lex

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I am all the days,

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that you choose to ignore.

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BRO MY SHAYLA OMGGGGGG

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WC:175!

First ‘Kiss’:

He’s a man of few words, so don't expect comfort audibly.

Instead, a strong hand finds itself softly placed between your shoulder blades, pulling in for an all-consuming hug. Your head is curled into his chest, his own placed above yours.

Fear bit at the edges of your consciousness, the instinctual urge to flee flaming to life before you realized something.

This is the longest he has ever hugged you.

Just when you feel his head move, you think he’s going to pull away, instead, his arms stay wrapped around you, and a new, unfamiliar warmth is placed on the expanse of your forehead. His lips ever so slightly trembled where they met your skin.

It was foreign for him to show any explicit act of gentleness, but you were different.

He didn’t pull away instantly afterward.

His arms stayed around you, pulling you into his warmth for a moment longer.

And despite all the horrors and flaws of his character, every awful deed he had committed, now seemed to dissipate in his embrace.

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(IneedhimIneedhimIneedhimIneedhimIneedhimIneedhimIneedhim-)

WC: 1.1k!

Relationship Headcanons: How it Starts.

Let’s be real, he wouldn't be the best lover at first.

You don't even know when it finally became official, it just happened.

And now you are a resident of Cottonwood Farm!

Your days are filled mostly with terror and disgust. As you clean your lover and his brother’s messes up. The kitchen, the living room, their putrid bathroom, oh, and all the bloodstains from their victims and/or failed experiments.

You were just a maid in the beginning, if anything, a neglected pet. Who was fed the bare minimum after being spared from becoming pig feed like the other victims.

He's distant, only sparing you short glances that send a prickling sensation of needles being scraped down your spine. Scared any minute he would rethink his, not Jackson’s, decision of keeping you alive.

Days pass by, restricted to only certain areas within the house where he knows you wouldn't dare attempt to escape. Considering your previous run-ins with the monstrous creatures of the farm, mutilated and malformed by their designers. Fuck, you were constantly walking on egg shells around either one as to not become one of those things.

He had saved you once, well, more than once, but you were not aware of these actions…

Like always, their pig escaped, surprisingly sneaky for such a robust and rancid figure. Another pipe was leaking in the kitchen again, and you were to fix it. Opening the door to the garage, you found yourself in pitch darkness, the only light spilling from around your figure into the blackness. You had already faced horrors beyond comprehension. What was a little darkness gonna do to you? So you fumbled your way through the garage. Your hands found the hood of your car, the one they had stolen the night they kidnapped you, and slowly slid them until you were at the back passenger door. Snorttt… You stop dead in your tracks. A new sensation of hot moisture began to coat your hands, which were, in fact, stretched in front of you on the car. A turmoil of fear and existential dread filled your gut, but you needed to see what it was before you ran from the situation. You ripped open the back door to cover yourself from the beast you knew all too well. Dulled amber automatic lights sprang to life, revealing the disfigured and rotting face of the ‘pet’ pig through the tinted glass. It shrilled, a deep, disgusting, guttural shriek that had your ears ringing in pain. It slammed itself against the door, fighting against the door’s natural stopping point, absolutely aiming to rip your body apart and eat the flesh from your bones. And for a second, you find yourself frozen, unable to move your feet to run. You felt the wet, dirty saliva drop onto the tops of your feet, sliding down to the ground as you stood shaking. The door whined, giving in to the force being placed upon it, and pushing you back along with it. Your breaths escaped you sharp and short, the panic settling in. And just as the space between the door and garage wall became wide enough for the pig to attempt fitting through, strong arms wrapped around your midsection, harshly ripping you from the area where your feet were cemented. Instantly, your body curled in on itself, hands finding purchase along the forearms that held you with intent. Your eyes were blurred with tears that had yet to fall, clouding your vision. A blurred world flew past you as the arms twirled you into just one, your body pressed against a sturdy chest, and a forearm placed under your knees. The recognizable slam of the garage door rang in your ears before you were dropped to the floor, though less harshly than previous times. You sat there, unresponsive, you knew who saved you. But the fear did not leave you; you had messed up and ended up needing assistance to escape the situation. It bit at you, telling you of all the ways he was going to bash in your skull, using your organs to create more monsters. “Hey… ” It came out awkwardly, hesitation evident as if he was questioning even vocalizing the next line. “Are you alright?”

That was the first time he had saved you. The only one to your knowledge. But little did you know, he had been silently keeping an eye on you for a while now. Other victims who caught sight of you and quickly rushed in your direction were swiftly taken out. They were not to go anywhere near you, for your own safety.

It was all about safety at first, from killing the survivors to deterring their experiments from where you were located within the home, he made sure to keep you safe.

Well, that was until one isolated instance a survivor stared at you for too long.

An unfamiliar feeling stirred in his gut, pulling it tight and disgusting William. Their eyes traced your legs too often to just be observing the multiple bruises that you obtained from previous fearful experiences.

Their death was particularly painful.

After that, he became more observant of you, not just where and what you were doing, but your mannerisms. The things you commonly find yourself drawn to. He watched you approach and an old family photo of him, Jackson, and their mother, and smiled. Another feeling stirred in him, but this time not in his gut, rather under the mass of muscle and under his ribs, beating extra fast.

But he still stayed at a distance.

Occasionally, you would spot him outside through the kitchen window. Old moth devoured the curtains framing him. And you began to find your eyes impossibly hard to draw away. His brawny figure moved across the farm, hauling heavy items around and wrestling the actually normal animals into their pens.

There was one hot day when you found yourself washing dishes in the sink. The sun graced your face in an all-too-welcomed warmth. Your eyes drifted up to look at the outside world, and your hands stopped cleaning the dish between your fingers. A shirtless figure moved across the lawn, a lamb over his muscled shoulders. Tanned skin glistened in the sun as sweat began to perspire on it, his brows were furrowed, and a scowl was on his face. You couldn't control your eyes as they fell lower, following the dark patch of hair on his chest to the trail that ended at his pant line. Swallowing the excess saliva in your mouth, you tore your eyes away and looked back down into the dishes.

And suddenly, the sun wasn't the reason for your face feeling warm.

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