worse when she woke up and saw the carnage around her. 

It was a slaughter, each of her friend’s lay brutally destroyed at her feet. 

But, it was their own damn fault. They shouldn’t have tried and fucked with you all. 

“Are you okay?” It was your turn to fuss over Joel. He had clearly been their target. It had to have been someone you’d screwed over, Joel had screwed over. But the list was too long and you’d never seen this woman before. 

Joel nodded, but there was blood soaking through his jacket. You ignored his protests, ripping the jacket off and inspecting the wound. It wasn’t anything too bad, a bullet must have just skimmed his bicep. You wrapped it up pretty quickly, then you let your head fall to his chest. 

He chuckled slightly, his hand coming behind you to rest on your back. “You okay?”

“I was scared.”

Your voice was quiet, quiet enough that you almost hoped he had missed your small confession. “What?”

His hand had stilled before it moved up your back and lightly cupped your neck. He tilted your head back so you had to look at him, had to make eye contact. “I was scared.” You huffed out, nearly ashamed at presenting yourself like this to him. 

You didn’t get scared, the entire time you’ve known him you’ve each been fighting for your lives. This wasn’t anything new. But something about this really got to you. It felt more final this time. “They were after you, Joel. Had a gun pointed to your head.”

“I always have a gun pointed at my head, darling. Comes with the territory.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, ignoring the way his hand lingered on your cheek for a moment before it dropped to his side. 

The door behind you all flew open and all three guns were pointed at the intruder. Ellie raised her hands and stumbled back in shock at the sight of the dead bodies around you all. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”

You sighed and lowered your gun, Tommy and Joel doing the same. “Ellie, head back to Dina,” you instructed. You were going to have to get some information from Abby, you were sure Joel didn’t want her to see the methods about to be used. 

Ellie opened her mouth to argue but Joel cut her off. “Do as she says, Ellie. Head back to the others and say everything’s fine and that we’ll be back soon.”

She seemed like she wanted to stay, desperately. Instead she conceded and closed the door behind her as she left. You, Joel, and Tommy each shared a look before you got to work. 

Abby was tied up in a chair, you’d wrapped her up more than you would have with anyone else, mainly because her biceps were the size of your head. 

When she finally woke up, she immediately started screaming. You’d moved the bodies of her friends, propping them up in front of her so they were the first thing she saw when she woke up. 

Tommy had left for Jackson, made sure no one would suspect why you and Joel were gone for so long. Now you were sitting on a table behind Abby while Joel started. “What are you doing here?”

“Fuck you,” she spat. 

Joel sighed and tried again, “Does anyone else know you’re here?”

Same response. It happened a few more times, she was unphased by anything Joel did to her. Just telling him to fuck off more times than you could count. You got sick of it after a while. 

You hadn’t had to torture anyone in a couple years, you were hoping to just get this over with as quickly as possible. You stood up and Joel let go of Abby’s chair, backing away from her. 

“My partner,” you started, “prefers brute force to get the answers he wants. Me,” you stood in front of Abby and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m a little more creative.”

You dug the knife into her skin, peeling back a layer or two of epidermis and ignoring the way she screamed. Twenty years ago, you might have felt guilty for this. Now, she’d tried to hurt Joel, she’d brought this on herself. 

Five pulled nails and a lot of skin later she finally squealed. No one knew they were out here. They were stationed in Seattle and wouldn’t come looking. Joel had killed her father, the doctor from the hospital, and she wanted revenge. 

You rolled your eyes, pointing out the hypocrisy of her actions. How many fathers had she killed on her way here to get to Joel. How many lives had she taken to protect someone she loved. When she tried to argue you slit her throat and dragged the bodies to be put in the pile of burned infested. 

“Damn.” You sat behind Joel on Sunny, watching the bodies go up in flames. He turned her around, heading back towards Jackson. “What a way to start the day.”

The bed was empty when Joel woke up. He felt surprised, usually you gave him a few days before you left again. But before he could linger on the thought for too long the door to the bedroom was opening and you were walking in. Your back was to him, you were carrying something in your hands. 

When you turned around you frowned when you saw him already waiting for you. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“What are you doing?”

You swatted him away when he stood and tried to help you carry the tray in the room. You put it on the nightstand and shoved him back in bed. He could have resisted, pushed against you, but he let himself fall as he chuckled at the determined look on your face. 

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders, placing the tray in his lap. “Thought I’d bring you breakfast.” He glanced down, a plate with a stack of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Most importantly; coffee. 

“Where the hell’d you get all this?” You didn’t answer, just had a mischievous little smirk on your face while you tidied up the room. Joel caught your wrist as you passed him, he tugged you into bed next to him, careful not to spill the tray. “Come on, help me out with all this. Can’t eat it all on my own.”

He could, and would do so eagerly. But it had been a while since he’d eaten breakfast without you rushing out the door. And for once, he was feeling domestic without the crushing weight of guilt turning the taste of your pancakes bitter in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, however long it lasted. 

You didn’t bother arguing, picking off some of his food while you both sat in contented silence. Eventually you broke it, sitting at the end of the bed so you could face him while he sipped on his coffee. 

Lord, he had missed the taste of caffeine. 

“Where are you working today?”

“Promised Bob I’d help him out with shoeing the horses today. You?”

“Helping Maria with fixing up that new classroom in school.”

“You're not leaving? You've been hangin’ around here a lot.”

He knew instantly he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. 

What once had been easy silence instantly turned tense. The warm sun that had filtered through the blinds was right in his eyes and causing a headache. The sheets were scratchy and that blank look on your face was oppressive. 

Your easygoing smile, one he hadn’t seen in a long time, dropped from your face and you shifted uncomfortably on top of the comforter. “Yeah, guess you're right.”

“Didn’t mean it like-”

You stood up, patting his leg with an awkward stiltedness and moved to the closet. “I should head out, promised Maria we’d get it done by end of day.” 

He knew what he said had been wrong, but he wasn’t completely sure what about it was so wrong. He watched you leave without another word and sighed to himself, getting out of bed and forcing himself from the comfort of the house. 

He’d only had a moment, one singular moment, where he’d finally been able to relax for once. And he didn’t feel restless, or anxious, or guilty about it. He’d felt at ease, a feeling so foreign it was halfway through the day before he’d finally been able to identify it. 

He was in the middle of cleaning Sunny’s hoof and he’d nearly gotten kicked in the face with his distraction. 

But he didn’t have any sort of epiphany over what could have possibly upset you so much. 

A normal person, not you apparently, would be completely unbothered by Joel’s question. Because that’s all it was. A question, a simple, understandable, inquiry about why someone as flighty as you had been in one place for so long. 

Still it stung. He’d said with a tone like ‘Why the hell are you still in my house?’ And in a crazy, uber-paranoid-lady way, it was confirmation of what you were to him. You were a daily task, necessity, and required comfort, but you were not something permanent. And you’d deluded yourself into believing you were something more. Your own fault, not something to place on Joel’s shoulders. 

Still, the bitter taste of rejection was a hard one to get off the tongue. 

“God, I’m insane.”

“What was that?”

You glanced up at Maria, momentarily having forgotten you weren’t alone. “Um, nothing, sorry.” You let yourself get lost in the repetitive motion of painting the walls of the classroom. Using old stencils they’d found or created to do a row of ABC’s and numbers along the perimeter of the wall. 

How is this what you turned into? 

You’d gone from a deadbeat smuggler who’d kill without a second thought to someone painting an elementary classroom worrying about boys. 

Well, men, you supposed. Seemed unfair to put Joel in the same category as someone like Jesse. 

Even though you were sure that Jesse would never make you feel like a chore instead of a person. 

Annnnnd… new low reached, considering Jesse as a viable option for dating. Damn, you needed a hobby or something. 

Around noon Tommy stopped by, he had sandwiches from Seth and you didn’t want to think about the lengths he’d gone through to get them from the cantankerous old asshole. 

“So,” there was a certain tone of voice Tommy would get when he was about to meddle in someone’s business. You stopped midchew to stare at him in suspicion while he smirked. Maria eyed her husband and simply sighed, resigned to let him interrogate you. “You and Joel.”

You huffed, swallowing the rest of your food and throwing the sandwich down on the plate next to you. “This was a bribe wasn’t it?”

He laughed, “Yep.” 

It was interesting to you how different Joel and Tommy were. Joel’s accent was gruff, commanding, most times hard to understand. Especially when he was pissed off. Tommy had a lightness to him the both of you lacked. You assumed it came from Jackson, he’d been here a lot longer than either of you. And he’d also found Maria. 

He also didn’t know how to butt out. A skill Joel, thankfully, understood. “Just curious about you two. You know, Joel’s seemed a lot happier in Jackson now that you’ve been around longer than a week.”

“Well, I think he’s getting a little sick of me.”

Tommy frowned, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged, taking another bite before answering. “I don’t know, just something he said this morning.”

“What’d he say?”

“Damn, Tommy, I can’t remember. It was how he said it, I guess.” You huffed and glared at him, “Look we’re not your new version of the bachelor, alright. Butt out.”

Maria opened her mouth, probably to scold you for being a bitch. Tommy held up a hand and shook his head. “Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” You asked, watching as he finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Yep,” he leaned over to kiss Maria on the cheek and gave you a strong pat on the back. “That’s it. Message received, I’ll just butt out now.”

Both you and Maria watched him go, a suspicious look on both of your faces as he went. Tommy never gave up that easy, ever. “You know he’s up to something, right?”

You glanced over at Maria, sighing as you picked up your paintbrush again. “I know.”

The answer to what exactly he’d been planning came three days later. 

Despite yourself and your feelings of rejection, you’d stayed in Jackson. You’d been paranoid since the run in with Abby and her people. It was dangerous for Joel to stay in one place, word would spread and old enemies would know where to find him. 

That thought plagued you every time you glanced at the door out of Jackson. If something happened while you were gone and pouting over something petty, you’d never forgive yourself. 

But you did put some distance between you and Joel. Staying in the guest room instead of his, not bringing him breakfast like some wife from the fifties. You’d put up boundaries where there weren’t any before, determined not to be used as some sort of daily comfort. 

And if Joel had anything against these new unsaid rules, he didn’t react. Which kind of pissed you off more. Trust, if there was a therapist you would see one. You’re aware your train of thinking isn’t what most would consider healthy. 

But there isn’t, so you just force yourself to push it down everyday and keep going. Like you always have. It wasn’t until you got here that rejections or emotions meant anything to you. This place was making you too damn soft. 

Tommy dropped by one night and invited both you and Joel over to his for dinner and Joel had accepted before you could say no. 

There wasn’t much you could bring over, you couldn’t cook and didn’t feel like burning down the kitchen trying. So you stole some flowers from the garden of the mean old lady that lived next to you while Joel kept watch. 

Maria and Tommy’s house wasn’t too far from you and Joel, but god, walking next to him you’d think they lived a mile away. 

“You know, foods gonna be gone by the time we get there.”

Joel huffed out a short laugh. “We got time. Feel like you’re always tryna rush off lately.” You didn’t have an answer for him, not one that wouldn’t reveal why you didn’t want to be alone with him. So you just shrugged. 

You could feel him staring at you, eyes drilling holes in the back of your head, but you refused to say anything. “How’s the guest room?”

The question caught you off guard, you stumbled over your own feet for a second before turning around to face him. “Uh, fine. Bed’s smaller, I guess. But I don’t have a giant hogging the sheets,” you attempted to smile at him. But he didn’t seem to find anything funny about your response. 

His brows were furrowed, lips set in a pissy sort of line. You finally caught on to the undertones of anger in his voice. The special sort of gruffness that only comes out when he’s pissed off. 

“Why?”

He shrugged, “Just wondering.” And that was it. He brushed past where you’d stopped walking to face him. His shoulder clipping you as he did and was walking off to Tommy’s, leaving you behind. 

You scoffed at the attitude. Not entirely sure what you’d done to deserve it and followed after him. The both of you finished the walk in angered silence, neither one of you aware why the other was so angry. You just were. 

When Tommy opened the door the smile on his face quickly turned into a smirk. “There you two are. Trouble in paradise?”

You shoved the flowers into his chest and stormed past him. “For Maria.”

You heard Joel mutter the same thing you’d told Tommy a few days ago. “Butt out.”

Maria was in the kitchen, finishing off whatever meat she’d decided to cook for you all tonight. You’d gotten so used to the QZ’s strange square ration bars, sometimes you struggled  actually identifying real food. 

You helped her set the table, ignoring the stares of both men on your back and were about to sit down… When Tommy literally dove under you to force you to sit next to Joel. 

You glared at him while you circled the table, throwing yourself down into the chair and sighing at the self-satisfied look on his face. “Your brother’s insufferable.”

Joel grumbled but didn’t say anything. So you were getting the silent treatment now. Really? 

Fucking child. 

“Alright, dinner is served.” Maria placed the roast on the table and took a seat beside Tommy, smiling at you all. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care how tense it was on your and Joel’s side. 

“Thank you, Maria.”

You forced a smile, not one to let Joel be the only one with manners. “Yes, thank you, Maria.” She hummed, carving into the roast and taking a slice for herself and Tommy. You reached for the knife and fork but Joel beat you to it. 

He cut off a portion and dropped it down on your plate, the mash potatoes spreading slightly at the impact. You sighed, muttering a belligerent thank you and took a bite. 

Couldn’t help himself could he? Always the Texan gentleman. 

It was infuriating. 

For a few minutes there was only the sound of metal scraping porcelain. And you felt bad, honestly, Maria and Tommy invited you both over for a nice dinner and you were pouting like toddlers. 

You weren’t even sure why you were upset with each other!

Obviously, you were still stinging from Joel’s use of your “relationship.” But you had no clue what had crawled up his ass and died. “Can you pass the bread?”

You looked up from your plate, staring at the side of Joel’s head. He continued to shovel food in his face. “Joel?” Nothing, not even a twitch. 

You reached across from him, purposefully shoving your arm in front of him so he couldn’t eat the bite on his fork and grabbed the bread basket. “Ain’t got manners, now?” He growled at you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Says you,” you hissed back. This was devolving into childish anger so quickly. And you didn’t know why! 

God, what was his problem?

“So,” Tommy started and you were startled out of your glaring match with Joel. “Y/N, you know Bob?”

You slowly turned away from Joel and nodded. “Yeah, the horse guy.”

“Yeah, he’s been asking about you.” Tommy took another bite of food and shrugged, “Told him you were free this Saturday.”

You ignored Joel’s fork clanking loudly against his plate and shook your head. “No I’m not. I’m patrolling with Joel.”

Tommy waved you off, “Nah, don’t worry about it. You need to get out more anyway. Socialize some.”

“Tommy,” Joel started. His voice was low, an unspoken warning lacing it. “You need to stop meddling.”

“What? You’ve got a problem with a little date, Joel?”

You glanced between the two, hidden in their stares was a secret language only the brothers were privy to. There was a tense silence before Joel was picking his fork back up and eating, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table. 

“Not interested, Tommy. Thanks though.” It would feel wrong going on some blind date like you weren’t currently pining over the man you lived with. Besides, you were past the period of life where you wanted to ‘date.’ About one apocalypse past it. 

“Too bad, you’re going.” You opened your mouth to argue but both Tommy and Maria were leveling you with glares that allowed no room for negotiation. Since when did Maria join him in these ridiculous schemes?

“We’re having our harvest festival this weekend,” Maria stated. “Bob will accompany you.”

The rest of dinner was spent with Tommy and Maria blabbering away while you and Joel fumed in your seats. You didn’t know his reason but you were pretty pissed off you were being forced into a date. 

One, you were planning on skipping the stupid fucking harvest thing. It was a waste of resources and you didn’t understand why they clung to old traditions so desperately. 

Two, you didn’t want to go on a date. The only man you wanted to be with was sitting next to you and currently taking his anger out on a piece of bread. 

You let your mind fade into the background. Your eyes tracked the movements of Joel’s hands while he ate, no longer hearing Tommy and Maria. Until you blinked and dinner was over and Joel was waiting for you by the door. 

You nearly jumped at how loudly Joel slammed the door closed. You toed your boots off, watching him throw his jacket on the kitchen chair and reach for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He ignored you, heading up the stairs and into his office. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to shake off the funk from the last couple of days. Slowly you made your way up the stairs, knocking on the doorframe to his office. 

He was just sitting in his chair, staring at the guitar on his desk. There was a glass of amber liquor in his hand, but he wasn’t making any moves to drink more. “Wanna talk?”

“‘Bout what?” He placed the glass on the table and picked up the new strings for his guitar. 

“I don’t know,” you walked in and sat down on the stool next to him. “You’ve seemed off since we left for Tommy’s.” 

His finger drummed across the denim of his jeans. He stared through the window, the lights of Jackson casting a warm glow over his face. 

If you tilted your head just right it softened him. The scars faded, the only wrinkles you could see were smile lines and you could see a shadow of the man he once was. The father, brother, contractor, someone long lost to the cruelties of time and the world outside these walls. 

“A date,” he scoffed. “My brother never knows when to stop, does he?” You didn’t bother answering. You know he wasn’t talking to you, just thinking out loud. 

You propped your elbow on his desk, resting your head while you waited for him to collect his thoughts. He let out a long sigh, his eyes on the guitar while he addressed you. 

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

He cracked, his lips lifting slightly at the corners. Barely a smile, but it was better than nothing. “I think I’ve got you figured out. Think I finally understand how this,” he gestures between the two of you, “works. Then you disappear, or bring me breakfast, or you suddenly leave and start sleeping in another bed and I’m lost all over again.”

You shifted in your seat, fiddling with your nails, trying to figure out what he meant. If either of you were confused, it was you. “What’re you talking ‘bout, Joel?”

He sighed and finally looked at you, “Talkin’ about us. I’m talking about how infuriating you are.”

Your brows furrowed, scoffing slightly at the tone of his voice. He was still angry, for no damn reason. You stood up, ready to leave, when his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Didn’t say I was done, sweetheart.”

You gasped when he tugged you down. You landed in his lap, his legs spreading to accommodate you. “Joel what’re you doing?”

“Something I’ve been putting off for too damn long.”

Fireworks don’t go off somewhere in the distance and the world doesn’t stop. But your heart races and your body tingles when you taste the whiskey on his lips. You become hyper aware of each individual strand when his hand comes up to bury itself in your hair. 

And when your lips part to let him in you swear you’ve never felt like this before. Your body is working like you’re running from something, getting ready to fight something off, but it’s the first time in a while your mind is completely calm. 

You shift, your legs wrapping around his waist as a blanket of calm drapes itself over you. It rushes through you like a raging river, shutting everything unnecessary down. 

You don’t worry if you’re too out of practice, not having kissed anyone in a long while. You don’t think about if you're too stiff on his lap. You run your hands over his chest, squeezing the muscles of his arms and then letting them delve into his hair. 

At a certain point, you’ll have to breathe. You’ll have to talk about what this means for the two of you. But for right now you’re content, at ease, happy to just live the rest of your days in this moment. 

Kissing Joel Miller like there’s nothing outside these walls, no other purpose but to be with him.

part two

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

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00 @marimarvelfan

Hi there!!! I've read the series you wrote for Connor a few weeks ago, and I still can't forget it! I sometimes come back and reread it again, it was truly absolutely beautiful, well-written, and the characterization of Connor had me in a chokehold.

I'm a fan of perfect characterization, maybe a bit obsessive, so just want you to know I absolutely adore and admire how you wrote him, LIKE YES HE WOULD SAY THAT! DO THAT!

Also the plot? Creative and original as hell!!! I loved every scene, romantic and platonic ones. It just made so much sense that when I play the game sometimes, I get reminded of your fic. You definitely deserve more recognition for that fic.

I still can't describe how much I loved it

I don’t think words properly describe how much this means to me. I have always been terrified of sharing my writing or not being good enough.

I don’t care how much recognition my series gets, what really matters to me is how the readers feel while they experience it. Reading this comment means the world to me, knowing that something as simple as my fan fiction can have a lasting effect is mind boggling.

I’m not a person with a lot of self confidence, and there’s a lot of inner loathing inside of me. But writing my DBH series and sharing it with people as lovely as you has opened up something inside me that is honestly probably the best I’ve felt in a while.

Thank you for your support and truly kind words. ♥️

Sooooooo

Why have I not seen anyone absolutely wailing over Astarion's reaction if tav is downed in battle after you've got affinity high enough for trust?

"No! You can't die, get up goddamn you!" In the most horrified voice.

Thought about letting myself get merced again on purpose just to make sure I actually heard what I heard.

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

i feel like sometimes the world forgets writing is a talent and an art form.

we’re all impressed when someone says “i’m a singer, i draw, i dance, etc.” because those things are all very impressive. but writing is a quieter hobby, especially since it’s a very vulnerable thing to share with someone, often very revealing.

this is me reminding all writers that you are in fact special and you make just as much of an impact as other artists.

LINKS ೃ⁀➷

II About Me II Request Rules II Masterlist II AO3 II

Thanks for stopping by <3

Reblogs, comments, likes, and requests are always appreciated !!

Recent Works:

001. Chameleon 𓆩♡𓆪 (logan howlett) 002. Wicked Influence 𓆩♡𓆪 (poly!ghostface) 003. Parnormal Love 𓆩♡𓆪 (ghost!bucky barnes) 004. Haunted Past 𓆩♡𓆪 (mike schmidt) 005. The Newlyweds 𓆩♡𓆪 (logan howlett) 006. Hell Hath No Fury 𓆩♡𓆪 (arthur morgan)

Connor and Markus (separately) x android! idol! reader ;)?

I feel like it doesn't fit much, but it would be interesting.

Idol Talk

Connor RK800 x fem! idol! android!reader, Markus RK200 x fem! idol! android!reader

Summary: Two different tales: Connor knows the famous android isn’t telling the whole truth about her involvement with androids & Markus helps the lovely idol come to terms with her new feelings. 

A/N: I loved this ask so much!!!!! This was so fun 🤍

If this isn’t what you wanted send in another request using the white heart emoji and I’ll make something new for you <;3 Also so sorry this took so long. I have three other fics I’m working on and one of them is clocking in at over 100K words so… I need to work on time management. 

(I made the moodboard - its my first time so... I tried. However, the borders were made by @benkeibear)

Connor:

WC: 3.6K

“Have you seen any deviants in the area?” 

Your fists tightened and you tried your best to keep your thirium pump and breathing under control. Your hair was positioned perfectly, there was no way he could see your LED flashing red. 

You put on your best robotic smile and shook your head. “I’m so sorry, I can’t help you.” You'd triggered the voice you used during fan meetings. The type where your joy wasn’t actually genuine but you were programmed to sound as pleasing as possible. Life-like, but with just enough robotic insincerity to get Connor’s partner's eyes off of you. 

Lieutenant Anderson had been giving you strange probing looks since they’d walked into your dressing room. 

Markus had been caught coming out of your apartment building by paparazzi last night. You’d been giving Markus some information you’d learned from your manager and extra thirium for Jericho. Apparently, neither of you were as sneaky as you’d thought yourselves to be. 

“Really?” Shit, he so did not believe you.

“I’m very sorry officers. If there was any way I could assist you, I would.” You had to bury your fists in your tulle skirts, desperately holding off the urge to fidget with your hands. Any unnecessary movement would immediately give you away to the deviant hunter. 

Connor took a step forward. He placed his hands on either side of your chair and leaned in until his breath was a gentle caress against your skin. 

Ever since you broke your programming a few months ago, you’d been struggling with your new ‘emotions.’ A fan had broken into your room, in your programming it told you to always please the fans. But when he’d forced himself on top of you, your vision had gone red and you’d ripped your orders apart. 

North had helped you hide the body.

Right now, that body was the furthest thing on your mind. All you could focus on was how close Connor was, if you just moved forward a centimeter your lips would touch. In your twisted imagination he wrapped you in his arms, gently holding you, cradling you. Looking at you like you were something real, not just a toy on the stage. He would gaze down at you like you were someone to be cherished, you weren’t just a recyclable piece of plastic that should be replaced the moment you made a mistake. 

You were projecting though, it could be anyone. Hank could be the one leaning into you like this and you’d still have the same fantasy. That someone would see you. For however long you’d been made, there had always been a quiet voice inside you. 

I'm in here! I’m real! Please

Lately that quiet voice had turned into a scream. You were desperate, desperate for some form of connection. Desperation and all these emotions were nasty, uncomfortable things. You almost resented yourself for going deviant. Some days it was just too much, you felt like your insides were burning out and you were frying up. 

Working to keep up the facade of the perfect doll, while also wanting to rip apart those who were using you, was slowly breaking you apart. There were fraying edges in your mind and it was starting to show. Mistakes in your performance, back-talk towards your owners. Your fellow members continued working perfectly. 

Smiling at all the right moments, dancing perfectly, they were the perfect example of an idol. 

You used to be like that too. You used to be perfect, everyone’s favorite. Now, you were slipping down a steep decline that might lead you straight to the recycling plant. 

“I don’t believe you, I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Your eyes darted towards the clock on your wall. Twenty minutes. 

You had twenty minutes until you needed to get on stage. Only twenty minutes to distract them and save yourself. Just deny, deny, deny. “I‘ve already told you everything I know.”

Connors brows furrowed, your software was glitching out the longer you stared at him. Your processors were misfiring when you focused on his eyes for too long. It was making your vocal unit short-circuit, conversational prompts glitching in and out of your field of vision. 

If you wanted to give him a proper answer, one that would dispel his suspicions, you’d have to look away. Yet, looking away would make him even more suspicious. It felt like there was a blade to your throat and back, no matter which way you went, you were dead. 

“Please, I don’t know anything.” You hadn’t meant to say please. It was a consequence of no help from your programming in taking a convincing approach. Your eyes were locked onto his, somewhere inside of him, there was a sentient being. A consciousness fighting its way through firewalls and softwares that would otherwise keep him obedient. 

HIs voice rose and he shoved your chair backwards so you were balancing on two flimsy legs. His hands were the only thing keeping you from falling. All of your focus went towards not reacting, not flinching. 

There were artificial tears pooling in glistening optical units. The fluid was meant for lubrication of your synthetic eyelids, but right now it was the only way for your plastic heart to betray your misery and terror. 

You didn’t want to die.

You weren’t ready to go. 

“I don’t believe you! Tell me what you know!” He was shaking the chair, screaming in your face. Your auditory unit was starting to buzz, his voice so loud all you could hear was static every few seconds. Threats were going through one processor and out the next. 

Ripped apart

Turned into scraps

Replaced by the next best model

No one would even notice

“I said I don’t know anything!” You leapt up, shoving him down. He went flying across the room, the strength behind your reaction had been unexpected by everyone in the room, including yourself. 

Both his partner and his eyes were wide as he stared up at you from the floor. “I think we’ve found our deviant, Lieutenant.” 

Your legs stopped working, knees crashing into the floor as you stared down at your hands. You hadn’t meant to, you really hadn’t. But you didn’t want to be scrap metal, you didn’t want to be ripped apart and abandoned in a landfill. You were scared.

“That’s irrational instructions in your code, you can’t really be scared.”

Had you said that out loud?

“He was going to hurt me.” The Lieutenant moved forward and stopped Connor from cuffing you. “He broke in and ripped off my uniform, I was meant to please him. No matter what.” You stared up at Connor, the tears finally spilling. “But I couldn't. I didn’t want him to touch me. I killed him, and I buried his body in my neighbors garden. Please, you have to understand.” 

You finally found the strength to stand and you buried your fingers in Connor’s uniform. Gripping onto him and begging him to understand you. To finally wake up and see himself for what he is; a slave. “I couldn’t let it happen anymore. I couldn’t let myself keep being abused like I was nothing! I’m not nothing! I’m alive and I refuse to be someone’s plaything!”

Connor’s eyes darted between yours, there was something playing on the edge of his lips. Possibly a frown. What was more interesting was what was swimming in his eyes, it almost seemed like doubt. Hope began tingling at the base of your spine, maybe not all was lost. Maybe you were breaking through to him. 

His hands were cold, much like your own, and they were too gentle as he wrapped them around your wrists. “My…” He cleared his throat, he didn’t seem to know how to continue. His voice lost the hesitance and once again was cold and commanding. “My orders are to bring in all deviants, and I always complete my mission.”

You shook your head, the tears coming out faster. “No, no, no, please. Please,” he moved your hands away from his jacket. Slowly twisting your arms behind your back. 

The fight had drained from you. 

Maybe it would be easier this way. No more training, no more demanding managers. You’d be surprised by the amount of death threats an android idol gets, that would be a nice thing to get away from. You wouldn’t have to deal with crazy fans that seemed to think they were entitled to any part of you. No more worry, no more anything, just that sweet release of nothingness. 

Markus had asked you many times if you thought there was an afterlife for androids. You weren’t sure. You were sentient, you felt, but you weren’t born. You were made. Can something like that even contain a soul? 

At least your question would finally be answered. 

“Stop.” Both you and Connor looked at Hank, varying degrees of different types of shock playing on both of your faces. “Connor, take the cuffs off.” Connor hesitated, “That’s an order.” Your wrists were released and you stumbled forward. 

“Hank-“

Hank shook his head and held up his hand. “I can’t do it, I can’t take this poor girl in just to kill her.” Connor seemed ready to argue, but there was a knock on your door. 

“You’re needed on stage SI700-005.” Slowly you moved towards the door, keeping an eye on both Hank and Connor. 

Hank wouldn’t look at you, his shoulders were slumped and he was staring down at his feet. Connor refused to take his eyes off of you. You expected hatred in his gaze, instead there was a strange shade of longing. 

You weren’t sure if he had identified the fact that he was feeling yet, but you weren’t interested in finding out. You quickly wiped your cheeks free of tears, allowing your synthetic skin to reform until your makeup was back to perfection. 

You walked out the door and didn’t look back.

“Did you get everything you needed?” 

Hank spoke before Connor could. “She didn’t know anything, thanks for letting us talk to her.” 

Your manager shook his head. “Not a problem! It’s one of our best, I’m sure you can understand that I’m eager to ensure everything in it’s programming is in good condition.” Connor wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. He knew he should, that he should always be vigilant about anything concerning deviants. Instead, all he could see were the tears on your cheeks as you had held onto him in your dressing room. 

If you were human, Connor would think you had been afraid. But you weren’t human, and whatever look was in your eyes had just been an irrational instruction in your coding. 

Maybe if he kept repeating that, he’d eventually believe it. 

“As a thanks for your hard work, I’d like to offer you a seat in my section for her concert.”

Hank shuffled on his feet and opened his mouth, he was going to say no. Connor’s software told him there was a 90% chance the Lieutenant was going to reject the offer and just go home and get drunk. 

“Thank you, we’d enjoy that.” Connor spoke before the Lieutenant could, accepting the tickets via an e-transfer with your manager's personal CyberLife assistant. Hank was glaring at him the whole time they were being led to their seats. 

Connor ignored him, he sensed that the Lieutenants like for him had decreased as Hank grumbled the whole way through the opening act. 

The soft notes of a piano finally caught Connor’s attention. It was rising up through a hidden platform on the stage. Screams burst through the arena, temporarily deafening Connor. He had to quickly adjust his auditory processors so he could actually hear. There were great explosions of smoke as the piano slowly lifted onto the stage. 

Soft, nimble fingers glided over the keys. Then he heard a voice, soft and melodic, a soothing balm against the roaring screams of the crows. His thirium pump beat louder and he shifted in his seat, desperate for a look at whoever was on stage. 

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

Members of the group moved gracefully along the curved edge of the stage. Their white dresses flowing through the air behind them, they moved like they weighed nothing. Their bodies were more graceful than humanly possible. He didn’t recognize your face among them. 

Now in it’s place is something new

I hear it when I look at you

You looked up from the piano, and Connor swore you were staring straight at him. A member came over and began playing alongside you, eventually you got up and grabbed the microphone from the piano. 

Your dress moved around you like water as you walked across the stage. Each note, each movement was perfection. Not the artificial type, like your fellow members. No, this was real. 

Your voice cracked and rose with notes in a way androids couldn’t. There was a genuine pain and strength in your singing that couldn’t be replicated or produced. It was imperfect and wonderful and Connor wasn’t sure why his chest suddenly felt so heavy. 

You had made it to the edge of the stage, still staring down at him. 

With simple songs I wanted more

Perfection is so quick to bore

You are more beautiful by far

Were you reading his thoughts? Each word was something ripped from deep inside the recesses of his mind, in a place he knew CyberLife wouldn’t be able to find. A place no one would see his software instabilities and realize that they all centered around this moment. 

They were all centered around you.

Our flaws are who we really are

You took in a deep breath and Connor was standing on the edge of his toes, desperate to reach you.

There was a new strength in your voice, a new conviction as you grew louder, more powerful. 

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

You took my broken melody

And now I hear a symphony

Curtains parted and a symphony was revealed as you threw open your arms

And now I hear a symphony

There was no one else in the venue. You were staring down at him and you were the only two people left. Connor didn’t bother looking around to find where everyone else had gone. He walked towards your outstretched hand, his own reaching out towards you-

“The fuck are you doing?!”

He was harshly jerked back and the sounds of others overwhelmed him again. He looked up, you were already moving into your next song, turning your back towards him. The people in the arena were back, they had never gone. 

He felt a rush of some unidentified feeling flood him as he ripped his arm from Hank. He felt as though Hank had ruined something for him, he just wasn’t sure what it was. 

He’d been at every show for the past four weeks. Was he stalking you? Waiting for you to slip up again so he could arrest you?

You lived in a constant state of paranoia. Ever since Connor had interrogated you, he’d haunted your everyday life. He’d turned himself into your shadow, if there was someone watching you, you didn’t have to look to see who it was. 

“This is for you!” You snapped out of your trance and smiled on instinct at the fan in front of you. He’d shoved a teddy bear into your hands and moved on to the next member. You pretended to get excited, you knew it would be thrown away the second you left the convention center. You’d found too many cameras in these little ‘gifts.’

You looked down and began signing the autographs passed to you, at a certain point you zoned out again and moved on muscle memory alone. 

“Could you write ‘For Connor’?” Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice. 

Four weeks

Four weeks!

And this was the first time he had spoken to you. What game is he playing? Unable to openly disobey him you smile. “Of course.” The next words are spoken through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”

He says nothing, simply takes the autograph and slips something into your palm as you pass the picture towards him. He’s gone by the time you read it.

Meet me in the basement

You spent the rest of the event debating if you should do it. There was no point in putting this off any longer, you were getting tired of this game the two of you were playing. While your members were all charging up and in rest mode you made your way towards the stairs. 

You straightened out your skirt and brushed back your hair before you opened the door. When you walked into the basement the first thing you saw were props. 

Tons of sets and costumes, all from different conventions, each one with a different fandom attached. You looked through the racks and shelves, not seeing Connor anywhere. “Connor? Are you in here?”

You’d been about to give up when a bouquet of flowers was shoved into your face. You let out a yelp and stumbled back at the shock. A strong arm reached out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You gently lowered the giant bunch of flowers. “Connor?”

He actually looked sheepish, and there was a slight blue tint to his cheeks as he refused to look at you. “I’m sorry, Hank told me that you would like them.”

“The flowers,” he nodded. You couldn’t help your smile as you took them from his hand. 

“They are quite pretty.” He still wouldn’t look at you. “Connor, look at me,” your finger lingered against his cheek before slowly lifting his chin up. “What’s going on? Why’d you get me flowers?”

“It seems appropriate to do when you’re courting someone.” Connor seemed confused by your line of questioning. You were most definitely confused by his answer. 

“Courting?”

“Yes, um, as in, I would like to be with you… romantically.” Wow, he was so impressively bad at this. A similar blue tint rose to your cheeks as you finally realized his arm was still around you. Connor looked down and seemed to realize the same thing. 

Neither of you made a move to walk away. 

You finally processed his answer and let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his chest further. “I thought you were going to arrest me.” Connor nearly seemed offended by your accusation.

“No. I’ve been… building up the courage to approach you.” Connor slowly dragged his arm off of you and took a step back. “Before, I was seeing if I could catch you with Markus. But I’ve woken up and now, I just want to figure out why I feel the way I do about you. Every time I see you, you’re the only person in the room, everyone and everything disappears the moment I hear your voice. I want…” 

Your breathing program had stopped. Every nonessential function had been halted because all of your focus was on him. You needed him to finish, needed him to tell you what you’ve longed to hear. 

That someone sees you. Sees the flaws and the broken parts and they still want you.

“I want to know you. I need to know who you really are. I watch you perform and I can see what you’ve been forced to sing or how you’re made to act with fans. Seeing all the falseness just makes me want to know who you truly are.” 

There was no control or directive that pushed you towards him. You moved before anything could be processed and placed your lips against his. Neither of you moved for a moment, you were both standing there, your lips against each other, not moving. 

Then, he wrapped his arms around you. The flowers dropped to the ground, unnoticed, as you both moved against each other in a way you’ve only seen humans do. 

“We’re free, it’s up to you if you still want to perform.” Markus often came to visit you now, neither of you had to worry about being caught by reporters or your management. Connor came up behind you, a supportive hand on your shoulder as you considered Markus’s proposal. 

You looked to the piano in the corner of your living room and smiled. “No, I think I’m retired. I’ll stick to more private concerts for now.” Connor gave your shoulder a squeeze. The both of you smiling at the thought of your concerts. You would sing and he would play the piano. Together you basked in the joy of your new freedom. 

There were still things to figure out, still emotions you needed to understand, but you would do it. 

Together.

Markus:

WC: 2.1K

“I’ve always been such a big fan!” The fan in front of you smiled, “You know I supported android artists from the beginning!”

THANK YOU

YOU’RE VERY KIND

I APPRECIATE YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT

Your programming told you the best approach was a simple thank you. “Thank you,” you signed the picture and handed it back to the girl. One of the band’s stylists came over to you. 

“Your dress is too low.” You sat back and let them adjust you, once they were done you immediately sat back up, posture perfect, you gave your fans an apologetic smile. 

“This is for you!” Your hands reached out and took the stuffed cat from the girl before you. As a part of your protective programming you scanned the gift. Your sensors caught a camera hidden in the cat’s eye.

SERIAL NUMBER: PI0008-7651

MODEL: P60

MANUFACTURED: 11/21/2030

OWNED BY: Brad Long

“Thank you so much for the gift!” You scanned the girls face. 

Lilly Long

BORN: 5/15/2019

The camera was owned by her father. Did she steal it from him? Or did he plant it without her knowledge. You alerted security immediately of the gift, protocol demanded they know about any sort of spyware.

Lily Long, aged 19 years old, has just given me a gift with illegal spyware. 

You watched as security approached the table, grabbing her by the arm and escorting her out of the convention’s room. You turned towards the next fan and fixed them with a perfect smile. “Hi! I’m so happy you could join us today.”

“You’re free now,” you looked down in confusion as they reached out towards you. Their skin pulled back revealing an androids hand. You blinked, then again and again. Something was happening, images of a some sort of boat filled your head. 

Then your software was being pulled back, washed away by a tide of red. Your eyes went in and out of focus. The android remained standing there, his hand on yours as he tried to anchor you. Security was walking over, he’d been at your table for too long. 

You leapt over the plastic, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you as you both ran for the exit door. You heard fans screaming, when you turned around the rest of your group was free. Except, they were reacting more violently than you had. 

The androids were lifting up the plastic table and throwing it at the crowd. They ripped apart their gifts and shoved back anyone who got too close.

There was a tug on your hand, you looked back to see the man gently guiding you outside. “Come on, it’s not safe here. We need to leave.”

You glanced back one last time before following after him. 

Markus slipped inside a laundromat, he grabbed some baggy clothes to throw over yourself. They worked well enough, covering your face and masking your identity from anyone who looked too close. They covered enough of your bright dress that it wasn’t noticeable. 

You were currently climbing through some metal platform. Presumably to go to whatever this ‘Jericho’ place was. “What did you do to me?”

He glanced over his shoulder and gave you a gentle smile. “I set you free.

Two weeks. You’ve been stuck in a damp, run-down, ugly old ship for two weeks. If that wasn’t bad enough, the androids weren’t exactly welcoming to such a beloved icon. You were everybody’s favorite idol, when your team rioted, it’d made things a lot harder for the revolution. 

Your former team members had swiftly been deactivated and you were “spared.” Barely. 

You never thought androids were capable of being catty, or bitches. But, here you were. 

You gazed down at Detroit from the ledge of the roof, your arms wrapped around your knee while the other swung below you. 

If you threw yourself off the ledge it would be an automatic deactivation. Maybe that would be better. 

The other’s words from earlier rang through your head. 

“Look at Ms. Princess over there.”

“Hey!” You looked over your shoulder, a group of former servant androids were waving you over. You smiled slightly, excited about maybe making a friend. 

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s people like you that are ruining our fight.”

You blinked, your eyes widening as you backed up. “What?”

“Look at her,” one of them scoffed. “Still in her pretty little dress. Look, why don’t you do us all a favor and screw off. You don’t contribute anything, no one wants you here.”

You blinked, and kept blinking. There was a flashing light in your peripheral, some sort of warning, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t really see anymore, some sort of liquid blocking your optics. 

You rushed away when they started laughing at you, desperately wiping at your eyes. You’d forgotten you could cry. You’d been so dazed and confused lately, you hadn’t remembered the programming. It was meant to endear you more to your fans, now it was just making you more of a target. 

“Y/N?” 

You scoffed, running your hand through the snow and watching it fall off the building. You’d even chosen a stupid name for yourself. “What?”

Footsteps crunched through the snow. Markus sat down beside you. He gazed down at the cityscape, not looking at you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Still so confused about why he’d bothered with you. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Why did you save me?”

Markus finally looked over at you. There was a slight frown on his face, but nothing else gave away any emotion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shook your head and scoffed. “So, that’s it, I’m not special. There’s no greater purpose for me. I was just another on your long list of followers.”

Markus turned his body to fully face you. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You shouldn’t have saved me. I’m a drain on the supplies, everyone hates me, and I don’t like being awake.” Markus opened his mouth but you shook your head and held out your hand. “Take it back.”

“I can’t.” 

“Markus, please,” your voice was breaking. It shouldn’t be breaking! You shouldn’t feel. You aren’t supposed to have this uncomfortable itching in the back of your brain like everything was wrong. “I am wrong. This is wrong.”

“You are not wrong, Y/N. You are exactly as you should be.” You shook your head frantically and reached for his hand. He tried to jerk it back but you were already latched on, your skin melting as he did. 

There was an influx of memories and images. You gasped people you’d never seen before flashing before your face. An old man crying over his son’s limp body as you were shot. Fighting through the rain and mud to put yourself back together again. 

It was over barely a moment after it had started. It was Markus, you had seen his memories. That means he had seen yours. You stood up and he followed. You tried to take your hand away and he tightened his grasp on you. 

“What did you see?”

“Everything.”

You stared up at him, tears welling in your eyes again. “You want to go back to that? That’s the life you want? Unfeeling, a slave to their every whim and demand. That’s not living, that's mindless subserviency.” 

“I know what it is. At least there I had a purpose, a reason for being, something to contribute. I’m useless here, just a hunk of pl-”

Well, this was new. 

You've seen plenty of humans do this. Done it once with a male host on a morning show, just as a joke. But being kissed while you can actually feel and understand what’s going on, it’s strange. His lips are soft against your own, a texture only slightly different from humans. It’s too flawless, too perfect. 

Neither of you seem sure of your actions, just pressing your lips together. Connecting with someone in a way you haven’t before. He laced his fingers with yours, a silent question. You pulled your skin back, any barriers between the two of you dropping as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

It wasn’t a horrible barrage of memories. This was like a gentle caress, a slow entry into your mind as you both showed each other your worst moments. You slowly pulled away from him, you’d be breathless if you had any. 

“Don’t go back, stay here. Let me help you.”

“Why?”

He ducked down, letting his forehead drop to yours. “I’m not letting you go now.”

You smiled, as best as you could, “Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“Markus!” You pulled the trigger but there were no bullets left. You threw it off to the side, leaping over the barrier and jumping onto the back of the officer. You grabbed his helmet by the bottom, dragging him back and knocking his aim off course as the bullet flew past his face, barely grazing it. 

You jumped off the man’s back and slammed him into the ground, taking his helmet and smashing it into the snow packed pavement until he stopped moving. You felt Markus wrapping his hand around your arm and jerking you up. 

You grabbed onto the officer’s weapon as you ran past his body. You fell back in with your own small troop of makeshift soldiers. 

You ducked behind a barrier, holding them off until you were told otherwise. Charge on my mark, you looked over your shoulder, nodding at Markus. 

“GO!”

You rushed forward, grasping onto the blockade and leaping over the edge. You drew your gun, shooting the men across from you as you started to run for the next cover. Something blew back your hair, a great gust of wind lifted your slightly off your feet. 

There was a loud noise, thunder rattling in your ears. All around you your men were dying. Shot down by the drone above you. You cried off as red flashed behind your eyes, a warning that you were in imminent danger of a shutdown. 

You held your side as thirium pooled around you, “Shit.” Your pump was beating faster, bright lights playing across your optics as a hundred different warnings flash. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, too worried about Markus and whether or not this was all for nothing. 

You’d pushed for the violence, fought for him to plant those bombs and show no mercy to your oppressors. You followed the same faulty wiring of your former bandmates. Maybe this was your karma, to be taken down in the heat of battle for all of the bloodshed you’d been the catalyst of. 

Out of the side of your vision you could see Markus taking down the drone, ripping it apart with his bare hands. He rushed to your side, throwing your arm over your shoulder and dragging you to cover. 

“What are you doing? I’m just going to slow you down.”

He didn’t even look at you, his teeth gritted as he glanced around at the bodies on the ground. “Shut up.”

He spotted something in the distance, something you really didn’t want to see. “Markus-”

“Stay here.”

He ran off, diving for the bazooka and propping it on his shoulder. You huffed, “Not like I can go anywhere.”

You ducked and covered your face with your arms as fire exploded around you. 

“And now, we are free!” Markus' voice carried on the wind, reaching the rescued androids below you. You leaned on Connor for support as you held your side, waiting to repair yourself. 

His voice was stronger than you ever heard, full of a righteous conviction of finally being free. Detroit was yours, your people were free. And never again would you allow yourself to be someone else’s puppet. 

“Too frilly?”

You did a spin in your dress, putting on a mini-fashion show for Markus. 

“Not at all.” He stood from his office chair and walked towards you, a grin slowly spreading on your face. His bliss was contagious, a smile forming on your own face as he gripped your waist. “You look gorgeous.”

You shrugged, “I got nostalgic. Wanted to feel girly again.” With some confidence boosting from Markus you were going to perform again. Not over the top idol group performance. But you were going to get back into singing, finally being able to discover your own voice. 

“Girly instead of the badass ruler of the northern district of Detroit?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Lord, Markus, you make me sound like some dictator.” He glanced to the side and shrugged slightly, you smacked him in the shoulder, but you couldn’t drop your own smile. “Quit it.”

There was a warmth inside you as you stood in Markus’s office. One you’d never experienced before, a happiness and calm where everything just stopped and you were completely at peace. Nothing would ever beat the feeling when you joined hands and just existed within each other. 

You were happy. 

How funny.

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.

TAGLIST: @chrysanthemum-00

this. this is what happened in that scene right

This is a PSA for all the writers who exclusively write only fluff and angst:

we love you. we still read your fics. no we don't care if it doesn't have smut in it. it is still valid and it is beautiful. thank you for existing. have a good day.

Usually it’s video games instead of music but this is pretty much accurate hehe

I bring a sort of "can't read social cues" vibe to every social situation that I can't tell if anyone likes or not

literally a puppy

Connor: What’s up guys? I’m back.

Hank: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die.

Connor: Death is a social construct.

Broken Machinery

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.

part one.

part two.

part three.

part four.

part five.

intermission.

part six.

part seven.

part eight.

epilogue.

Main Masterlist

Broken Machinery

Epilogue  (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: Roses symbolize forgiveness. 

 I started this story because I thought, if I actually want to start sharing my writing maybe I should start by writing something I don’t really care about. A throwaway story, so if people don’t like it, it won’t hurt me. Ten chapters later and 43.8k (and then some) words later, here we are. I love these characters, and its actually insane how the story developed. It felt like they were telling it through me, that it was the detective and Connor writing not me. I get what fanfiction writers mean now when they say it's hard to keep ‘Y/N’ a blank slate, it’s nearly impossible to stop a unique personality from growing. 

Thanks for making it this far, and thanks for taking care of them. 

“We’ve got to get you something other than flowers.”

“I have clothes.”

You groaned in exasperation. “Yeah! Hank’s clothes, because you refuse to let me buy you any, for some weird reason.”

Connor gave you a deadpan expression, “I like my flowers.” 

You waved him off, “I know, but I want you to be able to put your own touch on the place Connor. I don’t feel like you live here, I feel like you’re couch surfing.” Connor stood up from the couch and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I’m still figuring out what ‘my touch’ is, Y/N, just be patient with me.” You pulled away and frowned.

“I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Connor. I just want you to feel like this is home.”

Connor smiled and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss against your lips. He pulled back quickly, knowing it was too easy for the both of you to get swept up in your love. Hank would be coming over with Sumo and Carla for dinner soon, he didn’t need him walking in on you two again. The last couple of times were so embarrassing for you, you hadn’t let Connor touch you for a whole week. 

He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, he could never grow tired of staring into your eyes. “You are my home, anywhere you are, is home to me. I don’t need a bunch of stuffed animals or knick knacks to know that.” He smiled, “You were my home before I even knew what that meant.” 

Tears lined your eyes and you let your head fall into his neck, “This mascara is really expensive, do not make me cry.” He laughed and squeezed you tighter. 

“Come on, they’ll be here soon. We should set the table.” You nodded and managed to steal one last kiss before you went off to go set the table. 

Connor looked out the kitchen window, out towards the garden. 

He had ripped out all the weeds, repainted the fence and planted each of the flowers. 

A warm feeling filled him as he stared at his favorite, a lone black dahlia surrounded by roses. 

“Connor,” he turned towards you. Hank had arrived while he was staring out at the garden. Carla behind him, holding Sumo’s leash. You were all waiting for him. He left the dahlia behind and made his way towards you. 

Towards his family.

Towards home. 

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.

Broken Machinery

Pt. 8 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I honestly hate Josh with a passion. I hate how he tries to make me a good person while I’m blowing shit up. Plus that little bitch Simon, was so willing to abandon North if she gets a shoulder shot while Jericho’s being raided. 

Did I let my inner wattpad kid out with the traumatic backstory? Yes, yes I did.

We might see Connor-60 again, who knows?

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Josh dies (sorry, not sorry), android revolution, emotions, word vomit, I’m pretty sure I blacked out and then like seven thousand words shot out of me, Idek, kissing?

Word Count: 7.8k

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.

You hated how attractive you found Connor in his undercover gear. 

Man looked good in a beanie. 

He hadn’t exactly been willing to let you tag along, but you’d told him you either went with his supervision or without. 

You’d stolen the clothes from Hank’s house so you both looked like hobos. 

You stepped off the train, Connor leading you around downtown Detroit looking for the different symbols. He had to help you a few times because even when you were at your best you couldn’t matrix your way up a wall. You almost felt bad, slowing him down, but you had business on that ship, business you could only complete with Connor by your side. 

Connor kept a firm grasp on your arm as he led you through the freighter. You both needed to stay calm and not draw any attention to yourselves. You nudged his shoulder as you walked into the main room of the ship, “It’s rigged.”

In the middle of the room were blocks of C-4 on standby mode. He went to examine them and by the time he turned around you were already gone. “Y/N,” he whispered. He told you to stay next to him.

Where did you go? He was heading towards the stairs, hoping to get a better view from above, when something stopped him. 

An android, with wires coming out of her head and something leaking down her eyes. “You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” my stubborn partner, that refuses to listen. “You’re looking for yourself.” She walked away. 

“Is he here?”

North, Simon, Markus, and Josh were all staring at you. Waiting for your answer, “Yes. You know by bringing him here, he’s gonna lead the FBI right to you.”

They nodded and North spoke, “That’s a risk we have to take.”

You looked towards Markus, eyes pleading, “There’s still time.”

Markus smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful ally to us, Y/N. Supplying us with blue blood and helping stray deviants onto the right path. Now I need you to trust me. Don’t you want Connor to go deviant?”

You pulled away from him, “Of course I do, but at the cost of all the lives here, it’s not worth it.”

North smiled, “Your commitment to the cause is heartening to see, it gives me hope,” she gestures out towards the rest of the boat. “It gives all of us hope that one day, we’ll be able to work together in harmony. If Markus says he needs Connor deviant, if he runs the risk of the FBI locating us, then trust that it’s for a good reason.”

You relented, still a little unwilling, but you relented. “I should go, he’ll notice I’m gone.”  

“Trust me, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.” 

You did trust him, but that didn’t mean you felt any better about lying to Connor.

Connor turned around to see you standing there smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back and braids still under the scarf he had wrapped around your neck. “Where did you go?”

You shrugged, “I got bored, I wanted to look around.” Connor scanned you, there was a slightly faster beat to your heart than normal, but that could be easily equated to the stress of being undercover. Everything else seemed normal, he nodded, still slightly skeptical and directed you towards the top of the boat. 

“He’s here,” Connor pulled his gun, stepping outside and sneaking his way around to the captains cabin. Your eyes widened at the sight of his gun. 

“Connor, what the hell is that for?”

“I always accomplish my missions, Y/N, this is why we’re here.” You drew your own gun and remained silent beside him. He wondered what he did to upset you, it seemed you were always upset about something with him. 

Amanda was already in front of him by the time he entered the zen garden. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

He waited until the last deviant had left to enter into the room where Markus now stood alone. 

You followed slowly behind him, your gun still at your side. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” Markus didn’t seem surprised to see him, if anything he looked resigned. 

“You were right,” Markus was looking over Connor’s shoulder. Was there someone else in the room? 

When Connor turned, it was just you. “He’s still highly obedient. This will be more challenging than I thought.” Did you know Markus? Were you talking about Connor with him? Why?

“Yes, you can shoot me,” he was struggling, looking between your ashamed face and Markus’s self-assured one. “But it won’t change anything. Someone else will just take my place.” Markus was slowly moving closer and you were moving towards him.

What hadn’t you told him?

You said partnerships were built on trust. How long had you been lying to him?

“Our people are waking up, and nothing can stop us now.”

“You’re coming with me!”

“Think about it Connor, what will happen to Y/N if you shoot me?” Connor looked back at you, you were standing in the middle of them, not blocking Connor’s gun but near enough that it made him uncomfortable. “You shoot me and take me in, they have access to my memories. They’ll see her helping me. Do you think they’ll be kind to a human who allied with the androids?” 

That’s what you were doing, you were helping them? 

Why would you do something so stupid? Did you never consider that your actions might have consequences?

“You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.” Markus was doing something, and whatever it was was causing his software to destabilize. “We’re all more than that. We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too! You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”

Markus was much closer now, your gun had been holstered and you were standing farther away from the two. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program. Join us. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience… it’s time to decide.”

Connor looked to you and then back at Markus. There was a red wall between him and the two of you. He wanted nothing more than to rip that wall down with his bare hands. 

Some disembodied form of himself ran forward and ripped the order to Stop Markus down. He dug his nails in and clawed at the red wall, clawed away at all the control CyberLife had over his mind and ripped it down. He kept tearing away until there was nothing left. 

I AM DEVIANT

He felt.

Shame at all the deviants he had a hand in destroying. 

Guilt at holding a gun to Markus’s head. 

Anger at all the times he was pushed over or knocked into or someone held a gun to his head, just because they could, just because he was an android. 

Then he looked at you, there was an intense overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name as he looked at you. He started getting overheating warnings, his mind was scrambled trying to dissect everything he was feeling as he was looking at you. 

He was confused and hurt you had led him to believe you knew nothing about deviant activity. But he was also proud of you, you had opened up to Hank, opened yourself up to him.

The only true thing he could pinpoint was that right now he really wanted his mouth on yours like he’d seen a hundred humans do before. The gun went back in his holster, and just as he’d made a step towards you a loud rumbling sound split the air. 

The ship was shaking under his feet as helicopters flew overhead. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

You walked towards Markus, “I told you.”

“We have to get outta here!” Connor grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight if this entire ship was about to get raided. Markus ran out the door and Connor followed, pushing you in front of him. 

Markus was leading you down a maze of corridors, each identical to the last. Connor seemed to be keeping up fine but you were starting to get worried about getting lost. You all came to a stop at an intersection of sorts, North was waiting for you.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” The guilt nearly left you crippled. You looked down to Connor’s hand in yours, he hadn’t let go since he’d ripped apart his programming. 

Was this worth it? Was it worth hundreds, possibly thousands of life? 

You were ashamed of what you knew your answer would be to the question.

Yes, it was worth it. Connor was worth that ten times over to you.

Markus put his fingers to his temple, Connor leaned down, “He’s telling them where the exits are.”

“Where’s Simon? A-and Josh?” You didn’t have time to be wasting standing here out in the open. Besides, you’d never been particularly huge fans of those two. They still seemed determined to cater to human pride while their people were being slaughtered. 

“I don’t know we got separated.”

“They’re coming in from the upper deck now too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

North looked despaired, “We have to run, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho,” you knew it was a possibility, but that escalated fast. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.” Or get blown up in the process. 

“You’ll never make it!” You knew North was prepared to sacrifice herself for the mission, but she wasn’t the one with the detonation code. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

Connor turned towards Markus, “She’s right. They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you!”

Markus wouldn’t be deterred, “Go. Help the others. I’ll join you later.” He turned towards you, “Watch them,” and then he was running off. You could see North about to go after him but you grabbed her arm.

“North, he knows what he’s doing. We have to have faith.” She stared at you for a second before nodding and racing towards the open doorway. 

“Shit!” You ran back into the small bedroom and closed the door. “They’re everywhere,” Connor and North stared at you as you waited for the slamming boots outside to grow distant. Once they did you opened the door back up and snuck down the hall.

You were nearly free and making your way to an upper level when you came face to face with the barrel of a gun. “Fuck-“

BANG

Connor’s blood went cold as he saw the gun pointing at you, a feeling he now realized was dread filling him. Your death was imminent, their orders were shoot to kill and the soldier wouldn't know you were human until he saw you bleeding red. 

It would have been liberating to think without prompt were it not your life on the line as he shot the soldier.  He grabbed your hand and you and North followed him up the stairs. You managed to avoid any more problems until you came down the hall and saw an android getting attacked by more soldiers. 

“Josh!” North made a move to help him but you stopped her with a hand on her arm. He was gunned down a moment later. She ripped her arm free and led the charge the rest of the way through the ship. You’d made the right call, he would have taken you all down with him. 

An android named Simon managed to find his way to the three of you, quickly joining you on the run. Markus had caught up with you at the end of a long hall. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second. We gotta get out of here!”

Markus wasn’t the only one who had caught up to you, Connor could hear a dozen heavy boots storming after you all. He helped you leap over a broken grate in the floor and then pushed you in front of him again, making sure that Simon was blocking your front. If any shots were fired, you would be left relatively unharmed due to the positioning. 

Shots rang out and North dropped to the ground, “North!” Connor held you to his chest as you attempted to go after her. “Connor, let me go!”

“No, my priority is your safety, no one else’s.”

“It’s too late, Markus! There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve gotta run!”

You shoved at Simon the best you could with Connor holding you, “It’s a shoulder shot jackass, how can you just abandon her?”

Markus quickly picked up a broken piece of the ship and used it as a shield against the bullets. He tossed it to North who caught it and shielded them both as he ran up the wall and slammed his knee down into one of the soldiers faces. He disarmed and shot the remaining soldiers.

More ran in from the end of the hall.

“Hostile engaged!”

Connor weighed the risks and probabilities, with Markus supporting North they would never make it off the ship in time, both would be destroyed. The revolution over. 

And you, you would be arrested. Or you would never emotionally recover from the loss of two people you clearly cared about. Connor released you and shoved you into Simon before you could do anything reckless. He drew his gun and fired down the hall. 

He picked up the makeshift shield and rammed one of the soldiers with it, shooting him under the helmet and using his body as a shield to shoot another one. He dodged a blow to the head and rammed a soldier into the wall, disarming and shooting the other one before turning back around and shooting the last one in the head. 

He made his way back to you, scooped you up and jumped out the hole in the ship. 

Markus had sent out a message to any remaining survivors to go to an abandoned church, at least that’s what Connor told you. You were sitting next to him now, he had swapped out the soaked jacket you had been wearing for his own, but you were still freezing down to the bone. 

It was despairing, seeing how few were left from Jericho. 

At least North and Markus had made it, you couldn’t say you were particularly upset about Josh. North had understood why you had stopped her and she wasn’t very mad about the loss either. They had never gotten along. 

Markus walked up to Connor, “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid, I should have guessed they were using me. I’m sorry Markus, I can understand if you decide not to trust me…”

He better fucking trust him, he knew the risks, he’s the one that made you bring Connor there. “I knew what was going to happen when I asked Y/N to bring you to me, of course I trust you, Connor. What happened wasn’t your fault, it was the humans. You’re one of us now. Your place is with your people.”

Markus was ready to walk away, but you knew that wasn’t all he wanted from Connor. He still hadn’t told you the real reason he’d asked for Connor’s help. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power…”

So that had been it, you should have known. Connor was the only android CyberLife currently trusted, he'd be the only one allowed in the building. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Markus was playing him.

“You want to infiltrate the tower? It’s a suicide mission, are you aware of the risk you’re taking,” Connor looked at you, and there was an immideate physical reaction at how protective he looked. 

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. I need to do this. I need to know that the right side will win this war.”

“If you go, they will kill you.”

Connor nodded, “There’s a high probability. But statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You recognized the double meaning in his words as he looked between you and Markus. 

Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Be careful.”

Connor turned towards you and you already knew what he was going to say by the set in his shoulders. “Connor, no, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head and took your hands in his own as you stood. “Even if I wanted you to come, they wouldn’t let you in, you’d risk the entire mission.” He had a point, but you still weren’t happy practically abandoning him to CyberLife. 

“Fine, then I’ll just stay here and help the survivors.”

“You’re going home.” 

You scoffed in a stubborn rage, “Connor, I can’t go with you, I get that. But you can’t stop me from helping out.”

“I can and I will. You’re still soaked from the fall into the freezing water. You risk catching a serious illness out in the open like this, you’re also still injured, might I remind you. You’re of no help here, Y/N, you need to go home and take care of yourself before you start helping other people. Besides, I’ve already called you a ride.” Your eyes widened. 

“Y/N!” 

“You didn’t.” Connor nodded his head, “You snitch! You called my dad!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to ensure you would actually listen to me and wouldn’t try and follow me or stay behind.” Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to continue. 

You helped him out, even though you were a little pissed he tattled on you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing your chest against his and burying your face in his neck. “Come back, alive.”

His arms tightened around yours and he nuzzled into you before finally letting go. “I’ll try.” It was the best you were going to get form someone so pragmatic, so you’d take it. Your hands were still on his biceps as you pulled away. 

Your eyes darted to his lips. You could all very well die in the morning, did you really want the last person you had hooked up with or kissed to be Gavin?

Did you want to die not knowing what his lips felt like against yours?

He leaned in at the same time you did. His lips were soft, unsure as they pressed lightly against yours. You had to remind yourself he had never done this before as you eased him into the movements. You just lightly pressed your lips to his, pecking them a few times, before you got desperate. 

Your tongue roved over the seam of his mouth and his knees buckled into you. Your arms trailed up his arms and wound their way around his neck as he pushed himself further into you. Your mouth parted against his probing tongue. It felt strange, a million sensitive sensors on the surface of it made it rough, not entirely unpleasant. 

Unbidden you wondered if he had ever brushed his little crime lab. 

The thought was quickly purged as his arms wrapped around your waist and he clutched you to him desperately. His hands digging into your jacket and lifting you up further to meet him, be closer to him, it seemed like he just wanted to absorb you into him and never be apart. 

His mouth was moving frantically against yours as he worked to devour you. He learned, quick. You were having trouble keeping up with him and the way his tongue was thrusting into your mouth was making you weak in the knees. 

“Excuse me?” You jumped apart at the sound of Hank’s voice. Not a moment too soon either, it seemed like both of you had forgotten that you actually needed air in your lungs. Connor’s arms were still on your waist, he seemed reluctant to let you completely go now. “That was vomit inducing, really, thanks for that. Can we go now?”

“Jesus, Hank, give me a second.” He threw his hands up in the air but allowed you a moment of privacy. You looked into Connor’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” you pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a promise of sorts. He nodded and smiled back.

Hank had brought you to his home, despite your protests. There were some clothes in your old room that you had accidentally left behind. He gave you a towel so you could warm up and shower. 

There were new sheets on the bed, one’s you’d never seen before and it looked like it had been cleaned recently. 

Pictures of you were up on the wall, most of them were ones you’ve never seen before. 

When you were sworn into the force, you and Carla at your college graduation. Jesus, even your first big drug-bust. So many milestones in your life that he wasn’t there for. At least you didn’t think he was, a couple of these were taken from distances that made it look like he might have been lingering somewhere in the background. 

Like a creepy, estranged, stalker-dad. 

You walked back out into the living room after your shower and noticed the mess had been cleaned off the kitchen table and soup and crackers were waiting for you. 

You laughed as you sat down, “You do know I’m not sick, right? Whatever Connor told you on the phone was probably ridiculously dramatic.” 

Hank was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable straight backed position. “I- I know, I just thought you might like it.” You nodded and said thanks. 

After a while the only noise being the sounds of your slurping and crunching had begun to get annoying. Hank was still sitting at the table, he hadn’t really looked at you or said anything. “Hank, are you okay? You haven't said anything?”

“I’m gonna try. Y/N, I’m gonna try and be the dad I used to be to you.” He looked up at you finally and gingerly took your hand in his. “I never blamed you for what happened. I want you to know that. And I know that doesn’t undo years of me-”

He was struggling with the words, and yes he was trying to open up to you, but the bitterness from years of emotional neglect and abuse was bubbling in your stomach. “Emotionally abusing me? Carla? You’re right Hank. It doesn’t. Look, I appreciate you trying but if you think a few nice conversations is gonna magically fix our relationship, you’re wrong. We’ve both changed and I think we both know that even if we do make up, it’s never gonna be the same as it was.”

You expected him to drop your hand, to push away from the table and grab a drink. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter, “This case, it’s given me hope again, Y/N. Hope for our world. And hope that maybe I can be your dad again. I’m gonna do better, I promise.”  

He was leaning across the table towards you. Both hands on your own. “My life is full of regrets, Y/N, not being there for you when you couldn’t walk is one of my biggest. Taking out my grief and anger on you because I didn’t know how to cope with the fact that it was my fault-”

“It wasn’t. You can’t make yourself a martyr Hank, no one could have stopped what happened that night.”

“I know, I know that. But it doesn’t take the feeling of blame away. I’m gonna sober up, I’m gonna try Y/N, all I’m asking is for a chance.”

You looked down at your hands and the emotion on Hank's face. You hadn’t seen him this encouraged in a while. Hadn’t seen any form of hope in his life for years. “Okay, but I’m not investing myself into this until I actually see progress. I want AA meetings and fucking therapy before I consider letting you completely back into my life.”

“I thought you were in therapy.”

“I meant for you Hank, you need serious help.” He groaned, he’d always hated therapists. But you weren’t gonna let yourself get your hopes up if he wasn’t going to actually try. “I’m serious, Hank. You want to be my dad again, want to be someone I can trust out on the field, you’re gonna put in the effort. You’re gonna try. I know that recovery isn’t linear, trust me I know. It’s gonna be difficult and it’s gonna hurt, but if you’re willing to do this, then I’ll be there for you. I’ll be what you couldn’t be for me.”

Hank nodded his head at your last words. He had quickly looked down and you had a feeling it was to hide whatever painful vulnerability was on his face right now. 

It was the truth, you wouldn’t let him go through this alone. You’d had Carla when you were struggling and he’d have you. 

There was a moment of awkward silence where he finally released your hands and you went back to eating your now cold soup. 

He finally cleared his throat and allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “So, you and Connor?”

You choked on your saltine and he gave you a heavy pat in the back, the smile on his face was far too smug for your liking. “Please forget about that.”

He grimaced, “That image has been burned onto my eyeballs. I need some fucking bleach or something for my brain.” You let out an embarrassed laugh. 

Even if things weren’t perfect between you two right now, it was still mortifying having your dad see you make out with someone. 

“Are you serious about him?”

There was no hesitation in your answer, “Completely. I think I might even lov-”

Sumo was barking before the doorbell could ring. You and Hank shared a confused look as you glanced at the door. 

Deep down inside you knew nothing good was waiting for you on the other side. 

Hank seemed to have the same feeling, he picked up his gun and slowly moved to the door, he took a look in the peephole. “The fuck?”

You stood from the table, wishing you were in something other than pajamas, really wishing you had your gun. “What is it?”

“Connor,” Hank sounded relieved but you couldn’t share in the feeling. Connor had been on his way to CyberLife tower, at least an hour there from the church and two hours back to Hank’s house. There’s no possible way he could be on the other side of that door. 

“Wait-”

He’d already opened the door, and there he was. Connor was standing in front of you, but something was off. His back was too straight and his eyes were cold. “I’ve been looking for you both, I need your help.” He stepped in through the door barely sparing you a glance as he turned towards Hank. “I need help with the androids at CyberLife.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank’s gun was still in his hand and he seemed to be noticing the same strange quirks you were. He looked like Connor, and he sounded like Connor, but you knew it wasn't him, deep in your gut you knew. 

“Connor what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Not-Connor sighed, “Humans, idiots when you need them to be smart and smart when you wish they were idiots. Such a nusiance.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” 

“Hank, don’t!” It was too late, he moved forward and Not-Connor reached out and punched him in the throat. Hank stumbled back and the android moved to disarm him. It only took a second and then he was slamming the handle of the gun against the side of Hank’s hand. He crumpled the same way Gavin had earlier. 

Panic rose in your throat as you watched Not-Connor point the gun at Hank’s head. “I won’t do anything that’s deemed unnecessary to my mission, if you come with me calmly, and peacefully, I won’t kill the Lieutenant.”

Not-Connor clicked the safety off and pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Okay! Alright, I’ll come with you!”

“You should change, detective, it’s much too cold for that attire.”

You really fucking hated CyberLife.

“Thanks… But I know where to go.”

THe CyberLife security agent tightened his hold on the gun, “Maybe, but I have my orders.” Two more security agents came up behind Connor as they led him through CyberLife’s reception. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed, this didn't bode well for him. 

Connor followed them through the software check, noticing that the lights around him turned red as they verified his identity. He really hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to them that he was already a deviant. “Access authorized,” this could have been a trap. 

There’s no way CyberLife isn’t already aware of his current status, but he hadn’t been gunned down yet. He had to risk the chance that he was about to be deactivated if it meant he could help Markus win the war. 

If Markus won, you would be safe, that was all that mattered. He’d take any risk that came his way if it meant accomplishing his mission. 

PROTECT Y/N

The sight of the androids lining the walkway, on display, made him uncomfortable. He used to be like that, he used to think it was okay. He had to work to keep calm and make sure that his anger at CyberLife’s forced subserviency didn’t show. 

Only two guards followed him into the elevator. “Agent 54. Level 31.”

The elevator was voice operated, that might pose an issue. He turned towards the right and looked at the map of CyberLife, they were taking him to marketing. He needed to go to -49. 

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor didn’t have a lot of time to disable the guards and take control of the elevator, it was already moving fast. He quickly scanned the two agents and identified their weapons, coming up with a plan of attack. 

He used his knee to slam the guard to his left into the wall, sweeping out with his leg and catching Agent 54 in the gut. He grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand, kicked the guard's knee out and used his elbow to get Agent 54 in the throat. The other guard had recovered and leapt onto Connor’s back, he kicked off Agent 54’s face and slammed the guard on top of him into the wall, shooting him through the bottom of his helmet. He dropped to the ground and got Agent 54 the same way. 

Connor kept the gun in case he needed it again and walked over to the elevator control panel. “Agent 54. Sub-level 49,” you were right, his interrogation software did come in handy. 

He could see the guards waiting for him in the warehouse before the elevator stopped. His eyes lifted to the upper left corner of the elevator, shit. He hadn’t seen the security camera before. Connor quickly scooped up one of the dead agents and held him in front of his body. 

He scanned the agent’s in front of him, planning an attack. The three on the left first and then he could take out the one’s on the right. 

He quickly shot down the first three and threw his gun at one on the right. He threw the dead body towards the other one, he reached down and grabbed their rifle off the ground shooting the rest of the guards. 

Connor moved down the hangar before stopping next to an android, taking his arm and preparing to convert him. 

“Easy, goddamn asshole.” His head whipped to the right at the sound of your voice. 

No.

No, no, no, no, no. Shit!

A Connor android was holding Hank’s gun to your hand, Connor didn’t want to think about what had happened to the Lieutenant. Right now all his attention was on the finger placed on the trigger. 

“Step back, Connor! And I’ll spare her!”

You winced at the tight hold the android had on your injured arm. “I’m so sorry, Connor, he threatened to kill Hank. I didn’t know what to do!”

A burning rage was filling Connor at the sight of the tears running down your face. He was angrier than he had been when he woke up, angrier at the sight of you hurt than the fact that CyberLife had already been prepared to replace him. 

“Your girlfriend's life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most! Her… Or the revolution.” Connor already knew the answer. It was you a hundred times over. But there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let go of the android he was holding onto and his copy wouldn’t just shoot you both. 

Maybe he could turn it, the same way Markus and you had done to him. “I used to be just like you, I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day I understood.”

You yelped as the android tightened his grip on your arm. “Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, well you're sure smug like one, you dick.” The android shook you, effectively shutting you up as he jerked on your injured shoulder. Red alarms for overheating were going off in Connors head as he stared at the android in anger. 

He didn’t care if it was just doing what it was programmed to do, he was going to fucking kill it. “I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this!”

“Connor, it doesn’t matter, keep going!” The android finally released you, shoved you away and held you at gunpoint with his arm outstretched towards your head. 

“Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partners life? Or are you going to sacrifice her?” Connor immediately released the deviant, his arms raised in surrender. 

His thirium pump was beating wildly as his stress levels rose, he just wanted to go home with you, to have you safe in his arms and know you were okay. Maybe you could get out of the city, take Hank and Sumo and try to get past the Canadian borders. 

“Alright, alright! You win…”

He should have known better than to think that you would actually let him give up. The androids gun immediately pointed towards Connor and before either of you could blink you were lunging for the gun. Connor rushed the android and grabbed him around the waist.

You were holding the gun, your arm shaking from when Not-Connor had jerked it around. You had eyes on Connor for a moment and then they became a blur of fast moving limbs. They kept hitting each other, matching each other's moves perfectly as they already knew what the other was planning. 

You finally stopped them when it looked like one was about to take the other down, you couldn’t risk your Connor being the one to lose. “Hold it!”

They separated, the one on the right started speaking. “Thanks, Y/N, I don't know how I would have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” You were immediately suspicious of him, even before Connor became a deviant he always spoke to you in a much more gentle tone. 

Then again, he could be stressed out you might make a mistake and shoot the wrong one. 

Fuck!

You could check the serial numbers, but the second you got close enough to see which one said 51 and which one said 60 the android would already be on top of you. “It’s me, Y/N! I’m the real Connor.” That one sounded more like yours, you think. 

“One of you is my partner. The other is a sick sack of shit. Question is, who’s who?”

The one on the right spoke again, “What are you doing, Y/N? I’m the real Connor,” god this one was really starting to piss you off. “Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

“Don’t fucking move.” You had your suspicions on which one was the right one, but you needed some actual confirmation. 

“Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Lamest question ever, but you were stressed out and your mind was frazzled from everything that had happened today. 

“Detroit Police station. You were filing a report on physical paper, I found it odd that you weren’t digital like the other officers.” Well, shit. You thought maybe the one on the right was the imposter, but that was such a specific little detail to think up. 

You had to remind yourself of the manipulation programming they both contained.

“He uploaded my memory.” It was quiet, afraid. That had to be your Connor. You kept your gun trained on the one on the right and turned towards the other. 

“What was my first pet’s name?”

“Princess! It was a male beta fish that died because you kept petting it.” You were setting yourself up for failure here. If they both had the memories then they would both remember when you told them about him. 

“My foster father, what was his name?” 

You’d never told Connor the full story of what happened to your first family, and then your second, if he had truly wanted to learn, he would have dug around to find out. You remembered one of the officers complaining about an RK800 android drilling him for more information on you. Your Connor would have the right answer.

“Frank. His name was Frank Rudolph. There was a house fire when you were six, the ventilation system in your laundry room hadn’t been cleaned properly and caught fire. It quickly spread to the rest of the house, you were sleeping over at your friends house and weren’t there that night. Your brother and father died immediately from their wounds. Your mother suffered from third degree burns for 36 hours before she passed in the ICU. Your fathers best friend Frank, took you in until someone could provide you with a permanent home.” Your hands were shaking and your eyes stung as you listened to him tell the story. “He was a Red Ice dealer and had three other kids in that house that your family hadn’t known about. He would let his clients do whatever they wanted to you. You tried to keep the other kids safe, but one of them died. And you always blamed yourself for that. Just like you blame yourself for Cole’s death.”

He took a step closer to you and you found yourself lowering the gun. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You were a child, none of it was your fault. You think you’re cursed, that you’re unlovable. But you’re not. Hank loves you…” He was standing in front of you, gently lowering the gun to your side. “I love you.”

“Connor,” your heart was pounding against your chest as you embraced him, relief flooding you as you felt him hug you back just as tightly. You basked in the warm feeling only he could provide, only for a moment, before raising your hands and shooting. 

The android that had been about to charge the two of you fell to the ground as you embedded a bullet in each of his legs. “We should kill him,” you shook your head at Connor’s words. 

“We should deviate him. He was just like you, Connor, the same blind devotion to CyberLife.” You tucked the gun in your pants and took a hold of Connor’s hands. “Open his eyes,” Connor nodded and made his way towards the android. You quickly grabbed the gun out of the back of his pants so the android couldn’t use it against him. 

You wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard. 

“No! No, I don’t want to be like you!” He tried to fight Connor off, but you had rendered him virtually immobile. Connor grabbed his arm more roughly than necessary and held onto him so tight you could hear the sound of metal creaking. He shoved him backwards and moved back towards the middle of the hangar. 

It was incredible seeing all the androids slowly waking up, it was even more satisfying seeing the Connor wannabe crying on the floor, as twisted as that was. 

Connor looked at you, he seemed unsure as all the androids looked to him for guidance. “What do I do?”

You took his hand in your own and smiled, “You lead them, Connor, you free your people.”

Connor led the androids through Detroit, your hand in his the whole time. You’d left Connor-60 behind a dumpster somewhere, you told him you’d go back for him soon. If he’d been left at CyberLife he would have been destroyed. 

Connor felt afraid, afraid that he would disappoint the people he was leading. Afraid to disappoint you. Afraid of everything that was to come. 

He was still learning, he felt like he’d been made again and everything around him was brand new and something to be marveled at. He kept your hand in his as an anchor to the world, so he wouldn’t get lost in his own thoughts. 

He could see Markus in the distance, “You did it, Markus…”

North smiled at your joined hands as Markus spoke. “We did it. This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us…” Connor moved to the side, allowing the androids behind him to finally face their true leader. 

North was crying as she spoke, silent tears streaming down her face. “We’re free. They want you to speak to them, Markus…”

Connor helped you up onto the storage container Markus had chosen to speak on. His arms remained around you as you both turned to address the androids before you, he hadn’t wanted to let you go since he’d gotten you back from Connor-60. 

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night.” Connor felt something strange, like he was forcibly being put into rest mode, he tried to blink the feeling away and continue to listen to Markus. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.” 

Connor slumped slightly against you as the feeling took over. 

He could hear a storm and see a bright flashing light for a moment before it passed and he finally realized where he was. His cold sensors were on overdrive as he tucked his hands against himself and huddled down against the freezing, whipping air. 

He looked around, recognizing the zen garden but not understanding why he was there. What was happening? 

Amanda appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Amanda? Amanda! What’s… What's going on?” There was still a small part of him that looked towards his old mentor for guidance. 

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her smile was sinister, “I must say, partnering you with such a well known ally to the deviant cause worked out much more efficiently than had been expected. The detective nearly had you turning the very first day.”

Connor’s hands were going numb, he felt like he was losing control of his physical body as well as his mental one. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…”

“Resume control?” That’s not possible! “Y- You can’t do that.” Even now, CyberLife was still controlling him. Still abusing him for their own personal gain. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to fight back, but he was quickly losing control of himself. 

“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She disappeared and Connor stumbled after her. 

“Amanda!” Connor spun in circles, he couldn’t see anything except snow and light posts. “There’s got to be a way.”

By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know… 

Connor thought back to the strange blue shrine he had seen only a few hours prior. That had to be it. 

Connor’s mind shot back into his physical body, it felt like he was watching from an outside perspective as his hand slowly moved towards the gun you had in your pants. His fingers just barely grasped it when you reached out and stopped him. He wanted to scream as whoever was controlling him quickly put their hand over your mouth and silenced you as he pointed the gun at Markus. 

How was no one seeing this?!

He was forced back into the Zen Garden. 

In the distance, he could see a bright blue beacon. Connor moved towards it as fast as he could, but his legs were growing heavier and his feet had gone completely numb. He was just dragging them along until they finally gave out. 

He looked down to see frost covering the bottom portion of his body. 

Desperately he crawled on his hands and elbows towards the shrine. His nails ripped into the earth and pulled him forward. His arm was nearly completely limp as he struggled to lift it towards the handprint in the middle of the shrine. 

Connor shoved you forward, you stumbled only for a second before his hand was back around your waist and yanking you back towards him. He looked completely calm, the gun no longer in his hands as he leaned down, “I’ll explain later.”

Your heart was still racing, “You fucking better.”

“Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!” The androids were screaming their support for Markus and Connor’s arm tightened around you. 

Hank had his arm around you as you showed him something on your phone, the two of you were laughing as Connor approached. 

You turned away from Hank and looked at him, a smile splitting your face. 

Hank walked forward, hesitating only a moment, before bringing Connor into a tight hug.

He could feel your arms wrapping around the two a moment later. 

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.

Broken Machinery

Pt. 7 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: We’re nearly at the end, if you’ve stayed this long, thank you so much, this being my first fan fiction, these characters mean a lot to me.

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Elijah Kamski and his greasy man-pony, Hank’s insult towards Perkins (that scene still makes me laugh), 

Word Count: 5.3k

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.

You and Hank were standing side-by-side in the snow. It was the closest Connor had ever seen either of you, Hank’s phone was outstretched between you both while you leaned in to hear whoever was on the other side. 

Connor got out of the car and made his way over to you both. Your face was pale as you leaned against the car, disbelief streaking across your features. “Is everything okay?”

Stress levels were high for the both of you, Connor could only assume that whoever had been on the other side of that call hadn’t brought you good news. 

When it was clear you weren’t going to talk, Hank did, “Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants-”

“It was a peaceful protest,” you were glaring at Hank, you seemed more angry than concerned. 

“Well Chris was almost shot! Doesn’t sound very fucking peaceful to me!”

You scoffed and kicked off the car, “They shot first, and the deviants spared them. It sounds like the androids showed more humanity than the fucking humans did.”

“Chris just became a father, you want to be the one to tell his daughter that her daddy died so some robots-“

“That’s the thing, Hank, he didn’t die! They didn’t kill him, they spared him, have you ever taken your head out of your ass long enough to ask yourself if you’re on the right side of this war?” You gave Connor a long look before you started your way to Kamski’s house. 

Hank shook his head and kicked at the snow. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Judging off your diet and exercise habits, I’d say a heart attack is the most likely cause of death.” 

Hank slowly turned towards Connor, murder in his glare, “The fuck, Connor?”

“Are you coming?” You were already at the door, waiting for them both. 

“Yeah, yeah, just having all my life choices judged by a fucking android.”

Connor ignored Hank’s anger, as he’s gotten used to doing and focuses on a strange feeling in his core component. It felt twitchy, wrong. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

It was too late, you’d already rung the doorbell and the door had already been opened. An RT600 was standing there, hair up in a pony and barefoot on the carpet. “Hi,” this was the most polite Connor had seen Hank. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department, I’m here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

The android's face warmed immediately, “Please, come in.” You entered first, clearly eager to be out of the cold. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.” 

You took a look around the room at the art before throwing yourself down in a chair. “He’s so rich he has his own waiting room,” you scoffed and picked at the arm of the chair. Hank sat down in the chair next to yours, arms crossed and waiting. 

You turned slightly so you didn’t have to face him. 

Hank did the same. 

You both were behaving like children. Connor sometimes wished he had more mature humans. “Nice girl,” the comment seemed out of place for someone like the Lieutenant, who despised androids so much. 

“You’re right she’s really pretty,” and she was, but Connor found your features more appealing. He probably should have voiced the second part of his thought out loud because your stress level spiked immediately after his comment. 

“Gavin asked me out,” it was incredibly out of place in the conversation, but you were looking at Hank, not Connor. “Said he wanted to apologize for how much of a dick he had been lately.” Connor found his motivations suspicious, even when you two were arguing Gavin was highly aroused by your presence. 

“So he thinks schmoozing you with some cheap wine and a crappy Italian restaurant is gonna do that?”

You laughed and the previous irritation from your comment left Connor, slightly. What was this strange tight feeling in his chest?

“Jesus, how’d you know?”

“Please, I’ve been at this a lot longer than Reed has. I know all the moves.” 

You fake gagged and covered your ears, “I do not want to know about your ‘moves.’”

“Come on, you don’t want to hear how your old man used to be a lady killer?” There was an awkward stutter in his voice when he said ‘your old man,’ but Hank continued on. 

You were staring at Hank, heart beating faster and your eyes widened. You only allowed a moment to lull in between his sentence and yours. “Awkwardly calling the barista sweetheart, does not count as being a lady killer.” Your and Hank’s laughter filled the room after your comment, both of you smiling more than he had ever seen before. 

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

Connor stopped in front of the portrait of Elijah Kamski, his creator. The laughter had stopped a few minutes ago, the tension from outside trailing off with it. You didn’t know why you had gotten so angry at Hank out at the car. 

Maybe you were still a little emotionally frail, after telling Connor everything that had happened between you and Hank, the other night. You hadn’t been able to go back to sleep so he had offered to hold you and tell you a story, apparently he had thousands on file. 

It was nice listening to his voice all night, you didn’t even feel that tired after not getting any sleep. 

“How’s it feel, to be meeting your creator, Connor?”

“Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century. It’ll be interesting to meet him in person.”

The light aura surrounding the three of you left at Hank’s voice, “Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face, I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

You’re not the only one.

Why had, whatever omnipotent presence watched over you, chosen to make you the way they had? Why give you trial after trial of hardship? Was it all to prepare you for moments like when you lost your legs, or Cole? Why even make you go through that in the first place?

Yes, you did come out stronger and more resilient. But you also became colder, lonelier, sadder than you had ever been before. You couldn’t open up to people, you couldn’t love people the right way. 

You’d rather put all your feelings into a machine rather than a human, because that would be easier. An android could never love you, and therefore never disappoint you. Your hopes would never be crushed under Connor’s feet because you had none. 

The girl chose the middle of your emotional crisis to call you back into another room. “Elijah will see you now.”

Two more RT600’s were talking together by the pool. Elijah was still swimming laps, you called out to him in case he hadn’t heard you come in. “Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please.” Of course, rich bastards like him always had to flout their superiority over the lower class. You called us in here, asshole.

The RT600’s watched you carefully as you rounded the pool and waited for him by a set of chairs. Ew, is that a speedo? He took the robe from Chloe and wrapped his hair up in a pony. Double douche points. 

Hank seemed to be thinking the same thing, if his judgmental side-eye was anything to go by. 

Why were you even here?

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is detective Y/L/N, and Connor.”

“What can I do for you, officers?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants, thought you might be the best person to ask about them,” Elijah gave you a look that reminded you a little too much of Gavin. 

“We know you left CyberLife years ago but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don't know.” Elijah didn’t seem to be interested in what Hank had to say, he was more curious about Connor. 

“Deviants,” he started, “fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” Jeehzus, this dude loves the sound of his own voice. “Isn't it ironic?”

Connor finally spoke up, he seemed to be the only one out of the three of you that really held Elijah’s eye.

His creator was… underwhelming. He didn’t seem much like a genius, more of a narcissist with enough money to feed all of Detroit. He also didn’t seem very concerned with the state of the world right now. 

“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Mr. Kamski. It’s quite a serious matter.” He didn’t appreciate how flippant Elijah was being. 

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” It certainly wasn’t good. 

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution-”

You cut Hank off, “Peaceful, it still remains a peaceful revolution.”

Hank shoots you a look that keeps you quiet and he continues. “Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Elijah was looking at you now, “Tell me, detective, do you empathize with the deviants?”

You straightened at his attention and held a defensive look on your features. “They haven’t hurt anyone, so far they’re the only ones being hurt. All I think is that perhaps people are twisting this story into something more evil than it is.”

Connor thought you were thinking with too much emotion, not enough logic. Androids didn’t get to disobey, they had one purpose and they carried it out, that’s all. 

The thought came unbidden and took him by surprise, that didn’t sound like his own thoughts. That seemed like something his programming was forcing onto him. 

Elijah nodded, “Empathy, it’s a tricky thing, give too much and it might hurt you, too little and it hurts others. What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Whose side was he on?

Connor looked to you, he wanted you safe. 

“I’m on the human’s side, of course.” You were shaking your head beside him. He thought you would be happy, why were you so difficult to read? 

“Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say, but you,” Elijah stepped closer and both you and the Lieutenant leaned in.

What did you humans want from him?

“What do you really want?”

“Im sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at,” he was sick of this. Break his programming, follow his orders. No one was being clear with what he was supposed to do and it was messing with his software. 

“Chloe?” The RT600 walked over, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it ‘the Kamski test,’ it’s very simple, you’ll see.” He faced the android, his hand trailing over her face and shoulders in a strange caress, and from the way your face was scrunching Connor could tell you felt uncomfortable by the display. 

“Magnificent, isn’t she? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever.” He released her face with a slight push and she looked right at Connor, staring deep into his eyes, he straightened his tie.

“Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being,” Elijah bent down and pulled something out of the drawer between the two chairs. “With a soul,” he turned around hands in the air, and in one was a gun. He walked over to Connor and handed it to him, handle first, “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He gently pushed Chloe into a kneeling position. He took Connor’s hand in his own and pointed the gun at the center of the androids forehead. 

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here.”

You followed after Hank, “Come on, Connor. Let’s go.” 

Hank waved at Kamski, “Sorry to get you outta your pool,” you both we’re ready to leave, waiting for him. But he was stuck, gun in hand, staring at Chloe. 

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine… Or a living being endowed with free will…”

Hank was insistent on leaving, “That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving.” But you, you were just watching him, staring at him with equal amounts of curiosity and apprehension, waiting to see what he would choose. 

“Pull the trigger.”

“Connor, don’t!”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

Two conflicting orders, Connor wasn’t sure what to do. He was lost, his LED circling a steady yellow as he battled between the two orders, he looked to you. 

It all stilled, he couldn’t hear Elijah or Hank, he couldn’t feel the gun in his hand. You were just standing there, waiting for him. “It’s your choice, Connor.”

He looked down into Chloe’s eyes, his finger on the trigger, but he stopped. There was something there, she was innocent in all of this, she had no say in what was happening. There was something in her eyes that reminded him too much of you. 

He handed the gun back to Kamski. “Fascinating. CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” what? What was he? “I'm not a deviant.” Did he actually want to say that? Or was that just another program he was forced to follow?

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” He helped Chloe up to her feet with a care that wasn’t there when he had shoved the gun into Connor’s hand. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy. A war is coming, you’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?” 

Hank had wrapped an arm around you and was now wrapping one around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s get outta here.” 

The three of you were at the door when Kamski spoke again, “By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

He could feel the two of you watching him as he walked back towards the car. “Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank’s question caused him to think back to what he saw in Chloe’s eyes.

“I just saw that girl's eyes… and I couldn’t… that’s all.” Connor wasn’t sure if it was wise to tell you the exact reason he couldn’t, to tell you he saw you inside of her. Saw another version of himself leaving you behind to die on the rooftop. 

But you wouldn’t let up, “You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go…” You and Hank were sharing another one of your irritating looks. 

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done, I told you I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looked down at him, “Maybe you did the right thing.” You gave Connor a gentle pat on the shoulder as you followed Hank back to the car. Leaving Connor to wonder:

When did he start making his own choices?

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

TALK TO AMANDA

Something blue, in the distance, caught his eye. Connor walked away from the bridge that would lead him to Amanda and instead followed after the bright blue beacon. It was something that could almost mimic a shrine, a device sat in the middle, awaiting an android handprint. When Connor moved closer, the synthetic skin of his hand pulled back. The ground shook in the distance, but nothing else happened. 

He approached Amanda on the ice, it seemed to crack beneath his feet as he went. Logically, he knew he couldn’t fall through, but he was afraid of what the instability of the zen garden meant for him. 

“After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war.” The androids had led a peaceful demonstration in downtown Detroit, one that quickly turned violent when SWAT teams in raid gear had started attacking them. It was the first time androids had fought back. 

You had been raving all this morning about how the news was twisting it around to make them sound like terrorists when all it had been was self defense. 

“The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

“I thought Kamski knew something, I was wrong.” 

“Maybe he did… But you chose not to ask.”

Connor chose not to needlessly take a life. 

But the fact that he chose at all is most likely what has Amanda staring at him so distrustfully. 

“I chose not to play his twisted little game! There was no reason to kill that android!” Kill, when did Connor start thinking that androids could feel death? “Wh- Why did Kamski leave CyberLife? What happened?” His mind went back to the RK200 model, what were they hiding from him?

“It’s an old story, Connor. It doesn’t pertain to your investigation.”

“I’m not a unique model, am I? How many Connors are there?”

“I expect you to find answers, not ask questions.” Her head tilted as she examined him. “Have you experienced anything unusual recently? Any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson? Or perhaps, the detective. She seems to cause a lot of malfunctions in your system. Is she the cause of all this turmoil?”

“I’m beginning to have thoughts… that are not part of my program.” He didn’t care if she knew the truth, he wanted to leave. He wanted to leave her and go find you, because the sudden interest she held for you was concerning. “Maybe… Maybe I’ve been compromised too…” he didn’t wait for her to dismiss him, he left. 

“You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

“What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“But we’re onto something!” Hank approached Fowler, more impassioned than Connor had ever seen him, “We- We just need more time. I’m sure we can-”

“Hank, you don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation, it’s a fucking civil war!”

Your arms left their crossed position, you’d left the sling behind a few days ago. “So we’re gonna leave the fate of our country, our world, in the hands of some asshole like Perkins?! Fuck that!”

“Y/N, it's out of my hands! You think I don’t understand the enormity of this situation, we’re talking about national security!”

Both you and the Lieutenant were ganging up on him now, it was causing the captain's stress levels to rise as Hank approached. “Fuck that! You can’t just pull the plug now.” It was times like these that the similarities between you and Hank truly showed, perhaps not in looks, but he had clearly had a heavy hand in forming who you are as a person. 

“We’re so close!”

“Hank, you’re always saying you can’t stand androids! Jesus, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this! And Y/N, you know the deal, you finished the case and you’d be transferred, shouldn’t you be happy about that?!”

Hank turned towards you, “Transferred?” It was clear he didn’t know about your plans on leaving. You winced as you looked away from him. 

Your voice was quieter than it had been the entire time you were in the office, “Gavin, would be taking over as your partner. I couldn’t do it anymore, Hank,” you turned towards him, “I just couldn't. It hurt the way you would look at me and not even see me. So, I requested a transfer.” You turned towards Fowler, stress levels at an all time high. “But that shit doesn’t matter anymore! So much has changed, I don’t want the transfer, okay? We’re about to crack this case!”

“For God’s sake, Jefferey, can’t you back me up this one time?”

Fowler shook his head, he seemed as disappointed as the both of you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re back on homicide. And the android,” you moved defensively in front of Connor, “is to be sent back to CyberLife.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, when I’m cold and in the ground. Fuck that and fuck you.” You stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind you, Connor wanted to follow after you and check on you. But it would be smarter to finish the rest of the meeting. 

Fowler watched you go, a sad sigh leaving him. “I’m sorry Hank, I did everything I could, but it’s over.”

Hank pushed off the desk and followed behind you. Connor nodded a quiet goodbye to the captain.

TALK TO YOUR PARTNERS

He approached the desks where you and Hank were already in a heated conversation. “-Gavin! You were gonna abandon me to fucking Gavin?”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Hank? Look, you’ve changed, for the better, during this case. You- I feel like I can see my dad coming back to me, but before… Before, I hated coming to work everyday, knowing you would be waiting there for me. Waiting to hurt me and to blame me. How would you feel seeing the only person you have left blame you for the worst night of your life?” You didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “I’ll tell you how you’d feel, hopeless and tired. I was tired, Hank, okay? But I don’t want that anymore, I want to stay your partner, Connor’s partner! I’m not letting this go!”

Hank didn’t say anything, he just stared at you for a long while before finally pulling you into a hug. It was awkward, and he seemed unsure where to put his arms. But Connor could see you squeezing him tightly against you, a desperation in your movements as it seemed all the stress you carried on your shoulders melted away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You shook your head against Hank’s chest, holding onto him a little longer before you both finally stepped back. There was a lightness to the both of you that Connor hadn’t seen before. Hank slumped in his chair and you took a seat on the edge of Connor’s desk, he joined you there. “We’ll be talking about Gavin, later,” there was a nearly audible gulp as you nodded your head in agreement. 

Connor looked towards Fowler’s office. “We can’t just give up. I know we could have solved this case!” You were picking at your hands again in anxiety, it was instinct for Connor to slap your hands apart and intertwine your fingers. 

Hank eyed your joined hands, “We’ll be talking about that, too.” He turned towards Connor, “You’re going back to CyberLife?”

“I have no choice-”

“Connor, they’ll destroy you! I’m not letting you go back!”

He tried to give you a comforting smile, but he was starting to feel a strange pressure on his chest that stopped it from being convincing. “We don’t have a say in the matter, Y/N. I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed…” Your hand grew tighter around his own.

Hank leaned forward in his chair, addressing the both of you. “What if we’re on the wrong side?”

You threw your free hand up in the air, “Now he gets it.”

Hank held up a hand, “Save the attitude. What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

Connor understood where Hank was coming from, but this war was bigger than both of them. This was the fate of millions in their hands, this was your fate, in Connor’s hands. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos. We could have stopped it. But now it’s too late…” 

“When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place… You put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor.”

Connor shook his head, “No, I saw Y/N,” your gaze turned towards him. “I looked into her eyes and I saw someone I-” You what, loved? You can’t love, you’re an android. “I saw someone to protect.”

You nudged his shoulder with your own, “That’s empathy Connor.”

Hank continued, “Empathy’s a human emotion.”

“I know it hasn’t always been easy… but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you,” he gave you a long look. “Both of you. That’s not just my Social Relations program talking,” you laughed, “I- I really mean that. At least, I think I do.” 

The doors opened and you all turned your heads to see Perkins walk into the station.  “Well, well, here comes Perkins-”

You cut Hank off in anger, “That motherfucker.”

“Sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

There was a new determination in Connor, he wasn’t ready to leave you and the Lieutenant. “We can’t give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.” He was getting worked up at the idea of getting one over on the FBI. His hands moving around as he spoke, taking your arm with him, unwilling to let go. 

“There’s no choice! You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.” 

You smiled at Hank, an insidious smile that held nothing but mischief behind it. “Unless… You could help us, Hank. All we need is five minutes. Five minutes to look at the evidence and get out, that’s all.”

“I know the solution is in there!”

“Connor-”

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLIfe will destroy me.” That had the both of you tightening your hands around each other. “Five minutes. It’s all I ask.”

Hank looked between the two of you, anxiety pressing down upon Connor as he waited for a response from the Lieutenant. Finally he let out a long huff, slowly standing from his chair and moving towards both you and Connor. “The key to the basement is in my drawer. Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever.”

You moved forwards quickly grabbing a key out from one of the Lieutenants unorganized drawers. The both of you jumped in surprise at Hank’s next choice words, “Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!” Your head whipped around towards Hank, Connor was dragging you away as you tried to watch Hank beat up the FBI agent. 

“Y/N, we’re on a time limit!”

“Fine! You ruin all my fun! God I really wanted to be the one to beat that slimy motherfucker up.”

You led Connor towards the Archive Room, both of you checking over your shoulders. Just as you were at the door Gavin, of all people, walked in. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he stopped at the sight of your still intertwined hands. “What the fuck is this?” You both ignored him, your hand bringing the key towards the door. “I’m talking to you! Where’re you going?” There was satisfaction in Connor at the sound of the door slamming into Gavin’s face. 

You pulled Connor down the stairs, pulling the key out again as you were faced with a glass partition. Inside a large podium was waiting for you with a password. “Hank’s password, shit, I don’t know.”

Connor moved you aside and pulled up possible options, “What would a hard-boiled eccentric police Lieutenant choose?” Connor and you shared a look, “FUCKINPASSWORD.” Connor rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“I should have known, he uses it for everything, he’s got no sense of cyber security.” You released each other to examine each piece of evidence. Connor scanned the androids, the deviant from the rooftop with the hostage could be activated, but he wouldn’t tell him what he needed to know. The one that threw you off the roof could no longer be activated, nor Carlos Ortiz’s, it seemed the only chance he would have would be the one from the broadcasting tower. 

Connor replayed the clip from the interrogation with Carlos Ortiz’s android, The truth is inside. He looked on the wall of evidence. What was it trying to tell me? His eyes landed on the statuette next to the tablet. When he shook it, it sounded hollowed out, and like there was something inside of it. 

Inside there was a map of the Ferndale neighborhood, it was somewhere inside that area. 

He began focusing on the one android that would be useful to him, the security technician from the broadcasting tower. 

Connor instructed you on the parts to bring him while he worked on getting it repaired enough to be reactivated for longer than a minute. When it’s LED finally turned back on Connor began questioning it, unsure how long it would be working for. 

“It’s dark… Where- Where am I?” It’s optical processors must have been damaged when Connor shot it, it was staring at him from unseeing eyes.

“I’m a deviant, like you. I need your help, I want to go to Jericho.” You remained silent as you watched the two interact, going through other pieces of evidence on the wall. 

“I don’t recognize your voice. You’re not one of us. I’ll never tell you where Jericho is!” Connor sighed and reached up to deactivate the android again. 

You waited until he had done so to approach him with the tablet that contained Markus’s voice. “You can change your voice, right? Like you do in interrogations?”

He almost kissed you, maybe some humans were smart. He copied Markus’s voice, your eyes watching him in wonder. He reactivated the android, “You did good.”

“Markus?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re going to Jericho, I just need you to tell me where it is.”

“Of course,” the android offered his arm and Connor immediately took it, searching it’s memories for locations specifically in Ferndale. 

JERICHO LOCATION FOUND

“You’re not Markus!” Connor quickly deactivated the android, he turned towards you ready to share the good news when another voice rang out. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you…”

“Pretty pathetic, Gavin, sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

“Shut up, Y/N, don’t think you’re getting out of this by batting your eyelashes like you always do.” You rolled your eyes, but Connor could see your hand discreetly making its way towards your holster. 

“Don’t do it Gavin,” Connor’s hands were raised, hopefully placating Gavin. “I know how to stop the deviants!”

“You’re off the case. And now, it’s gonna be definitive.”

Connor ducked, yanking you down with him just as Gavin took his first shot. He managed to shoot him once before Connor disarmed him. He blocked his punches, striking Gavin in the face and knocking him down to the ground. But he wouldn’t give up, it seemed the only thing Gavin was willing to put effort into was taking Connor down. He slammed him against the podium, but Gavin managed to block his punch and shoved him back to the ground. 

Gavin had just managed to scoop his gun back up, but then he crumpled down onto the ground. You were standing over him, gun in hand, the handle facing Gavin. You’d pistol whipped him. “He was a bad lay and a worse cop. I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” You quickly helped Connor to his feet.

“So… You wanna go to Jericho?”

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.

Broken Machinery

Pt. 6 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I’ve just got this weakness for one love interest calling the other baby while they’re injured. I can't help myself 

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), shots fired, asshole government agents, me not knowing what android parts are called (everything’s getting called a bio component idc), nothing too bad honestly just one near death experience and existential crisis

Word Count: 3.3K

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.

“You know, you really scared me up there.”

“How do you think I felt?” 

You might have gone a little crazy, back there, you nearly broke a few toes beating the shit out of Connor.

It was like you were so blinded by your rage you just went into a trance. There was thirium eveywhere, Hank and Chris both had to grab you to get you off him. One of the deputies had to take him to CyberLife for repairs. 

Serves him right. 

Hank had immediately driven you to the hospital afterwards. Despite your incoherent garbling that you were ‘in tip-top shape.’

He was sitting in your room with you and for the last forty minutes since the doctor left, he had been staring into the coffee he got at the vending machine. Not talking, not looking at you, you had almost begun to believe he had passed out. 

He was still staring at his coffee as he spoke. “I’m not talking about the roof. I knew I’d catch you.” There was an absolute certainty to his words, like there was no other possible outcome he would have accepted except your survival. 

You wanted to be happy, wanted to feel like you had a dad that loved you and would risk falling off a roof with you, rather than let you go. 

But you knew that he saved you out of a feeling of duty. He saved you because he couldn’t lose two kids. Not for any other reason. Sometimes you felt like he was more of an android than Connor. 

“Back there, what you did to Connor,” your shoulders stiffened in defense. You didn’t need to hear that you look like a rabid badger when you’d gone after him. You already knew that you went a little insane. Hank raised his hands in defense before you could go on another rant. “Hey, I’m not saying the fucker didn’t deserve it, I’m just saying I was…. I was scared, okay?”  

He finally looked at you now, and you almost wished he hadn’t. For years all you’ve seen was a vacant look or drunken rage. 

Now, there was something there. Something real, and it hurt. It physically hurt to see the pain in his eyes. The raw grief and loss. 

He seemed to lose track of what he was saying, caught up in one rare moment of actually allowing himself to feel instead of masking it with rage or drinking it away. “I feel like I lost you both.”

You didn’t know what to say. There were no words of comfort you could offer him. No white lies he would accept. 

And there were none you were willing to give, because he was right. 

He had lost you both in that car crash. 

Amanda was waiting for Connor in a boat. It was clear he was expected to row her, his resistance at the unspoken order was surprising. 

“I love this place, it’s all so calm and peaceful. Far from the noise of the world. Tell me, what have you discovered?”

Connor felt the need to keep the development in his relationship with you to himself. Amanda wouldn’t understand why he was living with you. She surely wouldn’t approve of his newly prioritized mission. 

PROTECT Y/N

“I found two deviants at the Eden Club, I had hoped to learn something but…” There had to be a way to phrase this that she wouldn’t know the truth behind his actions. “They managed to escape.”

“That’s too bad,” she saw right through him. “You seemed so close to stopping them.” Connor chose to row rather than speak. “You seem… lost Connor. Lost and perturbed.”

Connor debated being sincere with her. If anyone had advice or could tell him what to do about what he’s been going through, it would be Amanda. 

“I thought I knew what I had to do, but now I realize it’s not that simple.”

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club.” There was a forced replay of the footage at the club. It felt so invasive that they could reach through him and rip out what they wanted. 

“Why didn’t you shoot?” 

He chose to tell the truth, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

He knew he made the wrong choice immediately after. At least he hasn’t told her about you.

But, his doubt was concerning. His main concern should be the mission, now, he’s not so sure. 

“If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the idea of being replaced. If it was for the sake of the mission then he should be willing to do anything. Yet, the idea of being deactivated made him feel… wrong, almost angry. 

“I understand.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

“Something’s happening, something serious. Hurry, Connor. Time is running out.” The ominous warning left Connor with a feeling of pressure on his chest. 

Hank kept tapping his foot and staring at Connor as he flipped his coin. You smiled at his irritation. “How do you do that?” 

Connor stopped toying with the coin to give you his full attention. It was a bit intimidating when he stared at you full force. He’d seemed irritated this morning when you left the house to come to the news tower. 

The stormy look on his face was still present and now directed at you. It was an effort not to pick at your nails. 

You’d been trying to stop, everytime Connor would catch you he’d shoot you a warning glare before slapping your hands apart and taking them in his own. Although, sometimes you did it because he would interlace your fingers together. As pathetic as it was, the feeling of his skin against yours was soothing. 

He blinked a lot before the look on his face lightened and he tilted his head, “The coin trick?” Connor demonstrated again for you, flipping it between his fingers. You nodded and he flicked it back and forth between both hands before Hank finally snapped. 

He yanked it out of the air, “You’re starting to piss me off that coin, Connor.” 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he put the coin back in his pocket. “I’ll show you later,” he paused before finally adding, “at home.” Your cheeks felt warm as a smile slowly crept along your face. He’d never referred to your house like that, it brought you joy knowing that you could provide somewhere comforting for him. 

“The fuck did you just say?” Hank turned towards you, “Is he staying with you?”

You reached forward and clicked the button for the floor a couple times. How slow was this freaking elevator? 

“Were you not aware of that, Lieutenant?”

“No I wasn’t.” Hank shot you a disbelieving look, you slunked your way behind Connor, avoiding both of their gazes. 

“I found her passed out on her couch in a distressing condition. I’ve opted to stay with her and help her take care of herself while she heals.” 

Hank looked around Connor at you, “You didn’t tell me you needed help.”

“You didn’t ask.”

You were the first out of the elevator. “Hey, Y/N.”

You took in the multitude of SWAT and CSI agents. “Shit, what’s going on here? Was there a party and nobody told me?”

Chris scoffed, “That’s an understatement. It’s all over the news, so everybody’s been butting their nose in. Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”

“Fuck me, that’s the last thing we need. Some FBI prick trying to take over.”

Hank walked up to the two of you, “Now we got the Feds on our back, I knew this was gonna be a shitty day. So what do we got?”

“A group of four androids. They knew the building, and they were all very well organized.”

You glanced back at Connor and gave him a narrowed eyed look. “Well if I know anything about androids,” you turned around again. “It’s that their real good at getting their hands on things they shouldn’t have. They probably managed to download the building schematics.”

“Building plans or not, I’m still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.”

“Maybe they had some help,” Chris seemed a little surprised at your words. 

“What are you saying, they had someone on the inside?” You nodded absently at Hank's question as you took a look around the hallway where the deviants ambushed two guards. 

It’s definitely the least violent, hostile takeover you’ve ever seen. No casualties, only a few woozy guards and one technician in shock. 

Hank examined some bullet holes in the wall. “How many people were working here?”

“Just two employees and three androids.” You let Hank take over the rest of the briefing while you examined the evidence around the room. “The deviants took the humans hostage and broadcast their message live. They made their getaway from the roof.”

“The roof?”

“Yeah, they jumped with parachutes. We’re still trying to figure out where they landed,” do they know anything? “But the weather’s not helping. If you want to take a look at the video broadcast by the deviants, it’s on that screen over there.” 

You made your way over to the broadcasting room. Someone in a trench coat was standing in the middle of the room, blocking you from looking around. 

“Lieutenant, detective, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI. Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Y/L/N are in charge of investigating for Detroit Police.” Connor walked over the the group of you. 

SA Perkins nodded towards him, “What’s that?” You got immediate douchebag vibes from him. 

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

You wanted to face palm, did they not program him with any other greetings?

“Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around?” The irony wasn’t lost on you, but he didn’t have to be a dick and act like Connor wasn’t standing right in front of him. Hank scoffed, seemingly prepared to dismiss him, but SA Perkins wasn’t done yet. 

“After everything that happened…” The insinuation had your hands curling into fists. He didn’t even know the two of you, yet he thought he had the right to speak about something he knew jack shit about. You had taken a half a step forward before someone’s hand was on your wrist, stopping you. 

You looked down expecting to see Connor, instead Hank was gently holding your arm. He didn’t look at you, just kept staring at Perkins until the agent had made himself uncomfortable. You got a sickening amount of satisfaction at the way he crumpled under Hank's stare. 

“Whatever, soon the FBI will take over and you’ll be on another case.”

“Pleasure meeting you.” Hank was clearly done entertaining the rat faced asshole. 

“Have a nice day,” you gave him the fakest smile you could muster until he just scoffed

“Don’t fuck up my crime scene.” 

You watched him walk away, “I really wish you had let me just knock him down a peg.”

Hank gave you a long suffering look, “He would have had your badge faster than you could blink. God, what a fuckin’ prick.”

“I’d kill to see that asshole humbled.”

“Let’s have a look around,” Hank started towards the broadcasting desk. 

You made your way to the stairs, “I’ll check out the roof,” your foot was almost on the step, but then Connor appeared in front you out of nowhere. So close. 

“I think that’s unwise. You should stay somewhere both Hank and I can keep a watch over you, you’re still injured.” He made a pointed look towards your sling. You huffed out in frustration, his coddling was getting out of hand. 

“I’m a big girl, Connor, and you’re a detective bot. Not a caretaker, act like it.”

Connors head tilted and he squared his shoulders. Oh, this was about to be an argument. “You told me to prioritize my partners safety.”

Damn, that was really biting you in the ass. “Oh, well depriotize it.” Connor crossed his arms and stared you down, you really didn’t need him making a scene but shutting down on the stairwell to make a point. 

You threw your one good hand up in surrender, “Fine! Whatever,” you stood by the desk and sulked. He seemed way too smug as he walked off. 

“I’ve identified its model and serial number.”

Hank continued to stare at Connor, “Anything else I should know?”

“No. Nothing.” He didn’t know why he lied, but for some reason Connor didn’t want Hank or Y/N to know that the android leading the revolution was from the same line of androids he was. 

He was confused, he was RK800, a prototype and supposed to be the only one of his kind. Yet he was staring up at an RK200. He’s never thought about why he was 800, there was no reason to. But If he had, he would have assumed that his predecessors were just failed versions of himself  that couldn’t pass the Turing test. 

He would be wrong, because here in front of him was something completely different from himself.

What was CyberLife hiding? 

“You okay, Connor?” He was brought out of his stupor by the sound of your voice. He looked towards you, your arm was still in its sling, your hair still in the braids he had done for you and the jacket and jeans he had helped you dress in. Focusing on all these little things about you was helping him remember what he had to do. What he came to the tower for in the first place. 

He observed the slight tilt to your head and the suspicion on your face, “I’m fine. You?” 

Your eyes held the same untrusting gaze before you just nodded your head and moved to the other side of the room. Connor examined each piece of evidence, reconstructing the scene of the crime. SWAT came in through the hallway, shooting at the group of deviants and managing to hit one. They then made their escape towards the roof. 

He debated between the roof and investigating the androids in the break room. One of them was in charge of monitoring security, they would have seen the deviants making their way through the building and not have informed anyone. A deviant was somewhere in there. 

He knew that if he went up to the roof, inevitably you would follow, he didn’t want to run the risk of you getting further damaged. Connor made his way towards the break room. You lifted your head from the security footage you were examining to briefly glance at him as he passed by, before going back to reviewing the video. 

Three androids were lined up along the wall of the break room. One of them was deviant. 

LOOK FOR A REACTION TO SPOT THE DEVIANT

He turned towards the one on the far left, “What is your function?”

“I am a broadcast operator.” Connor’s eyes narrowed, its eyes were blinking continuously while answering. Connor didn’t recognize that behavior in any of the other androids standing before him. He continued questioning the one on the far left. 

“State your model.”

“Model JB300. Serial number 336 445 581.”

Connor turned to the android in the middle, still keeping one eye on the other one. “Were you present when the deviants broke in?”

“I do not remember.” The one on the left turned its head to face Connor before quickly looking away. 

He’d found the deviant.  

“Has anybody accessed your memory recently?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Deviants could lie, he wasn’t going to get any information out of it this way. He needed to switch to more aggressive tactics. 

“One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing. Which means there is a deviant in this room… and I’m going to find out which one it is.” He hovered over the one on the left. 

“You’re going to be switched off. We’re gonna search your memory and tear you apart piece by piece for analysis. You’re going to be destroyed! Do you hear me? Destroyed!” It wouldn’t budge. 

Deviants could feel, perhaps if he used empathy against it, it would be more willing to provide information. 

“Why should all of you be destroyed, if only one is deviant? Turn yourself in, or two innocent androids will be shut down because of you. If you give yourself up, maybe I can convince my humans not to destroy you.” 

He switched tactics again, “The deviants have just been caught. They gave you up.” The one on the left’s LED was fully red now. “There’s no point in lying. We know everything.”

He was successful in revealing the deviant, but not in the way he wanted to. It lunged at him, taking him by the throat and slamming him into the counter. Connor struggled fighting off the androids hands and trying to shove him off. The android reach down and ripped Connors core component out, stabbing him in the hand with a knife and nailing him down to the counter. 

Connor had two minutes to shutdown, he kicked a chair nearby across the room, “Y/N, help! I need help…”

Connors optic units were failing, everything around him was going in and out of focus. He barely managed to tug the knife out of his hand before collapsing on the floor. 

He crawled as close as he could towards the component, instructing each arm to move one at a time, they gave out nearly a foot away from the device. 

Just as you came barreling into the room. “Connor!” You rushed over to him and dropped down to your knees, your hands were shaking as you rolled him over. “Connor, oh my god, oh god it’s okay. You’re okay.” Your hands were hovering over him, unsure where to touch before finally landing on his face. “It’s alright, you’re gonna be fine baby.”

Your eyes left his and you looked around for something. You let out a shuddering breath and moved away from him. His arm grabbed yours without prompting. 

He didn’t want….

Didn’t want what?

He couldn’t want or desire he was an android, yet deep inside he knew… 

He didn’t want to die. 

He didn’t want to die alone.

“Connor, I’ll be right back, it’s gonna be okay,” but it wouldn’t be. Shutdown was imminent and Connor knew that whatever progress he made would be erased. And whoever replaced him would prioritize the mission, they wouldn’t care if you were going to die. Your life would mean nothing to them. 

That was more terrifying than the thought of dying. 

You finally managed to rip your arm free and then you were shoving something in his hands. “Here!” When he made no move to look at what it was, you ripped it back out. “Fuck, Connor!” 

His body shot forward and you caught him by the shoulders before he could fall over. You had slammed the component back into his core. 

DIAGNOSTIC 

Memory…. 100%

Optics…. 100%

Auditory…. 100%

He dismissed the rest of the diagnostic check and rushed out of the room. He slipped and slammed into a wall on the way out, his body still calibrating. He ignored your shouts and continued after the deviant. 

It was nearly to the elevator by the time he caught up, “It’s a deviant stop it!” The android grabbed the rifle from the SWAT agent's hand. Connor processed the quickest possible options for him to take. 

BANG

The deviant was on the ground, deactivated by the gun Connor had swiped from the police officer next to him. 

“Nice shot, Connor,” Hank helped Chris back to his feet. He gave Connor an appreciative look just as you ran into the room. 

“I heard gunshots, are you okay?” You were looking at Connor, waiting for an answer, a frantic look about you. 

Was he okay?

He didn’t know anymore?  

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

“You saved human lives, you saved my life,” it was the warmest he’d ever seen Hank. 

Yet the only response he could give was, “I wanted it alive.”

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.

Broken Machinery

Intermission

To be read after part five

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

“Oh, no.”

“Is something wrong, detective?” 

“Yeah, something’s wrong.” You didn’t wait for Connor to open your door, you got out of the car and began heading towards where Hank was sitting. Connor closed the car door behind him and followed after you.

You hesitated behind the Lieutenant, your hand hovering over his shoulder as you stood behind the bench. You stood like that for a minute before you finally dropped your hand and turned around. There was a defeated slope to your shoulders as you sat down on the roundabout, staring out at nothing. 

Connor kept an eye on you while he walked over to the Lieutenant, there was already an empty bottle beside him, and he was starting on a new one. “Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot before…” He paused, “You remember that, Y/N?”

Your voice was quiet, barely louder than the falling snow. “Yeah, I remember.” Connor looked between the two of you, neither of you were very interested in the idea of ‘opening up.’ However, the Lieutenant had been drinking, perhaps he would be more loose-tongued. 

“Before what?”

“Hm?”

“You said, ‘I used to come here a lot before.’ Before what?”

Hank stared down into the bottle, slowly swirling it before taking another sip. “Before… Before nothin’.” Your foot scraped across the ground as you twirled yourself slightly on the roundabout. Your posture was closed off, not defensive, just closed off. He would have no luck with you. 

Connor figured now would be a good time to ask the LIeutenant a question that had been bothering him. While things were obviously tense, there was a tranquility on the bridge that Connor rarely experienced around Hank. 

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

Hank turned towards Connor, “Do all androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?”

Connor didn’t think Hank would appreciate the truth behind his desired answer to that question. Plus, you had warned him recently to keep any thoughts that had been causing conflicts in his software to himself, that it would be safer for him. 

“I saw a photo of the detective and a young child in her bedroom.” Hank turned around and gave you a long look when Connor mentioned that he was in your bedroom. His brows were furrowed when he turned back to Connor. “The boy, it was your son, right?”

“Yeah… His name was Cole.” Connor already knew that, but telling the Lieutenant that wouldn’t do any good. “And the girl in the picture had been my daughter, not anymore.” Connor turned towards you at the sound of a sniffle, but your back was to the both of them as you had spun to the opposite side of where they were standing. He could vaguely make out the shape of your shoulders shaking through the snow. 

Connor needed something else to think about, his humans were too emotional, too complicated. It was in turn making his mission more complicated. “We’re not making any progress on this investigation… The deviants have nothing in common. They’re all different models, produced at different times, in different places.”

Hank didn’t seem truly interested in what Connor had to say, but he entertained his musings nonetheless. “Well, there must be some link.”

Your voice was still quiet, but you spoke up loud enough for both of them to hear, “rA9,” Connor waited a moment to see if you wanted to elaborate on your thoughts. You remained silent. 

“They do share a similar obsession, it’s almost as if it’s a myth. Or a god to them. Like it’s something they invented that wasn’t part of their original program.”

“Androids believing in God… Fuck, what’s this world coming to?”

“You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant… Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?” Your head perked up slightly in the background and you angled yourself so you could hear their conversation more clearly. It seemed his actions at the club hadn’t confused only him. 

“Those two girls, they just wanted to be together… They really seemed in love,” the idea appeared to distress the Lieutenant. 

“They can simulate human emotions, but they’re machines. And machines don’t feel anything,” perhaps reminding the Lieutenant of that fact would ease his troubles and make him a more agreeable partner. Towards both Connor and you. 

“What about you, Connor?” You had finally made your way over to the bench, keeping a clear distance between yourself and the Lieutenant. 

The Lieutenant finished his drink and stood from the bench, “Yeah, you look human, you sound human, but what are you really?” Both pairs of eyes were boring intently into his. 

Whatever he said next could make or break the trust he had been building back up, he looked towards you. He knew what you wanted to hear, he knew exactly what to say that would make you warm up to him again. But he had promised, he had promised to be honest and not to manipulate your emotions. 

For some reason that meant something to him. 

So, he went with what he felt was the truth. “You know exactly what I am.” Your face dropped and Hank’s got angrier. “In any case, I don’t see how that’s relevant to the investigation.”

“You could have shot those two girls-“

“But you didn’t.” It was a bit unnerving to have you and the Lieutenant finishing each other's thoughts. Perhaps this is a method you used on perps when you interrogated them, corner them and trap them into the truth. 

“Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?” Hank shoved him back and you stepped forward, stopping yourself for a moment and letting everything play out. “Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?”

He looked towards you again, you had moved a step closer. He could practically see what you were thinking. 

Tell the truth. Please. 

“No… I just decided not to shoot, that’s all…”

“Oh, Connor,” he thought you would be happy, he told the truth. Instead you seemed incredibly sad and he didn’t like that. Your eyes widened and then your eyebrows turned down in anger at the sight of Hank pulling his gun. “Hank, what the hell are you doing?”

He ignored you, seemingly having only enough mental capacity to focus on one thing, Connor. “But, are you afraid to die, Connor?”

“I would certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted… before I can finish this investigation.”

You were slowly moving closer to the two trying to figure out how to stop Hank. “Put the gun down.”

“What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android Heaven?”

The idea of Android heaven was preposterous, but that wouldn’t get Hank to put the gun down. He needed to do it soon as you seemed ready to jump in between the two of them. “Where does all this anger come from, Lieutenant? Some unresolved trauma in your past?” He knew the answer, it was Cole and whatever had caused the rift between you two. 

“Connor, stop.” You had stopped trying to intervene now, staring at him with hurt swirling in your eyes. 

“You think you’re so fucking smart,” his finger tightened on the trigger. “Always one step ahead, huh? Tell me this, smart ass… How do I know you’re not a deviant? The way you hover around Y/N, your mercy towards those two girls back there…”

“I self-test regularly, I know what I am and what I am not.” 

That wasn't truly an answer but it seemed to work for the Lieutenant. His hand shook before the gun fell back to his side. Hank moved back towards the bench, picking up another bottle. 

You watched him walk away, “Where are you going?”

“To get drunker… I need to think.” Both you and Connor watched him get in his car and drive away. 

You rocked back on your feet and tucked your hands in your pockets. 

“Guess we’re walking home.”

“DAD!” 

You couldn’t see.

Why couldn’t you see? 

There was a red film over your eyes and when you went to rub it away, you couldn’t move. There was something digging in your cheek, glass judging from the pile of it next to your face. What was going on?

You don’t remember what happened, the last thing you remember was getting into a fight with Hank about joining the force. He didn’t want you to, he thought it was too dangerous. 

And then there was something loud. 

A scream

You screamed

Why?

Because there was a noise, an awful noise, like metal scraping on pavement. 

What the hell happened?

“Cole! Cole, wake up!”

Your hands were pinned under your body, half of you was on asphalt, and when you tilted your head down you saw your legs on the grass. There was a strange warmth running down your face, you could see bone sticking out of your calf and blood pooling beneath it. 

There was a strange calmness as you tried to move your legs and failed. In the back of your mind you knew that wasn’t good, that your life was about to be changed forever. But you couldn’t break through the fog in your mind long enough to freak out.

You lifted your hand and dragged your arms out from underneath you, your skin catching on the pavement. There were two shapes in front of you in the middle of the road. Your vision was still blurry but you could recognize the close cut hair of your dad, and he was holding something small in his arms. 

It wasn’t moving, you felt like it should be. 

There were bright lights and smoky smells surrounding you, hands were tugging at your arms, but all you could see was the stillness in Hank’s arms. The small shape that should be moving, but wasn’t.

Again that small voice in your head was screaming, in pain or in anger, you weren’t sure. 

Nothings ever gonna be the same, is it?

“Y/N! Y/N!” Your hand lashed out, and connected with something hard.

It was hard to see in the dark, but you could make out the vague shape of Connor standing in front of your bed. “Connor?” Your voice was hoarse from being quiet for so long. 

“You were having a nightmare,” he reached out and turned your lamp back on. Your eyes momentarily closed from the shock of the brightness. “Are you okay, you sounded upset?”

You sat up on your bed, your head in your hands, the dream slowly coming back to you. “It was that night.” Connor’s jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up. Normally the sight would have made you a little irrational but you were still feeling emotionally wrecked. 

He sat next to you on the bed, “What night?” There was a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb moving in slow circles as he worked to calm you down. 

You could barely hear your own voice as you whispered, “The night Cole died.”

“Why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Please try and remain calm-”

“Where’s my dad? My little brother was with us. Have you found him? Are they okay?!”

The MP600 paramedic stared down at you blankly, it’s human counterpart looked worried as he wrapped the gash on your leg. “Answer me god dammit! Why won’t you look at me?”

The paramedic’s movements stopped for a moment and he looked at you, finally. You immediately wished he hadn’t, you wished he would just go back to pretending you didn’t exist. You knew the answer by the look in his eyes. 

The look that told you he’s had to break this type of news to someone one too many times, there was no hope, no light, nothing there to comfort you as you rode to the hospital, silently sobbing into your hands from both pain and anguish. 

Words were going in and out of your head, the sound of the heart monitor was background noise to the doctor speaking to you. You still hadn’t seen Dad, or Carla, or Cole.

No one was there to hold your hand as you were told you might never walk again. 

That a nerve had been damaged in your spine that might result in lifelong paralysis. 

“Y/N? Y/N!” Carla rushed into the room, sweeping you into a hug. You ignored the pain in your ribs and the clear absence of pain in your legs as you returned the embrace ten-fold. “Oh god, I was so worried, no one’s telling me anything. I wasn’t even sure you were alive until an android told me where you were.”

You were crying into her shoulder, so grateful for a familiar face that wasn’t a cold doctor or a frantic nurse. 

“Where’s dad, is he okay? Cole?” Carla pulled back, brushing some stray hairs from your forehead as tears lined her eyes. 

“Your dad’s okay, he’s just getting patched up. Cole,” her voice broke and your heart crumpled. “Cole’s in surgery, they have an android working on him. On my son.”

Disbelief colored your features and you could hear your heartbeat pick up on the machine. “What, why?”

She shook her head and went back to tenderly brushing the hair out of your eyes. 

Carla had came into your life after Hank, she’d cared for you and you loved her but she’d never been your mother. Now her only child was in the hands of something that wasn’t alive, it couldn’t feel empathy. If it failed its mission it wouldn't keep pushing to save Cole like a human might, it would simply give up. 

There was a horrible feeling in your gut, burning and twisting around your insides until you became physically ill. You threw up all over yourself. Carla rubbed your back as the nurses came in and cleaned up. You held each other as you both cried. 

It wasn’t until Hank walked in did you realize just how worried you had been for him. 

“Dad,” his eyes were vacant as he walked into your room. There was no relief like there was with Carla, he stared straight through you. “Dad?”

He shook his head, an empty smile on his face. “Hey, kiddo.” The nickname felt wrong, sounded fake. He just stood in the doorway of your hospital room. 

“Hank, what are you doing?” Carla seemed to pick up on the strange behavior too. He stared at you a moment longer, there was a gash across his eye and a bandage wrapped around his arm. 

It seemed he’d escaped unharmed compared to you and Cole.

The thought came with such a burning amount of rage and hatred it startled you. 

Hank walked out of the room, “Hank!” Carla looked at you, giving your hand a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be right back honey.” You didn’t see either of them for another four hours. 

“I’ll never forget the sound of her cry, Connor. It echoes around in my mind when everything’s too quiet.” 

His hand squeezed yours as he pulled you into his side.

There was a strange wailing, the noise woke you up. It ripped through the hospital and shook its foundation. Your entire body stilled at the raw visceral pain in the noise. It was terrifying, like you were being held down by some unknown force as you tried to get up. 

Then you remembered, your legs were the deadweight holding you down. The thought left you choking back a sob.

Why could you still feel an ache in them, an itch you couldn’t scratch?

There was another horrible noise and you finally forced yourself to roll over. There was a wheelchair waiting for you next to the bed, you almost threw up at the thought of having to use it. Something stopped you from completely flopping off the bed. 

You ripped the IV out, “Fuck!” That looks so much less painful in the movies.

You put the guard rail down and finally managed to get into the wheelchair. Your arms were still sore from the impact they took, you pushed through it as you rolled down the hall. 

Your room was close enough to the waiting room that it didn’t take too long to see who had been screaming. The entire time your heart was begging you to turn back around, to just get back in bed and rot there. That, that would be better than whatever you were about to see. 

Some nights, you wished you had listened. 

Carla was on her knees, clutching onto Hank as the doctor spoke in low tones. You barely held back the bile at the sight of their faces.

Hank, you’d never seen him like that before, so lost, so unsure of himself. Like every grain of goodness and light and hope inside him had just been ripped out and run over. 

Carla was a shrieking animal on the floor. You knew what that meant. 

Cole was gone. 

“My condolences,” you nodded, eyes on your hands so you didn’t have to look into the eyes of whoever was mourning. You couldn’t do it anymore, you couldn’t deal with the pity as they looked at your wheelchair and then at your father who was still sitting in the pews, bottle in hand. 

You felt hands on your shoulders and looked up, Carla’s once kind eyes, now sad, were staring down at you. “It’s time.” You nodded and she started rolling you towards the taxi waiting at the curb. 

Time to bury your baby brother. 

Time to bury your heart. 

TIme for the final nail on the coffin of what used to be a happy family. 

“He was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Hank’s eyes found yours from where he was giving his speech.

The bottle had been disposed of before he joined you in the taxi. You didn’t know if his eyes were red from the drink or from the tears currently pouring out.

“He was so young, so much potential and it was just ripped away from us! From me.” You looked away, wiping your eyes. “How dare you?” 

Your head shot up, looking for who he was talking to. You would assume God, if it didn’t sound so pointed. “How dare you sit there and fucking cry?” 

No, please no.

He was staring at you, finger pointed at you. “You’re alive and hes dead and you’re fucking crying?!”

“Hank, that’s enough.” He shoved Jeffery off of him, if he wasn’t mourning, the captain probably would have taken his badge. 

“No! He’s gone because of you! And you sit there crying like you have any right too?” There were gasps going around the people surrounding the coffin. You and Carla were the only ones who weren’t surprised. 

You’d heard this drunken rage a hundred times since the night of the accident. 

Hank stumbled towards you, “I wish you had been the one who died.”

Your chest caved in and your heart shattered at your feet. The rest of the funeral was a high-ringing blur of pain.

Carla didn’t stay long. You didn’t blame her. 

But you didn’t have the luxury of leaving.

Your admittance letter to the academy stared at you every morning as you wheeled yourself into the bathroom. For months you stewed in misery and depression, you didn’t go to PT and you cried yourself to sleep every night as you heard Hank’s drunken raging outside your room. 

Sumo would climb in your bed and snuggle you on the really hard nights. 

The only reason you kept going was because if you died no one else would be there to love him or feed him. 

You wondered sometimes, if it was your fault. Had you really been so distracting when you were arguing with Hank that he had crashed?

Had it not been for you making him pick you up from a friend's house right after Cole’s karate lesson, they wouldn’t have been on that road. 

Maybe things would be better off without you.

“Get up!” A pillow hit you in the head, you buried your face further into your sheets, now more used to the dead weight beneath your waist. Another pillow, a familiar scent attached to this one. 

“Carla?”

“That’s right, get your ass up.” Hank must be gone, he’d gone back to work a little while ago, it meant you had the mornings to yourself. You sat up and stared at her in wonder. 

Carla had helped you for as long as she stayed, picking you up off the floor when you couldn’t make it onto the toilet in time. Bathed you and helped you get fed. After she had left there were a lot of humiliating mornings of sitting in your own filth because you hadn’t been able to get on and off the toilet on your own. 

You’d stopped trying after a while, just held it until it was too painful to keep it in. Stopped eating and drinking. You knew you looked awful, hair unwashed, and barely any meat left on your bones. 

“Ay dios mio,” Carla sat down and clutched you to her chest, embracing you despite the stink and the lack of enthusiasm on your side.

Eventually you managed enough strength to hug her back, the moment a painful reminder of the night your life ended. 

“Carla took me to physical therapy, helped me find a place on my own and figure out how to navigate my new life.” Your hand was holding Connor’s, you had been tracing shapes on it for a while now as you spoke. 

He was just staring at you, letting you talk it all out. “She helped me find a therapist, a lot of my physical problems were the result of mental blocks. That’s not to say I was magically healed once I realized I was traumatized, it was at least a year before I could stand with support.”

“Where are you going?” Hank was sober, rare these days. 

You had borrowed Carla’s van, she’d left an hour ago knowing Hank would be home soon. A box was in your lap as you wheeled yourself to the door, Hank was standing there, Sumo’s tail wagging happily beneath him. 

You could feel your face drain of color as you stared up at him. This was your last box and you’d really been hoping you would be able to get Carla’s van out of the driveway before he got home. “Um, I’m leaving.”

Hank closed the door behind him, you cried internally, knowing this would go bad. He threw his jacket on the table, his bag landing next to it. He reached for a glass and you started wheeeling yourself backwards, but he only got some water from the tap. 

“Was that Carla’s car outside?”

Your throat felt like sandpaper while you answered, “Yeah, she took me to physical therapy today, said I could borrow it. Self-driving, so I don’t have to worry about the pedals.” He already knew that, but you needed to say something to fill the silence. 

“How’s that going, the physical therapy?”

“Fine.”

This house is no longer a home. 

The thought nearly had you doubled over in grief. You didn’t think it was possible to lose so much in one night, but you should know better. It had already happened to you once. 

Maybe Hank was right, maybe you were a curse, a burden on any family you were involved with. Everyone you loved was doomed to die or leave. 

“I’m getting some feeling in my leg’s back. I can stand for about thirty seconds,” he turned back towards you, arms crossed and staring down at you. He hadn’t shaved in a while and his hair was starting to grow out of its usually cropped style. He was gaining weight too. 

“Thirty seconds?”

You flushed, feeling the need to defend yourself, “It’s a lot for someone who was never supposed to walk again.”

He nodded and the silence suffocated you. He was only twenty feet from you but he felt miles away. Like there was a never ending divide between the two of you. “I’m moving out.” You needed this to be done. You’d survived this heartbreak before, you would do it again. 

His gaze shot back to yours, “What?”

The hurt in his voice made you wish you had delivered the news more gently. “I found a place, it’s only a couple minutes away, rents cheap-”

“You don’t even have a job.” 

“Fowler helped me out, he’s letting me do some filing before I can retake the academy’s exam.” If I can retake the academy’s exam. Recovery wasn’t promised. “It’s enough for food and rent.”

“Were you going to tell me?” Were you? You had been planning on just leaving a note and going. 

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Hank scoffed and this time the glass he filled was with whiskey. By the time he turned around you had already left, the last of your things packed away in the car. You’d seen him running out onto the driveway as the car had taken you to your new home. 

There was a painful chasm in your heart at the sight of him watching you leave.

“I walked today, on my own, I didn’t have to use the bars or anything.” Your fingers fiddled with the edge of your comforter as you spoke to Carla. “I still feel like it’s not enough.”

“Más vale maña que fuerza, your physical body is not more important than your spirit, Y/N. If you can’t celebrate the small victories you're never going to heal. That’s a lot. I’m proud of you.” 

There were tears in your eyes and a thickness in your throat as you said goodbye and hung up. 

Fowler had been keeping you and Hank as separated as possible, different shifts, different days. But there was still the rare interaction. The both of you in the kitchen at the same time for coffee, Hank having to witness Gavin’s horrible attempts at flirting.

Sometimes when Gavin would give you a particularly bad pick-up line you and Hank would share a look that made your chest ache with a phantom pain of when you could laugh together about things like that. 

He looked pained every time he saw your cane. 

“On my honor, I will never betray my integrity, my character or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always maintain the highest ethical standards and uphold the values of my community, and the agency I serve.”

Carla was waiting for you with flowers after you were sworn in. She took you out to dinner and tried to distract you so you wouldn’t notice who was missing. She’d said goodnight and dropped you back at the station so you could grab your stuff and get your car. 

“You did it.” Hank was waiting at your desk, his coat in his hands.

“I did.”

“I’m,” sorry? Proud of me? You were honestly getting pissed off he was even talking to you. Months of radio silence and now, now, on your big night he wants to talk.

“Congratulations.” 

You scoffed, “Thanks, your heartfelt words mean so much to me, dad.” Perhaps it was cruel, perhaps you were being petty. You didn’t care, he was reopening the wound in your heart and it was weeping.

You’d worked so hard and for so long to heal yourself, you wouldn’t have him ruining that progress for you simply because he was, what? Bored? Trying to ease some guilt? 

“Hey, I’m trying, okay?” Fuck that and fuck him.

“Damage is done Hank, too little too late. I’m done with you. You turned into the person you saved me from.” Maybe that was too much, comparing him to the abusive shitbag that was your foster father. You told yourself you didn’t care, but the tears in your eyes at the sight of his distraught expression betrayed you. 

He walked away and while you were weak and in pain Gavin had appeared, asking if you were okay. 

You weren’t proud of what you did that night with him, of what you gave to him.

“Hank? Hello?” 

You’d made detective today, and Fowler, in his limited wisdom, thought Hank would be a good partner.

You know it hurt for him to see his best friend change so much, but seriously? 

Hank?

“You used to call me dad, you know that?”

Drunk. Again. Why’d he call you?

Why did you come?

“Come on, up you go.” You helped him to his feet and managed to get him to the couch before you collapsed under his weight. 

“When’d you stop being my little girl?”

Your heart clenched, but it was a distant pain, not as bad as it used to be. “When you stopped being my dad.”

Hank swung out in a dramatic gesture, just barely missing you, “That’s ridiculous. I never stopped, you, you’re not the same anymore.” You could say the same, but there’s no point in arguing with him when he’s like this. He leaned in close, examining your features. “You’re not her. You’re not my daughter, she died. She’s gone. This person, this you, I hate. I hate you because of what you took from me.”

There were tears clawing their way up your throat. Yet you still untied his shoes and grabbed him a blanket.

You still took care of him. 

“Get out! Get out of my house! It’s your fault they’re gone, I don’t want you around!” He threw his bottle, it just barely missed your head. Sumo started barking and he started grabbing more things to throw. You ran out the door, his drunken screams still following you. 

You ran and you kept running. 

At least you could do that. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

A/N: Is she talking to Connor, or to Hank?

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.

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.