Love The Way You Write

Love the way you write

And id love to be added to the taglist

Bad Habits

Milo Greer/Darlin’, 857 words

CWs: mentions of gambling/addiction, eventual angst, poorly written accents (sorry guys my east coast roots do not rescue this one…),  gn pronouns for tank, dasher if you squint, mild cursing

I wanted to make something that wasn’t entirely self-indulgent for once (even though a lot of my hcs for these two separate from this fic are definitely self-indulgent… it’s okay we don’t need to talk about it!!), so here we are! Rather than making one long-winded one-shot, I decided to separate it into multiple shorter chapters to hopefully prolong the eventual burnout that comes with writing after having not done so in so long, so there will be more! I’ll try to make a consistent writing schedule to get me back in the swing of things, so bear with me, it took way longer than it should’ve to finish this. Also, I promise the coming chapters will be longer, I just wanted to set the scene and get a feel for the vibes I was going for, so this just serves as an introduction/backstory naturally. Anyway, now all the disclaimers are out of the way!

Tank was completely, utterly, and foolishly in love.

With Milo-fucking-Greer, of all people.

They don’t know how it happened. All it was supposed to be was a temporary fling.

So, how on God’s green Earth did they find themselves in this position?

-

This situationship from Hell came about during the summer of 2011. Colm Greer was deep in his gambling addiction, and Tank’s parents were having those not-so-quiet behind-the-door conversations about moving back to Washington when they thought they weren’t listening. 

David and Asher had turned eighteen just months before Milo and Tank, hardly any time at all; that didn’t stop Asher from lovingly referring to the pair as the ‘babies’ of the group. Neither party enjoyed this nickname, but it was Asher, so there was no way to reverse it until he got bored of it and found something else to entertain himself with.

Despite the many attempts to include them in pack activities, Tank had never felt so isolated. They couldn’t find anything in common with anyone else aside from the fact that they were all shifters, and it only pulled them further away from their (few and far between) attempts to integrate with the others. They found no way for them to relate to anyone.

Well.

Anyone except Milo Greer, of course.

They had never really spoken to him about it, but they knew about his father’s problem. Everyone did. It was something everyone was aware of but knew better than to question because it was a private matter, and Gabe Shaw would ensure it stayed that way for the most part.

Regardless, Tank couldn’t help but be a little bit curious.

Tank had reluctantly agreed to join the trio (plus Christian) on an outing after Asher had practically begged them to come along, swearing that it would be fun, even if they didn’t like going out that much. This one little decision found them sitting alone with Milo Greer while Asher and Christian roughhoused and David supervised from afar.

Despite their internal conflict, they couldn’t stop themselves from opening their mouth to speak.

“Is it hard?”

Milo flinched a little at the sound of their voice. They rarely spoke to anyone when they didn’t have to, so hearing them utter those words was entirely unexpected. “Your- Your dad, I mean.” They clarified before shaking their head. “Never mind, that question kind of answers itself. It’s none of my business, sorry.” They blurted out quickly after, going to push themselves to their feet and move somewhere else.

“Frustrating,” Milo said, causing Tank to halt their movements. “It’s not exactly hard, just… frustrating.” He reiterated. Tank nodded, returning to their original position on the ground. “We’re not as close as I’d like us ta’ be because of his issues, y’know? Like… I look at David and Gabe and can’t help but feel jealous. I wish I had that kinda relationship with my old man.” Milo explained, resting his chin on one hand and picking at grass with the other. 

“I get it,” Tank stated, leaning back on their elbows in the grass. “Well, I mean, obviously I don’t. I’m not in your situation. I just… understand that wish for a closer relationship.” They added.

Milo hummed curiously, glancing back at him. Tank’s eyebrows furrowed and they sat up quickly, scanning his expression. “What?” They asked, a frown twisting at the corners of their lips. Milo shrugged in response. 

“Nothin’.” He said, pausing for a moment before letting out a chuckle. “You never talk. Asher was startin' to suspect that you were mute.” He said, a small grin forming on his face. “Now here you are, talkin’ my ear off. Asher’s gonna be pissed that I’m the one ya ended up talkin’ to.” He added teasingly.

Tank rolled their eyes, fidgeting with the stem of a dandelion. “Don’t make it a thing. It’s just because I know strained relationships.” They muttered, eyebrows knitting in concentration as they tied the stem into a small knot. 

“Alright, alright, I’m just kiddin’,” Milo said, pushing himself to his feet as Asher and Christian finished up their playfight. “I won’t ‘make it a thing,’ but I will take pride in the fact that I sorta broke your shell before Asher did.” He declared jokingly, holding his hand out to help them up. Tank eyed his hand for a moment before apprehensively taking it, pulling themselves up. “And… thanks. Y’know, for asking.” Milo added when they were on their feet. “I don’t like talkin’ about it, but… it’s nice to have someone ask once in a while. Everyone else seems ta’ think I’m gonna explode if they ask me about it.” He mumbled with a sigh. 

Tank nodded, dusting themself off. “No problem. Uh… want this dandelion I tied up?” They offered unsurely. They weren’t entirely sure where to go from here. 

Milo tilted his head curiously as he took the dandelion, examining it in his hand. “Sure, why not?” He said, shrugging and sliding it neatly into his pocket.

What might have seemed like an insignificant interaction to anyone else ended up keeping Tank up with their thoughts all night.

-

taglist ofc:

@porters-fangs @achios @skunkox

(if u wanna be added or taken off just lmk!!)

Darlin met quinn when their hair was shaggy, like they were planning to cut it but hadn't gotten to it

Then quin scared them mentally physically , their haihad gotten so long, it wasn't their style. But it hides the marks

They didn't cut their hair for a long time. They hated it, but it was any easier than taking the judgmental looks of strangers because of their gruesome neck

Untill sam

He wasn't the only factor, but he helped them change and become more confident and carefree in those scars

So they cut their hair, really short. Or Sam cuts it, the night being one full of emotion, sam took his time, softly kissing darlin before cutting large parts off. Sam may not have much experience with cute hair, but he did a good job, and darlin looks and feels great

Bonus:

they were still getting used to the short hair when quinn was captured. so It was another layer of facing quinn, with the "claiming" bites on display

Things Quinn might have said

" I prefer your hair long. More to hold and yank. I know you were fond of that as well"

" I'm happy to see you showing off my marks. They really are a form of art"

" How does your pack feel about this- fashion statement. Ooo- better yet how does that other vampire your seeing feel about it. I bet he loves you walking around with the bites of another vampire etched in your skin. He mustn't be to offend, seeing as he hasn't biten you"

" He hasn't bitten you. I can tell you why. It those marks. To us vampires - it is like getting a steak with a bite taken out, disgusting, tainted,worthless. I'm sure you understand. No one wants someone else's thrown out leftovers. "

I’d like to imagine, not for any good reason, that Adam is still alive. But not whole.

Very illogical ramble below:

I’d like to think his decapitated head is sitting far away from his limp body. Adam’s eyes have seen every crevasse of the basement room, he’s counted every brick on the wall, every strand of web spun the the spiders who inhabit the room. He’s watched his blood oxidise and turn into dust. He’s watched his body decay and be eaten by animals who’d stumble upon it.

But Adam’s head still rests there, still alive. Vampires don’t need their heart, what good is blood circulation to an already undead being. They don’t need air, what good are the lungs in his chest. Without his stomach he no longer feels his own hunger. But his mind does. All he knows is the taste of Lovely’s blood, all he craves, all he ever thinks about. One last touch, one last look, one last taste. One drop and he’d be satiated.

He’d wonder if they still said his name instead of Vincent’s, if their cries of ‘no’ still came out as ‘more’, wondered if their blood still tasted like heaven. Oh how he’d relish in the thought.

Adam’s decapitated head still sentient as he hears Bright Eyes and Fred getting attacked by Quinn, Adam hearing Sam turn them, Adam laughing at the irony of it all.

Adam’s decapitated head seeing the light as another vampire hears his laughter. Adam feeling touch as he’s moved from his home on the basement floor.

Adam’s living, seeing, knowing head sitting mounted on a wall as a piece of Quinn’s collection.

Adam wondering, but never asking, why there’s another podium next to him, a named place with no head. Adam reading the name ‘Samuel Collins’ over and over again, wondering who would be placed next to him after all his time alone.

I love hate reading my own angst and being like

"Who would write such evil things"

Me, I would

me? cheating? please! my family raised addicts not cheaters!

Me: Okay, Brain. Think about what happens next in this chapter.

Brain: *Skips three chapters ahead*

Me: No, no. This one, this chapter, the one we are writing right now.

Brain:.......*47 scenes forward*

Me: NO