#Knives just green lighted the thing if that means anything

[ohitslen]

They are doing the thing

[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

You can also read on AO3

"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.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[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.

[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

[j0kers-light]

I know you're busy but I couldn't help myself. Take as long as you need but I'm excited to see what you think

How would J would react if his Light gave him a knife like this one.

Or like this

I mean, she's smart, so she gets something that he thinks is too pretty to kill with. I feel like his brain would break into a million pieces.

-- 👽

Let’s talk about it @spaghettificationandpretzels !!!

Here's a lil something something ya know a reaction snippet if you will🖤✨

Y/n is a smart woman and knows that Joker needs the right tools to get the job done HOWEVER! who says he can’t be all murder stabby stabby in style?

Joker is always going on and on about 'nothing but the best for his Bunny' well. Nothing but the best for your J!

You had the idea of getting him something for days and this was your window of opportunity!

You grabbed your laptop and credit card and started shopping for the finest knives and daggers money could buy. It was high time you bought something for your lover. You couldn't think of a better gift for a man infamous for knives.

Joker wasn’t expecting any gifts from you (he's usually the one that does the spoiling) so he was a bit wary when you burst through the door in excitement holding a present.

He was in the middle of mapping out some plans but your megawatt smile quickly gained his attention.

"Uh hey doll? Whatcha got there, hmm?"

You were confident he would love it so you bounced over like the bunny you were named after and plopped down straight onto his lap.

Joker caught you and arched an eyebrow when you all but shoved the present into his face.

"Open it!" You beamed.

J rolled his eyes but took the present while he kept a hand securely on your back to keep you from falling off his lap. He admired the ornate white bow on top and untied it carefully under your watchful eye. The black wrapping paper however was torn to shreds. Then Joker got to see the fancy box in it's entirety.

"A box inside of a err box. I loooove it, Bunny."

You pushed at his shoulder, "Boy, don't play with me." He snickered and whispered a 'just teasin ya' before popping open the lid.

You watched his green eyes widen and you patted yourself in the back.

His fingers gently hovered over the blade cushioned on top of grey velvet. It was a work of art, he almost didn't want to touch it. He didn't say anything for over a minute and you were getting worried.

"Do... you like it?" You pressed.

Joker shook his head and you thought the worst.

"This is for me?" He glanced up and watched you nod slowly. He scoffed. No one had ever given him something just for the sake of it, and especially not something this nice. Nah something was up.

"Uh... why?"

Your face fell. This wasn't the reaction you were planning on receiving when gifting Joker a knife. You expected his signature laugh and a joke or two not.. whatever this was.

"Oh. You don't like it. I-I thought a cool looking dagger would be right up your alley. Alright um, I think I still have the receipt lying around here som--"

"Y/n. I love it. I meanT, why did ya buy it?"

You tilted your head with an adorable pout. Wasn't it obvious?

You didn't mean to laugh but, "Joker um, you buy me stuff all the time even when I don't need it. You deserve nice things too."

Joker couldn't believe his ears. He looked into your e/c eyes and saw the truth. You did this because you wanted to and not out of some favor or low bribe. This act didn't benefit you in the slightest yet you still went out of your way to buy him something. He was speechless and hid his blushing face by looking at the blade again.

It was exquisite with an intricate silver design as the sheath and it had gemstones of onyx and crescent emeralds inlaid therein.

It was too beautiful to use as a weapon and because his Light bought it for him, he would cherish it forever.

You gasped when Joker leaned in and gave you a passionate kiss. You grabbed onto his shoulders before you lost your balance and fell off his lap. Like Joker would allow that to happen. His arm was still wrapped around your back as a safety percaution.

Joker's kiss was raw and filled with emotion but he broke away to let you breathe. His gasps for air washed over your swollen lips with each exhale.

"ThanK youuuu for the gift, baby doll. How will I ever uh, repay you?" He grinned at your dazed expression.

"Huh? Y-you don't have to...."

Joker put his new knife on the desk behind you before adjusting you properly so you straddled his lap. "Oh what's that? You accept kisses as form of payment? Won-der-ful."

You squealed as Joker attacked you all over with his approved form of payment.

All in all, you were buying Joker more things in the future.

[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.

[tbnrpotato]

Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive

Chapter 5

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Hospital, injuries, blood

Everything hurts. The side of my face. My left eye.

It stings.

The knives digging into the side of my face, warm red liquid pouring out. My hand instinctively reaching for my knife, finding nothing.

I wake up with a gasp. Everything around me's white, it's so vibrant that it's almost blinding. I squint a little to calm the throbbing in my head. Still can't see anything out of my left eye. My hand moves to the side of my face, only to feel 3 deep gashes there. They're not bleeding anymore.

How long have I been out for?

Soldiers. Pointing guns at my head. Handcuffs clicking. Dragging someone away.

Mayday.

I scan my surroundings as the vision in my right eye starts to clear, and I can see weird machines around me. A tube is connected to my arm, the other end of the tube connected to a bag of clear liquid which I assume is water.

"Hello?" I call out, the hesitation in my voice is evident. A metal thing which I can only assume is a droid floats over and does some scans on me.

"Your vitals are stable and your wounds have healed, " the droid says.

I roll over to the side of the bed, using my arms to push myself up into a sitting position. My hand instinctively moves to the side of my face again as I try to stand up, my legs shaking slightly as my other hand moves to the side of my head to support myself. The droid just floats on my left, observing my efforts to walk out of the blinding white room, expressionless, but saying, "Hey! Wait! You're not discharged yet!" I ignore it.

I put my hand on the walls to support myself, staggering through the empty hallways and through the glowing blue door which opens up when I get near it, into what I expect to be the cool Antarctic air. Instead I'm met with a warm blast of air to my face as something whizzes past me, moving too fast for me to make out what it is. I stumble backwards, into the white wall. I look upwards, there's a sign saying "Antarctic Hospital" on top.

Sounds come from all directions, flooding my senses with images of a busy street, crowds, people brisk-walking across roads to rush to work, cars honking at each other as they wait impatiently for traffic lights to turn green.

Great. The exact place where I didn't want to be.

The hand on the side of my face moves to my temple, where it feels like fingers are knocking against it, just like how I tap the hilt of my knife when I'm bored.

Mayday.

I scan the surroundings for any visible signs to show directions on where my apartment is. From the sounds around me, I assume I'm in the central area of the city. Which means the big screen should be near.

I break into a run, my steps light although the legs under me feel like lead, following the direction of the pavements until I reach a large area devoid of buildings, and people. Which also means not much noise. I sit down in the clearing, and then rest my back against the floor so that I'm looking up at the black sky, the moon behind me. A sense of calm comes over me and my eyelids feel heavy, threatening to close again.

Got to find my house.

I decide to lie down in the clearing, just staring up at the sky for a bit longer. The vision in my left eye starts to clear up, and I find myself staring at information that's displayed in front of me. My heart rate, different commands like "show heat signatures" and "zoom in", are all in front of my eyes. The words are a light blue, contrasting against the dark night sky.

What the hell do these things do? What did they do to my eyes? What the fuck does "show heat signatures" mean?

As if on cue, the black sky turns blue, and the lights from the buildings at the corner of my eye turn red. Thermal vision. That's...actually not bad.

Switch back to normal vision.

My eye complies. The vision in my cybernetic eye is no better than that in my regular one. Standing up, I look for any sign of the big screen that's always so obvious from anywhere in the city.

Just buildings. They block my view. I gotta get up to higher ground to find the screen. From there I could possibly try to find my way home.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I flinch, whipping around as my fists clench, ready to give my attacker a punch to the face.

"Aris."

My vision is still slightly distorted from whatever the people in the hospital did to me, but I can recognize the voice, no matter how tired it sounds.

"M-Mayday?"

He nods, and I follow behind him as he walks away, giving me that small nod which I take as a "Come on. We're going home".

As we walk, I notice that the back of his black hoodie is darker in color than the sleeves. That's not right.

"Mayday?" I ask, my voice coming out softer than expected, and cracking slightly. It's only now that I notice that my throat is dry. Drier than the trees back home. I cough a little, and Mayday hands me one of those water packets. I nod, signaling a "thanks" as I take the water packet and put it in my mouth, biting down and letting the cold, sweet, refreshing liquid calm my senses and wet my throat as I swallow the water and spit out the packet.

My attention goes back to the back of Mayday's hoodie. I put my hand there, feeling Mayday flinch from the touch. I smirk. "Now you know how it feels."

"Don't. Touch. It," Mayday says through gritted teeth. I laugh slightly and remove my hand, only to see my hand stained crimson.

Blood.

I look up at Mayday again, who keeps walking, expressionless.

"What happened?" I asked, the concern in my voice obvious.

"It's fine," Mayday replies, staring forwards, still walking.

"You're bleeding. It's soaked through your hoodie. You're not fine. If you lose too much blood-"

"I said I'm fine," Mayday snaps, and I inhale sharply, surprised by the sudden annoyed tone in his voice.

He's not usually like this. Something's wrong.

We walk for a few more hours through the city, the streets slowly getting quieter and quieter as we reach the outskirts. We stay silent. I occasionally glance at him, but he doesn't return the gesture.

We reach my apartment. Mayday heads into his and shuts the door behind him. I stand there staring at the door for a few moments before heading into my own apartment. The door's unlocked. There's no one inside.

I call out my grandparents' names, they should be here, my parents are probably at work. I don't get a reply. I stare around the empty room, calling out my grandparents' names again, and get the same result. Nothing.

There's an unsettling feeling in my stomach. I head out of my apartment and to Mayday's, knocking on the door. Mayday opens the door, his face showing the slightest hint of excitement, before it returns to its expressionless stare.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice monotone. I look behind him and his apartment's empty as well.

Something's definitely not right.

"Have you seen my grandparents anywhere?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"They went with my family to the central area, interrogations and stuff," Mayday says casually.

"What?! Why?!"

Mayday shrugs, but then winces slightly, which I notice. "About us going through the ray shield and stuff, breaking rules."

I look behind him again and see blood on the floor.

"You're not okay. I'm gonna go get bandages from my house and patch you up."

"I said I'm fine!" Mayday protests, but I've already run into my house to find some bandages, coming out a few moments later carrying a roll of the white gauze.

Mayday's eyes widen. "How did you get that?"

I shrug. "Just found it in my parents' drawer."

I head into Mayday's apartment and sit on the floor, motioning for him to come sit next to me. He does so, glaring at me every now and then. I know he's bleeding from the back.

"Take off your hoodie and your shirt," I say, an authoritative tone in my voice.

"Are you serious right now, Aris?"

"Yes. Now do it."

Mayday sighs and takes off his hoodie, and then his shirt. I look away, for obvious reasons.

"You can look now."

I look back at Mayday, who has his back facing me. I can see 5 deep gashes across his back, starting from his shoulder. Blood oozes out from the wounds, dripping down onto the floor.

"Holy shit. What happened?" I ask as I start putting the gauze across his back, passing it in front of his chest and then back to his back, tightening it slightly.

Mayday winces, but still stares forwards, remaining silent.

I finish patching up his back, the blood almost instantly soaking through the gauze.

"Done."

Mayday just sits there for a while, staring into space, not bothering to put his shirt back on.

"They arrested me after I brought you back in," Mayday says, his voice quiet. "They whipped me. But I handled it fine."

I sit down next to him. "I'm sorry."

Mayday glances at me. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"Why haven't you been sent to the hospital? The bleeding's pretty bad, it's almost as bad as mine?" I ask.

"You seriously thought that they would give medical attention to a criminal?"

"They gave it to me."

"Because they don't think you're one."

I stare at Mayday, not expecting him to elaborate but still wondering what he means.

We sit there in silence for a bit and Mayday puts his bloodstained shirt back on.

"How's your face?" Mayday suddenly asks, and my hand instinctively moves to the 3 slice marks on my face, and to my left eye. A look of concern flashes over his face. "The medical droid said they replaced your eye with a cybernetic one, but it might take time to adjust."

I nod, staring out the door. "I know. So what do we do now?"

"I don't know. We just have to...hope for the best, I guess."

"We'll figure it out. Like we always do."

[sophism84]

I was thinking about this on the way home, the Egyptians, the pyramids, the rituals. The slaves. Googled and found this.

Anyone ever have sleep paralysis or they have dreams where their hair stands on end and things around the room fly or spin and you’re locked inside your body unable to get free or speak and the knives are flying so close to your head? No? Okay well like imagine being entombed in your own soul.

You came to the land of the living and you killed your own soul, so now you’re trapped inside it. Wanting to scream, wanting to yell, your mouth is unable to speak. So it’s all black and you’re just still.

For some people this brings a profound peace because the world is noisy and I don’t mean actual noise.

You ever stood next to someone and suddenly know something about them? Ever had a dream and just know what you had to do the next day? Ever get mad so you’re like fine you won’t belive me? *signs* and then you’re like I know that took years, but you on board now??? Huh???

Do you get that this made up system of money ect started w the industrial revolution and has driven the world into the ground.

It’s not cool to believe our actions could kill the planet. Lol as if someone without a green thumb knows all to well, plants fucking die bitch.

The world this earth is the biggest fucking star w plants growing on it

Oh it’s not a star lol oh yeah? Okay do we know how earth was created?? Well classifications state

Omfg 🤬 “one of these things is not like the other”, but the universe is controlled chaos. You know how cities are built on grid systems? So are universes but we don’t have the blueprints so it just seems chaotic. But like there’s so many different ones. And it’s like navigating streets. Anyway. Light years lol 😂 like feathers lol

So I would say that feelings are very human things. I’d love to find out where the word human even came from lol

I had a dream a shooting was going to happen for a year. And in my dream the boy died. The swat guy shot him in the bathroom. In most of the dreams the smoke bombs stopped me from getting to the bathroom in time. But one night I got to the bathroom and I yelled “don’t shoot” the dude argued w me! In his mask I heard every word. And so I just said. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing” you should’ve seen his face. I pushed the gun away and stood between them. I needed to know why. I had to know why this was suddenly happening and the crazy shit? My school! My fucking school I had killed my self because I didn’t wanna move and now they’re coming to kill me? Like oookkkaaaayyyy that’s my fucking dream! I got shot once in the head. I had pushed someone well I had saved the two boys who were killed. And it was okay like I saw my body lying there it was fine. I just ran tot he bathroom but no one could see me. I couldn’t touch the gun. It was a no go. Things flashed the boy died and I was spinning. I had to go through a bunch of stuff. And then I had to sit and watch the world explode. Because I didn’t die right. I woke up dripping sweat. I jumped out of bed and fucking screamed silently. I was like how could the two be connected? That’s when I told my dad to call the fbi and he just laughed at me. That was cool. But we’ll. A bunch of stuff happened and all the stuff I thought was gonna happen has and here we all are. Walking directly into the sun.

My dream is for that kid to get out of prison and travel to every school in America and talk about how school shootings are bad and how he regrets doing his. Andy had bad parents and an uncle or family friend who probably needs to be taken to the wood shed. But I digress. Maybe one day he’ll get out of jail and do the right thing. Hopefully he writes that book. Cause we are all fucking trying to understand.

“Follow your dreams” they tell you. I have lol 😂 I guess it’s just not hair extensions, it’s not makeup, it’s not that fancy Christmas tree w the shiny balls. It’s not anything this world can give me. I’ve lived here for so long and it has taken so much from me. And it will probably take every ounce of me in the end. I wish I could care. But I’m so tired I’m just like being it fucking on. Like fuck let me step back into death and see what this shit is up. Cause this side of things is turning into a shit pie. I cannot imagine in the next ten years and we don’t get our carbon emissions down. But ooohhhhh it’s all a hoax lol but we be having hotter and hotter years on record lol 😂

“I’ll be dead by then” I bet is what they all think. And you know what death brings? Disease? Ask the manufacturer of needles. They used to be all glass, which is able to be sanitized. Now we have plastic disposable. He said there would never be plastic needles “over his dead body” and boom he died. And “money” won.

The world tells us “if I don’t have money I don’t have value” okay, “the world” who runs the world?

The ten percent who have all the power? Or the 90% who just live here? The world has had slaves for as far back as the Bible? Aztecs, Egypt.

Crazy huh? Like why? “Anointing” of a leader? if it was that, it’s no longer.

Maybe it never was, but the world is burning. And what do we do? We civilly yell about it, on tv, on our podcast, on our political satire show. Meanwhile the world is burning. “We’ll survive another four years” lol

I rarely dream anymore. Thankfully. Every once in a while I get the usual something horrible. Echoes of things now, then, when. But it’s been pretty black and I’m so happy for that.

So if I ever come across rude? Trust me it’s not you. Well how about it’s not you entirely. I’d have a much better fucking time of life if other people had to live mine. I’ll give you my dreams, but I can’t this is my path.

My friend from high school always rolls her eyes when ever I talk about the shooting, because I wasn’t actually there. But I made sure she was safe before I ever left my house that morning in the dreams. See I knew her. Unfortunately I didn’t know everyone else so I had to fight to get to them. I still failed. They died.

Where it all started? When I was really little and my parents where divorced? Life was bad. Very bad because my dad was gone. And so like I prayed and at night in my dreams the opening of I love Lucy and I would sew the heart. If I finished the heart, I was good. But do you know all the problems I encountered while sewin on the heart? Lord those dreams. Anyway they got back together.

Have you ever known someone in your family was gonna die? I knew my grandpa was gonna die. I can’t remember it all, but I might have told him. Because the next week, he turned his hearing aids up and he hugged me. He told me he loved me. I fucking started balling because I had been fighting in my dreams but now he was fucking saying goodbye. It was a week later when we got the call and some how my mom was at my dads apartment. Idk.

Anyone else? Cause this life fucking sucks.

“She’s just crazy”

Yeah I am. And I’m not ashamed. But trust me, I know who drove me there.

[nexusnox]

Guardian

BASICS

Name; Alexis Daher Species; Human (Arabic) Age; 1000+ Gender; Male, he/him Sexuality; Demiromantic bisexual Spouse; Mal Riviere, they/them Callsign/Alias; "Alerio" Class; Hunter Subclass; Prismatic (All), Nightstalker (Void) Clan; Cabur Ghost; Hiraeth

Sections in blue are additional information specific to this version of Alex.

-

APPEARANCE

Physical Basics; Tan skin, olive green eyes that gleam golden when he uses the Sight, and slightly curly jet-black hair worn fairly short. He only really combs his hair if he's in disguise, and that plus wearing a hood/helmet all the time means it's incredibly messy. He's short, 5'5", and lean to average. He has a parkourist's build, and he's missing his left ring finger. Tattoos/Scars; He has far too many scars to list, but the ones that matter are; nasty scarring all down his back, from his right shoulder to his left hip, from the fall that killed him the first time; and a particularly bad one just above his right knee that gives him a slight, perpetual limp. Additionally, his entire left arm is severely burned, and he has a strange almost circuit-board-like pattern that extends all the way up his arm and appears gold in certain lights. These three are the worst, but there's also one that rakes over his left eye, a splash of burn scarring over his right hip, a smattering of whipping scars across the few areas of his back devoid of scars from the cliff, and what's very visibly scars from a bite mark on his right forearm. I'm disregarding the numerous bullet and knife scars. In terms of tattoos, he has a bird over his heart, a soaring eagle done in crosshatching. It's joined by a snake curling around it in the ouroboros symbol. Posture; After so many years of living as an Assassin, and more years spend scraping by in the Dark Ages, Alex is very, very good at making himself into whatever he needs to be, including his posture, the way he talks, and his apparent personality. The thing he can't change is the way he moves; always a little too quiet, a little too smooth, absolutely sure of himself and where he's stepping. Like a wolf or a big cat.

ATTITUDE

Personality; When he's not pretending to be someone else, Alex is mostly just tired. He is so tired and done with literally everything. He's also an incredibly grumpy bastard, because seeing the worst of the world most of the time will do that to you. However, he always has a kind word for children, and he's genuinely kind, even if he's very gruff about expressing it. If he's relaxed and he likes you enough, you might even get a genuine smile. On the other hand, if he's angry, he gets very quiet and cold. He's ruthlessly protective of those he considers to be his responsibility. As well, he's a bit lost, because he's so used to seeing history as it happens that having missed a big chunk while he was 'dead' has thrown him off a lot. Likes; He likes being left alone and the quiet. He's fond of anything that reminds him of places and people he's left behind, and he has a certain affection for deserts and roofs with red tiles. He likes libraries, birds, and the night sky. And, of course, knives. He enjoys exploring abandoned, ruined cities, as well, searching for lost knowledge. Dislikes; He absolutely loathes gods, politicians, and generally those who feel entitled to other people's respect without doing a damn thing to earn it. He doesn't much like people in general, honestly. He also dislikes loud environments and absolutely hates the cold. Additionally, he holds a special hatred for the Hive and the Vex. Strengths; Anything to do with stealth, deception, or misdirection. He can climb just about anything, even things that really seem like they should not be climbable. He's also very good at thinking clearly under pressure, and coming up with distinctly unconventional ways of using the Light and the Dark. Weaknesses; Anything to do with interpersonal skills. Sure, he can fake it well, but he is so bad at people. He also has an unfortunate self-sacrificial streak, in that he knows he can survive more than most people (and technically survive anything, if one counts 'dying and coming back' as surviving) and so he's fairly easily baited into traps if he thinks it'll protect someone else. More physically, his bad leg acts up the colder his environment, worsening his limp, which slows him down and reveals an obvious weak point. Also, once he's swapped from using the Light to using the Dark, it's very hard for him to swap back to the Light again, unless he's specifically attuned himself to the Prismatic state, which takes him a lot of concentration and requires frequent meditation to maintain. Motivations; He's motivated by his Creed, primarily, but he's also motivated by a deep hatred for Isu and everything they've built. He considers them a curse, and wants to find a way to destroy all the Pieces of Eden- or, failing that, collect all of them and hide them away from the world. Since the world he knew is effectively dead, his new motivation is to protect what's left of humanity with everything he has.

KIT

Dress; He has a few sets of armor he swaps out depending on his needs. Set one, for exploration; Pathfinder's Helmet, Thunderhead Grips, Intrepid Discovery Vest, Wildwood Strides, Wildwood Cloak, primarily in Metro Shift and Mind's Eye shaders. Set two, for official Vanguard operations; Gensym Knight Casque, Errant Knight 1.0, Limitless Subversion Vest, Shadow Specter, Photosuede Cloak, with Dead Orbit's Fate and Warbrick shaders. Set three, when he feels homesick and needs the grounding of a familiar set of gear; the full Eagle's set, no shader, except the bond, which is instead the Parade Cloak hood with the Veteran Legend Cloak in the Gambit Leather. Weapons/Tools; His tools have changed a fair bit considering most of what he needed his last set for no longer exists. Hiraeth can take care of any locks or hacking, he has his Light for things he'd have needed a crowbar for, and he can also use his Light to traverse what he'd previously need a grappling hook for. These days, his non-weapon gear consists of a set of transponder beacons for marking locations of interest, a single Ahamkara claw, and numerous material samples, as well as a handful of strange coins just in case he runs across Xûr. In terms of weapons, he swaps out his setup often based on a rotating arsenal of his most prized weapons, but one thing that never leaves his side is his Hawkmoon hand-cannon. He favors bows, sniper rifles, and swords. Skills; Again, anything to do with stealth, deception, or misdirection. Also, thievery and parkour. He's become fairly adept at wilderness survival, finessing Golden Age information databases, and uncovering lost or nearly-destroyed knowledge.

BACKSTORY

Continued from the backstory [here].

After using the Eye, Alex was genuinely properly dead, for the first time in a very long time, and he was glad to be able to rest after his long life.

Needless to say, he is mildly annoyed to be resurrected. Again.

He's rezzed by his Ghost, Hiraeth, in the Temple in the early Dark Ages after the Collapse. He spends the Dark Ages wandering, scraping out a living from the ruins and trying to figure out what the fuck happened while he was dead.

He spend a brief stint as a Warlord before he starts getting too much attention from the Iron Lords, and he ducks out and runs rather than join them because quite frankly he's too used to being his own master to be comfortable beholden to anyone else.

This transitions into the City Age, where he's primarily a contracted scout for the Vanguard, and he doesn't really factor into the main story too much.

However, this is quite flexible, and I can easily work him into whatever you'd like!

[insolitus-academy]

♚ //  Face Claim

Full name Face Claim: Jeon Jiwoo

Group/Band/Occupation: Current Member of KARD

Nationality: Korean

Faceclaim age: 26

♚ // Character ;  Basic information

Quote: “Guns are too quick. Use a knife to savor all the little emotions, to see who they really are in their last moments.”

Full name character: Jeon Jiwoo

Nickname: Jiwoo

Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth

Age: 89

Date of Birth: October 4, 1934

Gender: Female

Preferred Pronouns: She / Her

Race: Myrkr

Sexual Orientation: Queer (Doesn’t like putting a label on it, but she likes both men and women)

What is the level of Korean and how did they learn to speak it: Native

♚ // Character ; Appearance

Skin Color: Slightly tanned

Eye color: Green with flecks of red (similar to a bloodstone)

Scars: A few cuts on her hands due to blacksmithing

Piercings: Three piercings on her left ear, five on her right ear, and a labret piercing

Tattoos: Clan insignia by her right hip

Hair color: Long, cool blonde hair

Abnormalities:

Pointed teeth

Sharp and strong claw-like nails

Eyes that look like bloodstones (her eyes slowly bleed red when she’s especially angry or agitated)

Transformed Form: N/A

♚ // Character ; Personality 

Six personality traits:

Apathetic

Cruel

Greedy

Fierce

Self-Reliant

Strategic

Likes:

Smoking and drinking

Knives

Gold, jewels, and other minerals

Blacksmithing

Nail art

Dislikes:

Gossip

Bright light

Skinship from people she doesn’t know or like

Her things being touched

Sweets

Manias:

Back at their manor, Jiwoo has a personal vault filled with gold and different kinds of gems. She used to count all of them at least every other month or so just to make sure that everything was accounted for. Now that she’s staying by the academy, though, she’s advised someone she trusts to do that for her and send her monthly updates.

Her habit of “counting her wealth” (for a lack of better term) is reflected in how she regularly checks her bank accounts as well as the secured, enchanted chest in her flat filled with gold and jewels.

Phobias: Her gold and gems being stolen

Animal: Alligator

Religion: N/A

Favorite song: Money Don’t Lie – Simon Dominic

Vice: Greed

Virtue: Loyalty

Personality Description:

Jiwoo is pretty mild-mannered most of the time, mostly apathetic to things that don’t concern her. In her mind, as long as she or her things aren’t the ones being messed with, everything else is free game. In addition, a big factor in why she acts so “proper” most of the time was the different etiquette lessons she had to go through when she was younger.

Jiwoo also keeps to herself most of the time. The only way you could ever ask her to do something for you was if you gave her gold, jewels, or anything with a high monetary value in exchange. 

She’s incredibly loyal, but so far, this only applies to money and power as well as her clan. This means that she would never turn on you if you’ve both come to an agreement. Jiwoo does, however, hold a grudge if you fail to deliver your end of the deal. Expect that she’ll most likely be aggressive (physically and verbally) towards you if this is the case.

As for her clan, when asked why she was so devoted to her family, Jiwoo would never say what most people would. She wouldn’t say that it was because she cared for them or that she wanted to pay them back— Jiwoo was only loyal to them because of the pride as well as a thirst for excellence ingrained in her since she was a child.

♚ // Character ; Powers 

Magical Powers:

Lower magic – Jiwoo can perform small spells. She usually practices this when she crafts enchanted knives.

Non-magical Powers:

Different metabolism: Myrkrs eat gemstones, dirt, and metal to survive and do not need any ‘normal’ food. They also absorb water through their skin.

Above human strength: Jiwoo has about twice the strength of an average human.

Knife fighting: When she was younger, Jiwoo was introduced to different fighting styles. This was the one she eventually gravitated to, especially since she also picked up blacksmithing.

Blacksmithing: Jiwoo can create different items made of metal and/or steel, but mainly specializes in creating knives and swords.

Weaknesses:

Sensitive to light – Jiwoo often wears sunglasses and/or a cap to protect her eyes from direct sunlight when above ground.

Senses can be easily overwhelmed – Jiwoo doesn’t like things that are “too much” for her senses. She doesn’t like bright light, loud noises, strong flavors, pungent scents, or abrasive textures. Usually, she can handle it when one or two of her senses are excessively stimulated, but any more than that, and she’ll most likely shut down.

Difficulty with social cues – Although she was taught how to act properly in front of select people, Jiwoo still struggles to identify social cues. She can usually read when people are happy or sad, but she doesn’t know what an appropriate reply would be. She also finds it hard to comprehend why they would feel such a way. Her apathy greatly contributes to this.

♚ // Character ; The Villager

Job/Occupation: Owner of Forge&Fury in Fogatas (A shop where she sells enchanted knives)

Lives in: Dultirm Plaza Nr. 220

♚ // Character ; The Past

Date of Birth: October 4, 1934

Crime Record: Jiwoo is well known to the authorities in the underground city where she was born and raised. She’s only ever been caught once with blood literally on her clothes and weapon in hand, but when the authorities confirmed who she was, Jiwoo was immediately let go. Despite this incident, she currently does not have any records.

Has your character attended Insolitus Academy in the past? No

Background:

TW: Mentions of violence

As an only child, Jiwoo was born with a purpose. Her parents were the heads of the family, and their firstborn was expected to lead, regardless. Sure, their kind has developed over the years, picking up more human customs as modernity rolled in. However, the social class system that their ancient race used to live with was still very much apparent in different aspects. One prime example would be their clan: The Jeon.

Their family had a tight grip on the underground city they lived in, with her aunts running the transport systems, uncles running hospitals and mega-corporations, and cousins being trained to take over once they came of age. Jiwoo wasn’t any different. She was born with a golden spoon in her mouth, and along with it came the burden of perfection that was required from a person of her stature.

Jiwoo was enrolled in different kinds of classes as soon as she could talk and walk, assigned matrons to teach her manners, teachers to teach her mathematics, and trainers to teach her how to fight. It would probably seem like a tedious lifestyle for some, but for Jiwoo, it was simply her life. One thing about their family business, though, is that most of the businesses they had on paper were cover-ups. Sure, each of them was lucrative in its own right, but their main “money maker” was species collection.

To be clear, they didn’t traffic anyone from one realm to the other. However, they did accept requests from wealthier individuals that collected or needed odd things like owlite feathers or onodrim bark. Did they hunt down and kill different species to successfully process their orders? Sure. Did they target innocents? Well… If they were given enough money. 

On one hand, Jiwoo’s family made it a point to only pick out people from the local police’s most wanted. And if higher-ups willingly handed them the list of individuals they could chase down, often encouraged by the thick wad of cash their family provided them with, well, someone needed to take out the trash. 

However, there were also times when people simply paid them to dispose of someone. The Jeons rarely ever considered the race when they accepted such jobs, especially since the hunters of their clan were capable. All someone had to do was match the worth of the life that they wanted to end.

All in all, everything worked well together. They would receive requests, note down what they needed to hunt, and then retrieve said parts from the list of people the police would give them to. They would even often make extras and place them in enchanted and preservative jars using the hit list jobs they sometimes got. And if Jiwoo got a little too enthusiastic sometimes after she caught her target, that was between her and the other person who was as good as dead anyway.

Despite being quite active in what her family dubs “hunting sessions,” Jiwoo is currently still learning the ropes, preparing to be the head of their clan. One thing that she’s been given the responsibility for, though, was starting a business that they could use to increase their income and hide their more morally gray transactions. Luckily, she already had something in mind that would expand their business outside of the underground city that they ruled. Blacksmithing was one of Jiwoo’s hobbies, which is exactly how she thought of starting up a shop of her own in Fogatas to sell different kinds of pre-made and commissioned enchanted knives. And if she also accepts orders for select items from different kinds of species under the table as well as paid killings, well, that was between her and her loyal customers.

♚ // Roleplayer

Time zone: GMT+8 

OOC! Triggers: Descriptive text about ED and body dysmorphia 

Themes/genres you like writing the most?: Drama, Fluff, and smut

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

391 of 2023

What's the first thing you usually do when you get off work or school?

Get home, most likely.

What trend do you hate?

Skinny jeans, especially on men. I don't care who wears them, but I wouldn't do it even for a million dollars.

What's your stance on christmas?

It's my favourite holiday and the only bright point of winter.

Are there any particular sounds that really grind your gears (like nails on chalkboard?)

Knives on glass and scratching the pots.

When eating or drinking out, do you have a preference for selecting a table?

I prefer sitting by the wall and in the corner.

Do you enjoy dressing up in fancy clothes?

No, it's not for me. Unless incorporating goth style things to my outfits counts as fancy.

What's the nerdiest thing you like?

Electromagnetic waves.

If you could star in one movie, what would it be?

No, thanks.

If you can restart your life, what is the thing you most want to change?

That stupid brain incident that has left me disabled.

What's the weirdest thing in your recent search history?

Nothing. Just a song meaning and an address of the Polish shop in Roeselare.

What does your bedspread look like?

White and red, with cat pattern.

Where is the place you find the most peace?

The beach in Westende and the street I was growing up on.

What do you do to calm down,when you feel stressed?

Hug my older cat and pet my younger cat. They both purr a lot.

Your aesthetic?

Grey skies, thunderstorms, the sea, black and green colour, a bit of cyberpunk, hospitals, cats, sunrises and sunsets, books, abandoned buildings, typewriters, big rooms with equally big windows for lots of light in, a bit of hip hop, a bit of metal, post-it notes, planners and journals, foggy mornings, autumn leaves, cityscapes, high buildings and more.

If you could be famous for anything, what would you choose to be famous for?

No, thanks. Fame is not for me.

How do you usually style your hair, if at all?

I put some hair wax or gel in it.

What's your eye colour?

Grey.

Can you knit?

No, I can't. You need two hands for that.

Do you crack your knuckles?

Yeah, a lot actually.

Are you a meticulous person?

I had to look that word up, but yeah, sounds like me.

What is your favourite thing about yourself?

I'm not judgemental.

What's the first thing you do when you wake up?

Check my phone for the time.

Who is your favorite youtuber?

Molly Burke and Nik Nocturnal.

What's your go-to comfort food?

Rice with vegetables.

What do you do for fun?

Travel around, observe trains and take photos. Also read.

What's your least favourite color?

Brown. Such a boring colour.

Do you have any pets, and if so what animal and what breed? if not, do you want one?

Yeah, I have two cats, one tabby (probably a mix of European Shorthair with a forest wildcat) and one tuxedo.

What is your favorite plant?

Tulip for a flower, aloe for a plant, palm tree for a tree (even though it's not really a tree). Ooh and also pine tree.

[daring-detective]

💭 + his gear

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄

mask :

his mask contains an electronic transmitter / receiver , a communications link that connects to his personal cell phone , the batcave , and various other places ; as well as green ‘ night lenses ’ which magnify the available light five thousand times , thermal / heat sensors , and a self-destruct feature when removed incorrectly . it can also perform chemical analysis of crime scenes when used with a syringe in his glove . he keeps a spare hidden in the lining of his suit , and it attaches via use of ‘ spirit gum ’ .

gauntlets :

there are multiple small compartments hidden around his gloves meant for his various equipment , such as : lock-picks , a knife , wing-dings ( modified mini-batarangs — can work as throwing discs and knives ) , hand-held 100,000-volt taser , electrified glove , smoke pellets , knockout gas , flashing grenades , wrist darts , sonic grenades , and jump lines ( automatic and manual ) .

other items he carries are a portable laser , bolas , traditional explosives for strategic destruction , gps , portable computer , binoculars , audio surveillance equipment , sticky cameras , tracing devices , and night vision goggles .

suit :

his suit is made of a nomex fire-resistant , triple-weave kevlar-lined material ; it is tailored specifically for dick and his crime-fighting style — it is lightweight and flexible , providing complete mobility as well as necessary protection against various weaponry . it is light-sensitive , growing darker , or lighter , depending on the lighting in his environment for easier blending . it is temperature regulated , bulletproof , knife-proof , and electrically insulated . it comes with many gadgets built-in , including : comm transmitter , defibrillator and medical sensors , one-shot 150,000-volt suit taser ( works on command and as a defense system when removed from his body ) , and even a self-destruct feature .

boots :

his boots , like his gauntlets , also carry more of his equipment due to the multiple compartments per boot . located here are flares , a flashlight , a rebreather , gas mask , spare portable computer , spare wing-dings , zip-ties / handcuffs , first aid kit , and other pieces of equipment depending on his needs .

sometimes , dick carries specialized gear for missions , such as a cell phone tracking jammer , signal watch , an electric stun rifle , suction cup climbing gear , etc . , etc .

it’d be an oversight on my part to forget his iconic twin escrima sticks , which are made of a shatterproof polymer ; they release short bursts of electricity like a taser , come with a grapple hook , and can be connected into a staff — as well as many other things . the gauntlet and escrima built-in grappling hook fires a near unbreakable promethium hook and cable , the cable launcher can also be used as a taser by replacing the hook .

when dick is flying solo and has no means of transportation via super-friends or bat-jet , he uses a variety of machinery including ; a boat , motorcycles ( wingcycle ) , a motorized glider , or his car , the nightbird — all of which he’s either built himself , or modified to his liking .

the nightbird : nightwing’s pride and joy .

the vehicle includes many of the same hi-tech extras as the batmobile , in addition to a wayne tech-modified 6,064 cc engine ( 627 bhp at 7,400 rpm ) . many characters have commented that it just looks like a rusted piece of junk due to it’s usual street camouflage , a ‘ muscle car ’ body shell — which is exactly what dick was going for . it has chassis locking clamps for multiple other interchangeable , carbon-fiber over aluminum endoskeleton body shell ‘ disguises ’ ( taxi , station wagon , police cruiser , delivery truck , etc . )

the tires are puncture resistant , the shells are bulletproof , meant to withstand anything up to a 50 cal bullet and absorb the impact as to not ricochet bullets towards innocent bystanders ; each shell is also fire-resistant , and comes with protective windows / windshields that can switch from see-through to opaque for privacy . the car is connected to the batcave and oracle’s systems , and has multiple self-defense features in place , and an auto-pilot .