#Knives just green lighted the thing if that means anything

[ohitslen]

They are doing the thing

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Alejandro Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, suggestive content, vague smut, no pronouns used for Reader except 'You', marking, riding, praise kink, switch! Alejandro w/ top lean, cum play (?), yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, implications of stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, pet names, mention of voyeurism, surveillance, murder, forced relationship (at first), paranoid/jealous Alejandro, etc

WHEW, okay.

Alejandro is a passionate man. And when he falls, he falls hard.

Like, clipping through the floor and into the Backrooms level of hard.

Whatever you did to get his attention, you've eneamoured him, which is both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing in that this man, regardless of whether he's a yandere or not, is loyal.

He's your shadow, going wherever you go, watching over you like a morally ambiguous angel.

He's a trained, professional killer, so this man has no qualms or difficulty in reducing someone he deems as a threat to you (or your relationship) to a mere blood spatter on a pavement in some alleyway.

However, he will hold back on such murderous activities if you tell him to.

He can't resist you.

Like, at all.

He'd do literally anything for you.

Once, you joked around, asking him what he would do if you lost your heart. Like it just vanished, completely disappeared. Poof!

This man got down on one knee and proclaimed, knife in hand (where did he get the knife?): "I would carve out my own and lace it into your chest, and I would always be with you, my love coursing through your veins as it does through mine."

"Oookay, big guy, let's get you to bed..."

You made sure to watch over him that night and make sure he did no such thing. Because you knew he meant it.

You made sure to hide the knives behind a locked cupboard door after that.

Like I said, he's a passionate man.

In the early stages of your (forced) relationship, you just knew he was quite physical.

He wasn't malicious; far from it!

He just loved you so much that he wanted to express it in ways that words couldn't articulate.

However, after you expressed that you weren't comfortable with physical touch after, you know, being kidnapped by him, he basically had his hands tied behind his back whenever you were around.

Even backed away from you if you nearly brushed up against him (whether intentional or not) like he was in dodging a bullet.

It was actually you who, after Stockholm Syndrome kicked in, had initiated physical contact.

You slid your hand over the blanket that covered you while you sat in the sofa, watching a film.

Your finger just grazed Alejandro's, and when I say this man jumped, I mean he was like a cat pinned to the ceiling.

He was about to apologise to you for...being in your way?

Until you interrupted him, giving him a hesitantly wide-eyed look.

You tried again, embarrassed to vocalise (and realise) that you wanted to hold hands with the man who'd stolen you.

He was rigid, almost shaking, deathly afraid of losing you in ways he couldn't even fathom yet, all because you brushed hands for a ghost of a second.

"It's okay," you said. Your green light for Alejandro to relax.

He seemed to do so, albeit marginally, as his shoulders softened, losing their boxy edge.

His large, rough hand slowly merged with yours, fingers interlocking, filling the empty spaces.

Yours was soft between his, not having known work since your capture.

You put the thought out of your mind, trying instead to focus on how you were feeling right now than how you'd been feeling for the past few months.

You could feel his hand shaking in yours for a long time afterwards, a frightened bird in your grip.

You smoothed the back of his hand with your thumb, not looking away from the TV casting a white glow upon your face and hiding the blood rushing to it.

You felt his fingers twitch, desperate to just take your hand in his and just kiss it black and blue.

But he held back, waiting you to come to him when you were ready.

Alejandro gradually got braver after that initial encounter, though.

He seemed more comfortable taking your hand in his, which, whenever you initiate first, he melts.

Puppy of a man.

At some point in the relationship, about 6 months in, Alejandro wanted to test your loyalty.

He left your home, making a big song and dance about how he was going to the shop and wouldn't be back for an hour or two.

He left the front door unlocked and hid behind the curtained window of a friend's house across the street.

The friend was unaware of your situation, making it easy for Alejandro to lie about why he needed to hide there.

It was not easy for Alejandro to lie, however.

He could feel the falsehood burn his tongue as if he'd summoned a great evil, chanting its name and burning its poison symbols into the muscle.

It was slanderous - the baseless cover story of waiting for your suspected side-man coming to pay you a 'courtesy visit'.

The hour passed. And he waited with bated breath.

He saw you emerge from the house, oblivious to his presence, and look outside.

Your gaze was uncertain; you were considering something.

Alejandro was ready to run, to bolt out the door and capture you, return you to his house and--

You shut the door, returning to the confines of the house.

Alejandro watched, eyes wide, with only his uncertainty certain, as he waited for you to leave, to run as far as you could away from your cage - from him.

But you never did.

Ten, twenty minutes - nearly an hour passed and you'd still made no attempt to flee.

Alejandro returned home not long after, unable to resist the pull any longer.

He slammed the door open and closed behind him, and sought you out immediately.

Before you could ask him what was up, how, despite the force of his manner, he came to have such a smile on his face, he swept you up in his arms and kissed you.

Chaste on the surface, but burning with sheer desperation underneath, an almost metallic taste on his lips from his heart swelling to such an extent that he could feel it in his throat.

Or, rather, a lump of tearful joy collecting there.

You made no objections, instead kissing him back, though with unmatched, rather intimidated frevour.

"I saw you--" he said between breaths, fanning your cheeks with the flickers of his inner fire.

"--When I left, you stayed. You saw your chance for freedom, and you stayed--"

He didn't give you time to unpack that statement, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you there, lips moving from yours down to your jaw, your throat, nipping the crook of your neck.

You yelped, quick yet noticeable as Alejandro withdrew, seemingly broken out of whatever trance you'd put him in.

Everything he wanted to say - wanted to ask - flashed behind his eyes.

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders.

"I want this," you say, placing a hand on his cheek and giving him a tender look.

NSFW

This man lives for your praise, and he makes sure to return the favour.

Calls you things like: "Mi Amor," and "Mi Corazon," (My Love, My Heart)

His accent makes it even more intimate when he whispers airy praises into your ear as he's softly thrusting into you, making sure you know just how loved you are.

Mutters things in Spanish while he loses himself in you.

He's a very strong lover, so he'll take any opportunity to show you how much he loves you by putting your pleasure - sexual or not - above his own.

Gives phenomenal head, tbh.

He just knows what you like, which you could chalk up either to him being attentive, intuitive, or having stalked you and your preferences for weeks prior to your official meeting.

He marks you when he's jealous, the primal need to ward off other men from the love of his life becomes overwhelming when something like a stray look or a brief conversation makes him believe you're going to leave him for someone else.

He's more of a top but will be absolutely delighted if you ask to ride him.

Relating to the 'stalking' mention from earlier, he's maybe kind of into voyeurism??? In that he just loves knowing what you're doing when he's away, regardless of the nature of the activity (unless it's cheating - in which case he does not enjoy seeing what you're doing).

And he sees it all through the camera system he has installed in every room and crevice of the house.

Seeing you in his shirts makes him feel some kinda way.

Another aftercare king over here; he knows exactly what you need and when you need it, and he will not rest until all your needs are met.

Btw, he's mad insecure that you'll leave him one day, (would you believe it).

And the only way to reassure him is to either marry him, or give him the most atrocious, knee-buckling head known to man.

Tbf tho, Alejandro thinks your head, regardless of how good your game is, is spectacular - just because it came from you :>.

Cum play; man loves just covering you in himself because it reminds him that you're his.

It's more reassurance for himself rather than to exert power or authority over you.

Back to SFW

Alejandro knows you inside and out.

He takes a vested interest in anything and everything you like; he can name ever main, background and side character from any book, film or animated series you like. Also knows your top 25 favourite songs off by heart.

If you show that same level of attentiveness to him, he will be absolutely whipped (more so than he already is).

He's the first to say "I love you." And if/when you say it back, he's already planning the wedding in his head, the image becoming clearer, more of a certainty than a fantasy.

His eyes go really wide and glassy and he's looking at you like he has the Universe in his arms.

Because in his view, he does.

He loves you more than he thinks is physically capable for any human, and he will do anything to keep you safe and happy.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[thebiggerbear]

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Tom Hanniger Prompt Response

Summary: Tom has taken you hostage. This is not the Tom you knew and fell in love with. Unable to escape, can you get him to trust you and maybe even reach him?

Pairing: Tom Hanniger x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. So, just out of the gate, not gonna lie, this is one of the most fucked up things I've ever written and probably the darkest. Story wise I mean. There's something about Tom and that world from the movie that I love exploring. Before I knew it, this was nearing 18K and I was like "Crap, time to wrap this up!" I still enjoyed the exploration of Tom and the reader though in the dynamic they're in during this one.

I tried my best do my research and be respectful in regards to DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) but also keep this a few years post-movie (2009) while also staying within the context the movie provided but also explore a bit, if that makes sense. Please note I do not work in the psychiatry, psychology, or medical fields. If I got anything appallingly incorrect about this disorder, its symptoms, its treaments, anything, please let me know. Also, I think it goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway), not every single person who has been diagnosed with DID is violent or a threat to others nor are their alters violent or a threat to others. Obviously, this is just a work of fanfiction based on a fictional story where the main character had an alter that was violent and a threat to everyone. No harm or disrespect is intended with this fanfiction at all.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: explicit violence; hostage situation; mentions of knives; dubcon; sex (smut-light); explicit descriptions of murder; mentions of burying a body; explicit threats of physical violence; explicit threat of sexual violence; explicit threat of neonaticide (I highly recommend looking this word up if you don't know what it means so you can decide if you still want to read from there; I didn't feel comfortable spelling it out here to be honest); physical threat of neonaticide; explicit threats of murder; mention of past sexual violence; mention of past sexual assault; implied past domestic abuse; misogynistic language; language

Word Count: 18k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Tom Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version

When you came to, you glanced around the cabin you were currently tied up in. Tears blurred your vision, strands of your hair matted to your face, and you could feel the gag cutting tightly into the sides of your mouth. You didn’t bother trying to yell or make noise. You knew the cabin you were in since Tom had brought you here once to see it; there was no one and nothing around for miles. The next town over where Tom could get supplies was the closest thing and that was about an hour’s drive. 

How had things gone so wrong? You tried to be a good person, you always tried to do the right thing…so how did you end up here?

You already knew the answer to that, though. Because you let him in. Literally, right through your front door.

As if your thoughts summoned him, Tom appeared from the kitchen with two plates in hand and a huge grin, despite a black eye and cut lip he was sporting. He laid yours down in front of you and you could see chicken parmesan, your favorite, surrounded by linguini and green beans. He then placed down his own plate in front of his empty chair before turning back to you with a look of determination. “Alright. Let’s get this off you. No screaming, okay?” He asked, using a softer tone than you’d heard from him all day. “No struggling. And no running.” As if there was any point in screaming or running; no one would hear you and he’d catch you before you made it ten feet. He loosened your gag and pushed it down past your chin to hang around your neck. When you didn’t scream, he graced you with a warm smile. “Good girl,” he murmured as he began working on the ropes tying your hands to the chair. When he moved down to the ones on your legs, you rubbed at your sore wrists, noting a few surface cuts around your arms. He noticed and a frown formed on his face. “Sorry, I won’t tie them as tightly next time,” he promised. You didn’t know what else to do but nod.

When he was finished, he sat up and his fingers gently gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His green gaze bore into yours and he tenderly trailed the backs of his fingers against your cheek, almost watching you in some sort of odd reverence that you had no idea existed until the last couple of months. He began to lean in, presumably to try and kiss you like he had earlier, but he must have thought better of it and stopped, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he got to his feet. While you were grateful he hadn’t connected his lips to yours, you had to wonder what deterred him and that made you worry. He studied you for a moment and, just as you feared, he then made his way over to the other chair being used, his soft expression immediately hardening and his warm eyes icing over as they settled on your estranged husband.

He grabbed the back of the chair and dragged him away from the table, choosing to dump him in a corner on his side, making Miles groan in pain. Tom kicked him for good measure and you heard Miles yell out against the gag in his mouth. 

“Please,” burst out of you. “Please, Tom, don’t!”

Tom’s glare snapped up towards you. “After everything he’s done to you, don’t tell me you’re still protecting him.”

You knew you had to act quickly, to cajole Tom so you could draw his focus away from Miles. You were the only reason Miles wasn’t dead yet, you knew that without a doubt. “I’m not,” you soothed. “I just want to eat the dinner you went to the trouble of making for me. It’s been hours since I last ate and I really need to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry, too. Please, just come and sit down.”

Thankfully, Tom’s eyes softened a little at your pleading but he still gave Miles one more good kick that made you flinch before he came over to join you. He pulled a knife out of his jacket which made your heart start to pound a little faster but he simply smiled as he also produced a plastic fork. He leaned down and began to cut your chicken into bite size pieces for you. “I, uh, I’ve never made chicken parmesan before so I hope it’s alright,” he told you, a shy smile on his face. You marveled at how he could go from being the scariest thing you’d seen in your life one minute to being the sweetest and most humble guy you’d ever met in the next. “And I know green beans aren’t what would usually go with this dish but I didn’t really have anything else.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, chuckling nervously.

“I’m okay with green beans,” you quietly assured him.

He dropped his hand and smiled, looking relieved and leaning in to tenderly kiss you. You tried your best not to tense up as he did. Tom then made his way over to his seat, leaving you the fork but not the knife. Not only did he not want to chance you using it on him but he most likely didn’t want you using it on yourself either. You never would but he obviously wasn’t too sure about that. You watched as he poured both of you a glass of sparkling cider and sat down a few battery-operated candles between you.

When he handed you your glass, you were disappointed to find it was plastic. He really had thought of everything. He misread your expression and assured you, “I know it’s not the best but I wanted something nice for you for dinner. I’ll get something better though, next time I’m in town. I promise.” You offered up a thin-lipped smile and a nod which seemed to placate him for the time being. So he planned to keep you for a while then. You only hoped Miles would keep his mouth shut and that you could get Tom to start trusting you as you waited for an opportunity that might come your way with the aforementioned trip to town.

Tom took the seat across from you, smiling, and reached over to touch his glass to yours. You watched as he took a sip and after a moment, you joined him, making him grin happily.

As hungry as you were, you weren’t in a rush to eat anything that he had prepared for you out of sight. What if he was intent on drugging you? You weren’t even sure if he hadn’t before. You barely remembered how you got here. All you knew was Miles showed up, having found you, and Tom reacted, then nothing until you woke up here. The only other thing you remembered was blonde hair and so much blood— You tried to shut that thought out. Thinking about Tom again, If he planned to keep you here for a while, he’d have to sleep at some point and he could be planning to drug you then, like right now. And God only knew what he planned to do with Miles; you prayed you could somehow convince him to let the man go while you stayed behind (even though that would be just as dangerous for you). Though Tom hadn’t been wrong; Miles didn’t deserve your compassion. But that didn’t mean you wanted to watch the man you’d once shared a life with die brutally either. If Tom’s distaste for your husband was anything to go by, if he decided to end Miles, it would indeed be brutal.   

“Something wrong?” 

The question snapped you out of your reverie. You glanced up to find Tom watching you worriedly. You forced a reassuring smile onto your face. “No. Of course not.”

“I thought you needed to eat.” His eyes bored into you, flicking back and forth from the plate to you.

“I will. I’m just…taking it slow.”

He frowned at your food. “It’s not that good, is it?”

“What? No. No,” you worked to reassure him. “It’s just that…” You didn’t want to voice the words and chance angering him.

“Just what?” When you couldn’t think of a way to phrase it and kept quiet instead, he urged you in a softer tone, “Eat, sweetheart.”

You realized then that you had no choice but to take a few bites if you didn’t want to do anything to anger or upset him. You hoped to God that there was nothing in it.

Almost as if he read your mind, his jaw tightened as he went to spear more chicken with his fork on his plate. “There’s nothing in it if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His eyes lifted to yours, that soft reverence back in them. “To either of you.” He flicked them to your round stomach in meaning and then back to you again.

You wanted to believe him, especially when he looked at you like that, but wouldn’t it be easier for him to be rid of the child that wasn’t his? Then again, he hadn’t killed Miles yet and he fancied himself in love with you, and you were currently housing said child… Perhaps he truly didn’t mean your baby harm, while it was in utero at least.

Tom let out a heavy sigh and dropped the fork, making it clatter against his plate. He was now scowling over at you, clearly displeased at your show of distrust in him. Uh oh.

Now definitely without a choice, you took a forkful of chicken and slowly bit into it. He seemed pleased with the action and after a moment, continued to eat himself. As you quietly chewed, you realized that it wasn’t half bad, and you were starving. As scared as you were, you knew you would need to keep up your energy for any opportunity to escape, to get you and your baby to safety, and truthfully, you needed to take any chance at a meal that you could. Tom smiled to himself as you really dug in. 

You had halfway cleaned your plate when you heard “So it’s okay?”

You stopped to see Tom sitting there, leaning forward and watching your every movement, the biggest grin on his face. You swallowed down the chicken you had just stuffed into your mouth and held a hand over your lips self-consciously. “Good,” you admitted quietly. “Very…good.”

Satisfied with that answer and himself, he sat back in his chair and continued to smile over at you. Though it was unnerving, you continued to finish your meal, your goal being to keep your strength up for your baby. When you were done, he got to his feet and grabbed his plate, slowly making his way over to you. Your heart pounded with each heavy footstep and it nearly stopped when he reached you. 

Tom grabbed your empty plate and slid his still half-full one in front of you, placing your fork onto it. When you turned a puzzled expression up towards him, he leaned down and pecked your lips, murmuring to you, “You two need it more than I do.” He kissed you one more time before he walked away, heading into the kitchen. You watched him go in shock, thoughts racing in your mind. Knowing he had eaten some of the food and remembering his promise, after mulling it over for a minute or two, you then dug in, your focus on the chicken and green beans. You needed as much energy as you could get.

He spooned you that night after insisting you take the only bed in the place — his bed. You felt him press a tender kiss to the back of your neck every few minutes and while that made you uncomfortable, his hands gently rubbing your belly had you absolutely terrified. You imagined all sorts of horrible things as you laid there in the dark, with only a shaft of moonlight sneaking into the room through an opening in the curtains. You kept expecting a knife to be pulled, a fist to collide with your bump, to feel the stab of a hypodermic needle — something. It got so bad that you started to shake and Tom, thinking you were cold, moved the blanket over you both a little higher before resuming his ministrations. You wanted nothing more than to throw his hands off of you and get out of the bed, moving away from him. It was one thing for him to have his hands on you, though now it made your skin crawl in the worst way, but your baby…you would give anything to keep him away from the one person you’d do anything to protect.

You were frozen in fear despite the tremors of your body. You felt the baby move and while that should have overjoyed you like it usually did, it caused tears to start rolling down your cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath you. How much longer would you get to feel that? How much longer would Tom allow you to keep your baby?

“Oh,” he exhaled against your neck. “She’s kicking.”

You closed your eyes, forcing more tears to fall, as your lips trembled. You thought back to the first time he’d come into contact with your baby this way. You had been such a fool — such a blind, trusting, naive fool. 

You were cleaning a wooden frame of a painting with a rag when you felt the familiar movement within your tummy. “Oh,” you chuckled, holding a hand to the side of your stomach. 

“Are you okay?” 

You glanced up to find Tom up on a ladder, watching you with furrowed brows. You gave him a bright smile. “Yeah, of course. The baby’s kicking. Come down here, quick.”

Still looking worried, Tom hurried down the ladder and approached you. 

“Give me your hand.” You grabbed the hand he offered up and placed it right where you had just felt movement. Tom glanced back and forth between you and your stomach, looking unsure for what he should be feeling.

A moment later, the baby kicked again. “There! You feel it?”

You knew he must have because an expression of surprise and awe came over his handsome face as he stared down where you held his hand. 

Another kick happened and it made you laugh. “Oh, she’s very active today.”

Tom smiled over at you. “You’re having a girl?”

“Well, I don’t really know what I’m having yet but,” You grinned, feeling yet another kick. “I hope it is.”

“Then I hope it is, too.” You glanced up to find him watching you with that soft look you’d seen before. You gently squeezed his hand in thanks and then focused again on your bump. 

Tom had been helping you restore the old house you’d moved into. You felt comfortable around Tom, he put you immediately at ease when you met. He’d been a huge help to you and when you had moments like that, you just chalked it up to him maybe having a little crush on you. At least that’s what Cindy, a new friend of yours (and the realtor who’d helped you find the place), said the first time she’d seen you two together when she stopped by to see how you were doing and how the house was coming along. But you never thought anything more of it. Tom never made a move or asked you out. He also never encroached on your personal space without invitation or pushed past your boundaries. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable. As you got to know him, you began to trust him.

But now, you wondered how you could have ever been so stupid.  

“You feel that, Y/N?” He breathed, grabbing your hand and holding it to your stomach. “She kicked again.” His tone was so full of wonder and happy surprise that you immediately started to cry. His hand traveled from your stomach up to your hair, smoothing it away from your face. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” You could hear the sudden concern. 

“Are you going to kill my baby?” You choked out on a sob.

You felt him turn you onto your back so he could look down at you. He looked less than pleased but he murmured, “No. I told you, I would never hurt either of you. I love you.” He inclined his head towards your stomach. “And her. Everything I’m doing is for you both. I wish you would believe me, Y/N.”

“I really want to,” you cried.

He wiped at your tears and stroked your cheek, before leaning down to kiss you. This time, you opened up for him when he sought entrance beyond your lips and you knew he was pleased by the little groan he let escape into your mouth. You didn’t protest when his hands roamed all over your body, thankfully steering clear of your stomach. You didn’t say a word when he stripped you of your clothes, whispering “Beautiful” as he uncovered every inch of your skin. You didn’t fight when he urged you to open up for him and his tender touch brought you to heights you had never reached before with a partner other than him that left you gasping for air. As you shivered and shook, unable to keep from crying out, and dug your fingernails into his arm, he smiled lovingly down at you. While you came back down, he pressed kisses to your hair, face, and lips. He watched you, almost if he was waiting for something, so you hesitantly reached out for the button on his jeans, thinking you now needed to return the favor, when he stopped you.

“This was about you,” he murmured before kissing you. “It’s been a long day. You should get some rest.”

You nodded, not wanting to disagree in the slightest. He pulled the blankets up over your naked form and urged you onto your side again, away from him. He spooned you once more and placed a kiss to the back of your neck. “Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.” His hand then cupped over your belly protectively. “Both of you.”  

You bit your lip to keep the tears from starting up again. God, you hoped that was true.

The next morning, you woke up alone, feeling groggier than usual. You panicked for a moment, thinking Tom may have drugged you after all, but you remembered you hadn’t eaten or drunk anything before you went to sleep. You also didn’t find any obvious injection sites when you searched your body in the bathroom, using both mirrors to your advantage. You chalked it up to everything that happened yesterday. It had been taxing on you, mentally and physically. You were just exhausted and needed more sleep. You might even need a nap today, if only you could relax enough to take one. Though you didn’t see that happening anytime soon. You dressed and made your way out to the main room, worried about where Tom was, though you felt a little relief seeing Miles in the room, still breathing. 

You found Tom in the kitchen, making you breakfast, and he gave you a big smile when he saw you. “Morning, Beautiful.” He leaned down and pecked your lips, giving a gentle stroke to your belly with his free hand. “My two beautiful girls.” You forced a smile and hugged him from behind, laying your head against his back, just like you used to do. You hoped that the gesture of affection would keep him just like this, a semblance of the Tom you’d known before Miles ever showed up. It must’ve worked because he squeezed your arms with his free hand and continued cooking.

Thankfully, this time when you sat down at the table, he didn’t tie you to the chair. Instead, he smiled at you as he placed the plate of eggs in front of you and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Eat, sweetheart,” he urged. “And then I want to show you something.”

You nodded, immediately digging in and not wanting to displease him. 

His smile grew as he watched you and he leaned down once more to kiss your temple. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. His hand slipped down to your belly and gave it a rub. “My girls,” he corrected, before walking back into the kitchen. 

Miles, who was still gagged and tied to his chair, glared over at you from the corner of the room. At some point before you came out of the bedroom earlier, Tom had righted his chair so now he could watch every single thing you and Tom did. You weren’t exactly sure what Tom was planning but you didn’t like it. You especially didn’t like that the man who had terrorized you for years was currently staring at you with pure hatred, as if he’d like to kill you, as if all of this was somehow your fault. In a way, you supposed it was because had you not let Tom into your life in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, had Miles left you alone and not coming looking for you, Tom wouldn’t have snapped. At least, you don’t think he would have. And Cindy would still be alive.

“Fucking crazy bitch.” Your eyes snapped to Miles who was still scowling at you. Whatever he said was usually muffled by his gag but you could hear it clear as day. You frowned and went back to your food. 

Tom reappeared just then and placed a bowl of cut up fruit in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

He gave you a nod, seeming pleased, until he noticed Miles glaring over at you. You watched the change happen within his expression and suddenly you knew you needed to intervene and quickly. Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed his hand, prompting him to look down at you. 

“I need to get exercise. For the baby. Will you take me for a walk after I’m done?”

His eyes briefly softened while the rest of him did not. “Of course.” He dropped your hand and moved around the table, coming to a stop in front of Miles. “You keep looking at her like that and I’ll cut your eyes out and feed them to you,” he threatened with a menacing edge to his tone. “Don’t forget, the only reason you’re even still breathing is because of her.” Tom straightened up, a terrifying smirk on his face, before he punched MIles. You winced, dropping your fork to your plate.

Miles turned back to glare up at Tom, more blood seeping into his gag. “Fuck you, you piece of shit! Fuck you and that fucking crazy whore!” He yelled against the gag. Tom gave him one more punch for good measure, causing Miles to yell out in pain, before he walked away, that smirk still on his face. You watched as Tom sat down across from you and tucked into his own breakfast, seemingly unbothered by what just occurred. You quickly glanced over at Miles, seeing him still glaring but blood coming out of his broken nose.  

“He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”

You quickly looked back at Tom to find him watching you, not glaring so much but also not seeming pleased.

You gripped your fork tightly but forced yourself to keep a smooth expression. “It’s not sympathy, but pity. Pity that he doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” You turned a glare over on your husband who more than gladly returned it.

When you turned back to Tom, he was studying you, smirking. “Finish your breakfast, sweetheart, so I can show you my surprise and then we can go for that walk.”

You did as he instructed, digging into the fruit, not wanting to displease him any further. Thankfully, though, he seemed to be mollified, for now.

You stared around you in horror, your knees feeling weak. You held onto the wall for support.

Tom had taken your hand and led you to a small room in the back of the cabin that you had no idea existed, near the bedroom you had spent the night in. He smiled at you and told you to shut your eyes when you arrived at the closed door. You did as he instructed, not wanting to make him angry. He opened the door, led you into the room with his hands over your eyes, and then asked if you were ready. You nodded and he dropped his hands as you opened your eyes and looked around you, your jaw dropping. 

“Surprise,” he crowed. “What do you think?”

You were thinking you were going to be sick. You were staring at an exact replica of the nursery you and Tom had put together back in your house, right down to the crib sheet, mobile, paint colors, and night light. Everything you had purchased for your nursery, he had obviously gone and bought a double of to place here. You even spotted the same rocking chair in the corner, the same changing table, and the same toys and books you’d decorated the room with. The same stuffed animals sat in the crib. Even a double of the breast pump machine you’d bought was sitting on the changing table. 

“What do you think?” Tom asked happily as he glanced around. “Is it just like the one we put together back at your place?”

You robotically walked to the changing table, opening the cabinets underneath, and you saw the same outfits you’d bought, folded and arranged in the exact same way. You held a hand to your mouth; you felt the urge to scream but you couldn’t let it out. You started to shake. How long had he been planning this? To kidnap you and your baby and bring you both here?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said from behind you, forcing you to tense up and drop your hand, schooling your features before you turned to look up at him. He was watching you worriedly. “I only did this as a back-up. In case we ever had to come out here. If that bastard out there ever tracked you down and we had to leave quickly, I wanted to make sure you and our daughter had everything you needed.”

Our daughter. It felt like you were falling into an endless void and you would never wake up from this nightmare. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You managed to ask.

He framed your face with his hands. “I didn’t want to worry you. And I figured it would be a nice surprise if we ever did have to come here. A little piece of home.” He gave you a soft smile. “Do you like it?”

You nodded, not sure what else to do, not able to say anything right then. He grinned and kissed you, happy that you liked the surprise. You thought you’d been in trouble before when he tied you up and brought you out here where no one could hear you scream. Now, you realized, you were in so much more trouble than you’d even imagined.

Tom held your hand as you both walked the property. Thoughts were racing through your mind but you did your best to pay attention to every inch of the land that he took you to. 

“You’ve been quiet.” If you closed your eyes, you could swear you could hear the Tom that had become your friend and confidante over the months you’d worked on your house together. 

“Just…overwhelmed. And tired.”

Tom stopped in his tracks and your heart rate picked up, worried you had somehow said something wrong.

He turned to you, staring into your eyes, a layer of concern shadowing his expression. “I know this has been a lot and it’s an adjustment. But I promise you, Y/N, all I want is for our family to be together. Without having to worry about sick fucks like the one in there,” He inclined his head back towards the cabin. “Who want to threaten that, who want to hurt you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes. “And Cindy?”

His jaw tightened and he looked away. “She wasn’t your friend.”

“She was,” you choked out. “And she was a good one.”

His gaze snapped back to yours and he lifted his free hand to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “No, she wasn’t, sweetheart. How do you think he found you?”

You shook your head, shaking a few tears loose. No, you refused to believe it. He was just trying to trick you into believing it so you would see things his way. “No. She wouldn’t do that. No.” 

Tom wiped your tears away and you could see pity staring back at you. For a cold-blooded killer, it threw you for a loop that he could feel anything like pity or worry for you or concern for the baby or any other emotion besides anger, jealousy, and hatred. “When he showed up in her office, he asked where you were and she told him, point blank. No hesitation, just ‘here’s the address’. He even admitted it.”

“No, he lies. He probably showed up in uniform and that’s why she—”

“She knew better. You told her that was a possibility, you told her his name so she could be on the lookout. And still, she didn’t think twice about it and sent him over to find you.”

“No, she would’ve called me to warn me if that happened, if she had no choice. Maybe that’s why she was there…to warn me.”

He gave you a look. “She wasn’t your friend, Y/N. She gossiped about you behind your back. She came onto me at the Christmas party, though I had gone there with you.”

That revelation surprised you but honestly, you didn’t know what was up or down anymore, never mind the truth.  “We went as friends. We weren’t together then.”

“She knew I liked you, that I wanted to be with you.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth.

You waited until he straightened back up. “That’s still no reason to kill her,” you gritted out, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

He looked at you sadly, wiping the tear away. “I know.”

Your brows drew together in confusion. You hadn’t expected that response. 

Tom pressed a kiss to your forehead and tightened his grip on your hand. “It’s pretty cold out. Let’s get you back inside where you can get warm.”

You let him lead you back to the cabin, turning that last part of the conversation over and over in your mind. From the sound of it, he knew his killing of Cindy had been wrong. A spark of hope started up in your chest though you were afraid to trust it. He still had you and Miles captive here, after all.

That night, as he spooned you from behind in his bed, he was kissing your neck, his hands moving all over your body. You could feel his erection digging into your back. “I love you so much,” he murmured to your skin. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart. You and me. And our little girl.” He placed his hand on your belly, trailing his lips up to your jaw. You closed your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks, and you tried to imagine the Tom who had first made love to you nearly a month ago, who had sweetly kissed your baby bump every time he left the house and every time he came home. You held onto that Tom in your mind as he undressed you, then himself, probed you to make sure you were ready, and slid into you from behind, sighing happily into your neck as he did. He gently pumped his hips into yours and you could feel his hand making its way down between your legs, touching you in a similar way to how he had touched you last night, with complete tenderness. “We were meant to find each other,” he grunted into your ear as you arched your back and laid your head against his shoulder, reacting to his touch. “Be a family.” You tried to ignore his words and only focus on the pleasure coursing through you. He’d said these things to you before, back when he was your Tom, and you’d believed him. 

You could hear the old bed creaking beneath you and you could feel his rhythm increasing, the moans and sweet whispers in your ear picking up in frequency. You knew he was close and you squeezed your eyes shut harder, trying to imagine you and him back in your bed at your house, as if nothing had changed between you. That image helped bring you closer to the edge and you reached an arm back, gripping his hair, crying out as you got even closer and closer. His pace increased and the headboard was knocking against the wall now, his groans sounding out in rapid succession, almost tangling with your cries in midair, joining together in an almost impassioned chorus. Lost in your fantasy and the sensations you were feeling, you moaned out, “Kiss me.” Tom’s mouth was on yours, his tongue sweeping against your own, and that pushed you over the edge. You stiffened and he swallowed your cries, grunting loudly himself and intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing as he fell over his own edge. You were still shaking a couple of minutes later when he slipped out of you and gently rolled you onto your back as you caught your breath. 

You could see him beaming down at you, still panting himself, his hair messy from your fingers, eyes bright and full of adoration for you. The same way he’d looked the other times you’d had sex in the past. It made your heart soar but also break mid-flight. “I love you.” You saw how much he meant it and your heart completely shattered.

Your eyes filled with tears as you reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I love you, too,” you whispered. And you did, this version of Tom, anyway. His smile grew and he laid his head down on your chest, sighing in contentment as you ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. Tears dripped down your cheeks as you held him, wondering how the universe could be so cruel as to send someone to you that loved you and your baby so much only to have him turn out to be a cold-blooded killer. 

You woke up alone again, even groggier than the day before. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if Tom was actually drugging you in some way once you fell asleep. You had held him until he fell asleep himself last night but obviously, at some point, he must have woken up after you passed out.

You felt irritable, which was most likely a side effect of the grogginess you felt and possibly whatever Tom was drugging you with, as well as typical pregnancy hormones. It was so bad that you couldn’t even be bothered to drum up a smile for Tom who was looking at you like you were the best thing that existed on the planet. You took the food he gave you and dug in, not even thanking him like you usually made sure to do.

You felt off and when he spoke softly to you, “Eat, sweetheart, and then we’ll go for another walk”, you nearly snapped at him, demanding to know what he’d been drugging you with and why. You’d only just held yourself back, reminding yourself you weren’t supposed to say or do anything that would anger him.

Miles, though, was fair game. 

He had called you names, though muffled by the gag, the minute Tom stepped out of the room. You ignored him as best you could, though it still got under your skin. Who the hell was he to sit there and call you things like “whore” and “slut”? Even if he had heard you and Tom together last night? Was he so stupid that he didn’t realize the predicament he was in, that you all were in? Had Tom’s threats and beatings not made it clear enough? When Tom got up to get you more decaffeinated tea, Miles threw more insults your way and you decided, yes, he really was that stupid. Nothing you hadn’t already known, you supposed.

Tom placed the tea in front of you and you gave him a nod. His brows drew together for a moment before he smoothed them out, taking his seat once more. He glanced between you and Miles. “Everything okay?”

“Terrific,” you snapped. It didn’t hit you until you said it what you had done. You quickly glanced up at Tom who didn’t look displeased at your attitude (thankfully) but was studying you intently. “Sorry,” you offered more gently. “I’m not having a good morning.”

He nodded, his brows still drawn together. “Well, finish up and we’ll get out of here for a while, stretch our legs, and get some fresh air.” He gave you a patient and understanding smile.

You gave him a wan smile in return, realizing how lucky you were that he was being so understanding and hadn’t gotten angry with you. You were picking up the plastic butter knife to spread jam on your toast when Miles said something nasty to you both, once again muffled by his gag. 

At that point, you’d had enough. You dropped the knife and pounded the table with your fist, making the plates shake. “Shut. Up!” You yelled over at him. He scowled at you but did indeed shut up. You realized what you’d done and you worriedly glanced back at Tom. His eyes were flicking back and forth between you and Miles before getting to his feet. Your heart leapt into your throat. Oh no. Now you’d done it.

He made his way over to you, glaring at Miles as he did. When he stopped in front of you, he held out his hand which you warily took. He pulled you to your feet and gripped your chin between his fingers. “I think we should go for that walk now. Okay?” You nodded, not exactly sure what was going to happen but you noticed him shooting a terrifying glare in Miles’ direction. You remembered you needed to keep your strength up so you picked up the piece of toast you had been intent on eating and took it with you as he led you to the door. He saw and chuckled, squeezing your hand, as he opened the screen door for you both to walk through.     

“You feeling a little better?”

You turned to look at him, wondering how to answer that. Yes, you weren’t as edgy, but no, you didn’t exactly feel better. You finally settled on “A little.”

He gave you a hint of a smile and nodded, averting his gaze to the path in front of you. 

After a minute, he spoke. “You know, if he’s becoming a problem, I can take care of it.”

You froze, stopping in your tracks, your eyes wide. This was exactly what you didn’t want.

He noticed you had stopped and glanced back at you over his shoulder with furrowed brows. 

You didn’t want to anger him but maybe you were too tired, too scared, or too irritated — you couldn’t help but finally speak your mind. “I don’t want you to kill him.”

Instead of angry, he appeared confused as he spun around to fully face you. “Why? He’s obviously upsetting you, which isn’t good for the baby or you, he’s stinking up the place, he refuses to eat anything. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve to live after what he’s done to you. No one’s even going to miss the guy. Not to mention, it would keep you and our daughter safe... What’s the point of keeping him around?”

Tears started to blur your vision as you finally admitted the truth. “I can’t… I can’t kill someone, even him.”

Tom stared into your eyes before licking his lips and looking away. “That’s why I’m offering to do it.”

It terrified you to say this next part but you had to say it. “If this is going to work with us, as a family…you can’t kill anymore people, Tom.” His eyes snapped to yours and your heart began to pound harder in fear. “You can’t kill and I can’t order someone’s death. Even his.” Tears made their way down your face and his gaze softened a little, seeing them. 

He reached up and wiped them away with his thumbs before pulling you into him, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Okay,” he murmured to you. “Okay. We’ll figure something else out for him.” He embraced you tightly and you closed your eyes, relieved. “And then it’ll just be us, the three of us, our family.”

You nodded against him, though you secretly knew you still had to figure out a way to escape. Perhaps once you were able to figure out what to do with Miles, then that would leave just the two of you. And then either Tom would be forced to take you into town for supplies which gave you more of an opportunity to escape or get help, or he’d be forced to leave you here. Based on the two walks you had so far, you were starting to get to know the property. Even though there was nothing but woods surrounding you, perhaps you could make your way at least to the property line. From there, you could figure out your next move.

He released you, kissed you, and took your hand again to start heading back. 

“And Tom?” 

He glanced over at you. 

You didn’t want to push your luck but since you had already spoken up about Miles and the killing, you were going to speak up about this, too. Especially since your child was at stake. “Whatever you’re drugging me with at night, you have to stop. It could be hurting the baby.”

He furrowed his brows again. “Sweetheart, I’m not drugging you. I told you, I would never do anything to hurt her. Or you. I would never put either of you at risk like that.”

You wanted to believe him but you also knew what you felt. “Then why do I feel so groggy when I wake up in the morning? And it’s gotten worse each time?”

He studied you, looking as if he wanted to say something, when a sudden realization dawned on his face. A smile crept along his face. “You’re probably tired because I’ve been keeping you up at night. You probably just need a good night’s rest, that’s all. I’ll tell you what, tonight you take a nice, hot shower, we’ll go to bed a little earlier, and we’ll just sleep. How does that sound?”

You didn’t want to appear too eager for him not to engage in any sexual activities with you so you just nodded and hugged his arm, whispering, “That sounds good, thank you.”

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into him, leading you both back to the cabin. His smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, sweetheart. I just couldn’t resist you, but don’t worry, I promise to keep my hands to myself. Your rest is more important, especially for her.” He laid a hand over your bump, patting it gently, and you tried not to cringe under his arm.

Two weeks had passed and truth be told, you were surprised no one had come looking for you yet, considering you, Tom, and Miles were missing, you were pregnant, and Cindy’s dead body had been left in your house. Your due date was little more than a month away, and you were starting to worry you might have to deliver at the cabin if you weren’t found soon. 

Miles was still with you both, alive, as cantankerous as ever. He eventually started to eat the small amounts of food Tom let him have when he realized Tom wasn’t going to kill him and he obviously wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He still threw insults at you every chance he got but for the most part, you ignored him to the best of your ability. If Tom overheard, which was rare, he beat the crap out of Miles until either you begged him to stop or Miles lost consciousness. You and Tom were still trying to figure out what to do with him, but short of taking him somewhere deep in the woods and dropping him off there with the hopes that a bear might get him, you didn’t really have any options. And since you asked Tom not to kill him, a hostage Miles remained.

Tom had kept his word and kept his hands to himself at night. He still spooned you, still kissed you and caressed your bump, but he let you sleep. You still woke up groggy sometimes, as if you hadn’t slept a wink, but it had gotten a little better. Tom blamed those mornings on the old mattress. He swore he’d buy a new one the next time he was in town (which thankfully was coming up soon). You had taken to showering before bed every night, hoping the hot water would relax your body enough that you would drift off into a deep, restful sleep. You had actually gotten used to Tom cuddling you and you no longer feared for your child’s life when he touched your belly. He talked to the baby sometimes, something you heard while you were falling asleep, and his tone was so gentle and loving and reverent, that you couldn’t help but think he really meant it when he said he wanted all of you to be a family. He had even taken to kissing the bump again throughout different parts of the day or if he had to go outside to chop wood. He cooked for you every day without complaint, though you’d offered to pitch in to help (hoping he would trust you completely and you could get access to knives and other cooking tools that could be weaponized at some point if needed). He’d given you a knowing smile and thanked you but told you that he was fine with the arrangement, he didn’t mind. You mentally cursed yourself at being so transparent but you were also thankful he hadn’t gotten angry. 

For the most part, though, you’d settled into a sort of routine with Tom every day: breakfast, walk, you were free to move around the cabin as he chopped wood for an hour, he’d take you into the nursery to sit in the rocking chair for a bit to either go over possible baby names or to sit and read to the baby or to play music (he had gotten the same pair of fetal headphones you did), lunch, a nap he insisted you take each day to help you rest better while he fixed things up around the cabin, a free couple of hours to do whatever you wanted, dinner, another walk, shower, and then bed. 

You were following this routine one such day when Miles appeared to have finally lost his mind altogether. 

It was dinnertime and you had come into the main room with a book in your hand. When setting up the nursery here, Tom had bought the same books you had to prepare for the pregnancy. You were able to pick up where you left off in What To Expect When You’re Expecting. You sat down as Tom came in with a plate of carrots for you to snack on. He smiled when he saw your nose in the book, mindlessly reaching out for a carrot, and dropped a kiss on your head. “What chapter are you on?”

“Still on the eighth month,” you answered without looking at him, taking a bite out of the carrot. 

“Mmm,” he hummed against your hair. “Maybe you’ll finish it by the time we eat. I’ve got about ten more minutes left and then we’re good to go.” 

“That’s fine. I’ve got carrots to munch on and plenty to read in the meantime.” You held the book up in gesture. 

He chuckled and dropped another kiss to your head before walking away. You immediately got back to reading. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tom loosen Miles’ gag and then shove two pieces of white bread in his mouth. “Here, dipshit.” He slammed a small plastic cup of water on the arm of his chair, spilling most of it and not really caring. “Enjoy.”

Tom left the room with a glare over his shoulder in Miles’ direction. 

Miles spit out the bread and turned furious eyes on you. You ignored him, choosing to go back to your chapter. 

“You stupid, crazy fucking whore.”

Your jaw tightened but you remained silent, picking up another carrot to snack on.

“You hear me? You’re so desperate for dick you’re playing house with that crazy fucker.”

You could feel yourself tense up but you simply turned the page. 

“You’re a stupid fucking crazy whore and I always knew you were.”

You rolled your eyes. “Careful, Miles, you’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

That had been a mistake to say. A shark-like grin appeared on Miles’ face — well, as much as it could with his face beat to hell. “You want to hear something different? Alright, how about this? When I get outta here and I will get outta here, I’m going to kill that motherfucker right in front of you. I’m going to bash his skull in while you watch. Then when I’m done with him, I’m going to come for you.” You tried not to show it but you could feel an age-old fear creeping up on you. “Since you’re such a whore, I’m gonna use you like the whore you are, over and over again, until you’re crying and begging me to stop. And just like old times, I won’t.” You could feel the tremors starting up. “I’ll even fuck you right next to his corpse so you can cry all over his brains on the ground. And then when I’m finished with you, good and finished, I’m going to beat the hell out of you but not before I cut that baby out of you and strangle it with its own cord right in front of you. Then if you’re somehow still alive after all that, I’m gonna kill you. And I’m gonna get a medal for it. ‘Hero cop stops modern-day Bonnie and Clyde from continuing their killing spree.’ You just wait. The governor will be shaking my hand and I may even get a call from the goddamn President, thanking me for my service. I put down three rabid dogs, all for the price of one, the one I was tracking down in the first place. I’m gonna be a goddamn hero for this, for ripping you and your evil spawn from this world. How’s that for a new record, you crazy whore?”

A tear slipped down your cheek and he laughed. 

“I should’ve fucking gotten rid of you when I had the chance. Now, I’ll have that chance and I’m going to enjoy it.” He laughed again.

You wiped your cheek just in time for Tom to walk in with a bow of mashed potatoes. You noticed that for all of Miles’ bravado a moment earlier, he sure got quiet when Tom walked into the room. 

Tom placed the bowl down on the table. “Just give me five more minutes.” He glanced up and immediately knew something was off. “What’s wrong?”

You gave him a thin smile. “Nothing,” you assured him. “Looks like I’m not going to make it to the ninth month chapter after all.” You placed the book down; you had lost your appetite for both knowledge and for food. “I’m actually not feeling well so I think I’m going to go to bed early.”

He tilted his head, confused. “But you were feeling fine a few minutes ago. Was it the carrots? Or something else…?”

You shook your head, ignoring Miles’ chuckling under his breath. “I just need to lay down. I’m sorry, I know you worked hard on dinner. Can you save me some for tomorrow?”

Tom’s eyes darted to Miles, his jaw tightening. “Of course. Get some rest and feel better, sweetheart. I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” You turned and left the room, wincing when you heard Miles yelling out in pain presumably from Tom hitting him but you refused to turn back and look.

When you got out of the shower and dressed in the sleeveless maternity nightgown Tom had thought to buy for you, you wiped the condensation off the mirror with a hand and stared into it. You couldn’t believe the things Miles had said to you but then again it was Miles, so you could. A part of you wondered if Tom was right; would it be safer for you and your baby if Miles was gone for good? You shook the thought from your head, not even wanting to entertain it. No matter how horrific Miles was, no matter how dangerous, you weren’t a killer. Even if he was killed by some other means, you didn’t want to be the one responsible. You were better than that, a better person. You wouldn’t become like Miles and let him win.  

You heard a soft knock on the door. “Y/N?”

You nervously licked your lips and went to open the door. You hoped Tom wasn’t upset with you for missing dinner. But when you opened it, all you saw was concern and worry staring back at you.

He ducked his head, meeting your eyes. “Are you feeling any better?”

You tried to smile but it probably came out as a grimace. “Yeah.”

Tom studied you for a moment and then held out his hand which looked remarkably clean considering what he had done to Miles recently. “I want to show you something.”

Thinking it might have to do with Miles, you started to shake your head. “No, I don’t—”

“It’s for the baby,” he soothed. “I have it right here on the bed.”

You let out a quiet breath of relief and took his hand. He kissed your forehead and led you over to the bed where a box sat on top. He urged you to get closer and take a look at it, releasing you. 

You gazed down at the box, picking it up and looking it over. “A home fetal heart monitor?”

“Yeah.” He sat down on the bed, taking the box from you and opening it. “I know you haven’t been able to go for your usual checkup due to our…situation at the moment.” He pulled everything out and laid it on the bed. “I bought this long before we came here, in case we needed it. You said the baby is pretty active every day so I didn’t think it was needed. But, you know what, maybe it’s not a bad idea to check in on her. What do you say?”

You were honestly floored at the gesture and you wondered if he had gotten Miles to confess what he’d said or if he overheard again. Either way, you were touched. “Um…” You bit your lip, trying to keep from crying. Damn these pregnancy hormones sometimes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yeah,” you laughed, a tear slipping out as you reached for the wand. 

He read the instructions and you both figured out how to use it. He urged you to sit back against him as he lifted the hem of your nightgown over your belly. He applied the gel and you used the wand, moving it around until your baby’s heartbeat started to sound from the speaker. You couldn’t help but smile.

“There she is,” Tom whispered into your ear in awe. “There’s our little girl.”

You felt your eyes welling up again, joy and relief flooding through you as you listened to your baby’s steady heartbeat. You turned your head to look at Tom, seeing the same emotions reflecting back at you. “Thank you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. Somehow he knew just what you needed. The louder and steadier your baby’s heartbeat was, the more it drowned out Miles’ words. 

You felt completely at peace and able to drift off to sleep soon after, with Tom wrapped around you. Your baby was okay and she was going to be safe.

Perhaps Miles was right. Maybe you were kind of playing house with a “crazy fucker” as he claimed. But you’d take that crazy fucker over Miles anyday. That crazy fucker cared more about your child than he, the biological father, did. Tom cared about her, wanted her, and would do whatever it took to keep you both safe while Miles had threatened to hurt her, hurt you both. So yeah, you’d take the “crazy fucker” any day of the week.

A scream startled you awake. You sat up as best as you could, glancing around the dimly lit bedroom. You could see the first shafts of morning light peeking through the windows. You were alone in the bed. “Tom?” You called, scared when you didn’t see him. You didn’t know what you’d heard but you were frozen in terror.

Another pained scream erupted out of nowhere and it sounded like it was coming from outside. Miles’ words came back to you and you hurriedly got to your feet, realized you were nude (Tom must have taken your nightgown off to be skin on skin again; he liked that), and dressed. Your hair was still damp from your shower last night but you had no time to throw it up in a bun or ponytail. You felt sore and you noticed a few cuts on your fingers. The sight terrified you especially given how sore your body was and how you had woken up nude but Tom was nowhere to be found. Especially when you remembered Miles’ threats. “Tom?” You cried but you still got no answer. 

You made your way to the main room and gasped when you saw blood in the corner where Miles had been, partially covered by a sheet. You noticed there was blood spatter all over the walls, in almost every nook and cranny. Some of it had even landed on the table, the opposing wall, and the area of floor you were about to step on. “No. No!” You weren’t sure if you were more scared of Tom at this moment, or for him. You belatedly realized he must have overheard Miles threatening you and the baby last night and that was definitely why he brought out the fetal monitor to assure you. You’d had such a sweet moment with it; how did you go from that to this within a matter of hours?

You ran out the door, the screen door slamming back against the house. You didn’t see anything or anyone in the distance. You heard the screaming again and it seemed like it was coming from the surrounding woods to your right. 

“Tom!” You screamed. 

You ran back inside, looking for anything you could use as a weapon, maneuvering as best you could with your stomach but not finding anything, and hurried back out to the porch. You had to stop Tom. Miles had been horrific to you and didn’t deserve your intervention but you couldn’t let this happen to him. He was a human being, a horrible disgusting human being, but a human being nonetheless. You were about to hurry down the stairs when a bloody Tom appeared in front of you, a pickaxe in his hand. 

You froze, unsure if you should run back inside or if that would even make a difference. You held a hand over your mouth and your eyes filled with tears when you noticed something hanging from one side of the pickaxe’s blade that looked suspiciously organ-like.

He came to a stop in front of you, near the bottom of the stairs, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Is it the baby?” He asked worriedly, panting. 

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from yelling in terror. You couldn’t keep the tears from spilling down your face, though. 

He saw and his brows drew together until realization dawned upon his face. He dropped the pickaxe to the ground and spoke gently. “I’m okay, sweetheart. This isn’t my blood.”

Tom actually thought you were worried about him, that somehow Miles had gotten a hold of him like he’d threatened and was doing horrific, unspeakable things to him. A voice deep down told you to play along. “Will you please come inside then and let me clean you up?” You fought hard to keep the wobble out of your voice.

His eyes softened and he climbed the stairs to stand before you. The sight of so much blood made you want to vomit. You weren’t squeamish by any means but the amount of blood covering Tom from head to toe… If Miles wasn’t dead already, he soon would be. 

Tom went to reach out a hand to your cheek but then saw the blood and thought better of it, dropping it to his side. 

“Y-You promised,” you forced out.

“I did.”

“Why then? W-Why did you break it? We were…we were doing so well,” you sobbed out.

His jaw tightened but his eyes saddened. “We still are. Let me go finish…that. I’ll come back, clean up, and then we’ll talk.” He said it as if he was simply going to finish chopping firewood and then come back for lunch. 

“Tom,” you gasped, trying to breathe through the sobs tearing out of you. “If you continue ro torture him, I can’t be with you.”

His brows furrowed again and you waited for the terrifying expression you’d seen all too often to make a reappearance. Instead, he looked more confused than ever. “I’m not torturing him, Y/N.”

“Yes, you are. I heard him screaming.”

His lips parted in shock and he went to reach out for you again. This time, you flinched and moved backwards on reflex. He dropped his hand and curled it into a fist. You were scared that you angered him but God, how could you live with yourself if you let him go continue killing Miles slowly and brutally? 

“Sweetheart,” he spoke gently. “No one was screaming. Except you.”

“I know what I heard, Tom!” Was he seriously trying to gaslight you right now into believing you had been hearing things? The bloody pickaxe was still on the ground, with whatever attached it, for crying out loud. “It woke me up!”

His eyes softened then. “Miles was dead before I dragged him out here. You saw…inside…no one could have survived that.”

You felt like your heart stopped. The way he talked about murdering another human being so casually made your blood run cold. 

He took another step closer and you took another step backwards. He held out a placating hand but all you could see was the blood caked on his skin. “Y/N, look at me.” You lifted your gaze to his and only then did you notice how badly you were shaking. “I need you to take some deep breaths and relax.”

“Relax?” You laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“You need to stay calm for the baby.”

You huffed out a snort in disbelief but after a moment, you realized he was right. The last thing you needed right now was for labor to start early or for there to be any complications when you were this remote. You forced yourself to take deep breaths. 

“Good.” He gave you a tiny smile. “Now, I need you to listen to me.”

You focused on your breathing, not wanting to listen to him but you had no choice.

“I need you to go inside and pack your things. There’s a bag under the bed you can put your clothes and the baby’s clothes in. When I’m done, I’ll come in, clean myself up, and get the rest of what we’ll need.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re taking me somewhere else? Are you serious?” You felt like your mind was unraveling. “What about— What about the nursery?” You could care less about the nursery right now but it was what your mind grasped onto, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. 

“We’ll take most of it with us. Don’t worry. I can recreate it in the new place. Quickly, too, before she comes.”

“Another remote cabin?” You snapped.

He shook his head. “A home. For us, for our family. There’s a swingset in the backyard and everything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just how long have you been planning this? First this cabin? Now a house? How long, Tom?” You demanded.

He seemed unsure how to answer but he said, “As long as I’ve had to. Now, please, go inside and pack. If you hear anything, just know I’m okay and he’s already dead. Alright?”

You kept focusing on your breathing, not answering him.

“I promise I’ll explain everything once we’re on the road.”

The road? Depending on which road he planned to take, there may be other cars on that road, places he needed to pull over for gas — people. You could possibly flag someone down for help or even make an escape attempt that might be successful. The road was good. It meant opportunity. 

You took another deep breath and nodded, opening the screen door and walking inside, refusing to look back at Tom or the massacre-decorated corner of the main room. 

You had packed everything Tom had told you to: your clothes, the baby clothes, your book, any necessities. After a while, Tom had come back, spent a few hours attempting to clean the blood from the main room which he urged you to keep the bedroom door shut for with the bedroom window open in case, jumped in the shower, and then urged you out the door. He packed everything else up into his truck. He’d even disassembled the crib and tied the rocking chair down securely in the truck bed. The changing table was being left behind as well as the cubbies he’d stored the books and toys in but everything else came with. He also managed to quickly pack a cooler of food and drinks, and took whatever he could from the cupboards. It was an odd sensation, standing by the truck as he did all of this, not offering to help. A part of you wanted to but the other part was still angry with him for killing Miles and breaking his promise to you. Another third smaller part was scared to death that you were about to share the same fate, or at least you would once the baby was born. Tom wanted your baby; that was crystal clear to you now as you noticed the larger percentage of what was packed had more to do with the baby than anything else. While he had told you he wanted you all to be a family, perhaps he was just waiting for you to give birth and then that would be it. For you.

You focused on maintaining your breathing and told yourself you would get away long before that could happen. 

Once everything was packed up and the cabin was closed up, Tom opened the passenger door for you and helped you up into the seat. You wouldn’t have accepted his help if you thought you could get up there yourself but a very big belly tended to offset everything. He got into the driver seat, slipped a baseball cap on, and pulled away from what had been your temporary home for a few weeks. 

It was about fifteen miles on the highway or so, with nary a car in sight, that you finally turned to Tom (who you had been ignoring this entire ride so far) and asked the question that had been sitting in the back of your brain. “You heard him last night, didn’t you?”

Tom turned a confused expression onto you. 

“When he threatened me.”

His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched, turning back to the road ahead. “No. I didn’t. I knew he had probably said something to upset you but I didn’t know he did that. Had I, I would’ve…” He shook his head, angry, clenching a fist. “Makes sense, though.”

“What makes sense?”

He nervously licked his lips and reached over to pick up your hand. You went to yank it back but he tightened his grip and placed a kiss to your skin. “I promised I would tell you everything and I will.”

“Now seems like a good a time as any,” you seethed, still trying to pull your hand back but he wouldn’t let you.

“Let’s get some driving out of the way first. We’ve got a ways to go and I’d rather we put as much distance as we can between us and that cabin.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you muttered. 

He seemed displeased with your reaction but he let your hand go and continued focusing on the road. And for the first time since this whole thing started, you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. That worried you a bit because you should be trying to keep him happy, calm, trusting, and instead you were doing the exact opposite. But the anger and betrayal you felt seemed to be overriding everything at the moment.

“Hey. Y/N.”

You were being gently shaken awake and you opened your eyes, glancing all around you. You were still in the front seat of the truck and the sun was starting to go down. You turned to see Tom rubbing your shoulder. 

“You need to use the bathroom, sweetheart?” He murmured. 

Almost as if on cue, your bladder started to hurt. You nodded, rubbing your eyes. 

“Okay.” 

He jumped out of the truck and made his way over to your side. He opened your door and lifted you to the ground, grunting in the effort. Had he been someone else, you would’ve felt bad for the strain he was putting on his body in doing so. 

You were at a rest stop where other cars surrounded you. You saw families milling about, couples, friends traveling together — people.

He grabbed your hand and gripped it tightly. “Stay close to me.” Of course he wanted you to stay close to him. He didn’t want you running off for help after all.

You let him lead you into the building as you tried to formulate a plan to escape him. He held you closer as he pushed his way through people waiting in line for the various food vendors available and brought you to the women’s bathroom. Thankfully, there was no line. You were just waiting to get in there and lock the door behind you. But as luck would have it, he opened the door himself and ducked his head in. When he determined it was clear, he urged you in ahead of him and locked you both inside.

“I’ll be right here if you need me.”

You glared at him and went to find a stall, realizing he’d already anticipated your plan. When you found one, you relieved the pangs of your bladder and tried to think of a new plan. You heard him checking the other stalls around you as a precaution. 

Technically, there were a lot of people around. If you screamed in the middle of the crowd, he couldn’t do anything about it. You smiled to yourself. Yeah, you liked that plan.

You finished doing what you needed to do and exited the stall to wash your hands. While you were drying them, arms came around you, a hand tenderly placed against your belly, and you heard Tom whisper in your ear, “I love you. I love both of you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t know what he said. If I had, maybe I could’ve done something to keep this morning from happening.”

You refused to look at him, in the mirror or next to you. Too little, too late. “You broke your promise to me, Tom.”

“I didn’t break my promise to you, sweetheart.”

“Really?” You spun around, glaring up at him. “And what do you call this morning? Look, Miles was a despicable human being who did the most horrific things to me a long time ago and threatened to do even more horrific things if he got loose, but he was still a human being. You know what? It’s not even about him. I didn’t even ask you not to kill him for him, I asked you not to kill him for me. Not because I cared in the slightest what happened to him, but because I can’t be with someone who just goes around killing people because they can! I have a baby to think about, Tom! What if she cries too loudly or she doesn’t put her toys away when we tell her to? What then?”

With each word you said, he looked more and more pained. “I’m going to be a good father to her, Y/N. I’m really doing the best I can to keep…certain impulses in control. It’s not easy. Even when there are certain risky things going on that are tempting those impulses.”

“What?” What was he talking about?

“I didn’t want to have this conversation until we got to the house but if you need to hear it now so you know how much I love you and the baby, then so be it. Y/N, I—”

A loud pounding sounded on the door. “The door’s locked!” Some woman yelled. 

“Shit,” he muttered before turning to look down at you pleadingly. “Look, I get that you can walk out that door, scream for help, I would have to run, and then you’d never see me again. But Christ, Y/N, I’m asking you to please give me a chance to explain. Just one. If you don’t want to be with me after that or allow me to be her dad,” He swallowed compulsively at that part. “Then you two can stay in the new house and I’ll move on. I promise.”

“Hey, some of us have to go to the bathroom, too! Open up!”

You gritted your teeth and glanced up at him skeptically. “Another promise?”

 “I haven’t broken the last one I made to you yet.”

You shot him a look. 

“Open up or we’re going to report you!”

“Report me to who?” You snapped at the door. “The bathroom police? Please.” You turned back to Tom who was smirking down at you. “What?”

He only smirked wider and offered you his hand. You realized you must definitely be nuts because after a moment, you took it. He leaned down to kiss your nose, whispering, “Thank you.”

A second later, he gripped your hand tightly. “No matter what, we keep our heads down and just get back to the truck. Deal?”    

You gave him a hesitant nod and moved closer to his back, so he could break through the crowds for you both.  

He unlocked the door and opened it, rushing past a couple of women standing sentry at the door. The loud one yelled at you as you passed, “Really? That’s what we were waiting on? Disgusting! I should report you both!”

You had the strongest urge to yell something back but Tom squeezed your hand and hurried out of there, ignoring any onlookers. 

You were just about to step into the parking lot when you heard a feminine giggle to your right. You glanced over and saw a young woman flirting with a young guy. She was touching his jaw with the tip of her finger, and he was smirking down at her.  

She giggled again and the images in front of you began to swim. Suddenly, another image overtook it. 

You were back in your house, at the top of the stairs, watching as your friend Cindy was all smiles at Tom. He was coming down off of the ladder from installing the light at the top of the foyer. He gave her a polite smile and when she asked where you were, he said you were upstairs resting, the baby had been really active that morning.

Cindy watched as he wiped his hands on a rag and she sidled up to him. “Tom, what are you doing? Playing house with the new weird pregnant girl who won’t tell anyone where she’s from, and stepping in as Daddy? It doesn’t suit you. You’re young and strong and full of life. Don’t let her suck it out of you.” Your grip on the railing tightened.

Tom had politely pushed her away. “I love her, Cindy. I love them both. They’re my life. Now, if you can’t accept that or even speak nicely about her in her own home, then I think it’s time for you to leave.” He gestured towards the door.

Cindy tried once more. “But, Tom, we had some fun times together, didn’t we? Wouldn’t you prefer that to whatever this is?” She gestured around the foyer in disgust.

“Yes, we did. And no, I don’t. Like I told you at the Christmas party, I’m not interested. So, please leave.”

“Ugh, fine. Call me when you get bored of the fake family routine.” She was walking towards the door finally. You could see Tom’s jaw tighten as he watched her go, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

You quietly hurried down to the last few steps, plastering a big smile on your face. “Cindy, is that you?”

Tom’s gaze snapped over to you and Cindy spun on her heel with the biggest fake smile. “Y/N! I was just asking after you. Tom told me you were getting some rest so I figured I’d drop by later to see how you were doing.”

You made your way down the stairs, Tom holding out a hand to help you. You gave him a smile of thanks and laid a hand on your belly, rubbing. “Yeah, she was being a little overactive this morning and tired Mommy out.” You then placed your hands on your belly as if you were blocking the baby’s ears. “Usually happens after a great night of sex,” you said in a more conspiratorial tone.

Tom grinned down at you. “Damn right it does.” He pulled you to him, kissing you.

You chuckled against his lips, playfully pushing away from him, your cheeks warm. “Tom, we have company.” You inclined your head in Cindy’s direction who still had the fake smile going. 

Tom shrugged. “She was just leaving.” He leaned in to kiss you again when you laughed and turned to let him kiss your cheek instead. 

“Oh my word, you two are just too cute together. Like a Christmas card without all of the…Christmas,” Cindy let out in a laugh.

Tom moved and slipped his arms around you from behind, pressing kisses to your cheek as he rubbed at your belly. 

“So, Cindy, what did you drop by for?” You asked, playfully slapping at Tom’s hand that was subtly moving above your belly. He snickered into your ear before nibbling on it.

“You know what, you seem a little busy right now, hun. I’ll drop by later so we can talk.”

You gave her a bright smile. “That’d be great. I’ll put coffee on for you and tea for me, and we’ll chat then.”

“Absolutely! See you then!” She wiggled her fingers in a goodbye and then was out the door.

Your smile dropped as soon as the door closed. Tom saw and placed his lips at your ear. “I take it you heard all of that before you came down?”

You turned a stone cold expression on him. 

He sighed and laid his forehead against yours. “I love you and want to be with you. Only you. You know that.”

“But you’ve been with her?”

“It was only a couple of times, purely casual. It was done before you even came to town.”

You gripped his chin tightly. “Are you sure you want to give up fun times together and play Daddy?”

His brows drew together, studying you. “Yes. Sweetheart, if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t be here.” 

Your expression softened and you released him. “You mean that?” You whispered.

He gave you a soft smile and kissed you. “We could be up in the mountains somewhere, just the three of us, and I’d be happy. So, yes, sweetheart, I mean it. We’re a family and nothing is going to threaten that. I promise.”

You hugged his arms around you and leaned back against him, relaxing and smiling. You really had no idea what you had done to deserve Tom coming into your life when he did. 

Which is why you were so desperate to keep him with you, to keep your family together. When Cindy walked into your kitchen a few hours later, you were determined to lay down the law. To let her know that you overheard her earlier and while you appreciated her helping you find this house (and Tom by extension), she was no longer welcome in it. Instead, though, she ended up dead. She made a comment to you about Tom that was heavy with implication and before you knew it, you attacked her. Multiple stab wounds to the body after a smashed coffee pot over her head that caused third-degree burns. She just wouldn’t stop screaming.

Tom arrived back from a trip to the store and found you in the kitchen, still stabbing her long after she finally stopped screaming, his eyes wide. He wrestled you for the knife and tossed it before gripping your face and staring into your eyes. “Y/N, it’s me! Look at me! Y/N!”

You both heard your backdoor opening, and in walked your estranged husband who you had been running from. Miles’ eyes were wide as he took in the bloody scene in front of him and he whistled, chuckling. “Always knew you were a crazy whore.” Tom immediately recognized him from the picture you’d shown him and he let you go, fury filling his expression. 

Tom attacked him and they fought. Miles had somehow managed to best Tom at one point and he was about to go to town on him when you hit him with a frying pan. It gave Tom the opportunity he needed to get out from under him and before Miles could even try to attack you once he recovered, you held a knife to his throat as Tom grabbed another one, that same fury in his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you told Miles. “One move and you die.”

“You stupid bitch, I’ll fucking kill you,” he spit. You pressed the blade into his neck a little more. 

Tom rushed him, ready to kill him when you held a hand up, stopping him. “No. He lives.” Tom glared up at you, unsure of why you were stopping him. “We take him with us, make him watch and hear everything, and we have some fun.” You gave Tom a wicked smile and he returned it, turning it down onto Miles who was bleeding from where you’d cut him. “Do you know a place?” You asked Tom.

“Yeah.” He glanced once again at Miles, his smile widening. “I know a place.”

You were suddenly at the cabin, waking up in the middle of the night. Not caring if you were dressed or not, you slipped out of Tom’s arms and padded into the main room. You stood there, watching as Miles slept, or if he was awake like he was the night you and Tom had sex, you stood there with a knife, fucking with his head. Would you kill him? Would you not? You made sure to let him know the child you carried was biologically his but he would never see it born. Tom was its father now and he was much more of a man than Miles, as he must have heard earlier. There was even one night where Tom woke up and found you in the kitchen in the dark, holding a knife over your belly, as if you were going to stab yourself. He knocked the knife out of your hand and asked what you were doing. You said it was Miles’ child and you wanted Miles out of you. Tom held your face in his hands and assured you that the child was his and his alone.

“No, it’s not,” you murmured. 

“Yes, it is. Listen to me, that’s my little girl inside of you. She’s both of ours. He has nothing to do with it. Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you love this baby and you love me. You want our family to stay together. You told me that! Please! Don’t let her hurt our baby!”

“It’s our baby?” You asked in a tiny voice.

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s ours. Just ours.”

You allowed him to carry you to bed and hold you there, shushing you soothingly and rubbing your belly, using your hands with his.

And then came the night Miles threatened you. This time, you stood over him with the knife.

“You dumb whore, you don’t have it in you to kill me. You won’t even let your crazy boy toy do it.” 

“Yeah, because I want to be the one to do it.” A big smile spread across your face and you slashed at his cheek, making him curse.

“Go ahead then! Even if you kill me, you’ll never be rid of me. I’ll always be a part of you, inside you, in that kid. Know that, you stupid bitch. I should’ve fucking killed you when I had the chance!”

You started slicing and then forcefully stabbing and never really stopped. You took pieces off of him (including what could be construed as what he thought was his manhood) and he screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Tom woke up when the screaming started but you didn’t stop. He tried to get you to, telling you he would take care of the rest for you, that he didn’t want you to hurt yourself or the baby, but you told him no, you wanted to do this yourself. You’d earned it. Instead, he stood there, waiting, in case you needed him. He nervously watched as you took Miles apart, his eyes repeatedly flickering to your stomach. At one point, though, you could have sworn you noticed a faint smirk on Tom’s face when Miles screamed particularly loudly and his eyes were hard but proud. Only when you were done, though Miles had been dead for a while by this point, did you turn to go back to the room. Tom stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” You shook your head. “Our baby?” Another shake. He let out a huge sigh of relief. “Why don’t you go take a shower and then get into bed? I’ll clean this up.”

“Thanks, baby,” you’d whispered, gripping his face and lifting up on your toes to kiss him. You left Miles’ blood all over his cheeks but he still looked at you with that same reverence he always had. Once you were out of the shower, he was there to run clean hands over your belly, checking for any injuries but not finding any. You’d smiled and kissed him, not caring about the dried blood on his face when you’d crawled onto his lap and urged him to take off his shirt.

You saw more flashing Images of you in his lap, arching your head up in pleasure, him kissing down the column of your neck, some of the blood from his face transferring onto your skin.   

The screams and moans echoed in your ear as you came back to yourself. You felt as if you were losing your balance and you started to fall until Tom caught you in time.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, not looking at him, tears streaming down your face. 

“Hey, she alright, man?”

“You need me to call for an ambulance?”

“No,” Tom assured the onlookers. “Thank you but she’s fine. She has low blood sugar and this happens when she forgets to eat. Let me get her back to the car so I can give her a juice box. Thank you but she’s okay.”

He lifted you in his arms, grunting, and slowly began the trek to the truck. “I thought we had a deal, sweetheart. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not gonna leave you or our little girl behind at a rest stop. Not happening.”

‘Tom, I… I killed them,” you sobbed, staring up at the sky. 

He stopped short for a second but then kept moving. “Shhh. Just hang on, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

“I-I-I killed them.” You started to break apart. “I even threatened my baby.”

Tom picked up speed slightly and did his best to get you both back to the truck. Once there and he had you in the passenger seat, you were already hyperventilating. He gripped your face and forced you to meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, we need to get your breathing under control. Let’s slow it down together, okay?” He took your hand and placed it on his chest and he placed a hand on your chest. “Follow me.”

He eventually got you to calm down a little, taking nice deep and even breaths, but it wasn’t enough to make you forget what you had seen, what you had done. You thought back to what you had said to Tom. “I can’t be with someone who just goes around killing people because they can!” “If this is going to work with us, as a family…you can’t kill anymore people, Tom.” You’d blamed him for Cindy’s and Miles’ deaths!

“What do you say we go someplace and have that talk now?”

You nodded, more tears falling down your face at the action. He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs and kissed you before settling you into your seat. Within two minutes, you were back on the road again, his hand in yours, and you stared blankly out the window. You were a killer and Tom, even your own baby — they weren’t safe. 

“I’m so sorry, Tom.”

He turned an inquisitive gaze on you. 

“I blamed you when it was me.” You wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry.”

You both were sitting at a picnic table in a nice parking area off the shoulder of the highway that he had managed to find. Thankfully, no one was really around. The stars beginning to come out might have something to do with that. 

He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers, kissing your skin. “I knew why you were saying it. You didn’t remember what you’d done. Truthfully, I didn’t want you to remember it.”

“It’s no excuse,” you choked out. “And my baby…” Your eyes welled up again. “Even she’s not safe with me.” 

He cupped your chin with his free hand and turned you to look at him. “Yes, she is. Your ex was the trigger. Now that he’s gone, that lessens the trigger.”

“But what if she looks like him? Or sounds like him? Or what if she does something like Cindy did and says something to trigger me? Or what if like I told you, she cries too loudly or doesn’t put her toys away? She’s not safe.” Your eyes hurt from how much crying you’d been doing, you were surprised there were any tears left, but there were. You cried over Cindy. Sure, you didn’t care for her after overhearing her that day and finding out she’d been with Tom, only teasing you about his supposed crush on you because she never thought he’d give you the time of day and it allowed her to tease and flirt with him as well. But she didn’t deserve to die over it and certainly not like that. You didn’t cry too much over Miles but what you’d done. No human life deserved to be taken the way you had taken his. But you cried the most over what you’d almost done to your baby, what it meant, and how you’d have to let her go once she was born — if she was born. 

“Listen to me, I’m going to keep you both safe, okay? Just like I promised.”

“And you,” you sobbed. “Why would you want to be with a murderer? A cold-blooded killer like me? What if I’d killed you? Or what if I do kill you? Tom, what I’ve done is bad enough but if I did something to you, I don’t think I’d ever come back from that. Or if I did something to my baby.”

He pulled you into his arms and you cried against his shirt. He moved in and gently nuzzled you despite the wetness and sniffling. “Because I know what it’s like.”

“What are you talking about, you know what’s like? Fearing going to sleep that you may not wake up from because your significant other might kill you? I know all too well what that’s like and I don’t want that for you.”

His jaw tightened but he shook his head, bumping his nose gently into yours. “No. I mean, I know what it’s like to have a trigger and not remember what I’ve done half the time, while leaving bodies trailing behind me.”

You hiccuped and pulled back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He placed his forehead against yours. “Remember I never wanted to talk about my past?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you said it was too painful and I didn’t want to push.”

Tom let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. But I’m going to tell you everything, even when you don’t want to hear certain parts. I don’t remember a lot but I’ll tell you what I can. And I’m only going to gloss over my trigger, not go into full detail. I’m sure it would be fine, but I don’t want to even risk it. Okay?” 

You took in a ragged inhale and buried your fingers into his shirt. “Okay.”

He smiled at you reassuringly and tenderly brushed hair out of your face. “Okay.”

Tom kept an eye on you while you slept, hugging onto his arm. Today was a big day for you in various ways and he wasn’t quite sure if you’d be triggered again.

He’d been completely honest with you, opening up to you about Harry and how trauma led to this other identity he had no control of. Truthfully, he’d been scared to even mention the name, afraid it would draw the other side of him out. During this whole time with you, from him finding you stabbing Cindy to death in your kitchen to now, he’d felt as if Harry was fighting to come to the surface and join in the fray. Of course, that was something the therapists he’d seen had told him wasn’t possible, but even burying Miles’ mutilated corpse and using the pickaxe again felt as if he were approaching a very dangerous line. 

At some point after Harmony, he wasn’t quite sure how long, but he was in control again and Harry was nowhere to be found. He had a healing bullet wound as well as other scrapes on his head and face. He knew he could never go back to Harmony or even be Tom Hanniger again (especially after one internet search on a library computer), so he was forced to become someone else: a different Tom. He probably should have changed his first name, too, but he already had another identity waiting in the wings to take over again, he didn’t want another one he needed to worry about becoming, too. Even if it was only for paperwork reasons.

He moved to a new small town, far away from his old life, and began again. He stayed mostly to himself, kept under the radar as much as he could. He was able to find work, doing small odd jobs at first, and then finding work in basically being a handyman of sorts. He had gotten to know the townspeople that way as well as the town itself. He’d even sought help from a local therapist in the next town over whose resume boasted they specialized in DID. There, the therapist was able to help him understand the disorder better than any doctors in the institution had. He learned about triggers, working to reduce switches (as they called it), and how to overall take control of his life in more ways than one. He had been doing much better and there were no instances where he felt like he was missing time or there was something on the edge of his memories that he couldn’t quite remember. 

And then he’d met you, completely by accident. He’d bumped into you in the hardware store, literally. You’d dropped what had been in your hands and seeing the slim curve of your stomach, he’d immediately crouched down to pick them up for you. He locked eyes with you and he could swear you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. He cleared his throat when he realized he’d been staring at you a little too long. He immediately apologized for bumping into you and you apologized, too. He noted what you had in your hand: spackle.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you’re not planning on doing any painting, are you?” 

You glanced at the container in your hands. “Oh, this? Oh no. I can’t.” You gestured to your stomach. “But I read on a forum online that spackling is okay.”

He arched a brow at you. “Forum online?”

Your cheeks turned adorably pink. “Yeah,” you defended. “As long as it doesn’t have high VOC’s I think it said, I should be fine. Plus, I plan to wear a mask and open all the windows, air it out properly.” 

“Uh huh,” he chuckled. At your frown, he held up a placating hand. “Sorry, I just…can’t your husband or boyfriend do that for you? So you don’t have to?”

Your cheeks turned red now. “Are you saying that I can’t do what they can?” You challenged.

“Nope. I’m implying that there are certain things you shouldn’t be doing while pregnant. That’s all.” You went to say something else but he cut you off. “I’m the local handyman, a fixer upper basically. If your other half is too busy, I can swing by and help you out.” 

“Oh.”

He handed you his card, noting no ring sitting on your finger. That answered that particular question. “My cell phone number’s on there so call me anytime, day or night, and I’ll come by. Are you new in town?”

You studied his card. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckled and held out a hand. “I’m Tom.”

You took it, smiling, and shook it. “Y/N.” Not only did he suddenly love that name but he loved the feel of your soft skin against his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

You ended up calling him two days later to ask him about the spackling and his rates. Ever since your conversation with him in the store, you couldn’t get what he said out of your head and now you were worried the online forum was wrong. What he didn’t tell you is that he couldn’t get your conversation with him out of his head, but for a whole other reason.

After an agreed rate over the phone (he’d given you a break, calling it the newcomer discount so you wouldn’t question it or feel badly), he stopped by your house and you showed him where you needed the spackling done. There was a large crack in one of the walls of the living room high up. He couldn’t imagine you on a ladder with a mask trying to get this crack spackled — more like he didn’t want to imagine it. Cindy had been there, shooting him flirtatious smiles every time you turned your back, which he ignored. Cindy had been fun a time or two but he wasn’t interested in anything more than that, something he’d already told her long before he met you. Besides, he’d trade twenty of those flirtatious smiles for one of your warm genuine ones anyday. He’d thought you very pretty in the store but now he knew he’d been wrong; you were beautiful. And living all alone in this big, old house. It seemed like a crime to him though he was a little happy that you were single. 

He got vibes early on that there was something in your past that you were running from. You were jumpy, slow to trust, and he could tell it took a little bit for you to feel comfortable with him alone in the house. He didn’t push and he appreciated your not pushing either when it came to his own past. But he liked being around you and he definitely liked you. It took some time but you eventually got to know one another and he was helping you slowly restore your home (mostly for free at this point, what he referred to as the friend rate which made you smile and shake your head, still insisting on paying him which he would refuse). You never talked about who the father of your baby was or where he might be, but it was obvious you were going about things on your own. He admired you for that and he loved watching you walk around, lovingly rubbing your bump that was getting bigger each week.

And then, on New Year’s Eve, after circling each other for months, you kissed him. From then on, he was yours. Even when you opened up to him about your past, all he wanted to do was protect you and the baby, be good to you, and be there for you both. He loved you well before he said it, which was after you had said it first because he hadn’t wanted you to feel any pressure whatsoever. Soon enough, you both had started talking about the future — particularly, the very near future. Tom wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a parent or if he’d even be a good one but he knew one thing: he loved you and your little girl very much. He’d do anything for you two and that was good enough for him.

Then came the day Cindy made the fatal mistake of setting you off. He still wasn’t sure if it was what Cindy said in the foyer or if she said something else to you when she came by later, but something caused you to snap. Tom had returned from the hardware store and had been shocked to find you covered in blood, violently stabbing the woman who appeared to already be dead. You weren’t a violent person by nature. You two hardly ever argued and if you did, it was resolved within minutes. He’d never seen you argue with anyone else. Even when you got moody occasionally, sure, he knew to tiptoe around you, but you didn’t even get mean. So he had no idea where the hell this had come from. But before he could get through to you to find out if you and the baby were okay, your piece of shit ex showed up. That had been the first night Tom had felt Harry swimming dangerously close to the surface, waiting to take over. No matter what any therapist said; he knew Harry was there, he could feel him, doing his best to take over though Tom fought it. If Harry took over, he would kill every living being in the room, and that Tom would not allow to happen. Especially not when you and the baby were in the same room.

Tom let you make the call on your ex (even though he didn’t completely understand it) and got you out of there. Later that night, when you passed out, he’d checked you for injuries as well as the baby. He didn’t find any except some shallow cuts to your arms. He gently cleaned them and he was determined to keep a close eye on you. When you finally came to the next day, he’d had no choice but to tie you up much like your ex to wait and see what you would do. He noticed you were you again though you were looking fearfully at him. He hated to see it but he also knew it could only mean one thing: you hadn’t remembered what you did. He didn’t need to be a therapist to realize that you might possibly have the same situation going on that he did. When you accused him of killing Cindy, it confirmed it, though he wondered how you knew she was dead. He chalked it up to you starting to switch back and seeing the carnage before he’d been able to get you out of that house.  

So while Tom wasn’t a fan of it, he dangerously walked the line between himself and who he knew Harry to be. Your ex got the worst of Harry’s qualities: the violence, the ruthlessness, and the fury. You got the lower end of a few displeased glares and the raised volume of his voice once or twice. He didn’t know what he was dealing with just yet, though he suspected, and he hoped if he kept you you, even if you were fearful of him, he’d be able to figure out how to help you.

He didn’t agree with keeping Miles alive, especially since Miles was a threat to you and your baby and he had also seen what you’d done to Cindy. It was better to take care of him before he became an even bigger problem. While Tom didn’t relish taking a life, and he didn’t want to wake up Harry, it was clear that Miles needed to go. It was obvious that he was a trigger for you.

While he had been confused at your claims of grogginess, it soon became clear why you were really tired. You’d worried Tom the nights he’d woken up in bed, alone, and found you either hovering over Miles, taunting him, or watching him sleep. You’d even insisted he sit Miles up from where he’d left him in the corner the first night so the asshole could watch and listen. Watch and listen to what Tom hadn’t been sure of but when you told him to make love to you the next night, to be loud while loving you, he got a pretty good idea on what the listen part was. The following morning, he realized you wanted Miles to watch what was happening before his very eyes: you were being well taken care of, you were creating a family, and you were loved. EVen though you didn’t remember it most days, he tried to do right by you — both of you. The other side of you hadn’t told him her name yet, but he was waiting for it. The switches were only too obvious now. 

You’d scared the hell out of him, though, the night he found you holding a knife over your stomach. He had already been assuring you that he loved your baby and you, that you would be a family, that your little girl was his. After that, he stepped it up while also hiding all of the sharp objects and anything that could be used as a weapon against yourself (or him) all over the cabin. Each morning, you’d never remember these incidents, though you’d held clear conversations with him and sometimes your ex.

Then you’d brutally killed Miles that night, another night Harry had been simmering on the edge. As he watched you take your revenge, when you kissed him, covering him in blood, then making love to him — that had been the closest Harry had come to breaching the surface since the night Miles showed up in your kitchen. The only thing that kept Harry back, Tom believed, was the recurring thought of you and the baby. 

Miles being dead forced him to move up his timeline. He had this cabin for a while, only bringing you once to show you around, in case he had to ever grab you and run if your ex showed up (though he didn’t tell you that because he didn’t want to worry you). That was why he had replicated the nursery down to every single detail. You had worked so hard on that nursery, you were so excited when it was finished, that he hated for you to lose it should you have to run. So he slipped up to the cabin a couple of days a week when you weren’t with him, and worked on getting it set up. He had even stocked the kitchen in case (only buying perishables on your second trip up there when you were truly on the run). He’d also made sure to put a down payment on a small house some ways away in case you both needed a fresh start elsewhere. And that was where he was driving you now.

He’d meant what he said, if you wanted him gone, he would be, but he hoped you’d keep him with you. He was already worried about your breakdown from earlier today and your constant worry for your baby’s safety. Not to mention, your ex had been a cop. While they would most likely never find his body, they would associate his disappearance with you and you would always be sought after. And since Tom had disappeared with you, they’d either think you killed him as well or that he’d helped. So he’d alway be sought after as well. That had been one of the reasons he wanted to get out of Dodge as soon as possible but also, he wanted you as far from your main trigger as possible. And he also wanted to get you help, the same help he’d gotten (though he’d have to find another therapist now). Though he was pretty sure the baby was safe, like he kept assuring you, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion, an official one. 

He glanced down at you, his eyes softening as he took you in. He loved you deeply and he wanted to be with you. He loved your baby and he wanted to be there for her, stepping in as her dad if you’d let him like you had both originally planned. You had one more month to go until the baby arrived. He hoped this new house, this new life he was bringing you to made you happy. He was going to set up the nursery again for you and this time you’d have a real living room and dining room. The kitchen wouldn’t be so cramped or outdated and you would have a nice, comfortable mattress to sleep on at night. It may not be what your old house was but he would still make it as nice as possible for you. Once he sorted out your paperwork through an old contact of his, you would have access to doctors, the hospital — whatever you needed. The house had a nice backyard for kids to run and play in and the swingset came with the deal which was nice. Tom had even checked to make sure it was in a good school district and a safe neighborhood.

You moved in your sleep, cuddling his arm more and murmuring something he couldn’t make out. He smiled down at you and leaned over to drop a kiss onto your head before glancing back at the road.  

He was going to take care of you. Both of you. And the baby. He would keep you all safe. Just like he’d promised.

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[dolly-gutzz]

smiles and cigarettes

warnings: pure cold hard fluff, no use of Y/N

Dallas winding x sunshine-y!Reader

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ 

Dallas Winston didn’t smile. It was his whole shtick. He was cold and hard and mean. He hated kids and candy. But the one thing he hated more than anything was feeling weak. And smiling showed weakness. So Dallas didn’t smile. Now you, you smiled. It was all you did. You smile basically showed rays of sunshine. You smiled so much that you had deep smile lines and still looked gorgeous. You were a ray of light. And Dallas, he was a dark stormy cloudy day. You know Dallas didn’t smile. Hell, everyone did. But you did every thing in you power to try to make him smile. It didn’t work. It never worked. No matter how hard you worked for him to even crack a smirk, it didn’t work. You never told him of this plan. You didn’t even mutter a word. But dallas knew. He knew how hard you worked for him to smile. But he wouldn’t let up.

So, that’s where this takes us. You were at the park with Dallas. You sat on the yellow-ish grass with a red blanket and a book. Dallas had brought some things. He said he would. You were really excited till you found out that some things to him was a pack of cigarettes and two cokes. So not what you had hoped for but enough.

You regularly hung out with Dallas. You had no idea why he even tolerated you, but you took what you were given and held it with pride. Everyone knew that Dallas was your friend. And even though they thought he was corrupting you, you still hung around him.

Dallas was laying on your leg sharpening his favorite knife as you sat up against a tree reading the book you brought. You laced your fingers through his dark locks as you read. Dallas, without you knowing, looked up at you occasionally. The fall sun shone against your face. It illuminated your eyes in a way that could make angels weep. Your chin was pursed as you focused on the words on the pages beneath your fingers. Dally thought you look gorgeous. Sure he had seen pretty girls before. But none like you. You were nice, and had never once turned your back on him. That is why he stuck so long. Other than the gang, you were the one constant in his life. Dallas knew what could make him smile. It was you. You had never once thought that you were the missing agent in the equation that was Dallas smiling. So you never tried it. As he watched your eyes scan the pages, his lips parted. The boys lips soon turned into the tiniest of smirks. Which turned into a grin. Which then turned into a full blown smile. As if it were magic, you looked down at Dallas just as he smiled. Your jaw was practically on the floor. Dallas had stopped smiling by now and you were at a loss for words.

“Dallas?” You questioned, “Did you just smile?”Dally smiles again and laughs.

“iunno” he mumbled back. He takes a swig of his coke before speaking again. “Wanna know why I did?” He asked. You found out that this was a game to him. You pondered your entire brain, ransacking every thought to try and figure out why he smiled. Maybe it was the sky? No he hates sunsets, he wasn’t Ponyboy. Maybe it was his knife and how sharp it got. No, he had sharped his knives before and never before had it gotten a reaction. So what on gods green earth made him smile. Dally watched you think long a hard on the reason he smiled. And when he figured out you had no avail, he folded

“you.” He blurted.

You stopped thinking and looked down at the boy on your lap.

“You made smile, doll” he said, his already big smile widening even more. You then start to smirk, then grin, then a full blown smile filled your face.

“Really?” You said in disbelief. Dallas nodded. You were surprised at his smile. It was pretty, very pretty. You wondered why he didn’t do it more. His smile lines framed his face perfectly. He even had some dimples. He was so pretty when he smiled, that you prayed that he would do it more. “Why me?” You asked the boy in your lap. Dallas shrugged. “The sun always comes out after the rain right?” He said playing with your fingers.

You felt like you were in the clouds you were so happy. You looked down at Dallas and tilted your head. “So all I had to do was,” you paused to ponder what to say. “Nothing?” You finally found the words to say. Dally nodded, lighting a cigarette, inhaling the bittersweet smoke and blowing it out. You were in shock. Jaw dropping, mind blowing, unbelievable shock. All you had to do was, be you? You wish you had found that out sooner.

Dallas had sat up and was facing you. You watched him take a few more puffs of his cancer stick, before putting it out.

Dallas was looking you in the eyes. His eyes read something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You tore your eyes away from him in nervousness. You felt your hair brush against your cheek. Dally pushes it out of the way, his hands staying on your pretty face. “Dally,” you whisper. “Yes?” he says back, glancing at your lips. “You make me smile too,” you say, finally looking him in the eyes. You too, glanced at his lips. Dallas leaned in and your lips touched his in a kiss. You were nervous, so the kiss was gentle at first. But Dally and his rough ways changed that quickly. His hand gripped your waist, the other on your neck. His kiss was filled was so much passion, it was dizzying. Dallas tasted like the coke and cigarettes he had brought. You thought you would hate it, just as you hated cigarettes. But the taste was so Dallas, that you just had to love it. Dallas’s lips left yours slowly. You both were panting, and dally was smiling once again. “Shit” he said. “How’s you learn to do that?” He said with his grin widening. You shrug “ I dunno” you say back, still panting from the incredible kiss. “Instinct” you say back. Dally nods and leans his forehead on yours.

You stay at the park, stealing kisses from each other while you read little excerpts of your book to him. Dally listened with love and passion in his eyes. You scowred the whole world to find out what had made Dallas Winston smile. Little did you know it was you all this time. And you would do anything to keep it that way.

[ltghosty]

Violation (Simon "Ghost" Riley ﾒ Female "Cobra" Sergeant)

A/N: Thank you for 25 followers and the love for my first fanfic, it means a lot :)

Summary: You disobey Ghost's order and go after Soap to help him finish Graves which leaves Riley furious.

Warnings: blood, curse, angst

Wordcount: 5.4k (got a little carried away, oops)

”You heard me,” Ghost replied dryly. ”You don’t have to work under my watch if you feel like obeying my orders would be too difficult for you.”

You would have never expected to come this far.

After a few years of being on the field, you lost count of how many times you played death.

Sometimes it terrified you how close you had come to falling out of the game.

There was a time you were counting with Soap, making a race of who had cheated death more times. But that was until Ghost ordered you two to stop it. He didn’t find close death calls that amusing, not even when trying to let his guard down a little.

Ghost also hated if someone disobeyed his orders. He was a lieutenant, after all, it was his job as a superior to send orders and come up with plans.

And it was your job to listen to him and obey without a question.

But it was quite a fury when your brain went to a battle against your heart.

In such a situation, what do you listen to? Your morality or your feelings?

After Price had fallen with his plane, you were about to go with Ghost to secure that site and help him.

When you heard Soap’s heavy cough on the radio while Graves was coming closer to him, you were hiding behind a wreck while Ghost was a few meters away.

You knew that this time was different.

Soap was dying, and Rodolfo was not answering his calls. Your heart missed a beat when realization sunk in.

As far as you were concerned, Ghost didn’t need you. He was an excellent fighter and shot after all, if anything, you would have only slowed him down.

You were good at your job but you couldn’t reach up to Ghost.

None of you could.

However, Ghost didn’t even want to hear about you returning to the training ground where Soap and Rodolfo had gone to.

”Cobra, you stay where you are.” Ghost’s voice was serious and impatient while he was trying to clear his path toward Price.

”Soap and Rodolfo are in trouble!” you beamed as the rain of bullets sieging your cover hasn’t come to an end yet.

Ghost turned his head in your direction, his eyes widening when he saw the determined look on your face.

”Cobra, do not leave my side, do you hear me?” Ghost raised his voice to overcome the loud snap of bullets.

You knew that Ghost would be fine if you left. Sometimes his lethal tactics made you feel like he was born with knives.

”I’ll have to help them.”

Ghost’s eyes were storming with his rage as you didn’t even try listening to him.

”Cobra, I won’t repeat myself.” Ghost was losing the little patience that has left in his body.

Realizing that he’d never give you a green light about your choice, you tightened your grip on your gun and made a run for it when Ghost turned away to shoot the enemies.

You heard him shout your name raucously in the distance when he realized that you were gone.

You almost stopped running by the firmness in his voice that made the hair on your arms stand.

He was mad, furious even and you knew that after the end of the day, he would not praise you if you succeeded.

Ghost hated if someone was disobeying him, you knew that, and still, even though it was the right thing to do, you felt guilty that you played him like that.

You’ve never crossed the line with Ghost, never.

You’d be lucky if he’d be able to trust you again.

--

When the explosion happened, you thought that the world was splitting for a second. The ground was shaking and even though you protected your head, several pieces of ruins have cut into your skin wherever they could.

It took more than a minute for your ears to start functioning again as Soap was coming over to you. He was just as dirty and bloody as you were.

”Cobra, are you with me?” Soap asked, kneeling down next to you with a wince.

Your face flinched as you took a piece of rock out of your face, feeling your blood fighting a way down your cheek through the dirt.

”I think so,” you whispered. Your head felt both empty and heavy at the same time.

The flames of the tank were dancing in Soap’s eyes as he studied you before sitting down with a groan.

Rodolfo joined you two with a frown on his face as he pressed his hand against his abdomen.

”Did I win this time?”

You narrowed your eyes. Soap’s humor didn’t know boundaries. The man has almost died and he still had enough energy to joke around.

”You wish, MacTavish.”

You shared a brief laugh with Soap at the absurdity of the situation.

Rodolfo leaned in with furrowed eyebrows, ”What’s so funny?”

You shook your head and wiped the blood off your face. You didn’t want to ruin Rudy’s innocent mind, he probably wasn’t the type to make fun of deadly situations anyway.

Probably because he was normal, you thought.

There was a moment when you thought that everything would end before the explosion. You’ve never been more scared or startled when you felt pure fear tightening your chest.

You’ve witnessed many deaths and explosions but this time was different. Knowing the person, serving with him, cracking jokes like real friends, who were about to kill you in a heartbeat was worse.

Betrayal was one of the things that left a bitter feeling inside you because your duty was built on trust and loyalty.

And without any of those, everything would fall apart.

Soap touched the radio on his chest, ”Soap to Ghost. I’m with Cobra and Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”

There was only a beat of silence before Ghost’s voice could be heard.

”Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash… Pilot’s okay too. Out.”

You shivered at the coldness in Ghost’s voice. After all, you would have expected him to be relieved that everyone made it but the distance he had put up was a clear sign of his annoyance toward you.

”Hey, everything all right?” Soap nudged your shoulder then hissed when pain stabbed through his arm.

”Ghost is really mad at me.”

This was the first time you pushed your luck with Ghost and considering that he was practically your boss, it scared you.

You knew that you did the right thing but your stomach turned into a knot at the thought of having to face Ghost in the next half hour.

”He’ll come around,” Soap said. ”You saved our lives.”

”Yes but he didn’t want me to come here at all. You should have seen him, he was furious.”

Soap sighed and pulled his knees to his chest before leaning his elbows on them.

”You did the right thing.”

But should doing the right thing make you feel this guilty and scared?

Taking your time, the three of you left the tank behind, facing the other part of the group.

Soap kept talking to you while you were helping him walk on the cement but your calmness left your body when you saw Ghost in the distance with Price.

When he looked at you for a brief moment, his eyes turned cold as he watched you approach.

”He’s probably mad because I’m alive,” Soap tried to brighten your mood with a joke and you let yourself smile a little.

”Nice try, Sergeant.”

It meant a lot to you that Soap tried to help you relax a little bit. You’ve been through one hell of a day after all.

Which could be only crowned with Ghost’s disappointment.

It didn’t take him much time to let his anger run through his veins once you’d come to a stop.

”Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Ghost asked.

His voice cut through you like a knife and you hated to see that you burnt down a bridge between you and him.

”Lt…” Soap started.

”I’m talking to Cobra, Sergeant.” Ghost snapped with venom in his voice.

”Thank you for sending her to us. We would have died without her.” Rodolfo spoke up after taking his skull mask off.

At first, you thought that Rudy was stepping on thin ice, lying to Ghost but also trying to make him understand that they needed you.

Ghost weighed Rudy’s words for a moment before his eyes found you again. You could see every possible hostile feeling flashing through them when you were only looking for relief.

”Yes, don’t be harsh on her, Lt.” Soap said and tightened his grip around you.

Ghost’s eyes dropped to Soap’s hand holding into your shoulder before he let out a deep breath.

You didn’t want the boys to take responsibility for your rushed actions, so you cleared your throat.

”Can I talk with Ghost?” You asked and Soap looked down at you. ”Alone.”

Rudy and Soap shared a knowing look before Soap withdrew his arm and let Rudy lead him away to Price who looked more than pissed about his wasted cigar.

Ghost was silent for a minute while the boys left the era. He had his arms crossed, his eyes were unreadable.

You waited for him to lash out and bring you down with words that he knew would leave a trail behind in your heart.

But Ghost didn’t say anything.

Even if he was still angry, he kept in himself while glaring into the distance, taking heavy breaths.

You watched his chest rise and sink a few times before you collected the strength you needed to speak up.

”I know what you want to say,” your voice was calm and vulnerable.

He took a sharp breath before he shook his head, still not looking at you.

”You have no idea what I want to say right now.”

Suddenly, he felt like a stranger which hurt your feelings because you’ve been through so much together that you wouldn’t have thought that saving his best friend would piss him off like that.

Perhaps, he didn’t have a problem with you saving Soap but how you’d completed that.

Ignoring his orders, not listening to him, or maintaining the danger that was waiting for you.

It would have ended in a way you wouldn’t have even thought about it.

”I had to go back for them. They needed help.”

Ghost snapped his head toward you, his eyes piercing through you.

”You disobeyed me, Cobra.” Ghost lowered his voice. ”You made it pretty clear back there that I’m not your lieutenant and that you are ready to run to your death once you have the opportunity.”

His words didn’t surprise you but that didn’t erase the pain they caused.

”That’s not true.”

”No?” Ghost echoed, his voice shifting for a second. ”Tell me then. Did you even think about what could happen?”

You didn’t say anything but still answered his question.

”Did you even stop to think that you’d end up dead? Just like that?” Ghost continued and your throat tightened.

He was right, and he knew that, that’s why he wasn’t giving you enough time to answer because he knew that you had nothing to say regarding your trepidity.

”I had to do something,” you said. ”There are times when you can’t stop to think things through because every second is important. Someone’s life could be on the line.”

”Because is it much better if it’s your life that will be on the line then?” Ghost leaned forward with a sinister glare.

”I have nothing to lose.”

Ghost’s eyes darkened a little hearing your answer.

”Do you really think that would be fucking fair with everyone? Watching you die just because you think you are nothing?”

Slowly, you realized where his anger was really coming from. He wasn’t only mad because you violated his order, but he also didn’t like the fact that you were underestimating yourself.

”There was no time, I had to do something.”

”What if all three of you died? Where would that get us?” Ghost asked sharply.

”But we didn’t.” You argued with no will to continue this confrontation.

”I’m a lieutenant, which means that you do as I say,” Ghost continued firmly. ”I don’t give orders just because I have nothing better to do. There is a reason for every decision I make.”

His words echoed in your head as you watched Soap give you a small encouraging smile. They had no idea how badly Ghost’s words have crushed you.

”Feel free to quit if you think you can’t work in a team.”

Your eyes widened and you turned back to him. You wished that you misheard him but the look in his eyes proved you otherwise.

”What?”

”You heard me,” Ghost replied dryly. ”You don’t have to work under my watch if you feel like obeying my orders would be too difficult for you.”

You never felt so hurt by simple words before. He had never been this cold toward you, in fact, after Graves’s betrayal, it seemed like he let you closer to him.

But now it felt like you fell back to the start where you were only strangers.

”Why are you making such a big deal about this?” You asked.

”Because you don’t value your life at all. And I don’t need soldiers who never think about themselves.”

It was ironic that he was saying that when deep down he felt the same. He always fought with the thought that he might not make it. But when it came to you, Ghost couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, let alone getting killed.

He would be never able to forgive himself for that.

”You disobeyed yourself back then, you know,” you said as you hugged yourself and took a step back.

Ghost felt uneasiness in his heart at the sight of you putting distance between you two. And even though he knew that he hurt you, he wouldn’t take a word back. Because you overstepped a line when you disobeyed him.

”Me?”

You nodded, ”When you waited for Soap at the church. You always work alone and back there you didn’t even think to not help him survive the night.”

Ghost dropped his gaze to your hands, studying your bruises and fresh wounds with an intense stare.

”And now you are mad at me because I did the same?” You touched your throat, your words creeping into his mind, haunting him.

Ghost knew where you were coming from, that’s why he didn’t answer.

His eyes said it all.

”Fuck you, Simon.” You whispered, your voice almost breaking as you walked away from him. You didn’t want him to praise you because it wasn’t something he’d do. All you wanted him to do was understand why you ignored his orders.

”Cobra…” Ghost’s voice was calmer as he turned after you, watching you with soft eyes as you walked away from him.

----

Back at the base, everything seemed normal and fine.

Price made a toast as the task enjoyed their last time winning with honest smiles and shining eyes.

However, Ghost was nowhere to be seen or found.

It made you less uncomfortable now that you didn’t have to face him after the fight you just had before returning to the base.

You didn’t tell anyone what Ghost had said to you. You only let the others know that he wasn’t utterly happy that you disobeyed his orders.

”Where is Ghost?” asked Price after a few minutes now that everyone started eating and chatting with each other.

Your stomach stunk as you fixed your gaze, not daring to look at the captain.

”I don’t know,” Soap said. ”Probably celebrating alone.”

”Now that’s something he’d do.” Alejandro said with a small nod.

You were glad that neither Soap, Rodolfo, or Price had talked to you about Ghost. They knew that he was getting impatient with you but they knew that it wasn’t their business.

”Last time I saw him, he was on the roof,” Soap lowered his tone as he leaned close to your ear.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

”And?”

Soap gave you a side glance.

”You should go talk to him.” Soap advised and you immediately shook your head.

”I don’t think he wants to see me.”

Soap put his fork down and waited until you looked up at him.

”I know that it’s hard to believe but the only reason he lashed out at you is because he cares about you.”

You almost laughed hearing that weak excuse.

”Of course.”

”No, I’m serious.” Soap knotted his eyebrows together. ”He must have been worried about you. He probably cooled down anyway. You know that he is not the type to express himself very well.”

That doesn’t make the things he said right, you thought.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d want to see you now that everything was over.

You knew that you needed closure about the things that happened but you weren’t ready to face him. His cold glare kept haunting you during the flight.

Wouldn’t it be weird that after avoiding him for the rest of the day, you’d just show up suddenly?

You owned him an apology after all. Even though you helped Soap and Rudy, you had to disappoint Ghost.

His outburst was understandable because you had never done something like that before. Which left you wondering if he was willing to consider trusting you again.

You needed to put an end to this and maybe even switch teams if he wouldn’t want to work with you anymore.

”Okay, I’ll go find him.”

Soap gave you a proud smile as you stood up and walked out of the room, leaving the others to themselves.

You were fidgeting with your fingers as you were making your way up to the roof. The closer you got to the exit the more nervous you became.

Stopping in front of the hard metal door, you took a deep breath, trying to slow your heartbeat.

You opened the door, immediately seeing his familiar tall figure standing at the end of the roof with crossed arms and a stiff posture.

Your mouth went dry as you walked under the dark blue sky. The sun was slowly coming to a rest in the distance, leaving orange and pink shades behind.

”I told you I’m not hungry, Johnny.” Ghost’s voice cut through the soft wind that has awakened.

You sniffed before opening your mouth.

”What a shame,” you said. ”Price is not a bad cook at all.”

Ghost immediately turned around when he heard your voice. His eyes studied your fixed-up appearance and the bandages over you as you closed the distance.

His sleeves were rolled up, leaving his tattoos uncovered as his arms were crossed over his massive chest.

When you came to a stop next to him, he didn’t even try to hide that he was staring down at you with curiosity.

You expected him to order you to leave right away but seeing him surprised and silent was startling you.

”I’d rather cook for myself,” he continued. His voice was nowhere as cold and distant as it was when you two reunited after everything.

It made you feel a little less bad now that you knew that he wasn’t angry with you anymore.

You looked at the stars above you with admiring eyes while Ghost’s eyes didn’t leave your face for a second. It almost seemed like he was afraid that if he’d look away you’d vanish.

”It’s beautiful,” you said quietly, getting lost in the beauty of the stars. ”The sky.”

”Not only the sky,” Ghost said without thinking.

You bit into your lower lip as he continued to study you. You wished you could read his feelings because his silence was both pleasant and irritating at the same time.

”What are you doing here, Cobra?” Ghost asked.

You felt too exposed under his gaze, so you leaned on your elbows for support.

”Price misses you,” you answered gently. ”Everyone is celebrating.”

Ghost slowly shook his head and grabbed the edge of the roof that stopped you from falling down.

”No, I mean… Why are you here?” Ghost asked, his deep voice pulling at your heartstrings.

When you looked into his eyes you saw nothing but honest confusion.

”Because I want to put an end to this,” you said and he looked away for a second.

”Put an end to this?” Ghost asked.

You wiped your hair out of your face, swallowing the lump in your throat. Suddenly, it was hard for you to breathe calmly.

You backed away from the edge and his eyes never stopped following you. Not even for a brief second.

Because Ghost’s mind was full of possible things that would happen now that you came after him.

He hated it to admit, but the most believable thing that crossed his mind was that you’d end up quitting for good.

Which was the last thing he wanted you to do.

Pain darkened his heart as he watched your uneasy movements. He knew you very well to realize that it was because you weren’t comfortable in his presence. And he wished he could do something to change that.

”Everything that happened back there…” you started in a small tone. ”It was pure chaos. But I guess that’s nothing new if someone betrays you…”

Ghost watched you with suspicious eyes, not daring to interrupt you.

It was surprising to see such a tall and big man being unsure in the presence of a fragile and vulnerable woman.

”I was unprofessional and panicked when I heard Soap on the radio,” you continued. ”I listened to my heart instead of listening to you. There is a reason that you became a lieutenant and not me, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly because all I could think was that Soap and Rodolfo might die if we didn’t do something… It was out of line that I ran away and listened to myself. I owe you an apology because you are the one that makes decisions and orders, not me… I’m sorry.”

Your words burnt into Ghost’s mind while he slowly dropped his gaze to the ground. He hadn’t expected you to ever come up with an honest apology for what you just did.

He felt his muscles relax as you were waiting for his answer with big and sad eyes.

But he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to handle apologies.

You felt your heart sink as you took his silence in, fearing that your apology meant nothing to him.

”I’ll talk with Price in the morning,” you said in a defeated tone. ”I’ll tell him to replace me with someone else.”

Ghost’s grip tightened a little, ”Why would you do that?”

You dragged your nail over the corner of your lips.

”Because it will make things easier.”

”I don’t think it would.”

His answer confused you for a second, ”You told me it was better for me to just leave, so that’s what I’m going to do. You can’t allow someone in your team who doesn’t follow orders.”

Ghost swallowed as your eyes burnt his skin. Now that he knew why were you thinking that, he felt guilt pulling him down into an endless hole.

”I don’t want you to resign,” he said. ”I was mad and didn’t think before speaking. You are a good soldier and I trust you.”

You could feel your heart in your throat as he was letting you inside his head.

”I just wish that you trusted me,” he added and you pressed your lips into a thin line.

”I do.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes a little, ”I don’t think you did today.”

You knew that he had every right to doubt you after the shit you had pulled.

”I’m sorry,” you repeated.

Ghost frowned before sighing, ”Don’t apologize for helping Soap and Rodolfo. You did what you had to, not leaving your teammates behind, you were loyal.”

You would have never expected him to say those words and now that it hung in the air between you, you couldn’t help but let go of your guilt.

”I just lost my head when I saw that you weren’t with me in the next second,” Ghost said. ”I was worried sick while you were gone, that’s why I lashed out. We can’t lose you.”

I can’t, Ghost wanted to add but he thought he already talked enough.

”You hurt me, Simon,” you whispered, lowering your gaze.

Those four words broke Ghost’s heart, especially after hearing your sad voice. He hated that he caused you to doubt yourself for even a second.

He liked it when you called him his real name but not in a way like this. It felt like a thorn in his heart hearing how sad his name sounded from falling off your tongue.

Instead of saying anything, he reached out to you. His heart sank when he saw you hesitate whether you should take his hand or not.

It also reminded him of how quick you were to step away from him while you were arguing a few hours ago.

He didn’t want to be scary like his father but his presence didn’t make that easy for him. He was intimidating and emotionally unstable after all.

”I won’t hurt you. I would never do that.” Ghost said softly. ”I promise.”

You were the last person he wanted to scare and he was ready to do anything to prove you that.

You carefully placed your hand in his cold and large one, then held your breath when his fingers closed around you.

You let him slowly pull you toward him until your chests almost touched. You were never this close to him and just wished that he didn’t hear your crazy heartbeat.

What you didn’t know was that he was just as nervous as you were. He was familiar with physical closeness from his one-night stands but it was different with you. With someone whom he cared about.

”I shouldn’t have told you those things.” Ghost admitted shamefully.

”You were right,” you tried to defend his outburst even if the single memory of his words still cut you open.

Ghost looked down at your hand resting on his, briefly shaking his head.

”My job is to lead you and not guilt you,” he answered.

You tried to hide your sadness but it was hard to. You could still hear his anger-filled voice in your head after you helped Soap to safety.

”I understand your reaction,” you said, your heart beating fast in your ribcage. ”But that didn’t give you the right to talk to me the way you did.”

Ghost sighed and let go of your hand. You tried to ignore how much you started missing his touch as he withdrew, many thoughts clouding his head.

You watched in silence as he took a few steps back until he felt a chair in the back of his leg. Then, he sat down, his hand running up on the side of his balaclava.

”I know,” his voice was silent. Too silent.

You wanted to know what was going on with him but you didn’t want to push his buttons. You didn’t want to cross a line that would drag you down a hill.

It was enough once to have him raising his voice at you which was something he had never done before.

”If you don’t want to work with me just say it,” you nudged him, reminding him of his words. A part of you had a feeling that half of the things he had said to you were true even though you wished none of it were but as paranoia crept into your head, the darker your mind has become.

Ghost let out a breath and reached up, grabbing the top of his balaclava, and pulling it off his head with an abrupt move.

His face was agitated and troubled as he ran his fingers through his hair.

You remembered how it felt to see his face the first time, feeling extremely respected that he trusted you enough to take his mask off.

Something stirred inside you as you watched his uncovered face and you wished the circumstances were different.

”I don’t want you to go, Cobra,” his concerned eyes found you.

Shivers ran down your spine as you watched this troubled big man trying to reason with you almost desperately. You didn’t know why but it made you feel worse than the argument he had just started with you a few hours ago.

”Then stop saying things you don’t mean,” you advised but a little firmness hid in your voice. You didn’t want to give in that easily.

Ghost studied you carefully before reaching out for your cold hand. You didn’t push him away as he took a gentle hold of your arm and pulled you toward him. You didn’t dare breathe as the distance decreased between you two. Then, without a warning sign, Ghost pulled you down and helped you sit on his lap.

You could feel your cheeks burn as you took a seat on his thighs, his right hand snuck around your waist while the other landed across your knees.

You were never this close or intimate with each other.

Ghost was a nervous wreck as he tried to steady his breath while making sure that his arms were holding you steady.

”I won’t, I promise,” he said in a soft tone that shook your heart for a moment.

You had never heard him being this gentle and careful with you, this whole situation was an unknown and dangerous territory to you. And you hated how unpredictable he was.

”You scared me today,” he admitted, his hot breath touching your cheeks.

You dropped your gaze shamefully to his tattooed hand resting on your knees. Everything was so chaotic that you didn’t even stop to think about how your action would affect Ghost.

Ghost leaned closer and lifted your jaw then turned your head back to his slowly. You had no choice but to let him and when your eyes locked, you felt the back of your throat tighten.

His worry was as clear as water in his eyes, his sadness took hold of your heart, not letting it go.

”I’m sorry, Simon,” you said, his name softly leaving your lips.

His eyes cleared for a moment as your words were floating in the air between you before he dropped his forehead to yours.

You instantly closed your eyes and so did he as your heads softly touched.

”Just… promise me that you’ll never do anything like that ever again…” he begged softly. ”I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”

You felt your lips quiver a little at the pain dripping from his tone. He was the last person you expected to be worried for you. Over the years he wasn’t that open regarding his feelings and now that you broke through his walls, you didn’t know how to react.

You didn’t want to scare him but also didn’t want to make him think that he meant nothing to you.

”I won’t do anything like that ever again,” you whispered, using his words, then he let out a relieved sigh. ”I didn’t want to scare you.”

Ghost pressed his lips together, a frown taking over his face.

”When will you finally see how much you mean to me?”

His words felt like a knife through your heart. It warmed you to realize that you were so close to him that he wouldn’t want to lose you but you knew that feelings always made things complicated.

You tried to ensure him by softly pushing at his chest, causing him to open his eyes, however, he still didn’t move his head away from yours and neither did you.

”Careful with feelings, Lt…” you gave him a small smile. ”They make things complicated.”

Ghost’s eyes shined with amusement as he watched you with admiration. He really was lucky that nothing had happened to you.

”Something tells me that I’m already doomed.”

He pulled his head away an inch, then lifted it until his lips were able to connect with your forehead. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest as he left a long and tender kiss on your forehead without the slightest worry in the world.

You enjoyed the soft touch of his lips as long as you could before he pulled away, his hands still holding you close to him. There was something vibrating between your bodies and you wondered if he could feel it too.

”This is a dangerous game, Simon.”

Despite your warning words, you earned an honest but small smile from the scariest and toughest soldier you’ve ever met.

”I'll risk it all then."

[gliphyartfan]

Ohhhh! I hadn't thought about the dark circles! Now I have the thought that something very very simple for us, means a lot a lot for Hylians.

you know just the very basics about plants so that they barely manage to grow? Oh! It means you were blessed with the touch of nature and you are a child of the forest (human kokiri?).

Yeah, no, 'simple for us but a lot for the Hylians' is canon to me now, nothing will change my mind, and whoever tries it i invite to a peaceful fight to the death with knives-

And curly hair! It didn't occur to me either and I felt stupid because I have curly hair and I didn't think of the possibility. I'm now imagining Wind, intrigued, playing gently pulling my locks to straighten them and letting them go only to see them spring back into their spiral shape.

Oh imagine our heroes in our world, just spending hours fascinated watching people because there is so much variety! Round faces, square faces, apple-shaped bodies, brown hair with light red highlights, black, brown, green, blue eyes. Vitiligo, heterochromia, redheads, pale, black, brunette, alternative styles, dreadlocks, gothic, afro hair, short hair, shaved, simple, complicated...

The poor heroes will be overloaded with so much to see, there is so much diversity, so much life, so many people just being themselves without caring about anything else.

Human Kokiri? Ooh, I like that.

Now I’m imagining Time would be completely taken aback if he saw you coaxing life out of even the simplest plant.

He’d be silently in awe, connecting it back to his childhood. The mere thought that Reader could be linked to the forest, a sort of human Kokiri, would definitely affect him. (All in good ways I assure you.)

He might ask, only half-joking, if the Great Deku Tree has been guiding Reader too, or if Reader has forest spirits watching over them. For him, the connection the two of them seem to share with nature would feel deeply sacred and familiar.

he’d definitely enjoy spending time with Reader in nature or gardening.

Also, Sky would find curly hair mesmerizing, almost like a work of art crafted by the gods. He’d study each curl with such reverence, perhaps running his fingers gently through them and being deeply fascinated by the texture and movement. He’d be soooo tempted to see if he could challenge himself with carving a statue with a accurate curls. (A true magnus opus!)

…. (Then again to him, any unique trait they have would be another reminder of their beauty, and he’d appreciate the small things—freckles, the way their hair falls, or the shape of their face, all of it would just add to how much he admires Reader.)

Twilight would be able to pick up Reader no matter their body weight/height/etc.

Cause Reader deserves to be carried by one of the heroes just as much as they deserve to carry the heroes like they are a handful of grapes ! 😤

[xelmokidx]

Smiles and Cigarettes

I have a post that’s kinda sorta possibly a little bit blowing up about Matt Dillon and his smile so I’m going to write my little heart out about it bc I’m obsessed. So enjoy!!

warnings: pure cold hard fluff, no use of Y/N

Dallas winding x sunshine-y!Reader

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ 

Dallas Winston didn’t smile. It was his whole shtick. He was cold and hard and mean. He hated kids and candy. But the one thing he hated more than anything was feeling weak. And smiling showed weakness. So Dallas didn’t smile. Now you, you smiled. It was all you did. You smile basically showed rays of sunshine. You smiled so much that you had deep smile lines and still looked gorgeous. You were a ray of light. And Dallas, he was a dark stormy cloudy day. You know Dallas didn’t smile. Hell, everyone did. But you did every thing in you power to try to make him smile. It didn’t work. It never worked. No matter how hard you worked for him to even crack a smirk, it didn’t work. You never told him of this plan. You didn’t even mutter a word. But dallas knew. He knew how hard you worked for him to smile. But he wouldn’t let up.

So, that’s where this takes us. You were at the park with Dallas. You sat on the yellow-ish grass with a red blanket and a book. Dallas had brought some things. He said he would. You were really excited till you found out that some things to him was a pack of cigarettes and two cokes. So not what you had hoped for but enough.

You regularly hung out with Dallas. You had no idea why he even tolerated you, but you took what you were given and held it with pride. Everyone knew that Dallas was your friend. And even though they thought he was corrupting you, you still hung around him.

Dallas was laying on your leg sharpening his favorite knife as you sat up against a tree reading the book you brought. You laced your fingers through his dark locks as you read. Dallas, without you knowing, looked up at you occasionally. The fall sun shone against your face. It illuminated your eyes in a way that could make angels weep. Your chin was pursed as you focused on the words on the pages beneath your fingers. Dally thought you look gorgeous. Sure he had seen pretty girls before. But none like you. You were nice, and had never once turned your back on him. That is why he stuck so long. Other than the gang, you were the one constant in his life. Dallas knew what could make him smile. It was you. You had never once thought that you were the missing agent in the equation that was Dallas smiling. So you never tried it. As he watched your eyes scan the pages, his lips parted. The boys lips soon turned into the tiniest of smirks. Which turned into a grin. Which then turned into a full blown smile. As if it were magic, you looked down at Dallas just as he smiled. Your jaw was practically on the floor. Dallas had stopped smiling by now and you were at a loss for words.

“Dallas?” You questioned, “Did you just smile?”Dally smiles again and laughs.

“iunno” he mumbled back. He takes a swig of his coke before speaking again. “Wanna know why I did?” He asked. You found out that this was a game to him. You pondered your entire brain, ransacking every thought to try and figure out why he smiled. Maybe it was the sky? No he hates sunsets, he wasn’t Ponyboy. Maybe it was his knife and how sharp it got. No, he had sharped his knives before and never before had it gotten a reaction. So what on gods green earth made him smile. Dally watched you think long a hard on the reason he smiled. And when he figured out you had no avail, he folded

“you.” He blurted.

You stopped thinking and looked down at the boy on your lap.

“You made smile, doll” he said, his already big smile widening even more. You then start to smirk, then grin, then a full blown smile filled your face.

“Really?” You said in disbelief. Dallas nodded. You were surprised at his smile. It was pretty, very pretty. You wondered why he didn’t do it more. His smile lines framed his face perfectly. He even had some dimples. He was so pretty when he smiled, that you prayed that he would do it more. “Why me?” You asked the boy in your lap. Dallas shrugged. “The sun always comes out after the rain right?” He said playing with your fingers.

You felt like you were in the clouds you were so happy. You looked down at Dallas and tilted your head. “So all I had to do was,” you paused to ponder what to say. “Nothing?” You finally found the words to say. Dally nodded, lighting a cigarette, inhaling the bittersweet smoke and blowing it out. You were in shock. Jaw dropping, mind blowing, unbelievable shock. All you had to do was, be you? You wish you had found that out sooner.

Dallas had sat up and was facing you. You watched him take a few more puffs of his cancer stick, before putting it out.

Dallas was looking you in the eyes. His eyes read something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You tore your eyes away from him in nervousness. You felt your hair brush against your cheek. Dally pushes it out of the way, his hands staying on your pretty face. “Dally,” you whisper. “Yes?” he says back, glancing at your lips. “You make me smile too,” you say, finally looking him in the eyes. You too, glanced at his lips. Dallas leaned in and your lips touched his in a kiss. You were nervous, so the kiss was gentle at first. But Dally and his rough ways changed that quickly. His hand gripped your waist, the other on your neck. His kiss was filled was so much passion, it was dizzying. Dallas tasted like the coke and cigarettes he had brought. You thought you would hate it, just as you hated cigarettes. But the taste was so Dallas, that you just had to love it. Dallas’s lips left yours slowly. You both were panting, and dally was smiling once again. “Shit” he said. “How’s you learn to do that?” He said with his grin widening. You shrug “ I dunno” you say back, still panting from the incredible kiss. “Instinct” you say back. Dally nods and leans his forehead on yours.

You stay at the park, stealing kisses from each other while you read little excerpts of your book to him. Dally listened with love and passion in his eyes. You scowred the whole world to find out what had made Dallas Winston smile. Little did you know it was you all this time. And you would do anything to keep it that way.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Really Detective?

Hey everyone! This particular piece is a short one. It's Rafael Barba/Male reader. @nickamaro requested this cute little piece. It was requested that I write this imagine with either Rafael or Olivia. And I decided to do both. Olivia's one will be posted soon. I hope you all enjoy! And please feel free to request stories, either from my prompt list or just anything you would like to read.

Warnings: Swearing

Masterlist

Prompt list

Rafael could hardly believe his eyes. At first he thought he had fallen asleep in his office after too much coffee and too much paper work. But no, that definitely hadn’t happened. He was in the apartment he shared with his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was currently standing on the kitchen counter with…oh jesus that was bug spray and a lighter.

“Carino, I know you said you didn’t like the curtains but this is a bit extreme,” Rafael drawled as he put his briefcase on a chair.

“This isn’t about the curtains baby,” you retorted eyes not leaving one particular spot on the floor. Rafael looked closely at you, a light sheen of sweat covered your face and your knuckles were almost white as you gripped the items in your hands. Your muscles tense.

“Okay, then what is it about?” Rafael raised an eyebrow. “And can you please get off the counter and put the lighter down.”

“Not until that fucker reappears so I can fry it,” you growled.

“Need a little more,” Rafael prodded looking around trying to figure out what was going on.

“There was a massive fucking spider on the floor there,” you explained. “And then it just vanished so now I am staying here until it shows itself.”

“A spider?” Rafael was even more confused. To Rafael you looked scared. Very scared. But that wasn’t something he had ever seen on you. “I have seen you stare down guns and people holding knives at you but a spider has you like this.”

“Don’t tease me,” you almost whined at your boyfriend. “I don’t like spiders Rafi, they’re creepy as hell with all their legs and eyes and…and there it is!”

Rafael looked over his shoulder and saw the spider. It was small, nowhere near the size he thought it would be from how you are acting. Rafael sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose as he walked over and stomped on the poor thing. He did not want to risk you actually setting things on fire. Rafael turned around just in time to have you fling yourself into his arms. You were taller than him but at this moment Rafael felt like he was taller as you curled yourself into him, burying your head into his neck. Arms thrown around his shoulders as you nuzzled into him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Rafael wrapped his arms around your waist, trying very hard not to chuckle. This side of you was new and he found it incredibly adorable, and he didn’t want anyone else to ever see it.

“Of course, Carino,” he patted your back, squeezing you softly. He found it amusing that his brave detective boyfriend was so afraid of spiders but at the same time a small part of him was a little pleased that he got to be the protector for once. “I’ll deal with any spiders, so no need to almost burn the apartment down.”

“…Shush,” you muttered, lightly nipping his neck. “And don’t even think about telling anyone about this.”

“Ah, yes, don’t want your reputation of being one of the most badass and intimidating detectives to be tarnished,” Rafael laughed hand coming up to tug gently on your hair. A whine left your throat at the action, the man knew exactly what he was doing. You went to pull away from him but Rafael held on to you. “Aw, don’t worry Carino. I promise I won’t tell anyone you needed a knight in shining armour.”

“Don’t be mean,” you muttered being able to move enough to look at him, his green eyes shining with amusement. Rafael caught your eyes, which still had a slight hint of fear in them, the sight of that smothered the rest of his amusement. He cupped your face leaning forward to kiss your cheeks and your lips.

“I’m sorry Carino,” he whispered. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

You smiled softly at him leaning to rest your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose. You had hoped that he would never find out about your fear of spiders. Last time someone had they made you feel so small, as if a detective of your size and demeanour couldn’t have such a fear. As if someone who charges into danger without a moment’s hesitation shouldn’t be afraid.  

“Thank you,” you told him again kissing him. “Never had my own knight in shining armour but I’m glad you’re mine.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do after the times you have saved me,” Rafael grinned. “Now how about some dinner?”

“Or we could just skip right to dessert,” you suggested pulling out of his arms and walking backwards towards the bedroom, tugging on his hands.

“If this is the reward I get every time I kill a spider, I hope I find more,” Rafael grinned untangling one of his hands to loosen his tie, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer to nip at your neck.

[thegreatobsesso]

Milo's intro

Alright friends! This is probably scene #2 of the first draft, taking place right after Octavius's intro.

--

Milo doesn’t belong here. 

Sinclair Tower is a steel and marble high-rise where gods of industry shake hands on multimillion pound foreign investments or sign contracts that control the flow of data on the internet. Or... something. 

Milo’s not actually sure what any of these companies do. If you ask him, all their names just sound like gourmet corporate word salad - Crescendo Consulting, ATRIUM Insights, FocusFortune - and that only further convinces him that his presence is a ginormous mistake. 

He’d sent in his application on a whim, for god’s sake. A shoot-for-the-stars kind of thing. He didn’t expect a call back. When the unfamiliar voice had identified itself as personal assistant to Octavius Sinclair, he’d nearly spit his drink. 

That same voice rings out across the intimidating lounge of steel and light.

“Milo McKenzie?”

He jumps from his seat like it’s caught fire. “Hi, yes, that’s me.”

“Julian Keats. Please, follow me.”

He follows this well-groomed and neatly dressed human down a glass-walled corridor overlooking a dizzying array of unnecessarily complicated architecture. It feels crafted to disorient, although it’s probably just his anxiety. Julian ushers him into his clear box of an office that offers a full view of the bustling floor on three sides and the cityscape on the fourth. The din of businesspeople dies as the door shuts. 

“Right,” Julian begins as Milo takes a seat across from him at his tidy desk. “Congratulations on having passed the screening process. I’ll give you a brief orientation, you’ll sign some forms for our records, and then you’ll be clear to meet with Mr. Sinclair.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he chirps, cringing at himself instantaneously. He’s a nerd, an overeager loser, a timid nobody-

“The basics,” Julian states over his rolling ticker-tape of admonitions. “This shouldn’t be anything new to you if you read the materials, but here goes. No electronics whatsoever go past the elevator, including and especially mobile phones. A typical session with Mr. Sinclair can last anywhere from one to four hours, unless interrupted by your safe word. He’ll use any combination of whips, handcuffs, ropes, paddles, clamps, spreader bars, dildos, plugs, vibrators and/or his personal business ties and belts. Anything outside that, he’ll show you and get your color before he uses it. He may want to fuck you, he may not. He may or may not let you come.”

Milo is overheating like an overtaxed laptop at this procedural recitation of things he did, in fact, already know. He's not new to scene - in fact, he had to provide references to prove it - but he’s never sat down with a business person in the middle of a bustling office space to talk about butt plugs. 

Moreover, they're talking about Octavius Sinclair. He's like, the hottest man alive. He's famous and rich and a philanthropist and an icon. And he may fuck Milo, or he may not; he may or may not let Milo come.

Fuck!

“Yeah, that’s,” he says, reminding himself no one walking by can actually hear them in here. “That’s all great.”

“And I see... only hard limit is knives.”

“Yeah, that’s it. No knives.”

“What about blades in general? Razors, swords?”

Swords? “I... guess you can put blades in general there.”

Julian scratches out his original answer and jots the new one down in impeccable script.

"And, do remind me what it is you're to call him, and what you're not."

Finally, a chance to prove his preparedness! “Sir," Milo answers confidently. "Nothing but sir. Not his name, master, or daddy."

"And your safe word is?"

"Red, or ‘safe word’. Yellow means ease up or slow down. Green is good, and if I can't speak, I'll shake my head no and say uh uh uh."

Julian ticks boxes as he speaks. "That's great," he replies without a shred of enthusiasm. "I'm gonna need your signature here, here and here."

Just as he slides several forms across the desk, Milo’s phone buzzes in his pocket. 

He ignores it, for now. Another minute or two won’t hurt.

“This one states you don’t have any allergies or significant medical conditions. This one says you haven’t had any unprotected sex since your last negative STD screening. And this one, please make sure to read it all the way through. This is the confidentiality agreement, which Mr. Sinclair will sign as well. “

The phone buzzes again. Shit. “I’m so sorry,” he says, “I have to take a call.”

Julian Keats stares at him, clearly more used to being the interrupter than the interrupted. He manages to inject an impressive amount of displeasure in a simple businesslike Ah, of course before Milo’s off searching for an enclave with some semblance of privacy.

He finds it in one of the flagrantly incongruous beanbag chairs in a corner where the view gives him vertigo. He sits facing away from the city dials back. 

“Milo.” His sister’s voice, thick with terror. “I’m in trouble. I need help. I need you to come get me.”

He presses his fingertips against his eyelids. She sounds awful, and it hurts. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be there soon, but in the mean time, can you tell me a couple things you can see right now?”

“I’m not crazy,” she whispers; frantic, like she’s hiding from someone. 

“I know you’re not. I know. I just want you to describe a couple things you can see for me. Please.”

He sits with her for a moment while she talks, shakily, of things in her hospital room. The patterns of the curtains, the phrases scrawled by nurses on the dry erase board. The worn plastic case of CDs she’s had with her since she was admitted - Fiona Apple, Garbage, the Cranberries.

He doesn’t say goodbye until she sounds a bit calmer, and he’s going to have to cancel his afternoon appointment to go her straightaway after this, but she should be fine until he gets there. The staff know her well enough by now to know when she's close to hurting herself, or somebody else.

He feels like crying, but even if it were a fine time for such a thing, his body wouldn’t actually do it.

So he goes back in and finishes signing all the forms. Julian’s clipped confirmation goes a bit past his ears. 

“Alright, all sorted," he states, and Milo can almost see him itching to move onto the multitude of more pressing matters Milo's sure he's got. "Your appointment is at 10 pm. Arrive at the club at least 15 minutes before that and present this to security. They’ll scan the card and put you into the elevator to the penthouse. Once you’re there, just knock.”

“Wait, sorry, 10 pm tonight?”

“Yes, obviously. The confirmation file for today’s appointment said as much. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Oh, Jesus. “No,” he hurries to confirm. “No, not at all, that works for me, it’s just... wow, I didn’t think it’d happen that fast.”

God, he thought he’d get a haircut, maybe lose a kilo, but he supposes not. 

No, he’ll be walking into that room on the fifty-bajillionth floor of this very tower exactly how he is now, and letting a hot, filthy rich titan of business do whatever the hell he wants to him, within his own predefined limits. The guy the press calls the king of London, either because of how much he owns or the way he carries himself. Actually, Milo’s quite certain it’s a combination of both. And that’s...

Well, it’s bloody fucking fantastic is what it is. As he’s leaving the building, he looks around and, seeing no one paying much mind to him whatsoever, pumps his fist into the air in front of him. Just a little bit.

--

✨ WIP intro

🔖 tag list: @winterandwords // @foxboyclit //@revenantlore

@space-writes // @indecentpause // @words-after-midnight

comment to be added or removed!

📝 all posts from WIP: gay crime bdsm story

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 28

(masterlist)

CW: pet whump, dissociation, panic attacks, talk of noncon and sexual abuse

-

Linden made sure the newspaper was between him and Col, dividing the two and their respective bowls of cereal. There were days where Linden felt he couldn’t be bothered with breakfast, but Col deserved three meals a day, so he made sure to set a precedent.

I suppose I deserve three meals a day too, he thought with a trace of humour.

The newspaper was a small but important barrier, along with the cereal box, and a pine-scented candle. It was never lit- Linden didn’t want Col to know where the matches were kept- but its pleasant aroma was still there. Linden was sure the barriers were mostly of psychological comfort, but he had noticed the way Col relaxed with them. It didn’t look quite as easy to reach out and grab. Given his wrist scars, Linden imagined that Col had spent a lot of his time strung up, open and completely defenceless. Every layer of clothing, every object, even the table itself, it all kept him away and separate. Like he was his own person, his own body. He'd been planted in his own patch of earth, and he could grow in any direction he wanted.

Vik would call it all overthinking, but it came to Linden so naturally these days.

This morning, Col was trying out his new cutlery. Linden had gone online and found a set of accessible forks, knives, teaspoons and tablespoons, all built with incredibly thick tactile handles.  Linden had chosen the green set. He had weighed up asking Col to choose, but he thought it would be better to keep them as a nice surprise.

Breakfast was also a good time to see if it was going to be a talkative day or not. “See how you get on with your new spoon, Col,” Linden encouraged, picking up his own as he spoke.

Col did one of his almost-smiles, where although his lips didn’t quite turn up enough, the heaviness on his face lifted.

“Thank you again, Sir, really…”

“Aw, well, you’re welcome,” Linden returned Col’s smile tenfold.

Col picked the spoon up and his eyes widened. “It’s so much easier, Sir.”

“Yeah?”

Col scooped up some cereal with ease and marvelled at it.

“Yeah. Thank you,” he said, meeting Linden’s eye. “Please may I keep using it?”

“Yes, yes of course, they’re for you from now on. I have big and little spoons, knives, and forks.”

Col’s eyes widened even more. “Wow, I… how can I earn all this, Sir?”

“You don’t have to. These are just to make your life easier.”

“But I haven’t done anything to… is there something you want me to do that involves these?”

“No, Col, honestly,” Linden said, still smiling, trying to keep it light as always, “They’re just for the simple but important task of eating your food. Your hands are always improving, but these will help while they’re still fragile.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Col said, almost tripping over his words to get his point across. Linden just waved at his breakfast with a limp-wristed hand.

“You’re welcome, sweet, now you can enjoy your cereal. I’m gonna do the same.”

. . .

After breakfast, after Col had prostrated himself in thanks for the new cutlery, which Linden had handled with barely any trace of awkwardness, the two moved to the living room. It seemed like it was going to be a talkative day, and Linden wanted to keep the momentum going. It was raining- the kind of harmless rain that nevertheless drove people inside. The kind that came from all directions like a mist and soaked you to the bone.

Linden was crocheting a new cardigan, and Col’s job was to hold the ball of wool and unroll it in even increments, making sure Linden never went without. It was the perfect light test of dexterity, with something soft and harmless. The only vaguely weapon-like thing involved was the crocheting hook, which was far too busy looping and stitching and working away.

“How would you feel about another walk, soonish?”

Linden waited for Col’s response before he clarified what soonish meant. It could mean today, if Col seemed willing, or it could mean in the next week, or month.

“Um,” Col started hesitantly, staring at the floor, “Would you please keep me on- on a short leash? If it isn’t too much trouble, Sir?”

“Would that make you feel safer?” Linden asked, and when Col nodded, he said, “Can I ask why?”

Linden knew this was something that would need to be worked around, not avoided, but it could be like the cutlery. If Linden could find the right tools to make it easier, then Col would be able to finally get some regular exercise.

“It’s st-stupid, Sir, I’m sorry for saying anything.”

“It’s not stupid. I want- it’s important for you to feel safe when we next go outside. I promise I wouldn’t ever use it against you.”

This seemed to get through to Col, a little bit. He gently squeezed the ball of wool as he found the words.

“I’m worried about seeing… seeing some people.”

Linden stayed quiet.

“Not my old Master, he’s- he’s dead, Sir.”

“Okay,” Linden murmured. He knew that already, from when Vik had told him, but it was good to finally hear it from Col. He was more than a little curious about the specifics of that, but it could wait.

“My old Master had all his friends ‘round, sometimes,” he started.

What followed was a very long pause. Col was still looking at the floor, but his eyes started to take on the unfocused, hazy appearance they had a handful of times before. Linden knew his consciousness was stepping away from the here and now, drifting like seaweed, hopeless against the syrupy pull of the ocean. He was being taken back and it was tumbling him like a breaking wave, crushing him against all the days and times and moments. Linden was watching him drown.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, and, mercifully, Col took a breath.

“He had his friends ‘round and they all- they all- they all fucked me.”

“Jesus. Oh, god, Col. Oh my god.”

Col wasn’t kneeling: his legs were tucked up against his chest, and his arms were folded over them like a hug. Linden quietly lowered himself onto the floor and mirrored him. When Linden next took a breath, it was shaky with horror.

“You know I would never do that to you? Ever.”

“Yes, Sir,” Col mumbled out, because he had to. Linden could tell he didn’t believe him.

“No, I mean it.” Col immediately looked up, a half-second away from begging that he wasn’t defying him, but Linden pressed on before he could. “I would never do that. I can’t. I don’t have an interest in sex. And while I would never do it regardless… what’s most important is that it can never happen.”

“You don’t have an interest, Sir? You don’t like it?”

“Exactly. I should have made this clear much sooner.”

Col lowered his head to brush the top of his knees, hiding his expression. “My old Master didn’t get involved when his friends came.”

It showed an incredible amount of trust that Col could say that- because what he wanted to say was are you going to do that? Could that be your work-around? Am I still in danger?

Linden remembered when Col had tried to offer him a sexual favour, back when he’d just arrived. Linden had been disgusted to find out that that had been part of the tapestry of abuse Col had endured, but he now realised quite how prolific it had been. It had been so much worse than he’d realised.

“That is fucking evil. Evil. Seeing that done to you would make me sick, Col. How can I explain… seeing something like that happen can damage a person. Even seeing it, yeah, Col? It isn’t normal. Not even close to normal.”

“So it… it wouldn’t please you, Sir?”

“Col, you poor thing. It would do the opposite. I don’t have an interest in sex, and that’s quite a neutral feeling. But seeing you get gangraped? I need you to understand that I would physically be sick. Normal human beings do not do things like that.”

“They don’t? Most people, th-they, it’s not f-fun for them?”

“Exactly. It’s not fun for Vik either.”

“Are- Are you sure? I’m sorry, I mean, I do believe you Sir, I just…”

“No, it’s okay. I promise. It’s okay to be unsure. You spent so long not receiving any kindness at all. Your old owner was a very wicked man.”

Col slid his arms from his legs, folding them against his chest, pressing his hands to his beating heart. His breathing was starting to speed up.

“Sir, that word you used…”

“Which one?”

“Raped. Is that… is that what happened to me?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Col.”

“But I was always just- it was always after I’d been really bad. It was just another lesson, that’s what I was told.”

“That doesn’t change it. That was wrong. I don’t care what you’d done. You never deserved that.”

“But I- but I- but, oh, oh god, oh god-“

Col’s breaths were now short and staccato gasps, barely able to get his words out around them. He pressed his hands into his face.

“No, no, it was just a lesson, just, just, a-a-and I always tried so hard,” he moaned as he began to sob. His chest heaved thunderously around his failing lungs, unable to keep up against the force of the panic attack.

Linden’s mind went white as Col wailed. Should he hold him? Leave? Speak to him?

Slowly, he reached out a hand, letting it rest on Col’s shoulder. Col wrenched a scarred, crooked hand away from his face and grabbed onto Linden’s wrist.  

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. “And I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me, please,” Col wept. His crying was open-mouthed and wretched; Linden had never heard something so grief-stricken before. Col’s entire body was shaking from the force of it. It was a terrible sight, seeing him in so much agony.

Linden moved a little closer, gently rocking them both back and forth. Col turned his face down, pressing it against his shoulder, where Linden’s fingers made divots in his cheek. Linden could feel Col’s tears soaking into his skin.

“I’m right here,” he said, trying to breathe slowly and deliberately, but not expecting Col to copy him. Not expecting a single thing from the breathless young man curled up and crying against him, whose pain Linden couldn’t ever understand.

No wonder Col had been so terrified last time they stepped outside. He was living in fear of running into his rapists. Plural. Linden felt sick.

It wasn’t something he could produce a simple fix to, either. But Linden would do what he could. Ideas were already whirring through his mind.

Col sobbed until there were two rashes streaming down from each eye. Until his nose and cheeks and scleras were red. He eventually allowed Linden to support his arms and coax him onto the sofa- the first time he had ever let himself onto the furniture- where he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

Linden covered him with a blanket and kept his promise not to leave him.  

-

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

[mlmxreader]

Just a Bad Dream | Tom Hanniger x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Rest your head, here's a lullaby

- Male reader with Tom Hanniger ❞

: ̗̀➛ Tom has a nightmare, at least, he hopes that was what happened.

: ̗̀➛ mild injury, blood, swearing, threats of violence, mentions of murder, psychological abuse (manipulation, gaslighting, etc)

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

"Rest your head, here's a lullaby."

Those were the last words you had spoken to Tom before he had drifted off to sleep. It had taken him so long to get over the events of what had happened in his hometown on Valentine's Day; being manipulated and gaslighted by Axel into believing that he was a killer. False memories planted in his head, purposefully attacking his delusions to make it even worse for him.

Yet you had stood firmly by him, you were the only one who didn't believe that Tom was a killer; like everybody else in the world, Tom was capable of it if pushed far enough - but he wasn't a serial killer by any means, and he wasn't guilty for what had happened at all.

You stood by his side every moment, drove him to the psychiatrist's office, helped him out as much as you could when he wanted reality checks and for you to double check things for him to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating.

Nobody else had ever done such a thing for him.

A new town, a fresh start; he did what he did best, he worked in the mines. It was long hours, but he enjoyed it there and he made a fair few good friends.

Now he was all alone. Wandering around an old and worn down hospital that looked like it had not been used for at least seventy or so years.

He called and called, but nothing answered; he searched and scoured every room, fighting cobwebs and dust and rodent droppings to find something, anything that would give him a clue as to where he was and why. But he couldn't find anything.

However, just as he prepared to head down a particularly dull and dark green corridor, he saw someone; a man hunched over a mop bucket, squeezing water out of a long handled mop. He wore a red and green striped jumper, dark brown trousers and matching boots, and a dark brown fedora just to stop it all off.

Relieved, Tom let out a long sigh.

"Oh, thank fuck - hey! Hey, Mister!"

The cleaner turned to him, and waved with a hand that looked like it had knives on the end of it, but surely it was just protective gloves.

Tom didn't think so much of it as he took a few steps forward and gently tapped the man on the back.

"Am I glad I found you!"

The man stood up, glaring up at Tom with piercing light eyes; his skin was burned, stretched and scabbed all over his face and neck. He offered Tom a toothy grin. "I have an axe to grind with you, kid."

Tom furrowed his brows as he took a step back. "Huh?"

"You stole my thunder," the cleaner accused, pressing the knives into Tom's chest enough to make a point. "They don't fear me anymore - they fear you."

"Me?" Tom scoffed. "Why me? What the Hell did I do?"

"That stunt you pulled in Harmony," the cleaner growled. "Everybody fears the miner now - not me! And without fear, I can't keep doing my job!"

"That wasn't me!" Tom hissed, shaking his head. "I didn't do it! I didn't kill those people!"

"No, but people think you did, and that's good enough… so I'll cut you a deal - you get them to fear me again, and maybe, just maybe, I won't play a nice game of slice and dice with your boyfriend."

"You touch him," Tom snarled as he shoved the man against a wall, holding him by the collar of the jumper. "You so much as look at him, and I will kill you!"

The man pressed his glove into Tom's stomach, only enough to make his point clear. "Then do what I want, and I'll leave him alone… c'mon, pretty boy."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Name's Freddy," he grinned, shoving Tom off of him and grinning. "Freddy Krueger."

"You're the sick bastard who killed all those children," Tom breathed out, shaking his head. "You're dead! They burned your sorry ass to a crisp!"

"And yet, I'm their worst nightmare," Freddy chuckled. "C'mon, Tommy, you know what you have to do to protect your boyfriend… just put on the miner costume, head to Springwood, Ohio, and create a little fear in my name."

"And you'll leave my boyfriend alone?" Tom asked quietly.

Freddy nodded, using his knives to gently nick Tom's chest. "Do we have a deal?"

"Fine."

Sitting upright, Tom gasped loudly; his chest was heaving, his eyes wide and wild as he frantically looked around the room, not quite sure where he was for a moment until he laid eyes on you.

Sound asleep beside him, cuddled into his side and wearing one of his old zip up hoodies. Gently, Tom traced your jaw, and hummed as he spent a moment to calm himself down; it must have just been a bad dream, surely. He checked his chest, and when his fingers came away with slick red blood, he winced a little.

"Tom?" You murmured quietly, wearily looking up at him.

"I'm okay, baby," he said softly, gently kissing your forehead as he snuggled back down. "Just a little nightmare, that was all."

You hummed, cosying up to him as you yawned quietly. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I'm good," he told you, shaking his head. "Thanks…"

As he looked at you, Tom knew that he had to do everything possible to keep you safe and to protect you; he could already feel bile in his throat as he swallowed thickly, passing it off as a suppressed yawn. Fuck.

He felt awful already, knowing what he had to do, knowing that the only way to keep you safe was to become the very thing he swore he would never be.

But then… maybe it was just a nightmare, and maybe he just accidentally scratched himself while he was asleep and itched too hard. That was probably it. It was just a bad dream, and he had accidentally knocked himself a little.

"Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," you told him. "I wanna marry you."

[softquietsteadylove]

Only FIVE prompts left??? We can’t have that! (Unless you want a break then we absolutely can have that) BUT here’s another words prompt just in case you want more! I may be back with an AU specific prompt as well 👀 words are: luck, train, discovery

"You two, take the back cars, bring back anything useful."

Thena said nothing, all but rolling her eyes at the order. But she moved in the direction of the back of the train, pulling Gil with her by the hand.

He was less eager to argue with Ikaris, but he chuckled as Thena kept a close pace with him. "Bit bossy, huh?"

"He thrives off of ordering people around, I believe," she muttered, although she didn't let go of his hand, even as they walked. "At least with you here, he's not barking as much."

To say that he was not a fan of Ikaris would be an understatement, but Gil was quietly happy that the group leader seemed to give him a little more wariness than the others. He didn't think of himself as a fighter, by any means, but if that prick thought he could get away with being a bully, then Gil was happy to get in his face again.

The sun hit the top of Thena's head, reflecting off of it in a blinding way. But the sun was a good thing--it meant they had good visibility and that most of those things would be stumbling around idly rather than riled up.

"Feels kinda nostalgic, right?" he chuckled as they arrived at the back two cars. "Remember that time we spent on the Amtrack line?"

"Of course," she smiled, watching as he pried the sliding door open for them. That was the main reason he had been asked along on this scavenging trip--and that it was probably going to be lucrative, and the more they could carry at once, the better.

"Nice and quiet place to sleep, at least for a few nights," he reminisced. He groaned as he got the door open, but as soon as he did, Thena slid in front of him, knives up and at the ready.

He remembered their time on the train most fondly because it was the first time Thena had quietly and shyly settled herself beside him to sleep. It was his most treasured memory, even if she didn't know he had it.

She kept her knives up, tapping the metal tips against the walls and overhead rails, just to test if anything was lying in wait. "Rear?"

Gil looked behind them, but it seemed pretty clear. He looked around again, his eyes dashing down to another - completely different - rear before he blushed and cleared his throat. "Looks good."

"Okay," she murmured, reaching the front of the car. She looked through the window of it, catching Kingo in the next car forward. He waved; Gil waved back, while Thena gave him a very stiff not. "Let's start checking."

If there was anything worth taking, it was probably already gone. But things got lost and forgotten in the panic of fleeing. Anything that was left had the potential to have at least a few good things left. A toiletries bag inside a suitcase, some snacks that had been stashed away. Even just the clothes were an asset.

"What do you think it's like for them?" Gil asked, mostly for the sake of talking. He glanced at the end of the car, "scavenging like this even though they've never been out in it?"

Thena eyed the direction of his gaze but returned to methodically digging through bags. "Every time we do this, I see them hesitate. I think there's still a sense that the people who owned these wouldn't want them dug through, or something."

Gil nodded. He understood it, sure--the sympathy he could have for all these people who hadn't been lucky enough to survive what he had. But he agreed with Thena that they didn't have the luxury of thinking like that every time they needed supplies. The things shuffling around in their bodies now had no need for the shreds of their human lives anymore.

He blinked as something was tossed at him. Thena didn't even look up, still digging through things and separating them into piles. But he shook out the little bundle, pleased by the light material of the green plaid shirt. "Yeah?"

"It'll be lighter than the one you have now," she muttered.

He was indeed still wearing a flannel over his t-shirt. It was just something he could wear around the hospital, on kitchen duty or whatever. But he had to admit, out here and under the sun, he was starting to sweat a little.

Thena tilted her head at him as he pulled his darker green one off and pulled on the lighter one. "Hm."

He let her move over to him, rolling the sleeves up to his elbow for herself. He probably would have anyway, but he didn't mind if she wanted to do it. "What do you think?"

She looked up at him, smiling more than she had since they left this morning. "It's a nice colour for you."

"Don't I have to turn it over and, like, request it or something?" he asked as he adjusted the collar of it. He didn't know all the ins and outs of it, but Thena had told him about the system they had for inventory.

From what he understood, everything came back to the hospital, and if someone found something they wanted to keep, they were at the top of the list for it once it had been accounted for. Supposedly it caused less petty theft and argument over resources.

Thena shrugged, though, tying his old shirt around her waist. "Ikaris kept a hat last time and Kingo found a jacket he liked that he was never going to turn over. It's not stated, but if you find it and you're willing to fight for it, no one will argue."

He wasn't sure if that really applied to him - a temporary grunt worker - but he didn't argue. The shirt was already nice and cool on his skin. "Anything I should keep an eye on? Is there anything we aren't keeping?"

"Everything is good to have, but we also can't carry every single thing we find. Divide everything into sections and the priorities will be half from lighter things, half from heavier and outerwear. Shoes and undergarments are a must, but dresses and skirts and suits we can leave."

Things that were less useful weren't a priority. Choice was great, but fashion wasn't a burden for them to bear for those back at the hospital.

Although, Gil watched Thena retrieve another suitcase, if he happened to see something he thought she would like, he wasn't above squirrelling it away for her.

"Oh."

"What?" he leaned over from his sorting to look at her new find. It was a hard shell suitcase, but there weren't any clothes in it at all. It seemed to contain souvenirs or home decorations. Photo frames were in there, although the glass had broken from being tossed and abandoned in the scuffle of things.

"You don't see this often," she sighed. It was never pleasant to have to truly toss away someone's life in your findings. She sifted through things delicately, mindful of the little shards of glass.

"Careful," he couldn't resist muttering over her shoulder. He got a look for it, but he shrugged. He reached in for himself, pulling out a little dragon figurine. "Jade--supposed to be good vibes."

Thena pulled out a broken handheld fan, as well some beautiful painted - and broken - porcelain. "I can see why it was left behind, but it's amazing they even bothered to pack it in the first place."

It was probably evidence of an early phase of evacuation. One where people were still being promised safe havens and places to reestablish themselves.

"Hey," he grinned, fishing out another artifact. He held it delicately, noting the crack already running down the face of it. "This looks just like the one that used to be on the counter in my old restaurant."

The lucky cat's smile was in tact, despite everything. Its paws were held aloft and the gold detailing of it still shone under the dirt and dust.

"Here," Thena handed him the little red pillow that went with the decoration.

Gil held the thing in his palms. It was nostalgic in a completely different way, reminiscent of a totally different time in his life. But something about looking down at the little face was like seeing an old friend. "I used to say hi to him before every shift."

Thena smiled. "I'm sure you were great friends."

He turned sheepish; it was a little silly, and most didn't enjoy remembering the before times, as it were. No use mourning something so irreparably lost. "Wish we could take you with us, little guy."

Thena watched as he set the little cat, on its pillow, back into the suitcase.

"No room for non-essentials," he excused before standing and dusting off his knees. "I'll clear this back one."

"Careful," Thena responded reflexively. He gave her the same look she had given him but she just shrugged.

He snorted and grinned at her; she was cute, for a huge hypocrite. He slid the door between the cars open, holding onto his skillet. It even felt like old times to be holding it again, ready to swing it at any potential threats.

Ikaris and Kingo kept trying to give him guns and he kept saying no; he didn't know how to handle one anyway, and he was better with short range force than long range accuracy. Thena had her knives and the speed and grace of a gymnast, and he had a cast iron skillet and upper body strength. It had gotten them this far.

He looked back as Thena joined him, her backpack already zipped up with a bulging top. She nodded, "your shirt's in here, too."

They went back to work, sorting through bags. Thena was mostly silent, but she didn't mind when he brought up light conversation either. It really felt like when they were on the road, just the two of them, half a lifetime ago.

"Oi, you two," Ikaris poked his head in, "finished?"

"Yes," Thena responded concisely. "Load up the car, we'll be there."

Ikaris merely nodded. They were a similar brand of efficient but unfriendly, in a funny kind of way. Kingo at least gave them a thumbs up as he followed. How those two found themselves being friends was beyond Gil.

"Ready?" she asked him much more gently, holding out her hand.

He accepted it, standing with a groan again. "Maybe I'm going soft--not used to being out here like this."

She gifted him with one of her adorable little laughs. "I didn't think you missed prying open doors for me."

He shrugged though, rolling his shoulders as he followed her out. "Kitchen duty isn't nearly as much of a workout. Maybe I should start squatting the potatoes, just to stay in shape."

Her eyes flicked over him just for a second, "you're plenty in shape."

He blushed again, trying not to congratulate himself in his head over a silly little nothing compliment.

"Bags in back," Ikaris directed, mostly for Gil's sake.

He tossed his bag in freely, although he and the other two looked as Thena set hers down and took out a bundle before zipping it again.

She looked Ikaris dead in the eye, practically demanding he start a fight over it. "Gil's shirt he came with today."

He and Kingo looked over, noticing for the first time that indeed the shirt he was wearing was not what he had arrived in. But the stubborn Scot nodded, "fine."

Thena clutched the balled up shirt to her and tossed the backpack in with the other bags now full of supplies.

"Man, that was a good haul," Kingo declared loudly, stretching before he hopped in front. "I even found some shampoo!"

That was indeed a good find, and probably would be high on the request list. Gil had his hand on the door when he felt a hand on his arm. "What's up?"

Thena gave him a sheepish smile and tugged at the shirt bundle. Wrapped up inside was a little peek of a white, porcelain ear. She covered it again, clear that this was not the time to celebrate their find.

Gil grinned though, as if his face would split apart. Of course she had kept it for him. Because Thena was much more sweet and sentimental than anyone here knew. He pulled the door open, holding his hand out, "after you."

Ikaris and Kingo both rolled their eyes in front.

Gil held Thena's hand as she climbed into the backseat. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her cheek as she passed, "you're the best."

They settled in the seats, leaving the middle one unoccupied despite no one bothering with seat belts anymore. Gil leaned his elbow against the door, tilting his head so he wouldn't get caught making eyes at Thena. The jackasses in the front would just make fun of him anyway.

"You okay, T?" Kingo asked, looking in the rear view mirror. "You look a little sunburned."

Gil looked over, indeed catching a pinkness in her cheeks that wasn't usually there. His heart skipped.

She cleared her throat, obviously not a fan of getting called out. "I don't usually get this much sun."

Ikaris started the SUV, "sign out a hat next time."

And that was that. They were on their way back to the hospital. Ikaris was maybe not as much of an asshole as he could have been. Kingo seemed nice the more Gil got to see of him. He peeked over at Thena again, still holding his balled up shirt on her lap, concealing her very sweet gift to him.

Now he had to come on another scavenging trip to find something she would like.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Holding back

masterlist

previous next

Tw: restraints, torture, knives, starvation, multiple whumpers (only one doing the hurting), conditioning, lady whump

"Hey" Luke greeted, so she wasn't that startled when they entered "I think it's time for you two to get acquainted better" he announced dragging his husband into the room with him.

L has only seen him a couple of times, and only once since coming here. So she focused on him, looking him up and down in a scared yet observant manner.

Cole was noticeably taller than his husband, thinner as well. His black hair and tanned olive tone contrasted in an undeniably beautiful way with Luke's blond hair and rather fair skin. She could imagine them on the cover of some magazine together; not a fashion magazine per se, Luke would have disqualified them on that front, by only wearing a pair of wornout black jeans and a T-shirt. Cole looked slightly more put together, with his dark green turtleneck and wide-cut trousers.

She looked at them warily, trying to figure out what "being acquainted" could mean, and she felt her stomach drop by the possibilities of what they would do now. It was a strange feeling, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop any of it.

"I practically banished him from the basement during the past week, and I dont think it was fair on my part, since the goal is to get you ready to be a part of our family, right?" Luke ruffled her hair a bit before leaning down and whispering in her ear "Be a good girl for him today, will you?"

Her heart rate picked up, as she whispered back a soft "Yes, sir," realising he would leave her with Cole, who disappeared from her line of sight while Luke stood over her.

She watched as turned back around, pressing a kiss on the other man's face and left, swiftly closing the door behind himself.

L turned her attention back to Cole, who was leaning on one of the tables on the side, still in a safe distance from her, studying her face.

"Are you scared?" he asked casually, cocking his head to the side.

"Yes, sir" she squirmed in her restraints, as she was unable to find another way to fidget and release the ever building tension in her chest.

"That's alright" he replied, and he picked a knife from his side. He didn't make a move yet, kept studying her twirling the knife around between two hands. She watched as the knife glinted, periodically reflecting the lights on the ceiling.

"Luke said he exhausted you with the "training" these past few days, is that true?" he inquired further.

"Yes, sir" she replied, as it was one of the things he beat into her. Addressing them properly and replying when spoken to. Cole grinned as a response, a wide childish grin, which, if it wasn't for the knife, could have been mistaken for the face of a child opening christmas gifts.

"Well, I have some good news for you" he pushed away from the table making his way over to where she was chained to the floor "I don't have any expectations today, I'm here for the fun of it" he crouched down. She pulled back on instinct, using the little wiggle room the restraints allowed.

He still didn't make a move, just studied her with unwavering curiosity.

"Be good for me and I'll sneak you some treats later, how does that sound, hm?" he coaxed, leaning back just enough to encourage her to follow the movement. Though her rational side kept screaming not to, she moved back into her original position. He took the chance and casually reached up for the collar on her neck, pulling her even closer.

"It sounds good, sir" she squeaked, shutting her eyes as he was suddenly all up in her face.

"Good girl" he praised, using the same tone Luke did and it made her head tingle and the hairs stand up on the nape of her neck. She was still conflicted with that one, she craved the praises more than anything, she would do anything for them, but the moment it left either of the men's mouth she was violently pulled into the reality of being owned by them. It was different saying yes to the offer to live like that, and having experienced it. Luke told her it would take time getting used to and she had only been there a bit over a week.

Cole didn't let go of her collar as he raised the knife to eye level so she could take a look at it.

"Look at how sharp it is" he mused and he turned the blade around. She saw her own reflection in the metal, and she hated what she saw. She looked dirty, with all the dried blood and strands of hair stuck to her dangerously thin and malnourished face.

She didn't get why they would dote over such a pitiful thing like her.

"I promise I won't cut too deep," he offered a consoling look "we will have to warm up to those"

He pushed the knife to her cheek, and she closed her eyes again, and tried to pull away, but her kept her steadily in place by the collar. He didn't cut just yet, she felt his hand hover above her skin, and winced at the scratching of the cold metal as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"God, you're so jumpy" he laughed, and she blushed with shame. Was she not supposed to flinch away? She thought she could try if he asked her to.

"Relax" he pulled her so close, she felt his breath on her ear, sending another wave of shivers down her spine. "Don't worry about anything, let your body react"

He dragged the knife down her left arm. It barely hurt compared to the previous day's vicous hits from Luke. She let out a sigh of relief, but immediately choked up with a cry. She shouldn't be relieved when she was cut open with a knife for no reason. It was so confusing.

Cole drew another line next to the first one as small droplets of blood gathered on the wound.

On the third one she let out a small cry, and finally opened her eyes to look down at her arm. The beads collecting in straight lined sterted forming red rivulets down her skin, and she found herself morbidly entranced by the shapes the formed.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Cole glanced up her expression, before continuing drawing new lines along the previous ones. She pressed her lips tightly together, and only hummed in agreement, the pain started to register and her skin reddened as slightly raised around the first injuries.

"Can I get a 'yes sir'?" he pouted, not satisfied with her response.

"Yes, sir" she panted, and realised she had no chance of stifling her whimpers that escaped when he cut her again and again, and got worse with each earning sweet praises. He switched hands, when he run out of space, so he didnt have to unrestrain and reposition her.

He felt the urge to push the knife in deeper and deeper with each cut, to make the blood flow instead of waiting for the beads to collect each time. It took a lot of self-restraint, but he knew they weren't there just yet.

It took much less time than he would have preferred to fill her lower arms with the small scars that he knew wouldn't last much longer than a few weeks. A shame really.

"You did so good, little one" he stroked her sweat soaked hair with the back of the knife. She didn't flinch away this time.

"Thank you, sir" she mumbled, it almost got lost between her sobs, that wrecked through her with full force by then.

"You're so welcome" he chuckled and stood up, putting the knife aside to be sterilised later.

"I promised you something, do you remember?" she shook her head, and looked up at him with a pout forcing herself to stop crying and pay attention. She really did try to remember, but no helpful thoughts came.

"I told you, if you're good I'm sneaking you some treats, didn't I?" she frowned as a new wave of tears clouded her vision, and she had no way of wiping them away. He probably did say that.

"I keep my promises. Be right back, don't move" he laughed at his own joke and left for a few minutes.

She felt a new wave of tears coming stinging in her eyes, which she tried to will back more or less successfully. Just breathe through it. In, and out. In and out. Again.

By the time he returned, with a bowl in his hand she gathered herself enough to resume warily studying his movements.

"I thought I'd bring you this" he sat down facing her, and lifted the bowl for her to see "It's soup, I don't think it'd be wise to give you anything solid just yet, you might throw up" Her stomach grumbled as if on cue in disagreement, but she nodded. She felt nauseous just thinking about food.

He lifted a spoonful up to her mouth to eat. It cooled to the perfect temperature by the time it reached her lips. She could have sworn it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Rich, flavourful vegetable soup as far as she could decipher, it didn't even matter what it was.

She finished the bowl way too slowly for her liking, but didn't complain. It was the first meal she had in a long time and she was eternally grateful.

"Thank you so much" she teared up again.

"Don't tell Luke" Cole winked and he wiped the messy remainder of her dinner off her mouth.

"What if he asks? I can't lie about it" Luke made it infinitely clear that she would be in quite the trouble if he ever caught her lying. She didn't wish to get on his bad side, when his good side was already terrifying her to death.

"It's our little secret, don't worry your pretty head about that" she blushed deeply when she remembered her reflection. Was he making fun of her calling her pretty?

"I have a question for you, then" he looked up and down tentatively. This was his moment of truth, he'd find out whether Luke was right or not. She perked up eager to answer, anything to be distracted by anything from her own thoughts.

"You seem awfully anxious all the time, for all the wrong reasons" he started "You chose to be here, what's keeping you from letting yourself go?"

She was puzzled by the question. She really did resist a lot, but she thought it was a natural reaction to the pain. Was it not?

"Why don't you just relax, and let my darling play with your head? He would go much easier on you, if you didn't make him force you"

"I don't know" She chewed over the sentence over and over again. What was wrong? Was she really forcing him?

"Think about it, little one, you're so smart, you have to know what's keeping you so tense all the time"

Tense. She felt the word make a thought form, and she desperately held onto it. It was hard to put into words, to make it actually solidify so it was ready to be spit out for her tormentor to catch.

"I guess, I feel- I" she tried to formulate the thought "I didn't get to say goodbye to my friend" she muttered barely audible and she dropped her head desperately covering a new wave of sobs.

"What's that, love?" he leaned in closer, invading her space.

"My only friend, I- I couldn't- didn't say goodbye" she repeated "I'm afraid I hurt them by leaving without an explanation"

There it was. Pesky unfinished business.

"Thank you for telling me" He didn't offer any consolation this time, but the thanks sounded sincere. He stood up and dusted off his trousers, mostly out of habit, there was no way any dirt got onto him in the impossibly spotless and sterile room "Luke will come down later and patch you up" He left.

[liliallowed]

phoenix crimson headcanons:

they usually nest near places with a lot of minerals and metals. if it's not available they'll just burn their way down through the depths till they find something.

magma and lava is surprisingly rich in resources and they can just suck the heat out of it and dry it manually.

they have a forge in the center their nest (which is a crater formed after they dived into earth from space) . their "bed" is GIANT furnace that they made themself.

they LOVE smelting and just messing around with gems metals and different alloys.

they like to experiment. since their flames temperature can be manipulated they sometimes even draw decorations with their fingers, condensing the flame at the tip. it's a delicate procedure. it takes patience and accuracy.

they're pretty great at making armour and neat lil decorative stuff they like to hang around the place. maybe some wing modifications or just sharp throw able knives that retain their heat when they pour their magic into it.

they can make all sorts of weapons too.

without them it's dark but when they enter the place the light from their wings lights the whole place up as gold and blue and green all sorts of colorful metals bounce the light off around the place.

but without them it's just some normal unnaturally dark cave. with a lil bit of magma flowing around.

they LOOOOOOOVE SHONEY things. one of the reasons they're obsessed with metals isn't just because of their hobby or their need to solidify their molten talons but because it's reflective! it'll glow if they're near it!

of course it's very good heat conductor and it has many uses.

they feed from starlight and suns. generally just radiation but when on earth, they don't need to use cosmic speed or fly too fast. there's also not many threats on earth so they don't really need to use a nuclear blast and burn away 60 percent of their cosmic flame.

less energy spent means less heat is needed to be absorbed.

they'll just chillax and preen in a lava bath or maybe visit an active volcano. or just sun bathe in the desert. fly over the places where the ozone layer is weakest and just bask in the radiation.

longtime exposure to them CAN be harmful but when I say long term I mean like... a whole YEAR. they might technically have a nuclear "core" or a heart of a star but as long as they don't use their cosmic magic it will not leak out.

they also tend to ABSORB most of the radiation they emit anyway.

they've been flying through empty space for a long time. they can barely even remember anything. just boredom. sheer black nothingness.

so they'd be really excited to meet other avians!

the cosmic ones are scary. their nests eat away the stars. crimson is distrustful of them.

[winterandwords]

Word Find Tag (tree, mirror, footstep, hand, hair AND blink, sun, green, fog, said)

I've had a couple of word find tags recently, so I'm going to combine them into one post and pass it on as an OPEN TAG. If you're seeing this and would like to take part, please @ me so I can see and share your post. Your words are home, street, city, and land.

Thank you @spuddlespud for giving me tree, mirror, footstep, hand, and hair, and @btranwrites for giving me blink, sun, green, fog, and said.

These are all from Bridge From Ashes...

TREE

The balcony outside is filled with kinds of trees and plants I’ve never seen before. We’re so high up, the only buildings visible are a handful of other towers that pierce the clouds. Then I look at Gillen and the view from the window doesn’t mean so much anymore.

MIRROR

My boss’s boss runs his hands across the slick red mess of my bare chest and holds up a gold-framed mirror. He tells me not to close my eyes. He tells me to look. He doesn’t know I can’t see myself anymore. He asks me what it feels like to be beautiful.

FOOTSTEP

By the time I get into the boundaries, close to home, I can feel him following me. I don’t speed up or slow down. Walking at the same steady pace, I know he’s matching my footsteps perfectly. And as fucked up as it is, I’m getting a kick out of it. Not even from the anticipation of what might come next. Just from the connection and how familiar it feels.

HAND

My thumbs hover over the switches on my knives and I’m sure he has one hand a fraction of a second away from a gun. Some things never change.

HAIR

I’m gone when my mouth floods with sick iron warmth and he grabs the front of my hair and throws my head back against the floor and the impact feels too far away and it doesn’t sound like enough and I’m gone.

BLINK

Through Gillen looking at me, me looking at him, I can feel his breath, his heartbeat, and he can feel mine. We blink together, a moment of simultaneous darkness that may as well not be darkness at all.

SUN

The sun’s starting to set and the sky blazes through shades of red and orange, painting the clouds like a memory of a dream. I could never get too settled in a place like this. Some of us are made to have our feet on the ground.

GREEN

The blue-green glare from a light outside filters through the gaps in the blinds and meets the orange glow from the clock somewhere near the centre of my awareness. I lie as still as I can, as still as death, staring at the ceiling and trying to release the tension holding me awake.

FOG MIST

Gillen pulls his coat tighter around himself and turns his collar against the night. He looks me up and down. “You’re cold.” I straighten my own coat and take a deep breath of the mist that hangs in the deserted street. “Not really.” “No,” he says. “Not like that.”

SAID

His teeth are sharp. I taste blood and reality melts into the space behind my eyelids, a hollow vortex. This isn’t like anything I’ve felt before and his arms may as well be chains. A minute or an eternity later, he pulls back, just enough to speak. “I said, what do you need?” I can’t let go of him. I don’t care where we are anymore or why we’re here. The next move belongs to me, completely on my terms, for whatever that’s worth. “You. I need you.” And it’s true. And I have no idea what to do with it.

[normaltothemax]

@firelightfables​​

Fighting gods and their followers was getting to be old hat, at this point. Jake was about ready to consider the fight with Apep’s just another, regular Tuesday, despite the calamity that surrounded him. Chaos filled the streets. What mayhem had been started by the god’s followers was only exacerbated by frightened civilians. Given that Apep was apparently the embodiment of chaos, that didn’t surprise Jake, all that much. Frustrate and annoy him, sure, but not surprise.

Problem was, he was rapidly losing control over the fight.

He’d been fighting for some pointy pole thing—an obelisk, Steven so helpfully supplied while Jake shoved a crescent dart into some guy’s neck—for god only knew how long, the suit healing any and all injuries he’d gotten, as per usual. Everything had been going fine, until the leader of Apep’s followers got in a lucky hit and whacked him over the head with the obelisk thing. It’d not only hurt like hell, but it’d also let off a flash of green light that had left him seeing stars, his mind reeling. That was the moment when things began spiraling out of control.

He could no longer feel Khonshu’s presence.

The suit disappeared, taking the crescent darts with it, and he couldn’t summon it back.

He was in the middle of a fight, easily still seven against one, by his last estimate, and he had no Khonshu, no healing suit, and no weapons.

Oh, and he couldn’t hear or feel Marc and Steven anymore, either. 

Not good. 

To the best of his ability, he finished the fight, as he was wont to do, but he could only protect himself so much. He was distracted by the silence in his own mind, left scrambling to grab the closest weapon (a dropped Bowie knife), while the others had knives and guns of their own. Thankfully, they were pretty terrible shots, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like hell when a bullet caught him in the shoulder, or another lodged itself in his thigh.

By the end of it, Jake was badly hurt and severely out of breath. He gasped for air, struggling desperately to fill his lungs, despite some fractured, if not broken, ribs. It was only once he was the final man standing—technically he was barely managing to stay up on his hands and knees, but semantics—that he allowed himself to acknowledge the panic that’d steadily been building since the suit disappeared. He had no headmates, no Khonshu, no healing. He’d been shot and stabbed and beaten...he could die. Bleed out right there in the street, and for what? For some stupid pointy pole thing?

Steven didn’t correct him, that time, and the fear he’d so carefully kept inside skyrocketed. Vaguely, he heard footsteps crunching toward him. His head snapped up—fucking owowow—and he brandished the Bowie that was still clutched in one hand, wobbling slightly as he attempted to keep his balance. Eyes tried to focus on the figure (figures?) approaching, but he’d started seeing double, maybe triple, a while back, and didn’t know which of them actually needed watching. “No te acerques más,” he warned, mind feeling too tired and scrambled to bother attempting anything in English. “¡Lo digo en serio! A menos que quieras terminar como ellos, te quedarás atrás.” He had no idea if they’d understand him, but his tone and expression, along with the knife held in a white-knuckled grip, would no doubt get his meaning across.