#this goes for any disorder or anything like. fuck off.
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fuck you people who fake tourettes fuck you people who say they want tourettes fuck you people who have made having tourettes into smthn cute quirky and desirable!!!!! i’m mad!!!!!!!! fuck you fuck you fuck you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#this goes for any disorder or anything like. fuck off.#if you think faking this shit doesn’t matter then try like. actually asking ppl that have it???#tried to explain that i had tourettes to my last employer. they thought i was faking it lmfao#bc they had seen people on tiktok faking it so often. they thought i just WANTED to have tourettes. and i didn’t#get the understanding and kindness i deserved until i could explain my dx and who i got it from#so they could know i wasn’t lying. i shouldn’t have to do that much to ‘prove’ my syndromes and disorders#just bc SOME PEOPLE think it’s cool to act like they have shit or they want to have shit. like NO!!! you’re ACTIVELY harming the communities#and you don’t even fucking care!!!!#my tics hurt!!! they hurt so damn bad some days and i’m one of the LUCKY ONES that has gotten less severe with age!!!#and im medicated!!!!!! and i still have days where i just wanna lay down and cry and never leave my room#some of my tics are cute ones. those tics DO exist. i have a few and have had others over the years that are gone now#but then i pop my joints out of place. pop my jaw out of place over and over. snap my head to the side. and again these are MILD compared to#SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE with ts#bet y’all don’t fucking WANT those tics. bet you don’t WANT to be hitting yourselves full force amd bruising ur skin constantly#i’m sorry for ranting in the tags but holy fucking shit this pissed me off#saw some shit on tumblr and tiktok and im. hooooo buddy. fuck you so bad.#ok. i’ll shut up now. tourettes isn’t fucking quirky.#rant tw#tw rant
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#anxiety tw#i just watched lewis’ documentary#this is gonna be a little tmi so bear with me#genuinely did not know that much about him personally so it’s fucking wild to see all the pressures and anxieties he had to face after#the success of his first album like i can’t even imagine feeling so much pressure over something so complex#huge love to him honestly#i’m gonna side step a little from bc i was watching it with my mom right#and mental illnesses are so fucking complex and different for every person that has them right#so we get to the big climax in which it all starts to build up for him right#and i’ve never said this online before right but my brother’s has diagnosed autism since he was a toddler and he has add and anxiety on top#and my mom’s always been very on top of that with him and tried to get him therapy and shit for it for years#and medication and all that stuff#like to the point where i remember going out of town to get him to a doctor and get him meds and shit#and he hasn’t taken anything in a while and my mom kind of chilled about it after he graduated high school#so she goes ‘you know that’s how your brother is like’ while we’re seeing lewis experience his own anxiety etc#while i’m over here almost crying bc it definitely hit close to home for me and my own personal experience#and it feels so fucking shitty that like bc a professional has never told us that i have an anxiety disorder or depression or any other#fucking mental illness that my mom just brushes off my own feelings and struggles#when some days i can barely get up in the morning and somedays i think about not doing it anymore and every day i sort of harm myself#so i just tell her to shut up and she gets mad when like#i’ve had to hide it for years so she doesn’t get worried then hit the breaking point and asked for help and they didn’t do anything about it#idk i guess i’m just tired of being pushed aside when i’m clearly aching
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steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party
Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.
So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?
He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.
Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.
The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.
But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.
"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.
"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.
Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.
He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.
While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.
If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.
Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."
Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.
Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.
"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."
"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."
Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.
It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."
Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."
"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."
They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.
Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.
Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.
Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.
Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.
It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.
Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.
He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.
The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.
"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.
"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."
That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.
"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."
Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."
Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.
"I'd like that."
Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.
When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.
"What are you -"
"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.
Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"
Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."
"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.
Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"
"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"
Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"
"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.
Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."
"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."
"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."
Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.
Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.
Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.
"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"
"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.
They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.
This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜
#steddie#steddie fanfic#steddie fanart#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#my writing#steddie fic#rockstar eddie munson#drummer steve harrington#pickup note
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My reminder to put out that Toki's not poorly written and that the way he behaves in Army of the Doomstar and the way he behaved post season two wasn't the creators of the show thinking "if he talks more femme and acts like a kid it's funny" it was literally the progression of a character with canonical bipolar disorder and severe PTSD.
Toki was as a lot of people point out "normal" or close to it when season one and some of season two aired, but that's also total bull shit. Toki acted "normal" as people like to say during season one, but only until the episode featuring their parents which involved Toki not speaking at all the entire episode, he just fucking shuts down and goes completely catatonic and looks terrified like a nightmare followed him into his real life.
The shit with the little girl dying happened which further traumatized him, his guitar teacher died, both ending up with pictures on his bedroom wall to remember them by due to their deaths impacting him heavily because he blames himself for them dying.
Then his abusive father gets sick and Toki forgives him because it's the mature thing to do, not the right thing to do by any means, but he has been made to feel by society that he should forgive his dad because it's what he's supposed to do. Despite the fact his father never voices regret for abusing Toki and even has the balls to ask his son to take him to his childhood home one last time.
Then Toki pretends he's fine and it's okay, but then at the Snakes N' Barrels concert sees a trigger and goes off beating a man possibly to death in a fit of rage.
After that the finale features him getting totally drunk all day long so that he doesn't have to cope with anything that's happened in the past couple of months.
Then Offdensen dies.
Then season three we see him doing okay in some episodes while in others he's more petulant and depressive and angry or acts more immature than other times, then Dethzazz happens and we get a very full view of the sort of physical abuse he endured through his childhood especially at the hands of his father. He never calls it abuse, he claims he deserved the punishments for making mistakes despite the fact nobody deserves the horrific shit his dad did to him.
After that, again Toki worsens and regresses more often than he was before, he clings more to Rockzo and tries to cling to his friends but often they distance from him.
Season four he clings to Magnus and we see Toki regress the most, then the funeral happened and Doomstar happened and now we have Army of the Doomstar where he is just completely fucking shattered which makes sense.
His kidnapping and torture just happened, he barely has had time to recover before the world is actively ending and the sky is falling and the world is burning down around them. He's had no time for therapy or counseling or medication etc so his friends, Pickles specifically are just coping with this situation the best they can while not being able to actively help him at all, because they can't. Plus again the world is a burning pile of broken satellites and collapsing buildings so that is an additional stressor on top of everything else Toki has been through very very recently.
So just want to put this out there before anybody says it's cringe or weird or bad writing that somebody with very severe PTSD is not handling life well or handling it at all.
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this thread is fucking long and the cut is in an awkward place just bear with it please
so werewolves are a stock horror villain (and the posts directly below this one are about that! go look at them) and don’t get me wrong i love werewolf horrorsmut but i want to see more of:
werewolves who just aren’t scary in any way. like sure the shift may be scary. they may look kinda scary. but they’re just people like everyone else even if they are more ruled by instinct than the average human. i think stuff like that is a nice way to explore what it means to be a person and how humanity can be a fluid category, especially when the werewolves in question are transgender/disabled/personality disorder coded.
like i want some wholesome shit about werewolves who can’t even pass as ambiguously human. they’re just very overtly werewolves: massive sharp, snarling bundles of taut muscles and sinew, 8, 9 feet tall, who are very capable of snapping and killing everything around them
but don’t. because they’re treated well and loved even though they’re not like everyone else. and it doesn’t matter that they aren’t, because they are like everyone else even if they’re not. i know that sounds a bit confusing on the face but i mean stuff like:
- “oh yeah no worries, Sharon from accounting’s a wolf too! no no we love her! remember when we went to topgolf for that company outing? they couldn’t find any clubs in her size so she outdrove us all with clubs a foot too short it was hysterical!”
- “all right you should be scheduled for this week! next two weeks are the same? no right of course not because you need moon days. yeah that’s totally fine i will get that in to HR and you should be all good!”
- “is- no it’s fine- is it ok if i stay shifted in here? the pain is less bad when i’m shifted. no i have no idea why lol. you’re sure? the shedding is ok and everything? aww sweetie i love you too!”
- “i mean, hip dysplasia is normal in wolves your age, and you had fairly active teenage years, so it happens. it’s not anything to worry about though, i’ll get you in contact with a fantastic physical therapist! no she specializes in wolf patients. she’s great at what she does, i promise. i’ll get you a month of painkillers but over-the-counter should work alright too. take these, go to therapy, and if it’s still doing that in a month come back and we can try something else.”
- “hey, baby, look at me. i know people are staring at you. you don’t need to care about them. you have just as much right to be here as they do. just ignore them.”
- “no i’m absolutely not mad at you! you can’t control that happening! no it was a full moon what the fuck were you supposed to do? look, i can replace the couch you mauled and the TV and vases you broke but i can’t replace you getting hurt because you tried to stave off the shift. we’ll go shopping for new ones together, ok? and we’ll get some cheap shit you can break for next month and a couple steaks for you to fuck up. i promise i’m not mad- hey get off me you big lug stop fucking licking me your mouth tastes like couch cushions…”
- “it’s actually so real to be worried about hurting your human partner in bed. you won’t hurt her, dude, i’ve known her for years you should be more scared of her than she is of you. they make, like, these rings. it’s like a silicone spacer- no it goes on your dick, idiot. it’s so you don’t like fuck into her cervix or whatever. supposedly those help? idk if they come in wolf sizes though.”
show me the negative stuff, too. show me:
- werewolves who muzzle themselves in cities even though it’s only a first quarter moon because they’re scared they’ll snap and hurt someone even though that fear makes them so careful around everyone they never would
- wolves who have moon trackers on their phone because they need to know when they’re going to get forced into a shift so they can get away from everyone because they don’t want to get violent but they can’t control it and the last time they were around someone she ended up in the hospital. she’s really understanding about it and they’re friends now but it doesn’t make it feel any less horrible
- wolves who get asked every single fucking time they get nice dinner, “so do you want your steak cooked, or what?” by waiters who think they’re funny but really aren’t
- werewolves who walk on eggshells in public because they know if they make any minor mistake or show any aggression whatsoever the pundits on the news will talk about “a werewolf snarled at my kid today. i mean i try to be trusting but you never know with those people. they have those fangs for a reason is all i’m saying.”
- werewolves who are scared to shift in public for the same reason as above, because they know how they’ll be perceived if they show people they’re a wolf
- werewolves who can’t find wolf doctors in their area so they keep going back to human doctors who don’t know how the fuck to treat their unique health conditions and when they complain about this they get a flippant “have you tried a veterinarian?”
- werewolves in therapy because their last relationship was with a human who sucked and it was really bad and that trauma has manifested as resource guarding and reactivity issues and it’s causing problems at work
i love this stuff. i want more. i also cannot write conclusion paragraphs to save my life so this is the end now. thanks for reading all this if you’re reading this.
😊
#not terato#really#speculative fiction#disability#transgender#personality disorder#worldbuilding#werewolf#long fucking thread#terato blog#monster biology post#sort of
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Tom Hanniger x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."
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+
Tom Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl
"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.
#tom hanniger x reader#tom hanniger x female reader#tom hanniger#my bloody valentine fanfiction#my bloody valentine#tom hanniger fanfiction#prompt response#tom hanniger x you#tom hanniger x y/n#my bloody valentine fandom#jensen ackles#jensen ackles character#thebiggerbear
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Simon has scars, Simon has trauma-- Okay so imagine this.
Trauma often causes your body to break down not just mentally, but physically. Often, in the most extreme cases of trauma, your brain gets rewired to think/act/and distribute electro signals a certain way. Childhood trauma has been studied so intensively, that doctors have determined it can also suppress vital bodily functions, like digestion or even your immune system, possibly causing autoimmune disorders.
Me, I'm 21, with a couple of different disabilities from my trauma, so I'm drawing from experience.
What if, and hear me out, Simon starts, gradually over the next couple of years, getting some weird joint pains. Just, like it feels achey, and not quite right. Like he was down with a cold. It comes and goes, and he's not entirely sure when it started. He's always sort of had joint pains, I mean, look at his job? It's not only incredibly intense, and taxing physically AND emotionally, but he constantly is over working his joints. So, he thinks nothing of it.
Except, over the next few months it doesn't go away like he thinks. Oh well, right? He goes to the med bay, they check his symptoms, they check everything, and just simply find nothing. They have no reason to do blood work, or x-rays. He's not injured, and it doesn't sound like he's pulled anything or snapped any tendon. They tell him if it persists, to come back in. They give him Ibuprofen, Acetaminophen, and a N-SAID to trade off between the three, and help with any swelling or discomfort. All Simon's symptom points to, is the over work of the joints. I mean, hell, he's been in the SAS for years now, with about a decade or two of more service on top of that. He's considered old by the SAS, almost at the stage where they'd pull him off the field if he even sprains an ankle. So, he doesn't think anything of it, and refuses to go to med bay.
Without failure, the symptoms just sort of pile up gradually over the next four years. The joint pain is accompanied by stiffness and swelling. The joints, primarily in all his finger joints, wrists, and knees hurt, are red, and hot to the touch. His left hip is starting to get painful enough that he has to stretch and stay in his room for the first hour-and a half when he wakes. Otherwise, he'd be seen hobbling down the hall and that isn't good. He'd surely be sent to med bay.
So, Simon deals with it. Until one night, he's on a mission, and his joint stiffness catches up to him. Johnny has to help move him when they get under fire, and his hands and fingers hurt so bad he can't properly grab the gun and fire it. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually returns fire. Johnny having seen the struggle, reports it to Price, who almost immediately sends him to med bay to get almost every fucking test done under the book.
"Obviously it's not just joint pain and stiffness of age anymore, Simon. I need you to be 100% out on the field. If not for you, then for Johnny. For the team."
Simon thinks it was pretty shitty of Price to use Johnny and the team against him, but it does the trick. He gets there, and spills almost everything to the doctor he saw last time. The doctor is shocked and appalled Simon never told him anything, and Simon tells him the medicine worked at first, as did the braces that he recommended for the joint support, but it just kept getting worse.
They do X-Rays, and blood work, and they find out Simon has a fairly common autoimmune disorder. Although, it's not the kind he wants to hear because it will result in a medical discharge.
"Rheumatoid Arthritis? You're bloody joking. My hand isn't all fucked up and weird looking doc. I can move my hand just fine."
"You can right now, but if you don't get the proper treatment, along with a transfusion for your knee... it will progress. Probably to the point you're bed bound."
The doctor calls in the team on behalf of Simon's request, and well, they try to find a way around it. At least, Gaz and Soap do. But before they exhaust all their options, Price offers to talk to the higher ups to see what the stance would be on moving Simon from an operator, to more of a coordinator like Kate. Where he would be able to do missions every one in a while, but not over exert himself to the point a flare-up is triggered and he is left in a dangerous position once again. The higher-ups agree, not wanting to lose the infamous Ghost.
So, there we go. :) That's my little tid-bit, take it as you want. And like always, if you enjoy the idea, please like/reblog, and if you want to build off the idea for your own AU or things, just tag me if you use specifics!! ((If you have any questions about RA, please drop them in my box and I will try to answer when I have the time!!))
#cod mw2#call of duty#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghoap#soap x ghost#soapghost#ra simon riley#rheumatoid arthritis#chronically ill simon riley
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ADHD
Note: NO Y/N This is just a cute little fluff moment between the Sturniolo brothers and I am not sexualizing this in any way. they are freaking brothers enjoy!
Warnings: overstimulation, panic attack, etc.
Summary: Chris has ADHD and this goes downhill, but his brothers are there to help him.
Nick's POV
My brother Chris has always been very affectionate. He always loves to be around people and today was no different.
We woke up early, Chris slept in my bed last night, and went downstairs. We watched a show and he sat quietly holding my hand for about half the movie, and then he started to get fidgety. Chris started to play with my fingers and move his feet around, not even paying attention to the show.
"Chris, are you all done watching TV?" I asked him, grabbing his hands to get his attention focused on me. He looked at me, only just realizing that he had not been paying attention.
He looked down embarrassed.
"Hey, that's ok. Do you wanna go help me make some breakfast?" I asked him, rubbing my thumb over his hand, back and forth.
-
It took Chris around 30 minutes to complete his breakfast. Mainly because he would explain the different shapes of his toast after he took a single bite. Me and Matt, who woke up to the smell of breakfast, just laughed along with him, letting him take his time.
After breakfast, I did the dishes while Chris lay on the couch, snugged up close to Matt with a blanket, and scrolled on his phone.
So like I said before, my brother is very affectionate, loving, and calm even with his ADHD disorder.
only tonight was different. we went out to dinner and Chris did not like it at all.
Chris's POV
The restaurant was loud. too loud. Many adults were sipping at their drinks, yelling and cackling over each other. There were also children, screaming at their parents who were not paying attention.
Our waiter showed us to our table and brought us our menus. He also brought one of those kiddie menus that come with the three-pack of crayons. The menus with puzzles, coloring, and tic-tac-toe boards.
Trying to get my mind off the noise, I began to color the paper using the cheap crayons from the packaging.
Then all of a sudden, I felt it.
The crayon felt gross, almost sticky, and grainy in my hand. My clothes felt too close to my body, scratching me. suffocating me. And the noise. the horrible, torturing noise, that just kept getting louder and louder, surrounding me. drowning me.
My breathing became shallow, and I was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat. My mind started racing, not being able to process all of these new things at once.
Sensing my unease, Nick grabbed my clammy hand under the table, giving me a look of worry.
I instantly shoved his hand away, wiping my own on my pants, hating the feeling of the rough fabric of my jeans.
Get out. I have to get out.
"Hey Chris, what are you gonna get to eat bud?" Matt asked, not noticing my current state of hyperventilation.
"I u-um...u-hhh..." I studdered out, my brain not even working enough to form words.
Then I Bolted.
Matt's POV
I asked Chris what he wanted to eat, and he ran. Snatching up my keys from off the table on his way out.
"What the fuck-" I start to say, but Nick was quickly rising from the table to go find Chris, and I was right behind him.
We checked the bathrooms, and corner of the restaurant, just to make sure he actually went to the car, and he was nowhere to be seen. So we made our way to the parking lot, sprinting out of the place and down the road.
Chris's POV
I ran, ran, to the car, and somehow managed to get it unlocked. I tried to climb into the front seat, but the cold, sticky leathery seats were too much. I popped the trunk, climbed in, then closed me in. I was squatting so I didn't have to touch the car carpet floor.
my hands were clawing at my head, my eyes, my ears. Trying anything to get this horrible feeling to go away.
I ended up banging my head against the car walls.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Again! Again! Again!
Go. A. Way!
Then, all of a sudden, the trunk was being opened.
Nick's POV
Matt and I reached the car, making a horrible banging noise from the inside. We quickly ruled out that Chris was in the trunk, and opened the door.
Matt's immediate reaction is to hold his brother. soothe him. But Chris falls back onto his back and kicks at Matt, hands clawing at his face.
"NO!" He lets out in a sharp panicked breath. Tears were streaming down his face, and his eyes were red, puffy, and swollen.
Then I get an idea.
"Matt, go get the water bottle from the front seat and pour it on his hands while I grab his face," I order, beginning to panic myself. Matt is quick to complete his task.
The cold water on Chris's hands causes him to cringe and go still allowing me to hold both sides of his face and turn it to look at mine. He falters for a moment, his breathing uneven and harp.
"Shh, you alright. It's me, it's Nicky, okay? It's okay, your safe I promise." I whisper in his ear. With trembling hands, he reaches up and holds mine. Shaking.
"Chris, can I hold you?" I ask, not wanting to overstimulate even more after we just got him to calm down.
He looks into my eyes and studies me for a moment, then timidly nods his head. I slowly climb next to him in the back of the car, and he lays his head on my shoulder, hiding his red and tear-stained face in the crook of my neck. While he gets his breathing back to normal, I gently play with his hair, while Matt climbs in and rubs small circles around his back.
"You ready to go home?" I ask him once his breathing is somewhat back to normal.
Chris gives me a small nod, and Matt goes and starts the car. I help Chris in the backseat with me, where he almost immediately falls asleep from exhaustion.
-
when we get home, we don't even bother going up the stairs. We walk straight into Chris's room and lay him down. matt and I change quickly into a hoodie and lay on either side of our little brother, sleeping with him, in case he ever needs us.
We will always be there.
Note: I hope y'all liked it. I can do more of these stories w/o y/n if y'all like them, but I'm still down for whatever.
I also have the Sturniolo little sis fic coming tomorrow!
xoxo
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo imagine#nick sturniolo#sturniolo smut#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#sturniolo#matthew sturniolo
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ONGOMG I HAVE AN IDEA!!
How abouuuuut, a Creepypasta (you can choose It’s okay!!) with a reader that has DID/OSDD? Like, the Creepypasta gets to meet someone new literally everyday and get confused on who is who. YEAH‼️
I am DEVOURING, not eating, DEVOURING your writing like DAMN😦
TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE AWWOWIWOW
-🐰
Just a heads up, I don't have DID or OSDD, but I do have a few friends who do, so i'm basing this off of what I know from them, as well as some reasearch i've done, so if anything is inaccurate please let me know!
And as always when the choice of creeps is left to me, I will be using my most popular creeps at the time of writing
Thank you so much for requesting!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ticci Toby
In the beginning, it is a bit hard for Toby to adjust in your relationship
You told him before you got serious, that way he knew to just always check in to see who was fronting at the time, but he was still a bit slow to adjust
He learns all of the names of the alters, their personalities, their interests, their role in the headspace, anything he can to accomodate them as well
While he knows that he is only dating you, and not your alters, he still wants to help them feel comfortable when they are fronting
After he gets adjusted though, it isn't really a huge deal anymore
It just becomes a part of his routine to ask each morning who is fronting, notice when you start to dissasociate, and being there for you during your hard days
He probably wouldn't have interacted with any media or people with DID/OSDD before you, so he will be asking you everything about what its like
"Where do you go when you aren't fronting? Can you hear everyone elses voices too? What does it feel like when you front?" etc etc
If you are someone who falls or goes limp when you dissasociate/switch, he is there to catch you or hold you until someone fronts
He learns all (well, as many as you can) of your alters boundaries and lets them know on your relationship, because he doesn't want it to be a whiplash kind of feeling for them to just wake up in some random dudes arms
The way he sees it, he got a partner and a bunch of new friends for the price of one!!
If one of your alters didn't like him though, he'd be ok with that
It would just be kind of awkward when you start to switch out during something like a cuddle sesh
He just hopes and prays it isn't someone who dislikes him
All around, he's kind of clueless but he is very open to learning about you and your disorder!
Eyeless Jack
Being the medical geek he is, he has read almost every psychology book he could get his claws on
And when he ran out of psychology books he started looking more into specific disorders such as Bipolar, Schizophrenia, etc
He did briefly glance over a few books about DID and OSDD, and he'd be lying if he said the topic didn't interest him
But he just gets so excited to study everything at once he kind of just gets a brief rundown of a certain disorder before going to the next thing, and someday coming back to study it more in depth
When he gets into a relationship with you though, he gathers up all his books on the topic and begins studying heavily
He wants to know everything about this disorder, especially since it is something that impacts your day to day life so heavily
He will run some questions he has by you, because some things you just can't find in a book
"So when you say you "switch"....what does that entail for you?"
"Uhhh... my mind goes blank and I kind of just drift off I guess??"
"Interesting...."
He gets very excited to meet your alters!
But he is also very nonchalant about it at the same time??
"And thats when I said-"
"Who the fuck are you"
"....My love, it's me. Your partner"
"I'm (insert alters name here)"
"Ah, very good! Now, tell me all about yourself, when did you manifest?"
Of course, if someone is uncomfortable with relaying knowledge about themselves to a complete stranger, or even just doesn't like him, he understands and won't press on the matter
Every time someone fronts he has a bottle of water in case they need something to help ground themselves
He will bombarde everyone with questions and research there's no escaping >:))
Jeff The Killer
THIS GUY OMFG
He's only heard of DID/OSDD from those shitty movie representations, and Liu who 9 times out of 10, only switches with Sully
So basically Jeff's whole perception of multiple personalities is "Damn whoever the other guy is must be an asshole"
You try to tell him that there is not a "killer" alter, and most of the time, as long as you are nice to them, they will likely be nice to you, because yk, THEY'RE PEOPLE
And while at the time he's like "got it that's super chill"
He still goes from 0-100 when you first switch out in front of him
You could be cuddling on your bed, when all of a sudden he feels your body go limp against his
At first he thinks you fell asleep, but he sees your eyes wide open
You then begin to blink, then move around and shift a bit
"The fuck happened to you?" he asks with a raised brow
Your brows furrow as you look around your environment "Who even are you???" the new person in the front of the headspace asks
It doesn't even click with him that you switched out for a second, he just thinks you're being stupid
"Damn, am I really that forgettable?" He asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead
You make a face of disgust and shove him away from you harshly
He narrows his eyes at you, seemingly trying to process what even just happened
Then it clicks, and he feels like such an asshole
But he won't let you know that obviously
"Gimmie my partner back!" he says suddenly
You raise your hands up defensively "Woah dude what are you talking about?!"
Needless to say, when you come back Jeff is pouting in his room, angry that your alter can't just ~magically~ bring you back to the front
#creepypasta#slender mansion#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x you#jeff the killer#ticci toby#jeffery woods#jeff the killer x reader#ticci toby x reader#jeff the killer creepypasta#ticci toby x y/n#ticci toby x you#ticcy toby#eyeless jack x you#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack creepypasta#eyeless jack#🐰 anon
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If somebody wants to know how patriarchy looks like post-secularism in the modern times, then pls proceed to watch the Indian film "Animal".. but a pirated version on an illegal site ofc cause u don't want those sick filmmakers and writers to profit off of this abhorrently wicked of a misogynistic crap. I can't believe the bollywood industry has still not put a ban on ANY of the films this arsehole of a director has created. And the major thing that irks and concerns me is that how in the world any of those female actresses have agreed to work with a chauvinistic bigot on a film that glorifies and romanticises domestic violence, marital rape, cheating/illicit affairs, objectification of women, daddy issues, mental disorders, men having viking-like demeanour and a fuck boi persona & justifies child abuse, homicides, assault & mistreatment of women, inculcating Islamophobia and the list literally goes on. And then they are the same women you see advocating for equality and preaching about feminism like nah babe you should take your pseudo and performative feminism somewhere else cause this ain't doing shit! This is why i say that we NEED misandry more than anything in this world. This would be our only redemption arc.
#fuck the patriarchy#feminism#radical feminism#radical feminist safe#radical feminists do interact#feministicon#misandry#womens rights#divine feminine#man hater#maneater#domestic violent relationships#witches vs patriarchy#bollywood#radical feminist community#trans exclusionary radical feminist#mental illness#radical misandrist#women#misogny#animal movie#maritalrape#illicit affairs#happy misandrist#proud misandrist
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Team e-scope headcanons
Eva unintentionally dresses like a f-boy. Like with all those gym clothes someone will confuse her with some mf named jason or Lucas.
Also she most definitely had short hair. Like a pixie cut or smth. Goes along with the f-boy thing.
Despite how much Noah reads, he can go to a bookstore store, buy 8 books and read like 2 of them before deciding that it’s time for a new trip.
Speaking of bookstores. Noah has taken izzy to a bookstore with him. He has never seen her read a book, or anything in fact. But it ended with her trying to recommend him books rather than her taking any books for herself.
And it’s the most random ass books known to man. She’ll come up to him and it’s like a book of algebra formulas and say like ‘did you know that i read this in middle school, yeah, it was really boring though. Except the introduction, i read that multiple times.’ idk she’s a weird girl.
Speaking of izzy. This girl can not tan for the life of her. Like she can live in spain or whatever (i think she’s scottish) and only get this absurd amount of freckles. (i will reblog with a pic cause i can’t add it here for some reason [it will be the end of me i swear tumblr hates me])
Izzy js like ‘turns off’ at some points. Like not passes out, she js goes completely quiet and acts completely normal and calm for like an hour and it creeps everyone out.
She also said in total drama that she had psychosis in the total drama after math. And psychosis is a trauma developed disorder (taught from my physiologist) but literally no one knows what it came from. Like not even herself, it just came at one point according to her.
Noah definitely lets his hair grow out, mostly because without noticing himself. It’s usually his mom who cuts it but she practically drags his hair out of his scalp when she does so he tires to avoid that. Resulting in him having long ass hair. Like not as in pony tail hair but we’ve all seen his hair on total drama.
Izzy has gone to the gym with eva before (i’m a evzy shipper leave me alone😔) but izzy does nothing but just walk around and use whatever she finds for her whatever she wants. Like she definitely somehow found monkey bars out of nowhere. (And she’s strong as fuck, we’ve seen her on TDWT she’s strong. But nobody knows how she exercises, and she refuses to tell.)
And they have a group chat i just know it. And Both noah and eva are the driest texters known to man. They will not use emojis even if their life depended on it. And i feel like izzy is either extremely dry or so dramatic all her texts turn into a greek play. She’s either like; ‘YALL GUESS WHO I FUCKING FOUND‼️’ or ‘i found a fucking dead frog and i think someone ate his hair’
pt 2
also sorry that i had too much izzy she’s my favourite 😔
#izva#evzy#izzy#total drama izzy#izzy tf#izzy connelly#eva#eva total drama#eva td#eva tdi#eva garren#noah#noah total drama#noah td#noah sterecra#team e scope#team escope#team escope headcanons#team e scope headcanons#escope#e-scope#total drama headcanons#total drama#td headcanons
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I'm Definitely Faking: A Post about Self Doubt
Alright, i get it. Many people had done things like these but it won't stop me from taking this topic deeper than anyone had done (as i ever read them too) so, for any of you who are interested, or attempt to find a dedicated answer/discussion around this topic, please and PLEASE read it, you will not regret this.
I'm very sure most of you are doing your usual routine, until a thought strike at you fast as lightning, "wait, what if i'm just faking __", or if you knew something you "shouldn't" (say, being a system) then it makes you spiral down the rabbit hole, right? And it is not beautiful, it's extremely taxing both emotionally and mentally. Nobody wants to lie accidentally to people, what if we're actually fine? How would you know? Are you tricking people to get the attention you never received as a child?? How would you actually know?? And etc. I will tell you how. It will stop those doubts for good.
Where it all started..
First of all, anything can be the starting point to where it all goes down. But, generally speaking i think it stems from how people think of what being a system is like, and i mean it in a personal view. Too rare to have one? Probably faking, Good communication? Faking, aware of other presence of parts? I'm faking, can't switch? Faking again, darn it. You get the idea here, right?
About that crippling doubt of mine..
Why would someone panic when they think they’re faking, when real fakers never gave a fuck? The problem is not on the disorder but more on the lack of proof for certainty,, and because you start to doubt from it, you then think you’re actually faking. I have a few to say about how it attacks, so bare with me:
Tendency to think on extremes
When you start to think that having something means needing to suffer for like every single second.. that one minute period of ease and relieve will be the bullet in the gun to trigger a thought of "faking". Getting a better view that, for example how depression means you can laugh or feel good from a comfort show, does not mean you don't have depression due to that particular moment.
Focusing on the wrong dot
What if i tell you, that you might be looking at the wrong side? Be it only looking at one side of the coin (biased towards looking for clues to prove yourself wrong, e.g. alters are not distinguishable from each other, and so it means you're not a system) or focusing too much about how other's experience is like and if you don't relate then you're not real, or maybe you have your own assumptions/expectations about how the disorder should look like and when it doesn't meet the criteria.. well.. you know what to say.
"I feel like.."
When emotions hits to the roof, logic gets thrown out from the house. Tell me who can think well in stressful moments,, the answer is no one, some can appear more collected or have a higher tolerance before they can panic but you get the point. We all have feelings at the end of the day, no one is unfeeling and no one can escape from it,, i'm not saying you have neglect it, more like i want you to be aware when those said emotions are controlling (more like affecting) your thoughts. Too much of it can throw off the balance in rationality, easier to dismiss proof, and worser decision making. So, if you feel overwhelmed,, make a quick choice on calming yourself down, it will be easier to challenge the worries and negative thoughts once you are aware and actively practicing.
This isn't my first time..
You guessed it. Sometimes one assurance won't do the trick anymore after a few weeks, it comes back with more and more bullets to shoot you down, who says the bullets are gone when someone makes a post about people that their experience is valid? You have to work on yourself, because one day, you will doubt about something people never post and you are alone,, dealing with all the murky thoughts will be less harder, if you follow these tips:
Everyone is different, the disorder never look static and same for everyone. Having a different struggle or way of functioning never equates to being a fraud. Tell yourself that.
Focusing on evidence, not on what you don't experience or have, being a green apple does not make you a pear,, you are still an apple because of its shape and taste and overall appearance. Not just because you're green, it invalidates every other evidence of what counts as an apple.
Throw away all those unhelpful confirmations, you don't need to constantly check wether your other parts are real, you don't need to know having a blackout means you're still not faking, you don't need anything related to this? Because we are going to heal and learn, confirming becomes obsolete,, as things will change, clinging onto an image on how you should be or live like will do no good. Seeking constant assurance does more harm.
Never downplay your own experiences. Easier said than done but i know someone will say right on my face that being beaten up regularly by a father is not that bad to develop trauma or a system (for example) while it darn is. If things are downplayed more often and to many aspects, you will be more prone to thinking that you're "faking". Due to the nature that developing this disorder requires severe and ongoing trauma, and guess what,, trauma comes in all forms.
With this, it will be much easier to accept you have a disorder,, and accept that it's not all black and white, actually this can be applied with anything, but my point is that. Practice more compassion for yourself, by understanding and being aware,, and not resorting to self negativity or elses, this will not be a major problem for you ever again. Also noting that yes its alright to relapse and question everything again, but this time you fight back,, you hear me soldier?
Do you copy that, *walkie-talkie sound*
- j
#did#actually did#did community#did osdd#did system#dissociative identity disorder#plural#system stuff#sysblr#jeducates
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prompt: any of the boys take care of reader after noticing she has disordered eating habits
Trigger warning: disordered eating habits and eating disorder talk, nothing too graphic (your girl is emetophobic lol)
As someone who has had and recovered from an ED, if you need any support or resources please feel free to reach out and if this will trigger you, please skip!!
since I have a lack of Phoebe content I will be writing her first, BUT i do plan to do this prompt with all the boys.
Phoebe:
I'm imagining a scenario where Phoebe keeps pretty good tabs on you, like always checking in and making sure you're okay and taking care of yourself, especially when she's touring and just not around as much. And this isn't because she thinks you're incapable, but she strikes me as the type of partner/lover who wants to be very involved, especially when she's not physically around.
The why isn't so much important as the what. Because she's not around and the boy's busy touring schedule, you've been able to dodge situations where she might've picked up on the fact that you were skipping meals and meticulously tracking what goes into your body, if anything substantial at all. It isn't until she comes home, and she doesn't really notice the first day because you spend most of the day in bed and you narrowly avoid your first mealtime together by blaming eating a big lunch before you picked her up from the airport.
But she knows something is up the next morning when she wakes up early (on purpose) to surprise you with your favorite baked good and presents it to you in bed. You offer to walk Maxine first, saying you missed the pup and walking with your girlfriend, which Phoebe believes, but there's something gnawing at her gut because you left the pastry on your nightstand, not even sparing it a second glance.
You'd both be walking Maxine, hand in hand, when Phoebe tells you one of the few times Julien fell hard on stage, and you laugh a little too hard that you get lightheaded. Phoebe is immediately on high alert and may be coming off a little aggressive in her questioning, "No seriously babe, don't say you're fine, you chuckled and almost fucking passed out," and you immediately close in on yourself, wanting to hide but she keeps pushing and pushing until the dam bursts. You're literally in the front yard when you just spill how you haven't been eating, and she's instantly riddled with guilt, scooping you up and rubbing your back. "Baby, hey... I need you to talk to me... you know I love you, I want the best for you, what's going on?" just so supportive and soft and sweet with you, the side of her you don't see super often since she's so nonchalant and chill normally. She doesn't immediately force you into a program or into a big meal; she does convince you to get checked out at urgent care, where they give you resources and fluids before she finds a safe snack for you to slowly reintroduce.
When you get home she lets you talk it out, letting you rest your head on her chest, her fingers massaging your scalp and back. She feels guilty for being so aggressive, knowing you're a bit ashamed of your recent habits. She does her best to console you without reinforcing any of your behavior, "I know you're struggling baby, I do. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you, but I'm here now, and I'll always be here, even when I'm not physically home," and "You're stuck with me forever, I need you healthy babe," trying to make light of the situation. She's googling the best way to support you when you eventually fall asleep on her chest; Maxine snuggled with the two of you on the couch.
She tries not to be overbearing as you slowly work out of your habits. she'll be on the road again, you'll be at work getting a random series of texts along the lines of "good morning my dude," "make sure you eat today," "love you so much," and then when you don't answer her texts she'll call, sheepishly asking you what you had for breakfast.
She tries not to watch you like a hawk, but there's always a part of her that's a bit overprotective, especially when you start eating intuitively and listening to your hunger cues; she gets a little flighty when you tell her you're not hungry, but she knows to trust you, and if you needed help, you would ask. At the end of the day, she just loves you so much, and even if she is chill about it, she's obsessed with you and only wants the best for you.
#eating disorder trigger warning#anon cutie#phoebe bridgers x reader#boygenius x reader#boygenius blurbs#gingerjoelover
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☼ doing better with you (Finnick Odair) ☼
summary; ' I was wondering if you still write for finnick and if you're comfortable could you write where in district 13 finnick finds y/n in hospital at her lowest in a ED recovery and he helps her recover? ‘
warnings; swearing, ED talk, puke mention
wc; 2.3k
notes; please do not read if you’re sensitive to eating disorder topics. keep your mind and body safe, thank you.
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So far, the worst part about District Thirteen is the fact that they hold all the power when it comes to your freedom. You haven’t been outside of the compound in over a month. You haven’t felt the fall breeze across your skin, heard the sound of chirping birds in the daytime, or walked the green earth. And that’s because they’re under the assumption that the district could be attacked at any moment.
They would rather be safe than sorry. Which you understand perfectly, because it makes sense. They’re harboring five victors that managed to make it out of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games. What Snow would give in order to ensure that the secrets you know about him never get out.
The last time you breathed air that isn’t stale and recycled was inside of the sweltering hot jungle. You can still feel the steaming heat on your skin, keeping your body wet at all times. Whether that be from sweat, the lake, or the water droplets that would roll off leaves and land in your hair.
What’s even worse is that you’ve been banned from wandering the compound as a whole for three weeks. You’ve been in the hospital since, because they don’t want you going off by yourself. They’re worried that you’re going to throw up every meal that you have at the first chance.
You’ve hardly spoken to anyone, it’s driving you crazy.
The only person that you were seeing regularly was Finnick. He’s also here in the hospital, only he’s in worse condition than you are. The adjustment from the arena to District Thirteen has been hard on him. He wasn’t able to properly grieve Mags inside of the arena, and he has the time to do that here. That’s why you’ve been with him, to make sure that he’s okay.
You’ve tried to see him several times now, but the nurses don’t want to let you go to him. If you step foot out of this room without one of them by you, some silent alarm goes off and they pile on you as if you’re escaping the district, and not trying to see one of your best friends. It’s irritating, and each time you start screaming at them, they walk away.
You don’t know what else they want from you. You let them monitor you during meals, you hold your bladder for hours after to appease them. You smile through the tears and make conversation that they’re not interested in. You wear their itchy clothes and follow their traditions and resist the urge to rip the books they hand you.
If they feel like you’re doing anything wrong, they can rip you from the schedule that they give you, and make you do something else. It’s not fair. You can’t watch the Capitol television, you’ve read every book that they’ve given you. They won’t give you any toys to pass your time, afraid that you’ll eat them. When the whole issue in the first place is that you won’t eat.
They’ll tell you a few more days, dangling your freedom over your head like some fucking dog and they’re satified when you lose your mind because of it. It gives them more of a reason to keep you here. You’re unstable. And you’ve tried the whole route of demanding to talk to Coin, or Plutarch, or someone in charge! You need them to see that you’re drowning at the moment.
You get that they’re concerned and they’re not allowed to let you cause harm to yourself, and you’ve already pinpointed the moment when they realized that you haven’t been eating. It was the last time you saw Finnick, when he was half-asleep in his bed, barely comprehending what you were saying. A nurse had walked inside to check on him.
Her eyes were lingering too long on you. For someone that was supposed to be worried about Finnick, all she could do was stare at you and every move you made. It wasn’t even an hour later when they were admitting you to the hospital. They wouldn’t even let you explain.
No matter where you went, what job you were assigned to do, the people you tried to surround yourself with, it was inescapable. The same question, different people, varying levels of judgement and severity. Have you considered asking the kitchen to give you smaller portions?
You thought that the first time you heard it would be the last. You spent time telling them how you had bulked up for the Hunger Games in advance, knowing that you’d be volunteering to go inside to help the rebellion. What they were seeing wasn’t just fat, it was also muscle that took time to build.
However, when you hear that question everyday—sometimes several times—it’s hard to convince yourself to continue to smile through it. It stopped being ignorance and it became malicious. Where you’d be seen as the ideal body in District Ten, and the perfect example of a fit victor in the Capitol, you became a disgusting figure of fat in District Thirteen.
It took you months after your first Games to recover from what they’d done to you and your appetite. You used to go two whole days before the thought of hunger began in the back of your mind. You were able to push it back to four, which is when you’d eat, because you didn’t know how to hunt in the arena, and coming across food in a desert is scarce.
They’re all about not wasting anything here, they don’t know what it’s like. It’s their fault they turned you this way. The people of District Thirteen are just as close-minded as the people they’ve tried so hard to distance themselves from. When putting them side by side, it’s not even a comparison anymore. They look the exact same.
None of this matters to them, your feelings don’t exist. You’re (Y/n) (L/n), another forgettable nobody victor from District Ten. You should be used to being pushed aside and treated like you don’t exist. In fact, what role did you play in the arena again?
Oh, that’s right. You’re the reason why Katniss Everdeen survived the fog, and the monkeys, and the attack from the careers, and the jabberjays. You were attached at the hip with her to keep her alive. And Coin can’t even entertain five minutes with you.
This whole place is a joke.
You can’t make anyone happy, not even yourself.
You sit back on the hospital bed, sucking on your bottom lip while watching the hallway. Your lunch should be coming at any minute. District Thirteen has a strict flow that they follow. If they step out of it, then their whole system fails. It’s ridiculous. Back home, you’d eat when you were hungry, not because a washable tattoo told you to.
You wipe your eyes with your fingers, trying to hide the evidence that you’re miserable, you don’t want to get your time extended. You want to get out of here, get back to the stupid classes you’re required to take about nuclear bombins. Although, with all the time you’ve spent here with the inhospitable nurses, you’re about ready to make a run for the hills and take your chances with President Snow and nature.
They’ve given you a timeline again, like they did a week ago. Granted that you behave and don’t have any major breakdowns, you should be out of the white cell by Sunday. You think you can handle three more days, then again that’s what you said last time, and ended up extending your stay by a week.
“Let me see her.” A voice shouts down the hall.
“Sir—please go back to your room. You don’t have permission to be down here.”
“Where is she? She hasn’t come to see me in weeks.” The person’s getting closer, “It’s not like her.”
“I can’t disclose that information. Will you please—?”
“No, and get your hands off of me.”
You see who’s speaking when he passes in front of the glass windows of the hospital room, bronze hair bouncing with each step. He’s surveying the hall, looking into every window possible. He’s wearing a white hospital outfit, arms crossed over his chest, concentrated.
Finnick Odair.
“Finnick!” You immediately shout, leaning forward.
He stops where he is, head turning in your direction. He sends a nasty glare to the nurse that’s beginning to block his path to the door. With one push to her shoulder, she stumbles out of the way.
“Mister Odair don’t—she’s on special bed requests!”
Finnick rolls his eyes, ignoring her. He opens the door, stepping inside of the room. You slip out of the hospital bed, stretching your legs for the first time since breakfast. You don’t have a reason to get out of it, they won’t let you go anywhere unless it’s to the bathroom.
“Oh!” You let out, hugging Finnick as soon as you’re close enough. He squeezes your shoulders.
“Miss me?” He laughs.
“I haven’t talked to anyone reasonable in three weeks, of course I missed you.” You breathe, taking a step back.
He’s awake in front of you, that’s new. You were carrying the conversations when you saw him, because he wasn’t listening. It would take three to four times before he would hear what you were trying to tell him, and even then he wasn’t there. You wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t recall a single word you said during those visits.
This doesn’t mean he looks any less tired, though. Despite the fact that he’d spend his whole day sleeping and rolling over at the sight of certain guests, there’s bags beneath his eyes. And he’s lost the golden tan that he earned in the sun in District Four, his skin’s begun to pale.
“What happened? Why do the nurses have you on lockdown?” He asks, reaching over to fix a stray hair behind your ear.
“It’s a long story.” You shake your head, backing up toward the bed. The nurse has left the two of you alone, she’s probably getting back on track of the schedule. Your lunch is three minutes late.
“Well, I have time to hear it. I don’t plan on going back to my room for a while.”
You press your lips, crossing your legs when you sit down. Finnick sits at the end, tucking one leg beneath the other, letting it dangle off the side, “Well, when I was visiting you one of the nurses noticed…” You trail off, staring at the tile floor, “I wasn’t maintaining my weight.”
“You stopped eating again?” He asks.
Finnick knows about your first time in the arena, the way you survived. And the relapse you had on the Victory Tour. At the President’s Mansion, they had these green fizzy drinks that would make you throw up the food you’d eaten to make you hungry again to eat more. When you discovered them… it took months for your mom to find all the pills inside of the house.
You swear you’ve been clean since, watching her bawl her eyes out was guilting enough as it is. You didn’t want to see her that desperate ever again. It’s not easy bringing her to her breaking point, but when it happens, you know you’ve fucked up.
“Apparently I don’t fit the District Thirteen beauty standards.” You manage through gritted teeth, feeling the way your face burns at the words, “District Ten hates me, the Capitol thinks I’m ugly, and I’m too fat to be in District Thirteen. I need more appropriately sized portions.”
“Hey,” Finnick says, “You know as much as I do that it’s not that simple.”
You look up at him, he’s got his eyebrows raised. You blink your eyes, fighting the tears, “I worked so hard to make sure that I would fit in here, and they can’t accept me.”
“We’re not them.” Finnick reminds you, “They don’t know what it’s like to survive an arena, much less the damage it can do on you years later. They’re insensitive here, you’ve figured that out, right?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding.
“You’re beautiful.” He says, “And as long as you’re happy and healthy, nothing else matters.”
“Thank you, Finnick.”
At the sound of footsteps, he turns to look over his shoulder. The two of you are met with the sight of the nurse, pushing a cart down the hallway. She pulls the only two trays left on it, coming inside of the room.
“Excuse me, I’m afraid we can’t have you in here.” She murmurs, placing one of the trays on the table, sliding it in front of your bed, “I brought your lunch here so you may bring it back to your room.”
“I’m not leaving, I’m going to stay and eat with her.” He says firmly, “She’s not a guinea pig, she’s human.”
“Meals need to be monitored.”
“It’s a good thing that I can do that for you.” He turns his body away, not entertaining the conversation any further, “Move your try so I can set mine down, unless you want me to finger paint on your bedsheets.”
You crack up, giving him some room.
The nurse makes a face, walking over to the chair in the corner of the room before sitting down.
“Listen to me, (Y/n).” Finnick says, you look at him, “I’m going to help you. We’ll be out of here in no time, and then the two of us can go and bother Katniss together. One step at a time, though, okay?”
“Okay.”
#ilguna#finnick odair#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair oneshot#thg#the hunger games#request
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the ballad of fancy uncle chucklefuck pt. 6
(previously on fancy uncle chucklefuck: 1, 2, 3 (look at the reblog for the update), 4, 5)
a long one! so this time, a cut!
GUESS WHO HAD A BAD TIME THIS WEEK HAHAHAHAHA
my plans to have fancy uncle chucklefuck idly making breakfast for the recently re-traumatized (BY HIS GOD) party were thwarted bc he instead woke up to being physically threatened by another, different god
bc lol the party weren't the only ones his god had pissed off -- an old god of the land itself had come to menace this sad old dandy and make its complaints Known
old god was understandably pretty upset that yet another power was throwing its weight around in barovia -- and even worse, possibly making itself available to strahd?? you idiot!! you asshole!! what's wrong with you!!
sidebar: feral hagdaughter tried to wallop the old god MULTIPLE TIMES bc it was the sensible thing to do! something seem dangerous? whack it until it goes away! DUH.
anyway btwn the old god's ire + the rest of the party's comments about "worst night of our lives" and "truly fucked nightmare" and the like, fancy uncle chucklefuck started to piece together that his god had maybe FUCKED AROUND only to leave him to be the one to find out! come on!! ¯\_(ಠ_ಠ)_/¯
anyway he went from protesting that he didn't really know anything to, well, protesting that he didn't really know anything, but with more detail.
you know, like admitting this power is something he recognizes but could never have expected to wield bc he doesn't even go here. (in terms of both being not of the royal bloodline, also not even technically from the kingdom, so like ¯\_(ಠ_ಠ)_/¯ !!!)
but also in terms of how, well, the power doesn't look like he remembers it looking. he's used it to make light and to heal -- and he only ever saw it used for violence, or to change the course of a mind.
which, to be fair, it has very obviously been fucking around in everyone's brains so ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
tl;dr it's new, he doesn't like it, he's never seen the god -- or whatever it is -- do anything for anyone that wasn't directly harmful, and the only time it ever saw fit to talk to him! it gave him a migraine! so like! ¯\_(ಠ_ಠ)_/¯
but the worst part was arguably when the old god made some comment about how this god loves him.
uh oh
oh no
why
tangentially, uncle chucklefuck asked Seasonal Affective Disorder: the Warlock a thing he'd been meaning to ask her ever since she said something about how there are "different kinds of dead"
namely whether it's possible for the soul--the self--to be carved out of a body, only for the body to still be breathing
(which was probably the most intense rush of emotion i'd felt at the table thus far bc holy shit not the time he wanted to ask that, if he ever even actually wanted to)
turns out this question hit HER in a terrible and unexpected way, but tl;dr the horrible answer is "YUP"
anyway that was around the point the old god decided it was satisfied -- which it articulated by suggesting they all go walk into a lake so as to not bring any more problems down upon its people or its land. buh-bye!
to which the dragonborn herbo was like "actually that sounds great, byyyyeeeee" and promptly exited stage left
the dour divine bard and SAD: the Warlock went to go talk her through her stress/ongoing powerful aversion to God Shit
which was DARLING esp bc the dour divine bard proved far more emotionally deft and gentle than they had yet dared to be!
but THEN the dragonborn herbo was like "THAT. CHUCKLEFUCK. TOLD ME NOT TO BE VULNERABLE. AND THEN WENT AND EXPOSED HIS ENTIRE FUCKING RIBCAGE TO US." (see 3)
here pictured: me, offscreen, wailing with laughter
SAD: the Warlock's answer to this was along the lines of "to be fair, uncle chucklefuck's probably going through it, and i suspect that awful god is too -- but ALSO, if they touch our brains again, i will kill him :)"
which made the dragonborn herbo feel better so we're all good now! we're fine! we're great! it's chill!
meanwhile fancy uncle chucklefuck had offered to make food for the group before answering any questions they wanted answered and feral hagdaughter was Extremely Interested in breakfast.
which was the most sensible thing that happened all morning and made him finally confess she's his favorite.
while they tended to that, a very distressed farmer's wife politely asked the utena butch bard whether the party planned.....to stay....any longer..... and desperately pretended the farmhouse was SO haunted by the most OBNOXIOUS ghosts so they would probably be MUCH happier if they just CONTINUED ON DOWN THE ROAD...
breakfast ended up remarkably chill all things given. dragonborn herbo (NEEDLESSLY!!!) apologizing for her "outburst" and committing to sticking with the group -- and making clear she keeps her fucking promises.
followed by fancy uncle chucklefuck cautiously offering to part ways with the group bc lol! didn't expect to be contagious! sorry! haha! fuck!
tho he was also talked out of this by the double-punch salvo of 1) we've already caught the contagion and distance probably won't help, 2) strahd has already proved Interested in your god and none of us really want him to get it, so!
ultimately we hit the road again with fancy uncle chucklefuck having changed into the farmer's spare clothes bc 1) god he's tired of putting on fancy face, 2) when he runs out of money, the fancy clothes will also be good for bartering.
and we left off on debating how best to deal with hags who have the bones that we want, with the conclusion that we definitely should not bargain with them, probably could not kill them, and therefore ought to steal from them -- so uncle chucklefuck has a new mission! which is teaching these whippersnappers how to do CRIME.
relatedly, two of the party members who are decidedly not actually whippersnappers due to various circumstances (dour divine bard + SAD: the Warlock) had a sidebar where they were like "hey i maybe Get you in a weird way. anyway are you also feeling 'i just met this dragonborn herbo but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself?' yes? awesome. good talk."
great and functional party with tremendously admirable coping mechanisms you got there. would be a shame if they were to trauma-bond or something.
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Okay Jake scratching the nutritional info off the chocolates is so fucking sweet and I feel like that is shit he continues to do when he goes to win Amilia back, like he brings both something for her and her roommate and he remembers to scratch it off and i feel like that just makes her stop and really think holy shit
ToE
Trigger warning: mentions of food aversion’s & eating disorders.
***~***~***~***~***~***~
Oh he’s actually a real mvp for this. Jake saw Chelsea do this this once and it was committed to his memory bank within a second.
It becomes a habit. Any time Jake purchases any food that comes pre-packaged with a nutritional label of any sort? He scratches it out or rips it clean off. Especially the part where the caloric value is.
And let’s get one thing straight about Amilia. She’s recovered, she had a nutritional degree and knows a hell of a lot about nutrition and food in general. It goes hand in hand with her career.
But those toxic traits and food aversions and fears she developed in her teenage years still follow her around. Most of the time she’s as good as can be—but some days they just sneak up on her and Jake was always the one who managed to disarm a relapse.
Until he wasn’t there anymore.
Jake especially picks up on it with sugar free soda, or ‘fizzy drink’ as Amilia would say. From Pepsi to lemonade, squash to coke—it’s always gotta be sugar free.
Until Jake purchases two original redbulls one day before heading into work with Amilia and she just stares at it in her lap. He can’t scratch the label off an aluminium can. Deciding whether or not she was strong enough to deal with that. Her luteal phase was kicking her ass this cycle and her intrusive food aversions were running high.
“You okay?” Jakes asking, driving along at a crisp quarter to five in the morning. He’s gonna help her set up for class and then participate. A Monday morning ritual.
“Yep—“ It’s soft and short and Jake knows immediately. Amilia knows it’s irrational and she knows that an original redbull isn’t going do anything to her besides give her heart problems, but it’s just a mental block. It’s an illness. “Just not sure if I have the willpower to handle this today.” Amilia had been a little out of sorts recently. Inez had pulled Jake aside one afternoon and mentioned how when Amilia came home after being in the US, her food aversions got a little worse than usual.
The correlation was she didn’t have her safety blanket anymore. The person who pealed off nutrition labels. She didn’t have Jake. So she just avoided anything she wasn’t comfortable with: original redbulls being just one example.
“You don’t have to drink it.” Jake reminds her. “It was two for eight with the fuel.” He explains as he takes a sip of his own. Driving with one hand as he focuses on the road ahead. “I can just save it for tomorrow and I’ll get you a sugar free v from the vending machine when we get to the gym.”
“You sure?” And Amilia just keep looking at Jake drinking this drink like it doesn’t hold some sort of existential power over him. Because it doesn’t. It’s an energy drink.
“Yeah, I should have gotten the sugar free one anyway—“ And it’s at that moment Amilia cracks her can open and takes a small sip. The corners of Jakes lip twitch up into the corner of his cheeks. “Atta girl.” He’s proud, he knows it’s hard sometimes but Amilias trying and that’s all that matters. It’s a fear that she’s had all her life after all.
It was just always a little easier with Jake in her life:
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