#i was writing tumblr posts and got so lost in it i was like five minutes late but it's ok i was still on time cause she always needs a bit

[actual-changeling]

me: fun fact about my life that i think is just a side comment

my therapist: 😕*writing intensifies*

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[simpjaes]

FRENZY  ៸៸៸ part one

Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect. 

៸៸៸  part two here ៸៸៸ you must read both parts to get the full story

 ៸៸៸ sim jake x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ minors dni

 ៸៸៸ wordcount: 33k (part two: 14.2k)

 ៸៸៸ genre: stalker au, dark fic, slow burn, smut

 ៸៸៸ content tags: switch!stalker jake, he is gross but on a plus side he’s got a big shlong, obsession, panty stealing/sniffing, toothbrush sucking, shower water tasting, jealousy, manipulation, past trauma involving sa of reader, reader is manipulated into being obsessed with him too, trauma, jake is very insane, he’s thinks you need him to fix you, reader can be lifted and carried by him. 

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS! there is intense trauma, past abuse, and conflict in this fic. It’s dark with mentions of noncon and dubcon, and an instance where jake keeps going after reader faints. Everything is consenting between the two but only because he is manipulative and a bad person. if you can’t handle it, don't read it.

 ៸៸៸ a/n: this was way way way longer than I anticipated it to be but i mean…….it’s slow burn so take it or leave it. anyway, huge shout out to @drunkhazed for not only encouraging me to write this every time I lost steam for it, but even helping me work out some of the details. i hope this fic was worth the wait even tho tumblr is forcing me to post it in two parts.

៸៸៸ nsfw tags under cut

៸៸៸ nsfw tags for the whole fic, as in both chapters: masochism (jake), sadism (reader and jake), overstimulation, painful masturbation, praise, worship, dirty talk, blowjob, finger fucking, pussy eating, riding, missionary, mating press,  standing up sex yayyyyy, huge giant fat cock jake, deep penetration, unprotected sex, implied breeding, choking, hair pulling, suffocation, cock warming, crying, begging, hate sex, hitting (m receiving), squirting

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s been days since he left his apartment. The skin around his fingernails have been chewed up, his eyes are red and heavy with sleep, and he still can’t bring himself to move from this spot. Disgusting as it may be, he loves it. It wasn’t like this before but that doesn’t matter too much to him right now.

The spot in front of his window has become his home within the apartment, a place where he can feel weightless and deserving of life’s pleasures. The sun is more bearable like this, the moon is prettier, even the rain sounds better now. The windowsill is lined with empty cans and food wrappers, a pile of laundry has been sitting in the corner since he started settling in this chair, and it’s gotten to the point now that nothing else in this apartment is of interest to him. Sleep comes easy in this chair too, so why move if he doesn’t have to?

He knows his last load of laundry is slowly molding over from not moving them into the dryer days ago, he knows his food is slowly going expired, and he’s aware now that bothering to wear clothes is pointless, they’ll just make the laundry pile bigger. He needs no distractions from this view, save for a quick bathroom trip and sprint to the front door to pick up his food orders. Each moment spent away from this space after five in the afternoon is a waste to him. 

How did he get here? How did he get to this point in his life? You. You’re how he got here. It’s your fault for moving into the apartment next door, your fault for accepting a space within view of his bedroom window, and it’s your fault he waits all day for you to come home, learning your schedule day by day. 

It started the day he forced himself out of bed. A Saturday afternoon. It was the first time he had the energy to do it after a month of barely moving, given that his recent breakup rendered him a shell of his former self. Recent to him anyway, it had been a year since she moved out, a year was like a day to him though. Time blurs when you’re shifting between resentment and numbness, and he really would have figured he'd have gotten over that breakup by then but he wasn’t. The words she last said to him resonated every minute of the day in his head, “he’s my brother!”, “you broke my phone?!”, “you’re fucking insane, Jake!”

It was a surprise to him that the man in her call log actually was her brother, but still a man at that and he didn’t like it. She was to be loyal to one man. Him. Only him. And she wasn’t, but none of that mattered to him after he got out of bed that Saturday afternoon. 

When he stood to his feet and began to dig through his closet for a shirt that didn’t smell like stale depression, it was much the same as any other day when he had the energy to do this. This time though, he opened his blinds and nearly fell on his ass at the warm sun boring through his window at him. He stood there feeling the warmth for a moment before his eyes adjusted enough to look around at the lively streets below. 

Even through his displeased huff, he stayed looking. If anyone cared to notice, this would be a good sign coming from him. One that shows that maybe he’s thinking about going out for once. Maybe he wants to call up an old friend that he hasn’t spoken to in almost a year and catch up on those lively streets. And you know, maybe that could have happened if it weren’t for the fact that something else catches his eye. 

Directly across the street sits a much nicer apartment building, and in his direct line of sight is a large window with opened blinds. Inside, stood you. He didn’t know you at the time, of course he didn’t, but at that moment he instantly knew that he had to know you. It was like slow motion, a rush of euphoria streaming in his veins as he looked at you for the first time. After so long in a slump, resenting and vibrating hate toward an ex, seeing you was like a glass of cold water during a drought. Even from so far away he knew you had a pretty face. Even from here, he knew you’d want to meet him too.

An immediate attachment he felt, to a stranger across the street unknowing of his existence.

 And that’s how he got to this point, growing so fond of watching you through that window day after day. It’s been weeks now since he started, and only the past two days have rendered him unable to move from the spot. He’s lucky his parents fund this apartment for him under the guise of him getting a degree that he no longer attends classes for. Because, well, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment with you. He’s growing so planted to this uncomfortable computer chair and barely caring because when you come home at five in the evening every day, this chair becomes much more comfortable to him. Almost as if it doesn’t exist, hell, he’s practically floating when he watches you. 

It’s your own fault he’s like this. It’s your fault you leave those blinds open, it’s your fault for walking around in close to nothing within the safety of your own home. If you didn’t want him to watch you do it, surely you would have closed the blinds by now. 

You’re practically inviting him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a given that within those weeks of watching you his obsession hit peak insanity by the time he ended up planted in place by the window. Now though, he’s making plans in his head, because he knows it’s not healthy to just watch. He knows he deserves more than just feeling himself up as he imagines being in that spacious apartment across the street with you. By now, the relief his hand offers pisses him off. He wonders more and more every day what you smell like, what you feel like, how warm you must be. He deserves to know. 

Such a pretty girl all alone over there, maybe you need some protecting from the other strange men probably watching you too. Jake isn’t strange though, he just likes you. A lot. Enough now to leave this chair in front of the window when he knows you’ll be at work. Enough to actually get up and shower, enough to start working out again in front of that window just in case you arrive home early. Enough to know your schedule like the back of his hand. Enough to clean his apartment, to throw out his building piles of trash, to shave and touch up his grown out hair. 

Enough to follow you to the grocery store and purchase the exact things you purchase, cooking later what he presumed to be your dinner and eating it with you there at the window. 

It’s gotten to that point, where his confidence is high and he feels as though it’s time. It’s time to stop waiting around but he needs to know more about you before meeting you officially. That’s the only road block by this time and he can only think of one way to do this. After all, he doesn’t even know your name in order to look you up online. 

So, its early Monday morning and he knows you’ve got work for at least eight hours and, well, he’s got a fucking need. 

He watches you in the window before you leave for work, his room now dramatically different than before. Clean. He looks in the mirror, proud of the way he looks now with his stylishly messy hair and skin moisturized. You’d like him better like this, right? 

He doesn’t even grab a bag to bring with him, because he knows if he forgets anything he brings, you’d take note of someone being there. You might become hyper aware, you might find out it was him in the future. There are too many risks in that. So, he just brings himself, which should be enough.

Going outside was an experience as it always was for him. He always feels so out of place and so entirely alone when he walks near other people. Always wondering if they see him too much or not at all. Thankfully, your apartment is just across the street and it’s a quick trip to get inside of the building. He knew the security here is trash, after all, he’s watched this building door for so long by now, that even if he were to be stopped, he’d know how to get inside anyway. He sees the side doors, the ladder in the alley way, all of it. 

When he steps inside, part of him almost wants to turn back and purchase a small camera to hide in your apartment. He slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking of that sooner, but he’s already here so he might just have to take note of that for later. 

With a polite smile he nods to a single security guard and receives a stern nod back. His insides are crawling with energy at how easy this is, and he feels fucking giddy. As he works his way up, entering wrong floor after wrong floor, he finally lands his feet on your floor. He can tell because he double checks, and then triple checks by looking out of the big hallway windows and finding his own apartment straight across the way. 

He smiles wide at the apartment doors, noting the lack of code entry locks and finding simple turn-key locks. This is perfect, because he practiced a skill for this specific purpose. Lock-picking. He hopes it comes in handy as he pulls out his miniature tools. 

That practice did come in handy, and he smiles to himself with a near sob of happiness at the sound of what he presumed to be your apartment door unlocking. Intelligent, that’s what he is. 

He steps inside and instantly he is dizzy. He was right, he was fucking spot on. This is your apartment, and he can’t help but stand in the doorway frozen at the very thought that he fucking did it. He made it in and now your apartment is his for the next few hours if he so wishes.

The first thing he does is go to your window and gaze across the street. Seeing his own window from here felt surreal, thinking back to all of those nights he came undone to the thought of standing in this exact spot. His body reacts quickly to the space, twitching in his pants at the adrenaline he feels. 

If there is anywhere in the world he could be right now, this would be the exact spot. He hasn’t felt this excited in a long time, even compared to when he first saw you and his heart went from rotting to filling with love. It’s hard at this moment for him to turn around and look somewhere other than his view of that all-too-familiar window of his, but he manages. He’s slow to turn around, taking in each breath with intention, every glance burning into his memory. From the open curtains, to the open blinds just behind them, to the dull color of the paint on your walls. 

He smiles as he notes that your apartment is clean, almost obsessively so. It’s also much nicer compared to his own even when it was brand new. You seem to like candles, apple and sugar cookie scented candles. He can tell from the amount littered around the open living room and kitchen. The dull scent dragging his senses into euphoria. You also seem to like plants, you like shoes, you like plushies. 

He nods as he takes note of everything in your apartment before sauntering out of the living space and toward the hallway. There, he enters the bathroom first.

Clean still, save for a pile of dirty clothes thrown carelessly into the corner. Before he focuses too much on that pile of clothing though, he stares at your shower, taking note of the other scents you’re drawn to before trailing his fingers along the shower wall. Still damp from your morning shower, he presumes. He lets himself feel the sensation of the droplets soaking his fingertips, running it along several areas of the wall before pulling his hand back. He looks at his glistening fingers for a few moments, preparing himself for a new sensation as he places his fingers to his lips. Sucking in the remnants of your shower and humming. Then, ecstatic with the taste, it’s easy for him to balance himself against the wall and bring his face close to a few more unbothered droplets, licking them into his mouth and relishing in the feeling of the cold shower wall against his tongue. His cheeks dampen through the act, and even when he pulls back for a moment, he can’t bear to wipe away the condensation. 

It tastes like water, but it’s your water. And as he continues to suckle against the wall, he finally pulls back and places his fingers back into his mouth to suck off any last remaining droplets. His eyes now flick to that pile of laundry. Based on your cleanliness in the rest of the apartment, he assumes you’ll probably wash these later, which is a fucking waste. He confirms in his head the loss it would be not to take something, and so, he plans to. 

Fingers still in his mouth, he fumbles with his other hand to shove each piece of clothing up to his face, inhaling the scent of your sleep because these were clearly the pajamas he saw you wearing last night. The scent is dull but he swears he can smell your skin on this fabric and it’s enough to cause another twitch in his pants. His cock already growing heavy and sensitive in the confines of his pants. 

Finally, the pair of panties. Worn, crumpled on the floor in a presentation too beautiful to resist. He drops your shorts carelessly to grab at them, his fingers leaving his mouth just to smear across the seat of the garments before instantly he’s sighing out in a soft moan. Nuzzling his lips and nose into them, inhaling for an even longer time compared to the other articles of clothing. It’s as if he’s inhaling a deep hit from a blunt, the scent making him dizzy and entirely hot in the face. He could cry, honestly, as he dips his tongue out just for a moment to taste. Heightening his sensations of you. It was euphoric feeling them in his hand, against his face, in his mouth. Even more so with the scent of them, worn from the day and clearly needing a wash. It was relieving to him in some way, fondling the panties seems to push him further from the reality he’s in, sending his mind into colorful image after image of what these must have looked like clinging to your pussy. 

He’s quick to stuff them into his pocket after he gets his fill, forgetting only for a moment that there’s more to explore and that he can’t just sit here all day and jerk off to a single pair of panties. He’s sure you have more for him somewhere. And with that, he moves his eyes to your bathroom counter. 

Gazing at your toothbrush momentarily, he fights off the idea of taking that too. Ultimately deciding that you’d definitely think something was off if that went missing.This doesn’t prevent him from touching though, as he reaches forward and runs his fingers along the bristles. Just as suspected, it’s still damp too from your morning routine. The sensation of the bristles along his fingers is somehow more arousing than anything else right now, and it’s hard for him to hold back. His cock is now heavy in his pants, leaking against his zipper and begging to be let out. He holds back still though, even as he brings the toothbrush up to his lips much like your other items. He takes in a deep breath first before licking along the handle up to the bristles. Still tastes like toothpaste, and the taste is far too overpowering to be able to taste you. Still, his hips lunge forward against the counter as he tastes another part of you. 

He stays like that for a while, hips pressing forward every few seconds in search of the friction his zipper offers, and your toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he rummages around your drawers and cabinets. 

By the time he has searched every inch of your bathroom, he finally places your toothbrush back into its place and stares at it for a moment longer. If you continue to use it, it’s like you’re kissing him. He hopes you like it as much as he does. And just like that, his interest in the bathroom is gone. Excitement bubbles up yet again, knowing that he still has more of your space to explore for his own pleasure. He adjusts his length in his pants and sighs with a dazed smile and leaves the bathroom almost exactly as you left it.

Quietly, he goes further down the hallway. There's only one other room and he just knows that it’s your bedroom, that much is clear. You always keep these blinds closed but sometimes he can see your shadow when you turn on your light at night. This is where he wants to be right now, and upon opening that door, he’s immediately hit with another new scent. Home. 

He doesn’t waste his time indulging himself here, throwing himself forward onto your bed, face down, and instantly groaning at the feeling of his sore cock hitting your mattress under his own weight. By this point, it’s weeping with pre-cum and staining his jeans with a large dampened spot. The feeling is so much to handle as he lays there trying to breathe through the raw feeling of how badly he wants to fuck something. How badly he wants to fuck you. 

He laughs to himself in the bliss of your scent as he tears up, gripping your duvet and covering his face with it. He breathes heavily as his gleefully aroused tears begin to soak into the fabric. Then, because of course he would, he gags himself by stuffing that very same duvet past his lips. He closes his eyes now, imagining that you let him in, you’re here with him, you’re here under him. The scent of apples and cookies would be drenching the air, your panties would be wet and begging to be off of you. Fuck, he wants to consume these sheets the same way he wants to consume you. 

Immediately, he sucks on the fabric with a lift to the corner of his lips, smiling as he tastes the closest thing in this apartment to your body save for the panties in his pocket. He feels like he’s floating right now, and he would be a fool to hold off any longer. He wants to have his way here, hoping that you don’t notice the stains he plans to leave behind. Hoping you sleep on them, hoping you sit your bare pussy against the same spot he intends to fuck as hard as he would fuck you. 

He slides a hand down between his body and the mattress and dips into his pants with a visible shiver, finally offering himself relief. Long and slender fingers making their way around his length and instantly he’s unable to keep quiet. His eyebrows lift in relief at the feeling, rubbing his tongue raw against your duvet with his muffled moans, writhing wildly as he begins to fuck forward. His ears are ringing, his finger tips are burning against his own arousal, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so fucking happy in his life than he is right now. 

As he continues, his wrist is being rubbed raw much like the head of his cock and his tongue. So many sensations come from the fabric you provide and, god, he loves it. He can’t help it when he aggressively shoves his pants down, allowing his pre-cum to spurt out of him, instantly staining your sheets and causing him to pick up the pace. Fucking against his hand and humping with no real rhythm. 

His moans come out in short, muffled whimpers. Your blanket in his mouth makes the sound more pathetic than it already would have been, but he loves the way the sounds echo off of your walls. It’s like he was meant to be in this room doing this. Like this is the only room he should be intimate in, whether it be with himself or you. He wants to moan like this not just because of you but, for you. He wants you to play with him, he wants you to fucking destroy him, mocking his overly sensitive cock until he’s crying. 

His mind is spinning as he fucks forward with these images in his head, the scent of you only drives him further and further from the reality at hand. He sobs only a little when he pushes the duvet out of his mouth, quickly replacing that with your pillow. He buries his face into it so hard that he nearly can’t breathe. The lack of oxygen hitting him second by second until he’s gasping for the same warm air that’s being trapped by the plush pillow, his orgasm bubbles up quickly with each jerk of his body. 

Faster and faster he fucks into his palm, paying no mind to the burn on the under side of his cock that repeatedly rubs against the sheets. His muffled breath now comes out in short cries of laughter as he feels his release approaching. He chases it aggressively, violently. He wants his cock to fucking ache for you.

And it does, a mixture of searing heat and release hitting him all at once. He can’t breathe as his body stutters against your sheets, his pathetic cock continuously releasing a greedy amount just for you to sleep soundly in later. 

Then he just lays there, feeling every last drop leave him and make a home within your sheets and mattress. All he can do is grin as he tries to catch his breath, rolling over and feeling his already-spent cock pulse at the cold air that hits it. He lifts his head to look down at it, noting how red it is even as it softens up. Again, he’s floating right now. He can’t believe he managed to get inside, he can’t believe he has your panties, he can’t believe he’s even tasted you. 

Through his blissed out state, his eyes begin to travel around your room as he comes down from his high. Heart pounding still, he realizes he didn’t comprehend a single corner of this room the second he saw your bed. It was like he cared about nothing, it was like he died and went to heaven, and he wouldn’t have it any other way save for you being on this bed with him. 

Then, his eyes land on your dresser and he’s careful when he stands up to balance himself, tucking his length half back into his pants and wincing at the sensitivity. Jackpot. Jake’s attention is solely focused on your dresser now, wobbling over and trying to pretend that his body isn’t still shaking from his recent orgasm.

He’s in a world of euphoria again, immediately after having gotten off so quickly within the sheets of your bed, and now as he rifles through your panty drawer, his sensitive cock is twitching with embarrassing interest. He laughs at himself and the way he could probably fuck you repeatedly for hours at this point. Never has he been so ready to come again a mere minute and a half after already having done it once. He holds off though, pocketing a few more pairs of your panties before turning his attention to your closet.

There, he notes the fashion you like, the shoes you have hidden probably for nights out, and…oh. 

Sex toys. 

He glares at them for a moment, wondering if you only have these because you’ve yet to realize how badly you’d want him to do it for you. This leads him to believe that you must be desperate for touch, for love, and surely he could make you feel better than a piece of soft rubber, surely you wouldn’t need these if you have him, right? 

He grabs one with a huff and inspects it for use. Upon realizing this has been well loved by you, he removes the batteries and pockets those too, solely because he refuses any competition when it comes to you. Another mental note to find any and every battery in this apartment so that this toy becomes useless to you and your pussy. After all, you’re his now and it’s only a matter of time before you realize it.

He shakes his head in disappointment at his findings before tossing the toy back into the space he found it and turning his attention to your desk. After all, he’s lost all interest in this closet simply for containing items that offer you pleasure. At least at your desk, he might find some deeper information about you.

And God, it’s like you knew he was going to be here. He smiles, his heart swelling at your kindness of leaving your journal right here in the open for him. Inside is a page bookmarked with what he assumes to be junk mail. 

There’s your full name though, glistening in the dark space of his brain that was dying to be filled with information about you. He whispers it to himself, loving the way the tip of his tongue tingles at the act of saying it out loud for the first time. His heart flutters as he runs his fingers along the plastic window of the envelope, repeating your name several times, as if to conjure your spirit up right here, right now, to bask in his post-orgasm glory of love for you.

He’s almost got all of the information he needs with this simple envelope. He knows exactly where you live obviously, your full name, what you like, your favorite scents, and now all he needs is– 

He pauses as his eyes fall to the page marked in your journal, damn. It seems to be your most recent entry, and you really let it all out in these pages. His own ex-therapist suggested he start keeping journals too, but fuck no. That’s too much work for him. He doesn’t like giving himself that type of attention either, but thank god you keep one.

Your self written bible, with all the information in the world about you coming from your own hand, your own brain, is right here in the palm of his hand and it’s not hard for him to decide what to do with it. 

Just like that, an hour passes as he starts from the beginning and works through your thoughts starting from early last year. Right around the time his ex-girlfriend left him, the bitch. 

The deeper into this journal he goes, the more he learns. Intimate things, fucked up things. He almost laughs at your pain, how silly of you to love someone when he was here all along. You had your heart broken, met someone who fixed you, then he destroyed you even more than the first man. Silly you, choosing the wrong people and letting yourself be hurt enough to write about it. 

It’s not until he reads what your recent ex did to you that he starts to really feel something. Anger. So much fucking anger that a man touched you like that. He hurt you like that, then left you feeling torn apart and, as you wrote, “dead inside”. The anger is so strong as he grips your journal and nearly crumples the page. He wants to rip it out, to erase it from your life so you forget it ever even happened. You wouldn’t need to remember all of this if you’d let him in.

But he can’t just rip this page from your life, because you’d notice. These are your deepest secrets, surely you’d be on high alert if something like this were to go missing. So, he opts to read it again, and again, and again, searing it into his memory like a mantra of you and your life. A mantra of why you need him, and why the universe is putting you in front of him. 

Now, the further and further he reads, the pages are filled by this man who hurt you. He can practically smell the tears you shed when writing these shaky words. Detailing each painful touch, each emotion and moment of dissociation that happened to you during that time. There’s something about the way you write your pain that arouses him just as much as everything else you do. 

Perhaps it's the anger of you being taken advantage of in that way, or perhaps it’s because he’s reading each fine detail and wishing he was you, and you were the ex. He wants you to hurt him the way you’ve been hurt, the thought alone is enough to make him fall deeper, and harder in love with you. He wants to feel everything you’ve felt.

In his mind, you’re doing this to him. He wants you to hurt him that way so badly. He wants you to have him broken and crying, with all the power in the world because it’s what you deserve. Because of him, you will forget what happened to you. He will fix you, and you will break him. 

The more he reads, the more he fantasizes. It’s not your pain, it’s his now, except he would never tell you to stop. He’d be begging for more, more, more. In his head, yes, you’re on top of him and gagging him with your fingers so he can’t cry out. You’re the one hitting him and taking him for all he’s worth. You’re the one calling him dirty names and forcing a painful orgasm through his body.

The image in his head right now is so beautiful, and it’s all you. The man no longer exists in his thoughts as he stares down at your words, another flash of a smile crossing his lips as he snakes his hand down his pants for the second time, because this time he can’t resist it. The words appear more like an erotic novel rather than your own painful trauma. He finds it easy when he checks out of reality, each drag of his palm up his cock sending waves of warmth through his body with each new word he reads. 

He likes the way you write “fuck”, he loves the way you write, “I deserved better.” He adores you so much, he wants you to say those things to him. Even if he would never hurt you, he would be more than willing to let you hurt him, to let you be the aggressor, to ruin him and make him bleed. 

His fingers squeeze around his length harder as he feels his legs attempt to buckle. He allows himself to fall to his knees on your floor, gripping the journal like it’s his last life line in this world. 

His eyes shoot across the paper and he’s biting against his bottom lip so hard that he can taste the metallic flavor of blood as he takes in every pen stroke. That taste of blood only becomes more obvious to him when he begins to whine at his own grip against his cock. It’s not enough, and it will never be enough until you’re the one ruining him. He grips tighter, bouncing up on his knees to chase the feeling as he works himself up, only briefly losing the ability to read when he rolls his eyes back at the desperate feeling of needing you here with him to hold onto. His entire body is burning up, pulsing aggressively, and yet, still shivering at the cold and lonely air within your apartment. 

Then his eyes are right back down on your journal, his hips continuing to chase. He’s not alone, you’re here with him, you are surrounding him entirely right now. This is the air you breathe into, and the gasps he takes with the realization are deep and intentional as he swallows up the air in this room until it feels suffocating. 

“Part of me wishes I wanted it, It would have hurt less, I think.” You had written one day last week.

He groans at your boldness, poking his tongue to his cheek with a frustrated moan. 

“At least I left the city. Mom told me to change my number too, but I haven't done that yet. I hope he can never find me again.” 

Jake smiles with a clenched jaw, because that man won’t ever find you again. Not with him by your side. He will protect you, he will make damn sure that any man who wants you can’t have you. 

He edges himself for a bit this time, after having gotten off so quickly before. He wants this one to be drawn out, he wants it to fucking hurt, and it does already. His sensitive length is twitching against the pre-dampened denim it’s being restricted by, his knuckles are red and raw from hitting the zipper of his pants, and the inside of his lip is still bleeding. Finally, he skews his pants down just enough to let his length spring free. 

The suffocating air of your apartment wraps around him so beautifully, and once again he’s shivering and letting out a chuckle. It feels so good. It feels so much better when he’s here and not stuck in his apartment. It feels amazing reading your words of pain, putting himself in your position and wishing so much for you to take this frustration out on him. 

He edges, and edges. Fucking up, then strangling the base of his cock to prevent orgasm. God, it feels so hot, so good that it becomes harder each time he does it. Again and again, until the shadows of your curtains shift in position, until he feels like his head might explode, and that’s when he realizes he has been reading, sometimes the same page over and over again, for hours and at least an hour more fucking himself.

Surely you’ll be getting off from work soon, but he’s so close. He’s so, so, fucking close to you right now and he can’t bare to end it just yet. The images of your past burns in his gut, and despite being in your space, he truly is so far away. He cannot imagine your face up close, and only imagines the silhouette of you, the shape of you that he’s seen so many times before. Every image is from a street away, and still it’s so unfathomably arousing to think you could use him as your diary. You could whisper your painful little thoughts into his mouth and let him swallow them up, let him erase them from your life. 

Take this rage out on him. Hit him. Make him suffer the way you did, he would love that. Giving you such an outlet, and loving it more and more each time. 

He fucks up once, hard, and for the last time he squeezes against his weeping cock so tightly as if to prevent himself from releasing. His body can’t take it anymore though, he loses all control even through his tightened grip at the base of his cock. Still, he manages to focus his eyes down at your journal, placing it directly against the underside of his cock, and there, he lets go. Strings of white shooting out past the journal and onto your carpet, seeping in almost instantly as he lets out a long and choked out moan. Raspy and raw, he can barely recognize his own voice. 

The sweat on his brow drips down as he shakes through the most intense orgasm he thinks he’s ever had, vibrating moans coming out as pained whimpers as he continues to pump himself empty against the pages of your trauma. Then, he pulls your journal up to his lips in a last attempt to show how desperate he is at this moment. He closes it, licking up the spine of the book before dropping it to the floor in exhaustion.

His mind and body has never been so stimulated by another person. Despite you not even being in this room to physically do it for him, he feels as though he’s just professed a profound love for you and you accepted it. He’s left himself all over your space, marking you, marking his territory, swearing to his shaking soul that he will never let another person touch you. 

The only pain you should ever feel again is when your palms sting from swelling his skin before kissing it better. 

As he sits, coming back to himself, still trembling from pleasure and overwhelming adoration, his eyes scan further around your room and note all of the little trinkets of personality you like to show to yourself. 

A list of movies you’ve watched dangles, pinned on a cork board by your tv, and next to that is a list of movies you haven’t gotten to watch yet. On the other side of him is a bookshelf, containing a variety of novels, manga, magazines, cds, and even a few little figurines of characters that must bring you comfort. 

All of these things, the scents you like, the colors you like, the books, movies, shows, music. It burns into his memory the same way you did when he first saw you. 

It doesn’t matter that his body feels weak at this moment, his mind will never be calm when he’s thinking of you. These forms of entertainment are now his favorite things. His fingers struggle to pull out his phone, and struggle more to find his notes app. 

There, he stays for an hour more. Typing and retyping everything he can see, smell, and touch. Every single movie, every single music disk, every single manga, magazine, and book. He will love them as much as he loves you, and he will be the person you seem to need so badly in your life. 

And then, as he glances up to the tiny, bastard of a digital block on his phone, reality sets in. He needs to leave now.

Thankfully enough, you’re right on schedule as usual. He’s crossing the street to his own apartment when he catches the scent of you carried by the wind, and right there, he glances. For the first time seeing you a little closer than usual. 

He doesn’t know if you look happy, sad, or exhausted, all he knows is that you’re truly a feast for his eyes as he stares a few moments too long and you make eye contact with him.

Then….you smile. 

You smile at him, with a small wave as you walk through the building’s doors with not a clue in the world that the kind faced, handsome, stranger you just made eye contact with was worshiping the very air you breathe.

For him, that smile managed to ignite something else in him that he didn’t even know he had. Perhaps a feeling of confirmation? No, maybe it was validation? Either way, the pep in his step is at least an inch higher than it’s ever been as he makes his way up to his home, and finds himself right back at the window. 

He feels satisfied, happy, and maybe even a bit sleepy as he watches you from across the street. Standing where he just stood, disappearing to what he now knows is the bathroom. 

With all the new information, surely it won’t be the last or only time he’ll be in that room with or without you. Now, he can meet you as the best version of himself. The best version of the person you would love. 

Perhaps now, he can accidentally run into you enough times that you’ll have no choice but to face an introduction, and right then and there, he will be the perfect man for you. You’ll invite him in, you’ll share all of those secrets with him, and you will love him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Buying a camera was easy, and setting it up against his window so that he never had to risk missing a single second with you was even easier. Especially because now he had studying to do. 

Movies, shows, music, books, all of it. He delved in for days, living the lives of other people through the media you seemed to love so much. Through all of it, he paid most attention to the romantic aspect of each bit of entertainment you seem to enjoy the most in your free time. 

He learns how these men kiss their significant others, he studies how they look at each other and express their emotions. In the music, he listens and anticipates that he can make you feel better than these songs do. In the books, even the horror related ones, he focuses on the emotional aspect and forces himself to learn these expressions. 

Love and hate aren’t the only two emotions he should be feeling, but they are for the most part. Save for things like jealousy, arousal, and entitlement. He needs to learn sympathy. Empathy, passion, contentedness, melancholy. There is a vast array of emotions he needs to master, and he can’t help but feel like that’ll just take far too long. 

As he is, he loves you. As you are, he loves you. You should love him the same, and you will love him the same. After all, he already loves the same movies, books, and music. What else could you possibly ask for from him, outside of a burning loyalty driven by passion? Outside of never laying a hand on you, nor letting another person within ten feet of you if you so much as blink at him lovingly?

It’s as if weeks passed when he started watching you through the recorded footage. Really though, it’s only been a week because he can still smell the scent of you on those dainty little panties each time he wraps them around his sore cock. They satisfy him plenty when he uses your other, cleaner garments that he took from your dresser against his lips. 

Each night since he was in your apartment, he’s fucked into these panties, remembering the taste of your shower water and toothpaste, and each night he grows more and more weary of when he can have more.

Still, these panties are getting him through this difficult period of down time, the anticipation that soon enough, you’ll smile at him again is enough to not jump for the opportunity to get back into your apartment just yet. Because soon, you’ll probably invite him in next time too, maybe even let him taste you rather than a simple remnant of you. 

Even your social media drives him to learn quicker. It’s private, of course, and all he has to go off of is that pixelated image of you, your interests, the burning images of your trauma, your name, age, address, and used panties. Sure, he’s satisfied for the time being but he knows for a fact that this “content” feeling will only continue to fade away and be replaced with the intense need to just fucking meet you. 

He knows you’re hiding from someone, and that someone just so happens to not be him. So, he’s the one man in the world you could ever hope to meet anyway. A protector, a lover, a fierce defender and an outlet for all of your pain. 

And oh, what great news is it that just a mere two days later that content feeling does, indeed, run out! Not only does he feel well equipped to be your forever soulmate, but when he looks at himself in the mirror, still fond of now trimming and taking care of himself, he’s gotta say that he plays the part well on both fronts. 

It’s another Saturday afternoon, this time he takes the time to sit by the window and watch the shadow of you through that closed bedroom curtain. He wonders how often you wash your sheets, or clean your carpet, or lose your batteries to your stupid fucking sex toys. 

Surely the remnants of him are still there, surely you’re used to his scent by now. You won’t be afraid when he steps out around the same time you do. You definitely won’t think it’s strange that he just so happens to be grocery shopping too, or that he’s needing the same ingredients you are needing. Maybe you’ll like it when he brushes his hand against yours when going for the same tomato. 

He’s confident, and he’s ready. That’s for sure. 

What he wasn’t ready for though, is how outgoing you are. 

Naturally, he smells you before he sees you. Hyper aware that every person on the street that isn’t you just ends up invisible to him anyway. He doesn’t intentionally walk into you, acting as if he’s going the opposite way. Except he does. 

The first touch of your body to his is nothing but a mere “accident”. The soft padding of your jacket collides with his hoodie, and still he swears he could feel the blood pumping through your veins at that moment. His entire body erupts in goosebumps at the first touch, he sighs out at the intentional mishap, not yet making eye contact with you. 

He falls back only slightly, raising his hands in defense and mock apology. Right there on the street, not even a block from the two buildings both of you call home. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even–” He goes to say, mind blanking the moment he does look at you, and you look back at him.

You’re right there. He can feel your energy hit him in the chest, as if that little collision was nothing less than a car hitting him at full speed. His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your image up close for the first time. 

You look….frail. Not like a sickly-frail, but the kind of frail that only comes with emotional baggage. You look sleepy, with your cold cheeks and watering eyes from the icy wind hitting them. So badly does he want to grip you and pull you into his chest. He wants to hold you, he wants to keep you warm, he wants to kiss those shivering lips and hold those shaking hands. 

You’re a mere foot away from him and his heart is already exploding. Standing in awe, oblivious to the fact that he has lost his ability to control the situation upon looking at you, because now all he can think about is giving you everything in the world.

Then, you glance away from him and speak. 

“No, no.” You look to the ground after that brief eye contact and seem to shy away from the interaction. “I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone.” You continue to stare at the ground, gripping your bag close to you out of instinct rather than fear or anxiety. 

“Likewise.” Jake smiles, trying to refrain composure and softening his voice. Still, he burns the image of you into his corneas and memorizes the pitch of your voice. “Hey…” He adds, trailing off a bit and dipping his head to draw your eyes up to him in a friendly way. 

“I think I’ve seen you before, do you live around here?” 

You pause. He’s just a friendly stranger with a tender voice but the brief glimpse you had of him did seem familiar. 

“You seem kind of familiar too?” You question, easing your tense body and looking up at him with another smile, this time more awkward. Mostly because you definitely avoided his question. 

“Huh, small world.” He shrugs, offering little to no context to that statement before shifting the balance on his feet and stiffening at the harsh wind that picks up.

This is the moment in which any normal person would say their goodbyes, last apologies, and be on their way. Jake is too in love to comprehend what normal people would do though. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I forgot my wallet at home and was running back to grab it before the market gets packed with college kids trying to buy all of their weekend alcohol. I really didn’t mean to run into you like that.” 

God, he feels like a robot saying it. He did mean to run into you, and he didn’t forget his wallet. 

“Oh! I’m actually on my way to the store.” You admit, trying to appreciate his explanation and press the idea of forgiving and forgetting. “So you live close by then?” You add, feeling better asking him where he lives rather than stating your own place of residence. 

“Yeah, I live over there.” He points at the building across from yours, silently taking a step closer. 

The chill in the air is harsh, but the way you don’t move back from him is much softer and easier to swallow as a man on a mission. 

When you perk up at recognizing his apartment building, it’s very telling. Well, to him it is, but to anyone else he could assume they wouldn’t have picked up on that slight blink of surprise he caught. 

“Huh,” You state casually. “Well, I’m going to go pick up some groceries too. I walk this same way back, do you want me to spot you on your groceries as my own apology for not paying attention?”

Partially, you do this because you want to be alone, and upon meeting this man who is running the same errand as you, you think you may feel too awkward to go through your daily plan running into him again. Plus, he lives right across from you, and you find yourself not wanting him to know where you live. 

To him though, outgoing may be an understatement. You’re offering to not only shop for him, but to drop it off at the desk? You’re inviting yourself into his space?! 

“Don’t be silly, I’ll just run and grab my wallet and I’ll be right back out. I can help you carry your things. It’s not safe for a lady to be walking alone on a Saturday anyway.” He assures you, stiffening up his shoulders in the wind and smiling at you.

You don’t know how to reject his offer, as awkward as it is, and somehow as comforting as it is. Solely because he just confirmed your silent anxieties about being in this city alone. You do this walk to the market every weekend, and despite you slowly becoming accustomed to the area, you never truly feel safe doing it alone. 

Should you reject the offer and go back home? You have enough snacks to last you the night and you can just go to the market tomorrow. And even with those thoughts in your head, you wonder why you nod to him, and you wonder why you step back toward the building behind you and lean against it as if you’ll wait for him. 

You shiver at the wind as he nods to you and jogs to the very same building he pointed out before disappearing inside of it, and all you can do is internally panic at how pathetic you are. You should not be inviting this random man to walk with you, or to carry your things for you. He’s going to know where you live. What if your ex set this up? You wouldn’t put it past him for a second.

Then you think a little deeper…perhaps you’re comforted by this man’s calm and somewhat genuine kindness. You’re not amazing at reading people, clearly, but he seems to be kind. Still, you’re too afraid to tell another person “no” these days out of fear that they will be angry.

 You’re now hyper aware of your surroundings, wondering if the threat looms elsewhere, or if you just invited the threat to walk you to the supermarket. 

You have no choice but to take the chance though, with the way he mentioned that you shouldn’t be walking alone on a weekend. You’d be paranoid with or without a stranger escorting you, especially after returning home from work last week and swearing your apartment felt different. Your anxiety regarding your ex is at an all time high. 

Should you even want to reject this small situation of possible safety? It’s still known, to you at least, that your ex hasn’t been able to find you, nor has he texted or called you since your first week of living in this city. 

Finally, you decide to just try and relax. If you show your fear, perhaps this man will turn on a dime and take advantage like everyone tends to do with you. Even if you don’t remember leaving your apartment door unlocked last week, even if you don’t remember misplacing your batteries for a particular item in your closet.

You can’t just assume every new, kind, and handsome face is working with your ex. You can’t just let your fear continue to control your life. 

At least with this new face, and the security in your building being well aware of your safety concerns, you nor your personal space could be violated inside of your own home at the very least. 

Outside though? On the streets with dozens of others? The risk is high, and you aren’t even sure if you have the capability to run fast enough or react fast enough with the little safety keychain you keep in your hand, buried in your puffy jacket pocket. 

By this point, you’re more afraid to walk alone than you are to walk with this nameless man. Saying no to him would only result in another evening walk full of paranoia, then again, walking with him still brings a whole different type of paranoia. That is, until he comes running back up to you with that same warm smile, hands tucked into his hoodie, and the promise of some sort of protection at least for this grocery run. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“So,” Jake starts after several long minutes of walking with you in silence. “Do you always walk alone at night?”

You nod to him quietly, about to say something before he sighs and shakes his head.

“That’s brave. You must be new to this side of town because it’s not exactly the safest for you to just be wandering around by yourself.” 

It’s obvious to Jake that this is only a half truth, but he knows what you’re running from by being here and he can’t help but ensure future endeavors with you, even if just to have you need him each time you leave your apartment. He would gladly walk you to the moon and back if you so much as considered it an option. 

“Oh, really?” You respond with slight distress. “I moved here because of the safety ratings. I wasn’t aware that it was an actual concern outside of me just worrying too much.” 

He picks up on it. 

“Every city is dangerous if you think about it. You know where my building is if you need it though. Just let me know if you ever need someone to usher you back and forth.”

You scoff almost, laughing at the implication that you’d consider that an option. 

“Please, that would be so inconvenient and inconsiderate for me to do. Besides, I have this nifty little keychain!” You smile, trying to make light of the situation and the anxiety his words of your bravery are bringing to you. 

“That is pretty nifty,” He laughs, eyeing your keychain and watching you put it back into your pocket. “Can’t imagine that keychain would stop anyone though.” He adds with a light and casual tone, only because he knows that the keychain couldn’t stop him. “Plus, it’s not inconsiderate. I’m much more effective than that keychain of yours.”

There is a deep fear instilled in you at his words, ones that make you curl in on yourself internally. Maybe you really couldn’t protect yourself without someone next to you. You slow your pace for a moment and consider his words. Pepper spray, a seatbelt cutter, taser, and a pair of pointy claws won’t do a damn thing for you if you end up frozen on the spot at a threat. Which is something you know yourself to do when danger rises. Perhaps this stranger is right about that, and if he’s offering, maybe it won’t be so embarrassing to actually follow up on that, especially if he proves to simply be a kind and concerned neighbor. 

Then again, maybe he’s just being nice and doesn’t want you to genuinely expect that from him. 

“Can I know the name of the person willing to escort me to and fro?” You try to play it off as a joke with a sweet and calm tone to your voice, thankful that you’ve become an expert at hiding your fear by now, but he stutters in response. Stopping in his tracks and deadpan staring at you.

“Oh my god, how rude of me.” The same smile, the same soft voice, and now– and extended hand to you. “I’m Jake, and I fully expect you to require my assistance at any time, any day, when you feel it may not be safe for you to be out here alone.” 

“What the fuck?” You comment without full intent, reaching for his hand and gripping it in yours. 

It’s…delightfully warm. 

“Hm?” He perks up a brow. “What was that?”

“It’s like you can read my mind or something.” You laugh, now releasing his hand and feeling far more comfortable walking with him, and possibly accepting his offer. 

“I’ve been told that before, you know.” 

Good fucking lord, the feeling of you gripping his hand was something that could have sent him straight to an asylum. Cold hands, warm smile, a reluctant tone in your voice– he sees you size him up, and god, fuck, did he see you just accept him for all that he is at this moment. He broke past your first wall, he could see it in your eyes when they flickered for just a moment. 

“I bet you have.” You confirm for him, now giving him your name and looking up at him. The dim streetlights and remnants of the setting sun sure do put this moment on a pedestal in your head for some reason. 

Your first friend in this city. Surprisingly it’s a man, and even more surprisingly, he seems to be entirely in tune with every single anxiety you have about life right now without even fucking knowing it. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The immediate night after you willingly led a kind stranger to the front of your apartment building, seemingly right across the street from his own, was the moment you realized that for the first time in years, you really did feel safe. 

Jake, this new person who appeared out of thin air walking right into you and somehow, into your life as well, is safe. With the well-bleached hair peeking from his hoodie, tired eyes, and the blushed cold air on his face doing nothing more than highlighting his features, you didn’t want to admit the immediate attraction to him.

In fact, those feelings of instant attraction are what got you into that mess with your ex. It’s what you’re running from now, and what you were intending to avoid. It’s in your nature to want to be around an attractive person, sure, but is it so strange to lean in so quickly when said attractive person lives across the street and offers you convenient means to feel even safer? You’re not jumping into an immediate relationship or anything by feeling safe around him. You don’t know him well enough, but for some reason, all you need to know to satisfy you is that he’s not out to take from you. He didn’t seem to need or want more, even in those long moments of silence standing beside him in the supermarket.

If anything, Jake, himself, is a new safety measure you intend to use for yourself, even as a last resort. Not because his smile is charming, or his voice is soft. Definitely not because his fashion sense seems to be well thought out, and his clothes hang against his body as if he had a real life filter consistently maintaining that every angle of his face and body remains perfect. 

It’s because he offered it. Point. Blank. Period. You, unfortunately, are not in any position to deny that it’s what you need either. You know for a fact that your ex is still asking around for you and trying to figure out where you live. Not to get back together, but just to let you know that he’s around, and he always will be for as long as you live. 

So, Naturally, the days leading up to running into this man was a whirlwind of paranoia for you. Nothing that even your heavy doses of medication could calm, yet, he managed to do it on that simple fifteen minute walk to the grocery store, and that somehow quicker fifteen minute walk back home.

That happy shocked sigh he let out at learning you live right across from him, was weirdly comforting too. As if he was just as relieved as you were that he knew he could at least keep an eye on you if you needed him to. Like he would be willing to call you at three in the morning if he so much as saw suspicious activity outside of your building. Plus, you were debating at the time lying to him about where you live just to comfort yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t.

It caught your attention, and you find yourself longingly looking out of your window today, scanning the building across from you and wondering which one of those rooms would be the most safe for you. Your mother’s voice muffled through your phone as your eyes wander, and a smile forms at her words.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon to be putting your trust into a complete stranger? Honey, I don’t want to watch–”

“I know, Mom. Really, it’s not like that. I barely know the guy but don’t you think it’s a good thing that I have a neighbor now? One that’s willing to walk with me so I’m not alone out here?”

There’s silence on your mother’s end for a few moments before she sighs. 

“It does make me feel at ease, I admit,” She starts, sounding as if she’s going to cry. “I just want you to be careful. And– I want you to tell me things if anything were to happen. I don’t want you to keep anything from me anymore.” 

You sigh now, more in a defeated and sad way as your eyes trail down to the door of Jake’s building and notice him stepping out and heading down the street. 

“I won’t hide anything anymore. The last thing I want is to go through that again, but I’m healing. Really, every day feels a little better, a little safer.” You back up from your window and smile again, grabbing your coat and slipping on your shoes. “I gotta go though. I love you, Mom.” 

You don’t hang up until you hear her say it back, and then you’re out the door to catch up to him. Unsure of why you’re doing it, and ultimately choosing to ignore the fact that you were staring at his building. 

Jake, on the other hand, has been reeling for days. Though, more careful now when he watches you. He even moved his camera slightly, hiding it better since he’s caught you staring out the window at his building multiple times.

It’s confirmation that, at the very least, you think about him. 

“Hey!” 

At first, he thought that voice was his imagination like always. He ignores it, relishing in how well he managed to remember that little rasp you have sometimes when the wind blows like this. Given, he’s only walked with you once to and from the grocery store, the weather was much the same, and your voice cracked a few times in your words to him. 

“Jake, Wait up!” 

He hears it closer now, followed by the sound of foot steps and….fuck. It’s you. You’re really running after him as he makes his way to the local mall, all to buy the next book on his list from your bedroom. 

“Hey?!” He turns to you, unable to control his glee at the turn of events. 

For once, after all this time of him watching you, you’re approaching him without prompting and it only took one official meeting. 

So naive. You do need protection. 

“What’re you doing here looking so warm?” Jake adds, outstretching his arms and watching you pause at the invitation for a hug. “Too soon?” He lets his arms fall before stuffing his hands back in his pocket. 

You panic only for a moment, realizing you definitely need an excuse to be chasing him down like this solely because you crave that short instance of safety he offered you once before. Sadly, you have no excuse. You had nowhere to be today, nor any plans to leave your apartment at all and yet, here you are, avoiding his hug and yet still wanting to stand in front of him.

“Oh,” You instantly come up with a lie. “I was running out to the market again because I forgot to buy something.” 

Jake perks up even more at the idea that he could walk you to and from the market, and possibly even offer that you come with him to the mall. Maybe this is the perfect time to bring up the book you’ve already read, that he, apparently, so desperately wants to read too.

“What did you forget?” He asks playfully, noting in his head that maybe you’re a forgetful person. Which is kind of cute. 

“Uh–” You pause, breaking eye contact and blurting out a random item. “Milk.”

Well, that was a lie and he definitely knows it. He carried that jug of milk that was not forgotten back to your apartment for you. In fact, he hadn’t worked out his arms in a while due to his focus on his abs and stomach that he even felt a little sore due to how long he was carrying it, all while the wind was freezing his fingers to ice for you. 

“Ah, should we go grab you some milk then?”

You don’t think twice before you nod, sighing in relief that the lie was taken at face value and not realizing for a moment that you just impeded on whatever plan he had prior to you interrupting him. 

“Okay, can we stop somewhere else first? If you want?” He eases into the question, studying your expression and loving every moment of it. Craving to be close to you, even just to stare. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I can always just grab milk on my way home and drop it.”

Oh, you were being rude. Only now realizing how you eagerly transformed his errand into your errand. 

“My god, I’m sorry. You’re clearly busy today, it’s okay. I can grab milk later!” You say in a rushed huff, already backing away and trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment. 

You really do cling. Your ex was right about that, and it makes you uncomfortable.

“Wait, no!” He panics, fumbling in a step toward you to close the distance again, feeling far too uncomfortable with how you step away from him. “I’m just headed to the mall real quick to grab a book I’ve been wanting to read. Just a quick in and out, then we can grab your milk. I’ve been wanting to see you again anyway!” 

Jake thinks that may have been too forward for any normal person to say outright, but it’s true. He so desperately wanted to see you again. Up close. He needed to see you again. 

You pause your step, turning back to face him and unintentionally scanning his outfit that day. He’s somehow even more handsome than he was the night you met him, nose slightly red from the cold weather and shoulders stiffened as if he’s trying to hide from the open wind. 

He takes intense note of the way your eyes scan him, and there is an unintentional twitch in his pants at the way you don’t grimace at him. He knew you wouldn’t, after all, he does all of this for you. He’s clean shaved and dressing better because of you. 

“Book? What book?” You ask delightfully, being an avid reader yourself. Of course you’re interested in connecting on a level that isn’t just safety with him. 

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it but it’s called ‘[redacted]’.” He side eyes only slightly at the anticipated response from you. It was…a bit different than he expected.

You laugh at him. Genuinely, you’re laughing at him, with a snort and all. A laugh that he would argue is cute if it weren’t for the fact that he feels like this could be the first time he fucks up with you. He doesn’t want you to laugh at him for reading this book. He wants you to love that he wants to read it. Its one you wrote on your list, why are you laughing?

“Wait, you’re serious?” You deadpan, standing stiff and shocked. “Even I wouldn’t admit to having already read that very book…” Your eyes trail off before you smile. 

You sense that he’s gone rigid not from the weather, but from your mocking and you lighten up instantly. 

“I just didn’t expect to meet such a handsome guy who reads about a woman who…well, you know.” 

It’s like you could do no wrong as Jake’s eyes tune into yours and you see a sense of sparkle in them. You’d never understand how that simple, off-hand compliment to him is making his heart spiral up, down, and all over behind his ribcage. 

Physically, he can feel his body react to you addressing him as handsome. As if he doesn’t react the same way any time you look at him, or speak to him, or come near him at all. You think he’s handsome. You just admitted it, and he can’t help but already feel high, like he’s on top of the world over it. You must like to look at him, much like how he loves to watch you.

Still, he knows he needs to play it cool despite how in love with you he is right now. You’re the one who seems eager, which means he’s done his part for now, and your chase for him is just beginning. If he comments on your compliment, you’d think of him as too eager. Too ready. As if he had some underlying reason to continue speaking with you. 

Plus, Jake actually has no idea what the book is about, but he was very willing to find out today when he got home. You, however, seem to be keen on discussing it.

“Know what? I only want to read it because it was recommended to me by someone.” He lies.

Your face falters. 

“Oh, was this someone a girl?” You don’t look up, nor do you realize that the two of you have started walking toward the mall regardless of the insecure conversation at hand. 

“Ah, well, maybe.” Jake chuckles. 

He’s in love with you, he’s so in love with that disappointed sound in your voice when you asked him that. He could even, perhaps, sense a bit of jealousy. So soon too? Already? He knew he was right, he was made for you and he couldn’t be happier knowing that you’re picking up on it. 

“A girlfriend?” You pry unintentionally, noting how that book is generally geared toward a female audience who would only ever read a few passages to a man if they were, well, into that sort of dynamic. 

“Why do you ask?” Jake encourages you to boost his ego even more, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“The book is about a woman who kind of, kills men and eats them, among…other things.”

Oh, wow. He loves you so much right now, even if you spoiled the story for him. 

“Interesting. What makes you think my girlfriend would ask me to read that?” 

“It certainly wouldn’t be a brother or best dude friend recommending it to you, let’s be real.” 

Jake raises his hands in mock defense, ready to see if this makes you like him even more.

“Alright, I’ll admit. I knew what it was about–” He’s lying. “No one actually recommended it to me, I just didn’t expect you to have already read the book, nor did I expect to have to explain myself why I want to read it.” 

“Explain away, Jakey, we got a bit of a walk ahead.”

A nickname?! Already? You're entirely naive and in need of him being beside you. God, what would have happened if some other cunning liar appeared to walk into you and offer to escort you back and forth? You would have swooned the same fucking way! Anyone with eyes can see that you’re flirting, and anyone with a dick can see that he’s eating it up faster than you’re able to put it out for him. 

Regardless of if you seem too quick to trust, he’s proud that it’s him who got to you first, because now no one else will ever get the chance to even consider it. 

“Oh, I’ve got a nickname now? That must mean you like me.” He offers you a sort of drunken dopey smile, only because he feels drunk. Like a lost puppy just invited into a warm and caring pair of arms, really. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re the one going to fulfill your fantasies about–” You try to joke as if he’s one of your best friends from highschool. You remember when you were able to freely have a sense of humor, but before you can finish your joke, you pause, realizing that despite mocking the book and his interest in it, you still don’t know him on a level to do this. Nor should you have given him a nickname so soon. God, how stupid could you be? “Nevermind, I actually have the book if you want to borrow it.” 

You have issues getting too close, too fast. You’re already clinging, watching his building without full intention, and chasing after him down the street simply to speak to him. You don’t know where this feeling inside of you comes from but you can argue that it’s solely due to the comfort he brings to you. You don’t know anyone else in this fucking city save for a few co-workers. When you moved here, you promised that you’d keep to yourself until you heal and feel safe on your own again.

Yet, here you are. Clinging to the handsome man who lives across the street. Clinging to a fucking man. Again.

And you know, even though the two of you are already halfway to the mall by now, he doesn’t mind that you didn’t bring up borrowing the book until now. He was prepared to buy it, and even more prepared to see where your eye wandered just to learn about more of your interests within the rows of books.

“Really?” He smiles and tilts his head at you, turning both of you around with a gentle touch to your arm, very nearly wanting to snake his hand into your pocket and hold your fingers against his. “That’s great, let’s go get you some milk then!” 

And you know, when he waited in the lobby of your apartment, you almost invited him upstairs to your actual space. You didn’t though. And when you handed him the book, and he handed you that milk, only then did you realize that one of the jugs of milk in your possession will have to spoil…and it sure as fuck won’t be the one he just handed to you.

Why? Because you create silly little attachments to the rare moments in your life when you’re happy. This jug of milk is a representation of a lie he accepted, as well as him accepting you and your silly ways of making it through the day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The panties. 

The scent is dull as he reads and rereads passages of a book that many would consider improper for anyone to even write, let alone publish. Every victim is him, and everyone, everything else is you. 

It’s hard not to be aroused when you so readily invited yourself to be around him that day. Even now having your number, the self control he needs to not frantically text you that he’s in love with you is eating him from the inside out. 

The panties. Still offering the most private part of you but no longer being enough. The camera, offering glimpses of your alone time within a space you don’t quite realize has been shared with him. The taste of your shower wall, your toothbrush, the smell of your clothes, the softness of your sheets, and the trauma within your written words— none of it is enough anymore.

And now, the book, offering plenty to the imagination, turning the pages as if he were playing with your skin, still not enough to satiate him any longer. Nothing could ever satiate the need within him to love you to his full extent or to have you love him back. Especially after having already met you, after feeling your hand against his in that brief handshake, after hearing your sweet voice say words for him to hear and him alone. 

Has he not waited long enough for more? He’s seen you up close and personal, he knows all of your interests that you display, he knows your voice, knows your footsteps— still, he can’t get the feeling out of his mind. What it felt like to stand in the spot within your apartment that ultimately led to his even deeper love for you. His confirmation that he loves you, even.

And now? Texting is easy when he feels this desperate to get to you again. He doesn’t care to be overwhelming to you because he is overwhelmed. You’re the one who approached him last time too, so if anything, the universe is on his side and he fucking knows it. He can feel it in the air with each little breeze that flows past that little crack in his window. He can smell your shampoo with each cold gust of wintery air, and see your reflection in each little snowflake that falls. 

He wants you to chase him again, so bad. Only so that he knows he can chase you harder now.

Jake: hey so i read the book, are you free today?

The way you immediately respond is telling.

You: what did you think? insane story, right?

Jake: not sure if you wanna have this conversation over text…

You: it’s ok, i figured you had some freaky fantasies if you wanted to read that, im not gonna blackmail you or anything

Jake smiles, he’d let you blackmail him any day of the week.

Jake: hmmm what does that say about you then?

You: anyway, im a bit busy today but maybe we can catch up tomorrow? 

No, no no. Tomorrow is centuries away. He knows you’re home, he can fucking see you over there, he can smell you, he can sense you. Not to mention, he’s not an idiot, he can see the way you avoid certain conversations and steer the direction despite making the same joke yourself. 

Silly, silly girl, thinking he can’t read you. If anything, he’d think by now that if you’re really so afraid of the world, or him, or anyone else, you’d have closed those fucking blinds by now. You haven’t though, have you? 

Maybe you know people watch you. Maybe you love it, hoping that he’s the one doing it. Maybe you’re some sort of exhibitionist. Maybe that’s the reason you read that fucking book. Maybe that’s why you were trapped in your relationship before.

There has to be a reason for it at the end of the day, and he hopes that it’s him. You love his jokes, and your avoidance is only further proof that he’s breaking past your little sad and pathetically thin walls. You’d probably love to know he watches you, that he protects you even when you don’t think he’s around. 

And yet, you’re busy today? 

Guess he will be busy too, then, as he stands to his feet and begins to dress himself while texting you.

Jake: Oh, you’re busy? That sucks, i guess i’ll find somethin else to do today then

You: I know :( ill make it up to you soon, promise! 

The buzzing in his brain and need for you is too strong to stay away. That little promise means the world to him, especially because you’ll be making it up to him sooner than you anticipate. You can be busy all you want, but that’s not to say he can’t accidentally end up at the same place as you, right?

Besides, what if your ex comes around? What if some guy gives you unwanted attention and there’s no one there to defend you? After all, his body reacts with euphoria each time he has gotten the chance to be with you, and he craves that feeling once again. You’re going to give it to him, not anyone else.

Jake: alright, be safe today...

You: always am! 

Jake: text me when you make it home safe

You freeze as you read his words, feeling something in your stomach flip. You can’t tell if it’s butterflies or anxiety. Still, you find yourself smiling and your face feeling a bit fuzzy.

He wants you to be safe. That’s more than you could ever ask from someone, because god knows you’ve always managed to find yourself in the most unsafe situations with very little effort. 

You: ok!!! ill text you when i get home so you know I didn’t get run over or something

Jake: it’s more just to make sure someone doesnt kidnap and take advantage of you lol

You freeze again, this time fully aware of the anxiety in your belly. 

Jake: pretty girls like you gotta be more careful, so don’t stay out too late or ill worry

For a second, you almost wanted to cancel your plans. For just a second, you felt good today. You felt safer than usual. 

You: i’ll come home before sundown….thanks

Jake smiles, hoping you recognize the risk you put yourself in each time you leave your apartment without him beside you. Thankfully though, you will never be without him again if he can stand it. 

Besides, you suck at safety. Following you around is far too easy, and popping up when you least expect it is even easier. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Spotted you. 

There you are, with that same puffy jacket he’s grown used to seeing you in considering he only ever really gets to see you outside and on a cold day. In that puffy jacket, you’re walking into a local coffee shop and his eyes sharpen at the image of you through the window. 

The barista takes your order with too much interest, in his opinion. He can see you not take notice on how everyone in this city wants to take you from him. He wants you to notice so bad, he wants you to only want his eyes on you, and to only want his voice in your ear. 

He breathes in the icy air, bottom lip shivering only a little bit at the idea that other people look at you the same way he does, even more so the fact that you might be here to meet someone that isn’t him. You might have friends, and he knows better than anyone that you do not need friends. They’re always out to get you anyway, you should be here with him, not someone else. 

He breathes a sigh of relief followed by a heavy shiver when he sees you take a seat alone, and he dips away slightly when you glance out of the window as if you’re trying to be aware of your surroundings. 

With him around, you don’t need to pay attention to the things around you, he’s hyper aware for you. He could tell your coffee was finished before your name was even called to alert you. 

Honestly, he’s so hyper aware of each person who walks into that coffee shop after you. He sets themself up for failure in his head. Each person gets a stare of daggers, because what if they’re here to meet you? What if you’re trying to make friends? What if you’re trying to date? After all, this little errand must be important to you considering you told him you were too busy to see him.

His eyes continue to fall back on the barista though, staring at the line of sight this man offers to you every few moments. As if he wants to catch you looking at him too, as if he wants you to give him a reason to talk to you, as if he is a better option than Jake himself could be. 

There is a hate within him at this moment as he seethes outside of the cafe window, staring down his competition. He almost completely forgot to look at you until he felt a rush of air push past him and he notes two people walking into the cafe now. 

As he comes back to reality and leaves his little realm of hate for the handsome barista at the counter, his worst nightmares are confirmed. Not only a woman walks in and takes a seat at your table, but a man too. You hug them. You hug him.

Why is everyone all over his girl today? His heart drops. His quivering bottom lip intensifies with the wind, the temperature mimicking the feeling in his heart as he watches you touch other people, and spend time with them. He really, really, needs to know who these people are and why they’re close enough to hug you like that. 

He pats his chest through his hoodie with a breath in an attempt to rid himself of the stress weighing on him, and then straightens out his back before taking one last deep breath and making his way inside of the cafe, straight up to the counter.

There, he tries to balance his breathing as he makes eye contact with the very same barista that keeps pushing dangerously close to a boundary line. His name tag states the name “Jay”, and Jake can’t help but grimace and roll his eyes at how similar their names are. 

He grimaces more at hearing the man speak to him, as if he has all the right in the world to exist on the other side of that counter after staring at you the way he did. 

“Sir? Can I–” The barista repeats himself for a third time, feeling small under the gaze of the customer in front of him. 

“Just a shot of espresso.” Jake dead-pans, still glaring at the man. 

The barista nods awkwardly, shifting his eyes to you on instinct now that he’s done it probably a million times since you’ve walked in. He’s noticed you for weeks, he can’t help it. 

Jake, on the other hand lets out a deep and angry sigh from his nose as he tosses his card onto the counter, clearing his throat at the barista. 

“You seem to have an eye for girls.” Jake lightens up, holding up the short line of one person behind him. 

“Oh–” The barista laughs shyly, “am I that obvious?” he adds, dipping his head down as he slides the card through the machine and turns the screen back to his customer. 

“Unfortunately.” Jake narrows his eyes at him, intentionally and violently clicking the number 0 for this asshole’s tip. “and I’d suggest you contain yourself, because that’s my girlfriend you’re drooling over.” 

And then he walks away, ignoring the way the presumed “Jay” looks at him in embarrassment. He can tell he wants to apologize, and rightfully so. Jake does deserve an apology for how shameless this idiot was, but he doesn’t let him as he makes his way down the counter leans against it with his palms, facing away from you and pretending he can’t sense your warmth from here. 

And then he starts counting in his head. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…..Thirteen….Twenty si-

“Jake?” 

His heart immediately swells at the way you’d recognize him anywhere, even if he’s facing away from you and he makes sure to make eye contact with the barista when they both perk up at your voice calling out a name. He watches the confirmation in Jay’s eyes click, the confirmation that he is never to look at you again. 

And still, Jake’s heart swells even more in this instance because he could recognize you too, even if you’re faced away from him. Still, he has to keep his cool. One, to make sure he doesn’t appear too eager to see you, as if he definitely followed you here. Two, so the barista doesn’t see his lie. And three, so he doesn’t snap right here, right now over the fact that you hugged someone that isn’t him. Two someones that aren’t him.

 He doesn’t want to interrogate you so immediately, he wants you to give him the answers yourself as to who these people are. 

He pretends to not hear you as he stands facing away from you and grabbing his espresso from the barista who avoids eye contact.

Jake gives a small and fake nod to the barista, as if to show you that he didn’t say anything out of pocket to him. As if to show you that he definitely didn’t just claim you as his girlfriend so the freak behind the counter doesn’t try anything with you.

Then he turns to eye the room, looking for an empty seat, avoiding the corner where you’re blatantly staring at him.

“Jake!” You wave your hands to get his attention, standing up half way as if to stand out from the crowd of puffy jackets and warmed cheeks. 

His eyes land on you, where they rightfully belong and he notes the smile on your face upon seeing him.

Oh, so you did want to see him today. You didn’t smile like that at the barista, or to the people in front of you. There’s another confirmation within him in reaction to this, that soon enough, what he said to the barista won’t be a lie. In fact, it gives him the confidence to push for it now more than ever. 

He raises a brow in mock-surprise to see you before shooting you a half wave, moving his eyes to other areas as if to imply he doesn’t want to intrude. As if to say he isn’t here with you intentionally. 

And then you wave again, raising your voice a bit and saying his name yet again. His eyes land back on you, and the way you pat the seat next to you.

Perfect. Yes, invite him. Prove to everyone who you belong to. Prove who it is you want to see right now, who you want to sit by, who you want to look at. And then, tell him who the fuck these people are. Explain why you hugged them, and why they’re somehow more important than he is.

As he heads over, bowing politely to the man and woman sitting across from you, he seats himself next you to closely. So close that he can feel the friction of your jacket against his hoodie, and immediately his skin is raised in goosebumps as he looks at you and your bright eyes. 

He wants to lay claim to you so badly. He wants everyone to know that you are his, and he is yours. 

“Such a huge city and still we manage to run into each other–” Jake chuckles playfully, looking at you with a soft and gentle smile before glancing at these strangers across from him. “If we keep meeting like this I might just have to ask you on a date.” 

He says it like it’s final, like he’s laying that claim he wants so badly. As he says it, he looks the man that you’re with dead in the eye with exuding charm and confidence. Still, the way you shift awkwardly next to him doesn’t go unnoticed as he turns back to you and takes a sip of his drink. 

“Would that be something you’d be interested in?” He whispers gleefully to you, saying it as if it’s a joke because the people across from him lend you both a smile and a laugh at his blatant and forward words. 

“Jake, this is my mom.” You finally speak out to avoid his question, watching him attach his lips to the hot cup of espresso he ordered, as if to only breathe in the warmth of it. “And this is my uncle.”

Jake immediately stands and bows politely. He appears panicked, embarrassed, to everyone else in the room. He’s not though. Not at all. He is relieved to know that now is his chance to make some sort of impression, now is when he should show his best side. All worry of who these people in front of you are is thrown out the window for the time being, actually. He feels like he’s on top of the world, killing two birds with one stone almost. Or three, if you count Jay. 

If he can get your family to like him the same way he got you to like him, maybe you’d be more inclined to circle back around to his half-joke of taking you on a date. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stutters, not looking the two in the eyes. “I must have sounded so rude just now, I didn’t mean to intrude–” He continued, only to be cut off by your mother. 

“Don’t mind us, Jake, is it?” She says kindly, glancing to you and then back at Jake. “You must be the boy with the pretty smile who she mentioned the other day.”

Jake does take note of your mother’s reluctance to accept him immediately, and given your past, he guesses that would make sense. Her kind words and smile does not match her eyes when she speaks to him initially, but he’s going to change that now.

Besides, his heart just grew four sizes bigger at your mother outing you to him. You said you like his smile? You said it’s pretty? Fuck, he’ll show you pretty. 

“I can only hope so.” He responds, turning to you and smiling even bigger, noting the way you curl in on yourself in discomfort at the awkward situation. “Always so shy, don’t worry, I think your smile is even prettier.” 

And then Jake trails his eyes to your uncle, proud of the way he felt you shiver at his words.

The man simply judges him, then looks at you with a raised brow. 

“Jake helped me carry my groceries, he lives across the street from me.” You say, feeling stupid and small in the way your mother just fucking embarrassed you in front of the only person you like being around in this city. Still, that judgment from your uncle is called for, you think, and you’ve got to calm his worry for you somehow. 

“Couldn’t just let her carry all that back herself, afterall.” Jake shrugs. “I was raised to know better.” 

Both your mother and uncle nod, going silent for a few moments. 

Then, as if Jake isn’t even here, your mother prompts the conversation that the three of you must have been having before Jake came over. 

“So, have you decided yet?” Your mother asks with no context for Jake to pick up on. 

“Yeah, actually–” You look down, then slightly press your leg against him from under the table. 

As much as you’d prefer this rather telling conversation not to happen in front of Jake, you reluctantly speak in a way that gives little to no context. 

His heart explodes at that simple touch though, ears going deaf from any words you’re saying anyway, and he very nearly shoves his hand under the table to place upon that very same leg. 

Somehow, he holds back, his hand shaking inches above your leg before forcing it back into his own hoodie pocket. 

“I’d like to stay here.” You say confidently now, looking at both your mother and uncle. 

Your mother nods with a smile, your uncle following her reaction. 

“I think I feel safe enough for now.” 

Jake wants so bad to confirm that you’re safe with him, despite knowing exactly what you’re talking about within an instant when he definitely shouldn’t know. 

“Well, you know there’s always a room at home for you if you need to come back–” Your mother seems reluctant to say too much, looking over to Jake with a smile that becomes more genuine. “Keep an eye on her, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

He knows you’d appreciate it and he has gone above and beyond in terms of keeping an eye on you. It’s like, he’s fucking perfect for you. 

Jake nods to her. 

“I’ll do my best.” Jake smiles, now shifting his body up and standing back to his feet. “Well, I’ll leave you guys alone.” He continues, now looking at you. “Text me when you get home safe.” 

And as he walks away with a triumphant and hidden smile, your mother immediately smiles at you in the same way. Seemingly lightening up about Jake as a whole, briefly anyway. 

“Text him when you get home safe, huh?” Your mother pries, kicking you gently under the table and watching you squirm and release the blushing mess that you’ve tried to hold within you for the past few minutes. 

“Ah, yeah, um–” You try to speak, unable to explain the safe feeling you feel around Jake. You’re not sure if it’s a crush, or if it’s just you taking advantage of someone who is being kind. “He’s kind of already been watching out for me, so that's partially why I’m choosing to stay here.”

Your mother nods.

“I can admit that he’s cute–” 

You nod to yourself at those words before your uncle interrupts.

“And polite.” he adds, sipping his strong coffee and offering a look of possible approval.

You dead-pan stare at both of them, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. 

“He likes you.” Your mother continues shortly, looking away from you and not allowing you to hush her of the motherly-instinct. “I’m just saying, honey, please be careful. I know he’s cute, and polite, and seemingly safe. But I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You look down with internal confirmation. 

“It’s okay to live a little, go on that date with him, but go somewhere public first.” She continues. “Don’t move too fast, you’re still–” 

Everything is overwhelming in this moment. Especially when the truth is put into words and offered to you by the two people you trust most. 

“Healing.” You look down at the table as you finish her sentence for her, thinking of how close Jake was sitting next to you. Wishing he was still next to you because somehow, you felt more safe with him than you do your own family right now.

“Don’t sit there and act like I don’t know how you act when you’re being shy about a boy…” Your mom adds to the silence, quirking a brow and looking to her brother. “You’ve still got your pepper spray if you need to use it.”

“It’s not that I’m worried he would like, be like him.” You interject. “ I just don’t know if I’m ready to act on a stupid crush so quickly.” 

“That’s good, and I’m glad he makes you feel safe. Just please hold onto that feeling, don’t rush just because a cute boy is carrying your groceries.”  Your mother starts again, only to be cut off. 

“Okay, okay. Can we talk about something else now?” You roll your eyes.

Your mother keeps to herself after this, and all you have in your head is wondering how and why your mother seems to partially advocate for this man after a mere ten minutes of meeting him. You can see her try to keep you safe despite her distance from this city, yet she seems to be hoping that Jake is a legitimate defense system for you too. It’s as if she’s looking for comfort in him as well. 

She’s never been one to approve of your crushes either, but somehow, this time is different. And these days? You trust her intuition better than your own.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You: i made it home safe

Jake: good, im really glad. sorry for accidentally ruining your plans today

God, if there’s anything Jake should be sorry for, it’s not that. 

You: it’s ok, i was happy to see you. 

You: my mom seemed to like you

Jake’s cheeks burn reading that as he goes from staring out his window to looking at the screen of his phone. He can tell that as soon as you got home, you headed for your bathroom and you must be in there right now readying yourself for your evening routine, possibly even naked before a shower to text him.

It’s not strange at all that he knows you’re over there all alone, texting him. His body reacts like it always does, and he’s already snaking a hand down his pants just to rub against himself to satiate his body and keep it under control for a bit longer. 

Jake: woah really? how so? 

You type to him almost immediately after each of his responses.

You: idk, they commented on how you asked me on a date or whatever, thinking it was serious. 

Jake: i was serious

You pause, standing at your bathroom sink with your toothbrush in your mouth when a smile creeps across your face. It feels like the first time you ever got asked on a date in highschool, and that little dance of happiness would have been fucking embarrassing if he were to see it. 

Even worse than your reaction to that, your mother would be terrified to know how you shift entirely when you’re alone and talking to Jake. She would faint knowing that you intend to immediately go on a date with him, and she would immediately wake up and faint again knowing that you find yourself letting your guard down entirely around him as well. 

It’s safe to say that, maybe you definitely have a crush on him. Why else would you react this way to how forward he is? Why else are you somehow so willing to go on a date with him despite wanting to stay as far away from relationships as possible?

Why is he so fucking irresistible? Why is he making you feel this way?

You: you were?

Jake: yea, what are you doing rn? 

He’s typing with one hand, legs spread wide while he slouches in his chair and skews his head  to stare through your empty window. He thinks back to the day he stood in your living room looking down at his own window. You could come into your living room now and watch his body jerk with each movement of his palm against himself, phone in hand as he texts you and know exactly what you do to him. 

Each passing moment between his last text to now doesn’t bother him as he works himself up, chewing on his bottom lip and focusing even more on that lit up room across the street, feeling the familiar arousal bubble in his belly as he rips his hand away to grab that same pair of panties he stole from you. There, he shoves them down his pants along with his hand, groaning at the fabric stretching around him like they always do. 

So soft, so gentle.

As for you though, you’re feeling the panic flow through you as you stare in the mirror at your reflection. Right now? He wants to go right now? You just washed your face, and you were about to take a shower. 

You: bout to take a shower, why? 

He groans more at your typed words, remembering the taste of that shower wall, imagining your pretty face with little droplets of water running down it. Imagining droplets of other things running down it. God, his confidence is so high, he’s so fucking horny right now, and he still manages to text you with that one shaking hand. 

Jake: ill come get you right now, i want to go on a date with you

Jake: can i?

His persistence shows his interest in you and it’s so attractive to you right now. Immediately you find yourself spitting, rinsing your toothbrush, and wiping your mouth clean before opening your makeup box again. 

You: right now? 

Jake: right now. 

You: can you give me like twenty minutes? 

There are explosions surrounding him right now, or rather, a very intense orgasm. He scored a date with you and he feels the confirmation run straight through his body and out the head of his cock, all over your panties, his hand, and his pants. And god, he’s a little frustrated that he spent so long trying not to get his own cum on your panties, solely to keep more of that scent of you, but he fucking got a date.

Who cares? He can surely just snatch another pair, possibly right off your legs.

After all, you asked for twenty minutes surely to try and look nice for him. Fuck, that means you want him to look at you the way he always has been. He wonders if you’ll do something different with your makeup, or if you’ll put on a different kind of outfit. All for him.

Finally for him. For him. For him. 

Jake: of course, text me when you’re ready

And then, he just watches as his body makes an attempt to relax. The way you wisp back and forth like a ghost through your apartment, rushing to find something to put on. Even from here he can see you smiling. Running around in a bra and panties, he moans slightly, almost considering fucking his cum into your panties again but ultimately choosing to stand and change him. Mostly because he sees you think hard about your outfit. The way you throw on a shirt only to take it off and slip on a dress instead, despite the cold weather. 

He’s going to give you that same effort, eyes glued to his window as he blindly searches his closet by touch alone. 

He wants to text you again after you run your hands down your stomach in that dress you put on, he wants to tell you to keep it on. He wants to tell you how pretty your matching pair of bra and panties look under it. He wants to say so much, do so much, and containing it is so fucking hard. 

Yet, still, he manages. 

When you stand in your living room, that same dress still on, he watches you throw a jacket over it, he can’t help but wonder if you could sense his hope that you’d wear that. He wants to have a reason to keep you warm, a reason to put his palms on your legs to warm them up, a reason to be close to you. After all, this is a date, you’re inviting him to be close to you, right?

And then his phone buzzes and he struggles to tear his eyes from the image of you standing there with your phone in your hand. 

You: okay, im ready! 

Jake immediately sighs, staring up at the ceiling to get his body to calm down. His dick is twitching wildly in his pants again, his hands are sweating, his entire body is vibrating. It’s finally happening. 

You’re going on a date with him, and he’s had the perfect place planned and in his mind since the first day he met you from your window. 

He’s quick to throw on an outfit, slip on his shoes, and run out his door. 

Jake: on my way outside now, meet me in your lobby in 5

You’re fucking beaming. For the first time in a long time feeling like you may be the luckiest person in the world. There is no pain within you as your butterflies overtake every amount of angst you had about meeting someone under circumstances of dating. 

You’re here to get away from your ex, not to fucking ban yourself from having a good time. You want to have fun. You want to stop being afraid. 

And god, Jake is like, the perfect guy for it. 

You enter the lobby to find him standing proudly against the wall, propped up in a lazy way and already looking at you with a dopey grin. He looks flushed, proud, and happy. Arguably, he’s even more attractive now than you ever thought he was before and instantly, you’re ten times more shy than you’ve ever been. 

“There she is,” He smiles, spreading his arms out to invite you into a hug like he tried to do before, and he’s shocked that you step into his grasp. “was starting to worry I was too forward.” He adds, immediately burying his face against your neck. 

You smile against his chest in the hug, feeling so warm for the first time in your life. A warmth that comes from something other than rage or tears. Already, you can feel your body shiver at the way his arms wrap tightly around you in a hug that doesn’t feel condemning. 

You don’t feel trapped against another person, and it’s a welcome change. 

“You definitely were a bit too forward but–” You pause, stepping out of his grasp and feeling the empty air replace his arms. “It made me feel better about liking it.”

Jake gives a reassuring smile before lending his hand to you and instantly intertwining his fingers with yours, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, and dragging you close to him before leading you out of the building. He’s reeling from the hug, feeling the way your breasts pressed up against him, the way you sighed against him, and the way you smelled while you did it. 

God damn. 

In his head, that hug from you felt better than any sex he’s ever had to date. His entire body reacted as to be expected, to the point he was thankful that you weren’t as close in the hug from the waist down as he wished you would have been. You would have felt that reaction, you would know how you wake his entire body up. 

Thankfully, the cold air outside lends him a hand in taming his lower half, and also lends your hand to him to keep warm. 

“Where are we going?” You ask out, voice gentle in the night air, unaware of how the man next to you is buzzing from his feet to the top of his ears. 

He’s struggling not to lose his mind. 

He can see your breath, and wants to swallow it. Each huff and puff, each word, he can visually see it in this icy night, and he knows it has to be warm despite the minty toothpaste he can smell on you.

God, he knows what your mouth tastes like, the smell sending shivers down his spine at the reminder of how he sucked your essence off of the bristles you must have used just minutes before now. He wants to kiss you, he wants to kiss your breath, he wants to devour the air and aura that surrounds you when you’re next to him. 

Honestly, the cold weather does not freeze his bones. He feels entirely hot, leading you to his favorite place in the city. 

“Nothing big, I assume you ate with your family so I figured we could skip the regular date stuff. I want to take you somewhere quiet and pretty.” He looks over at you, hoping you see how much he adores you. 

Somehow, you do notice something in his eye. A shine, a glint. It’s something you’ve never seen in any pair of eyes that looked at you. His pupils seem to be dilated and his eyes almost look black, still, that smile reaches those same dark eyes, indicating to you that he is happy. 

He looks happy to be with you right now. 

And on any other day, a man you barely know saying he’s taking you somewhere “quiet” would scare you. But….you’re not scared. You’re looking forward to it, actually. 

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he waits for you to speak back to him, leading you easily through the city streets. 

“Quiet and pretty?” You say, looking up at him. “Does this place happen to have a heater?”

It doesn’t. But that’s what he’s for. 

“Unfortunately, no, but–” He goes to say, and you stop walking for a second. “I was going to say I could keep you warm, I mean, if you want. If not, I can take you somewhere else.”

You look down, weighing the options on whether you want to be that close to him so immediately, or if you’d rather follow the general rule of dates. Dinner, movie, goodnight kiss. You already hugged him, and you can admit to liking the way his arms hugged you. Maybe you’re not entirely against the idea, despite feeling alarm bells deep in your brain go off, telling you that you’re moving too fast. 

And then you wonder why you start walking again, and why you’re imagining him holding you close, huddling your body against his to keep you from shaking. Intimacy. You’re thinking of intimacy. 

Why does it feel good? Why does the thought excite you? 

“You’ll keep me warm?” You reluctantly ask, your fingers twitching in his within that hoodie pocket. 

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re comfortable with that. I don’t want to seem too forward–” His fingers squeeze yours tighter, as if to comfort you. 

You sigh, chuckling. 

“Like I said, I like that you’re forward— just, no funny business okay? This is a date, not a hookup.”

Jake pauses, glancing away.

As much as he’d love to lay you down against cold, moon-lit grass and taste the entirety of your body. As much as he wants to hear you call out to him, feel you react to him, he knows what’s inside of your head better than you do, he knows he needs to tame that need for now. The fact alone that you even imagined it for a second, just to find out if you want that now, just to tell him that you don’t want it yet, is enough to satisfy him. 

It won't be long until you’re asking for it anyway. 

Plus, he would never do anything to you without your consent. If he’s allowed to keep you warm tonight, that alone is better than anything he could ask to experience. 

“No funny business.” He uses his other hand to hold out a pinky to you. “Jesus, what kind of guy do you think I am?”

Suddenly, you feel guilty as you take his pinky into your own and seal those words into a promise. Jake picks up on the way your face falls.

“I haven’t been on a date in over a year. Been avoiding it if I’m being honest,” He starts to explain as a way to soothe you, guiding you gently through a large gate. As if to connect with you on your level of discomfort. “My last relationship ended pretty badly, I didn’t think I’d ever want to date again.”

You perk up at his words, looking at him as he guides the two of you through a dark and grassy area. You can still tell his eyes are shining as he shares this with you, making you feel special and….not alone in your anxieties about this. 

“I don’t know what it is about you, or why I immediately want to skip all of the casual shit when it comes to dates but, this is where I wanted to bring you.” He smiles when he stops you, standing in front of you and grabbing your other hand, holding it, and shoving it into his hoodie pocket alongside the other. “Not because I was trying to come onto you. If I was going to do that, I would've asked you to come home with me.” 

You feel his icy knuckles and squeeze his hand hard to try and warm it up. Maybe to comfort him, or to thank him? 

“I didn’t even bring my ex here. I actually came here to get away from her sometimes.”

You look away when the blood rushes to your cheeks at the way he’s talking to you. He’s acting like the two of you have been on at least ten dates by now, but it’s only been one.

Somehow, some way, you lean into it. Into him. 

“My last relationship wasn’t very good either. Was so bad that I actually find it hard to believe that I’m on a date with someone right now, I still don’t even know if I’d know how to love again.”

You pause, closing your lips tightly and feeling awkward for saying the L word so fast like that. Implying that you don’t know if you could love Jake.

“Would you feel better knowing that I’m not asking you to think of the future?” He offers, slowly lowering himself and pulling you to the bare ground with him. 

The dirt is cold, but Jake is warm. 

“Just worry about how you feel today, when you’re with me. If you’re enjoying it, there’s no reason to worry about what you might feel–” He reaches for you to turn you around and drag you onto his lap before quickly enveloping you into his arms. “Or what you might not feel.” He pauses with a squeeze against you. “Is this okay?”

You don’t understand why it’s okay that he’s being so touchy, but he is warm, and any shiver that threatened to hit you now only comes in the form of butterflies seeping out of every pore on your body. He’s pulled you into his lap as if to keep you from having to sit on a blanket-less ground, and his arms are around you as if to remind you that blankets only exist for people who don’t have him.

It takes so much self control not to pull away when you feel his chest breathing against your back, but it takes even more self control to not turn around and cling onto him in the same way. You’ve wanted to feel safe so badly, for so long. You wanted to feel this way on your own though, without the need to lean on someone else. 

You’ve never wanted to be a damsel in distress, but goddamn are you fucking distressed. Your trust issues run deep, so fucking deep. Anyone can see that you are a broken person, but not everyone would accept you for it. 

Jake, right behind you, right under you, holding you so close like this the moment you’d let him? He accepts you entirely, and it’s so enticing to you. You can’t turn away from it, you’d only fail yourself. 

You’re so fucking drawn to him, no matter how forward or blatant he is. 

“This is a bit overwhelming,” You start, pulling away from him slightly and turning to look at him. But then you see his face, and how sincere he looks. “But I’ll try to appreciate how I feel right now.”

“Does that mean you’re okay with this?” Jake whispers, pulling you back against him and pressing his face against your shoulder, breathing in deep to get that scent of you into his lungs. 

You don’t notice the way he does it when you nod in response, and the way he’s entirely enamored with you at this moment. He wouldn’t be able to let you go if you asked him to, not when your body is relaxing against him and you’re letting out a small hum of cautious approval. 

“Are you warm?” He continues, shifting his legs only slightly from under you, mostly to make sure you’re coat is offering enough padding under you to keep from feeling the blood pumping in his pants right now. And then, his hands move from his hug down to your legs, big warm palms not moving from the expanse just above your knees, instantly warming you.

He can feel your shivers calm, and your regret for wearing this dress die. 

You nod again, still cautious but also wanting to fight the fear within you so that you can really just enjoy this moment of closeness with someone else. Even if you just met him. Even if you’re afraid. His hands feel like they belong there, as you stare at the way he doesn’t move them higher or lower. They’re really just there to keep you warm, and surprisingly, you don’t know if you could ever feel cold around him at this point. 

“I'm scared of this, you know?” You comment into the night after a few moments of silence, reluctantly holding onto his wrist, pushing them down your leg a bit as if to imply he should rub them. 

He follows your movement, wincing from behind you in a hidden attempt to contain the fact that he very much wanted to moan at that. Feeling your legs against his palm feels so….igniting to him. 

“I know.” Jake says in a matter of fact tone, confident in his words as he bores holes into the revealed skin of your leg when he moves his hands back and forth. 

“You do?” You lift to turn and look at him, but his hands instantly move to your shoulders as he turns you away from him, forcing you back against him in a tight hug. 

Mostly because you do not need to see his face right now, he knows he looks fucking gone. 

“Anyone can see that you’re terrified.” He comments seriously now, placing his head on your shoulder and pressing his cheek against yours. “It’s no wonder I feel the need to protect you.”

You’re shocked that you don’t flinch at feeling his cheek against yours, noting that his lips are just inches from yours. You try to erase the images of kissing him so soon, you’re too weak right now. He makes you feel so weak. 

Instead, you try to think hard about his words. Trying to ignore the way you felt his jaw move against you. Trying to ignore your immense attraction to the closeness he’s giving you. Are you really that obvious? Are you really this desperate to be close to someone? Anyone? 

“Hoping that someday you’ll tell me what it is that makes you so afraid, but for now? Just know that I’d never do anything to make you feel like that.” 

You think harder. 

Much, much harder.

An uncanny feeling in your gut wonders how he finds words that are so meaningful to you. It’s like he can read your mind. It’s like your life is a book that he’s read a thousand times. 

But that’s impossible. You haven’t known him for long, maybe he’s just….a really good person. Maybe you’re just lucky to have bumped into him that day. Maybe it’s lucky that your ex instilled a fear into you so deep that you found yourself living next door to the man holding you right now. 

“How do you do that?” You comment quietly, feeling warmer than you ever could have expected to on a night like this. 

“Do what?” He smiles, now loosening his grip on you, pulling his face back, and spreading his legs so that you’re now sitting between them, rather than on him. 

After all, if he had kept you there, you would have felt what was happening in his pants by now. The way you don’t run away from him, the way you let him touch you has him reacting for more than he ever knew he could. Even after releasing his arousal just before the date, he can already feel the ache. The need to crawl into you, the need to make you fucking love him. 

“It’s like you tell me exactly what I need to hear. It’s fucking weird.” You continue through his movement, scooting back as if to huddle yourself against his warm chest, in turn bumping his pathetically hard cock against your back. 

You try to hide that you’re a little disappointed that you’re no longer on his lap, and the back of your thighs are now freezing against the grass. He, on the other hand, is so fucking thankful that you still manage to not feel what his body is trying to show you right now. His arms immediately wrap back around you, holding you against him much like before.

You really don’t know why you wore this fucking dress, without tights no less. 

“It’s weird?” He questions. “It’s weird that I wouldn’t do anything bad to you if you gave me a chance?”

You look down, feeling those words hit you in the gut. It is weird, but then again, you’ve never really had a relationship with a person who wouldn’t bring harm to you. 

“I–” You pause, thinking as hard as you can without oversharing, hands reaching up to grip his forearms, pressing them tighter against you as if you want him to save you from…well, him. “I have my reasons. I’m not trying to call you weird. It’s just weird how you show up in my life at a time where I think I needed this the most.”

He smiles. 

“Well, you’re going to have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me at this point.”

You smile back.

“Likewise.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Three more dates have taken place since that first night in the empty park. Each date that followed took place in the same spot, with the same weather, and the same offered warmth. 

By now, you find yourself unable to avoid thoughts of him. Thoughts of how badly you like him after learning of his interests, after seeing how he carries himself, and how he treats you over all. The way he seems so in tune with everything you could ever want or need, filling you with only safe care rather than horrifying uncertainty.

Jake likes the same books, tv shows, music, movies. All of them line up near perfect to your own favorites and suddenly you believe that the red string of fate exists. Jake is careful when he touches you, never pushing and only offering, suddenly, that red string of fate is attached firmly to your pinky. Jake looks at you like he sees one of the world's wonders, which was uncomfortable at first for you, but you think that maybe the other end of this little invisible red string is tied to his other pinky. 

Your entire life of fucking horror led to this point, where the universe finally gave you the person you’d want to be with for real. Any other man would make you feel cautious, Jake though? Jake does nothing but make you feel like, for the first time, you don’t need to have a guard up. The fact that he managed to do this so fast is a bit telling on your end, that perhaps you put too much faith in people, but goddamn, it looks like he works so hard to show you that you’re not wrong about him.

On your last date, he even tried to kiss you. You panicked, backed away, and felt so fucking embarrased, until he texted you a mere fifteen minutes after parting ways and apologizing, stating that he didn’t know what came over him. 

He apologized to you. He didn’t take what he wanted despite your fear, he didn’t push or pull, he simply allowed you to exist beside him, in front of him, even behind him if it’s what you wanted at the time.

God, you should have kissed him. You should have kissed him hard enough for him to realize that you’re trying. 

You’re trying to be a person again, for yourself, for Jake, for your mom and uncle. Still though, he doesn’t know the shit you’ve gone through, or the shit you’re running from. You feel so dissociated at times, wondering how strange or odd you must react towards him during the dates he takes you on. Yet, he doesn’t falter. He doesn’t question. He doesn’t force you to feel like you need to apologize at all.

And this is all you can think about now. About Jake. About what he’s doing, about how he must be feeling today, about how he wears his hair, and how his alternating hoodies always offer warmth on a cold night when the two of you are sitting closely together on the ground just…talking.

The thoughts of him don’t stop and it’s kind of nice. Having your fears so loud in your ears every day, anxieties of your ex eating you alive, and fear of being alone in a big city can get quite loud and exhausting after so long of not being able to escape. Thoughts of him are the only thing that calms your mind lately, so you probably wouldn’t stop thinking of him even if you had the choice.

Unfortunately, that choice is made for you today, once again, just two days after that third date with Jake. 

A single text from an unknown number that shifts your brain into a fuzzy focus of terror. Your mother told you to change your number, and you really should have done it by now. You have no excuse as to why you haven’t, but you have the reason as to why you should have done it shining brightly in your notifications center. 

The unknown number is just that, unknown, but you know who it is already. 

Your fingers shake when you tap the screen and your eyes go dead upon the message. This confirms that your body will always know when he is around, you will always have to feel this way for as long as he’s thinking about you. 

Unknown Number: heard you got a job over at [redacted company name], mind if we have lunch?

You don’t know who told him, you don’t know how he found out where you are, or where you work. All you know is that now, the buzzing thoughts of Jake fizzle out and are quickly replaced with that of searing reminders of what happened, and what will likely happen if your ex is really trying to get to you already.

It’s the fact that the police did nothing. It’s the reality that they wouldn’t let you procure a restraining order. It’s the fact that he got away with everything he did to you, and wants to get away with more. You’re just a girl, alone in a city who thought this was the best course of action. 

You can’t even bring yourself to tell anyone that he texted you. Your mother would scold you for not changing your number fast enough, despite already knowing you haven’t done it yet. It would somehow be your fault that he found you despite his insistent attempts to keep you as his, as if you belong on a chain tied to a tree in his backyard. 

You call out of work, explaining the situation. Your managers are already aware of your safety concerns and the situation at hand, and you’re lucky that they really do live up to the promises they made when you took the job. 

All three sick days can be used right now if you need them but after those three days, you have to either work from home and be willing to come into the office if you are needed, or you need to put in your notice and leave. 

Naturally, you take the sick days, and you intend to work from home. 

Despite not feeling safe here, considering the few items in your apartment that went missing not too long ago, it’s safer than walking to and from work. It’s safer with Jake just next door. It’s safer with the security guard in your building’s lobby. 

You’ll be okay. This will pass.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake is at a loss, nearly ripping his hair out day by day when you don’t text him back. 

When he looks to your window, the lights stay off consistently, the curains are fucking closed. You haven’t left your apartment for work, you haven’t texted nor have you called. 

It’s been six days, nine hours, thirty eight minutes, and nine seconds since he last saw you and the only thing he can think of is that he fucked up. 

He tried to kiss you, and you eased him into a rejection by pretending everything was fine until you felt comfortable enough to stop talking to him. For three days now, you haven’t responded to him.

Three days without any hint of you, and six days without feeling you in his arms. 

He’s going insane and not even jerking off helps calm him down like it normally would. He feels like he could lose it at any moment as he paces his apartment with a buzzing non-stop energy within him, stopping at his bedroom window to stare for hours only to see no movement in your apartment. Only to still see the lights remaining off. Only to see the blinds locking him away from you.

Sure, he’s got the grainy footage of you from weeks past, the footage from the day you got dressed for your first date with him, and the footage from each date after that but he doesn’t have you. The last two days contain footage of blinds swaying, that’s it.

He was so close, he really thought he was. He thought he had you, he thought you were almost ready to let him move to the next level. He thought you would accept if he were to ask you to be his girlfriend, he thought you would let him kiss you, and let him into your apartment, and let him exist within the air you breathe. 

But you left. 

So, naturally, he works up the courage to grab his camera and hook it into his pc. Obsessively searching for any sign of you within the footage from last night. He tries not to think about missing a glimpse of you as he is away from his window, seeing as how you must not be home. You must have left days ago just to get away from him.

Until…as he fast forwards all of the footage, he sees a light flicker on. 

The timestamp reads four in the morning, and the light stays on for a mere minute and a half before turning off again. 

One thought floods his mind. 

Did you find out that he watches you? 

Then another thought.

Are you hiding from him? 

And one last thought. 

How can he explain and still get you back?

And as he continuously paces his apartment, unable to focus on anything other than knowing you’re in your bedroom hiding, nothing on this earth could calm his frantic brain.

Should he go over? Should he come see you? Should he text you again? Should he–

Pacing the same path in his apartment for far too long, nearly ripping his own hair out, he stops in his tracks at the sound of his phone. He knows that vibration like his own mother tongue by now. That’s you. You’re finally texting him back.

You: are you mad at me?

The relief is instant and near orgasmic. The first contact in what felt like an eternity for him in his head, he takes a deep and calming breath. His eyes flick back to your window, where your apartment still appears to be hidden from his view. 

Jake: never, i was just worried since you stopped talking to me. 

You stare at your phone, scrolling up the some fifty text messages Jake sent you over the last several days and feel awful for not once checking your phone. To be fair, you’re afraid that every message is from your ex and you eventually just ended up turning your phone off. 

After all, you remember what happened the last time you blocked him. That wasn’t even an option for you at this point if he really knows where you are. 

The fear inside of you is so strong by this point that you can’t help but want Jake to be with you. Even inside of your apartment, where you’ve yet to invite anyone aside from family. You just want one single day of calm, one single moment of feeling okay. The past three days have been nothing but a paranoid delusion for you. 

Each sway of your curtains in front of your blinds is a person who isn’t meant to be inside of your space. Each footstep in the hallway outside of your apartment isn’t other residents, it’s someone trying to get inside. Those missing batteries from weeks ago? It was him. Your missing panties? He has them. 

Just like Jake, though unknowing to you, you have been pacing much like he has. You’ve been on the verge of ripping your hair out too.

You: i think we need to talk

Jake’s relief turns to curiosity, to confusion, to horror, to excitement.

Jake: of course, love

Jake: do you want to go to the park again tonight? 

You shake your head as you text back with a firm “no”, wanting so badly to explain to him why you’re acting the way you are, and why you’ve always acted so defensively. You need him to understand so that he doesn’t leave. You need him solely because he is all you’ve got right now. 

You: no

You: ill explain everything but can you like…

Jake’s ears twitch as if he can hear your words, with your pretty voice, and that cute pitch it has when you talk to him. 

You: i don’t like to invite people to my apartment but I'd really just rather you come over. 

In less than a second Jake’s heart threatens his health. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. After days of festering in love rot for you, months actually, you’re finally inviting him. All forms of negativity towards your lack of speaking to him lately is laid to rest instantly as he jumps to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom to clean up. 

Jake: just tell me when, you know I’m here when you need me. 

It’s a shame that he said that, really, because you take it to heart. You need him now and will probably need him far past his ability to give to you. He will grow so tired so fast, surely, but you can’t deny nor can you avoid that you need him. 

You need his comfort, his safety, his smile, his dilated pupils each time he looks at you, and his careful hands reluctant to hurt you. 

You: can you come now?

Jake is already out the door, following the same path he took the first time he went to your apartment. Honestly, it’s quick enough to remind you that he’s just next door. 

Jake: im in the lobby, where do I go?

You pause, briefly realizing that you’re inviting a man into your apartment just so you can feel safe from another man you once invited into your life the same way. You were so enamored with your ex, never thought he could have done what he did to you, but he did. He shattered you from the inside out through years of meticulous work, and he’s still doing it now, all because you trusted him.

It’s driving you to act as recklessly as you once did, and it’s like you’re compelled to do it. You feel forced to trust Jake, despite none of the force coming from him. It’s coming from deep within yourself. Your brain is repeating whispers of “do it, do it, do it.” when it comes to him. 

You can’t resist it. 

You don’t want to resist it. 

You’re fast when you text him your floor and room number, and somehow still find yourself shocked at how quickly there is a knock on your door. 

Jake didn’t need your informational text though, he knew exactly where to go. He knows where he belongs, and the excitement within him to have an explanation from you is one thing. The excitement of standing inside of your apartment with you is another. 

His thoughts remain on that camera he placed back into his window, knowing that he will finally see himself in the footage with you, in the very spot he thinks about the most. He’s worked so hard for this, so hard. 

And his hands are shaking when you open the door, his heart is shaking when he takes in the scent he remembered from before, his legs shake as he takes a step in with a face of somewhat genuine concern for you, simply to hide the way his entire body is fluttering in euphoria. 

“Hey,” You start, trying to be nonchalant, trying to ignore that you look like shit. “Sorry for the mess.” You add, gesturing to not only your apartment, but at yourself as well.

“Aw,” Jake coos, poking out his bottom lip before opening his arms wide as he hears the door fall closed behind him. “Come here.”

Instantly you do, and instantly your face is hot. 

Searing. On fire.

Jake freezes, feeling the warmth against his chest paired with the death grip your arms instantly lock him into. This grip on him is painfully heavy and seeped with emotion, he can feel your hot tears soaking into his hoodie and it raises goosebumps across his skin. 

This is where he belongs. 

“I’m sorry–” You hiccup, feeling stupid for instantly crying at the touch of another person. “This must seem so annoying to you.” 

“Sorry for what?” He asks gently, finally managing to come back to your reality to hug you and hold you there, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. “Is everything okay?”

He can’t bear to let you pull away, so he holds you tighter against him, willing those salty sweet tears to seep through both layers of his clothing to his skin. Somehow, you still manage to make him fall harder for you. He’s so fucking in love with you. The way you cling to him like this? You’re everything he’s ever wanted and more. 

You try to pull back though. Once, twice, and by the third time he finally relents and lets you back away. 

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze for just a moment and seeing the concern in his eyes. Pupils still dilated like they always are, but brows knitted together, with a small tilt to his head to offer a silent question.

You turn away from him to hide your face. You feel so seen, so vulnerable, and so stupid for involving him in this. 

“It’s–” You pause, catching your breath and wiping your cheek as you try to make your way back to your safe space. Your bedroom. “It’s a long story.” You finally mutter out. 

Jake notes where you’re headed and doesn’t want that. He needs his camera to get this, he needs to look back on this moment later, he needs to remember the smell of your tears, the feeling of your pain, the suffocating atmosphere within this apartment. 

So, he takes a seat on your couch, blatantly ignoring how your voice fades before getting closer again. 

You look at him when you go back to the living room, confused as to why he doesn’t follow you. 

“You mentioned not inviting people into your apartment, don’t you think it would be best if I stay here for now?” He offers, giving you instant comfort in the way he doesn’t try to invade your space. “Come over here.” He continues, patting the couch cushion next to him and glancing to your window for a moment. 

You watch him continue his own train of thought, shifting to reach for the blinds and open them. “It’s so dark in here, let me see you, love.”  He offers again, going back to patting the couch after letting the sun in and making it seem, somehow, more enticing. “Please?” 

You listen, quietly making your way to him and sitting closely against him. 

“I thought I scared you away because I–um,” He gazes at you as he speaks, seemingly studying the emotional baggage under your eyes. “tried to kiss you.” He trails off, very much wanting to kiss you again. 

“That didn’t scare me.” You shake your head, still trying to avoid his eye now that you know the sun is allowing him a true view at how destroyed you must look. “It’s just, we’ve been on a few dates now and I like you– alot.” You say more to yourself than to him, as if you’re confirming internally that you need to explain some things to him before giving him the option to run away. “I feel like I–”

“I like you.” He interrupts you. “Alot.” He continues, becoming hyper-aware of everything in the universe. He can feel the hairs on his head grow, he can hear the birds a country away, he can taste the sunlight spilling against your watery eyes. 

You like him, and he likes you. 

And he takes intense note of the way you dip your head, a small smile curling up on the permanent frown you previously had. 

“But Jake,” You say, letting your face fall again. “I think we need to talk about some things before, like, you decide if you really like me.”

That’s silly. He knows everything about you already. He’s in love with you, nothing you could say or do will ever change that. He wishes you could see it, he wishes you knew that he was made for you. 

“There is nothing you could say to change my mind,” He says sternly, turning towards you and attempting to make you look at him by grabbing your chin gently between his pointer finger and thumb, “Hey, look at me.” He urges you, pleased in the way you do turn to look at him. 

He’s stunned. The whites of your eyes are red, your eyelids are puffy, you appear to be so tired, and still you are so beautiful to him.

For a moment, you take note of the way he looks at you and wonder how he could genuinely think that way and show it so blatantly. Are you the one who is acting recklessly here, or is it him? Somehow, it brings you comfort, even if you feel the need to force your eyes away from him. 

He doesn’t let you, and you let him not let you. 

Your eyes stay on his. 

“I don’t think you realize how much I want to be with you.” He admits blatantly, forcing you to forget your train of thought for a total of three seconds before your eyes really lock onto his. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize that.” He continues. 

“Jake,” You mutter out, feeling so full of emotion that you weren’t quite prepared to accept yet. “Please,” You mutter again, continuously losing your thoughts, only to gain them back moments later, and then lose them again when his eyes stare through you. “Please, let me explain something before you say that.” 

He pulls his eyes away now, closing them and pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration before breathing out and adjusting his eyes to you again. 

He nods reluctantly, relaxing against your couch and throwing his arm around the back of you, pulling you to lean against him, where you can instantly hear the way his heart is beating. 

It’s beating fast. So fast that it’s almost distracting to you if you think too hard about it. So, you don’t. You try to ignore the way it beats against the top of your head just so you can finally give him some insight on why you haven’t texted him, on why you didn’t let him kiss you, on why you’re so reluctant. 

“Remember how we were talking about our last relationships?” You finally say, feeling his hand on your shoulder rub little shapes against your shirt in a comforting way.

He hums, continuing to trace his own name against your sleeve as he confirms your words. Because of fucking course he does. He remembers everything about you. 

“Mine was bad.” You pause, willing the emotion to say in your throat. “Really bad.”

“How bad?” Jake encourages you instantly, already knowing the answer. 

To be fair though, he’s been waiting to hear the words from your own mouth. He’s been pretending to not know this entire time, holding in his rage when he’s in front of you, seeing how it affected you, feeling what he did to you through your lack of trust and affection. 

“I think you could probably guess, considering I didn’t let you kiss me.” You try to say without going too deep into it. “Considering I’m afraid to let you touch me.”

“But you did.” He says calmly, running the hand on your shoulder down to your waist to pull you in closer. “You did let me touch you.” 

You recoil internally. 

“I let you hug me, and I let you keep me warm.” You admit. “I don’t know why I let you though. I wasn’t afraid when it was with you.” 

Jake knows exactly what you’re trying to say to him, and loves that you admit that he’s different. He is different because of you and for you. His stomach flutters at the fact that you know that, and you accept it.

“Because I wouldn’t hurt you.” He continues to echo his words to you, seemingly giving you a final answer to a question in your head that you have yet to find an answer to. “Because I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you.”

God, the warmth that floods your body is what you’ve been wanting. This is why you wanted him to come over. This is why you need him. You can’t do this alone, you want him here with you.

“I think, deep down, you know that I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you again.” He continues, talking for you, talking as if he is inside of your head. 

“I can make an assumption on what he did to you and I don’t need to know how far it went, but it’s not going to keep me away from you.” He takes in a sigh, releasing his next words with a breathy chuckle. “I have always wanted to be with you, and I still do.” 

He feels the way your breathing evens out as you listen to him. 

“Did you stop talking to me because of this?” He finally asks, letting the question hang in the air before his hand grips your waist tightly, holding you so close against him that you’re nearly on top of him. “Did you think I wouldn’t fight to have you?” 

The words are brash and hard to swallow, but that’s not why.

If you could, you would have gone the rest of your life without telling another person what happened to you. You don’t want it to define you, and you don’t want Jake to ever feel like he needs to fight for you. 

You shake your head.

“No.” You say sternly, now wrapping your own arm around his middle and hugging him as tightly as he does to you. Your head dips below his chest, up against his ribs as you curl yourself into him entirely, preparing to tell him. “I moved here to get away from him–” You start, feeling your body shiver in each spot your ex hurt you from before. “And I think he found me.”

You feel it before Jake realizes it himself, but it’s like all of the warmth left his body within seconds. He stiffens, his grip on you loosens, and he trembles for just long enough for it to be noticeable. 

“What?” He says, breathing in through his nose and staring straight ahead, seemingly out of it. 

“He texted me a few days ago, mentioning he knows where I work, asking if I want to have lunch with him.” You try to explain. “I freaked out, I called in, and I haven’t left my apartment since.”

“He what?” Jake repeats, now slowly turning to you.

For the first time when you meet his eye, you see his pupils constrict. They’re not dilated, in fact, they’re tiny. Horrifically tiny. And if you look hard enough, it’s almost like they’re vibrating against the pretty brown color of his iris. The simple act of watching them change like that felt uncanny. You pull back from him, shocked at the expression and not quite recognizing him compared to moments before. 

And then, he realizes your reaction to him and is immediately pulling himself back to you. He pushes that shocked rage back for now. Just for now. His pupils fall back into their permanent dilated state. His face softens, his body relaxes, and then he’s holding you again. 

“No one can hurt you when I’m here.” He finally whispers out, trying to keep his voice even and warm to calm you down. “So, he found you? So what?” He continues, letting his confidence take over. “I already told you, he can’t touch you.”

For some reason, his initial reaction sinks into the back of your mind as he holds you like this and says things like that. Why? Because you believe him. 

Somehow, you believe him. 

“Can you promise me that?” You ask reluctantly, taking everything you can get from Jake at this moment in an attempt to feel safe, to feel better. 

He nods instantly, and keeps nodding as he shifts his head to look down at you. This prompts you to look up at him, making direct eye contact and holy fuck. It hurts him not to dip down and make you forget that anyone else in this world exists aside from him. 

From this angle, as you look up to him with a promise swirling around the two of you, he knows he’s got you. You’ve never looked at him like this. There is no hint of doubt, curiosity, confusion, or fear in your eyes as you wait for him to answer. 

All he can do is stare at you, breath caught in his throat at the constant realization that he’s here. You’re against him, you’re talking to him, you’re looking at him, you’re–fuck, you’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed in life. 

“I can promise you that, and more.” He finally whispers out to you, knowing you can feel his words spread across your forehead. “I think I’d do just about anything for you.” 

You nod, keeping eye contact with him for a moment more before lying your head back against him and breathing a big sigh of relief. 

“I guess I’m yours then.” You sigh out, feeling comfortable saying the words. 

And oh. 

Oh, the fucking joy that rattles every bone in his body. The immense amount of love, adoration, and wonderstruck devotion he feels for you fills his body from the core, he can feel it seep out of him with each breath, each tear that reaches his eye, each goosebump, all of it. 

You’re his. You said it. With your own voice, your own words, your own thoughts, right up by his heartbeat, you fucking said it.

“Yeah,” He says in his own shaking breath, blinking away the first tear he’s felt in his eye for years, wanting to squeeze you so tight that you go numb. “You are.” He continues, swooping down just slightly and prompting you to look at him again.

Those dark eyes are dazed, and once again you feel like he sees you as the only other breathing person on this planet with him. It’s….so nice.

Silence hangs in the air as you look at each other, seemingly confirming a relationship that feels more uncertain to you than it does to him, but you know you’ll try. You want to be his safety too, you want to give him everything you have. 

And then he says it. 

“Does this mean I can kiss you now?” 

It hurts you when you hear the way he says it. So uncertain and reluctant to cross a boundary. You’re trying to confirm his feelings for you, the feelings that you feel so lucky to receive. You’re trying to make him understand that he’s the only person you’re comfortable with. He’s the only one you’d ever let kiss you. 

You’ve made him hold back so much, you can imagine. 

You nod to him first, watching him almost immediately close in to do just that, but you pull back on instinct. 

“Just–” You raise a hand in front of him, putting your fingers to his lips to halt him. “Let’s go slow.” You say, already knowing he will accept it. He will go slow for you. 

“Love, you really just don’t get it.” Jake smiles, averting his lips and landing a kiss to your forehead, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his lips for the first time. “I have enough patience for both of us.”

And if only you knew how true that statement is. For him, he’s already been waiting for this moment since before you knew he existed. Despite his small moments of losing control, needing more, he could have waited even longer for this moment with you. All of it is worth it in the end if he gets to hear you call yourself his again. 

You are his. You have always been his. 

And you decide at that moment that he is right. He’s been nothing but patient with you, and has done nothing to make you feel otherwise. 

A kiss wouldn’t hurt, a few kisses wouldn’t hurt. 

So, you lift your head just a bit more, closing your eyes softly and waiting for him to do it. Waiting for him to kiss you, waiting for him to–

“Little more,” He encourages you, causing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Just a little closer.” 

And you do. The least you can do is close the distance for him, especially after what he just learned about you. He probably wants you to be the one to approach him, he probably doesn’t want to cross a boundary, or scare you. 

For Jake, the way you listen without a hint of hesitation is…well. It scares him. It scares him how every assumption he had about you was right. Given, he knew he would be, but experiencing it right here, right now, is amazing to him. 

He keeps his eyes open through all of it, seeing your heavy eyes stay closed as you place your lips on his. 

It’s so soft. Your lips are plush when they’re puckered against his own, soft, so fucking soft. He chokes back a relieved sob at finally getting this from you, hiding it with a thick swallow and his hands rushing up to cup both of your cheeks in his hands as he lets himself feel you like this.

He’s thought about it so much. Just these few seconds of feeling you kiss him already exceeds his expectations. He can feel your eyelashes flutter on the tips of his fingers, and it only makes him tilt his head just a bit to slot his lips against yours in a more comfortable position.

He doesn’t move after that, nor do you. Both of you just feel it. 

It’s the first time you’ve kissed anyone since your ex and even he didn’t hold your face against his like this, despite swearing he loved you more than life itself. You can feel the burn at the corner of your eyes, and you breathe out through your nose to try and keep them in. 

You don’t even notice the tears that escape until Jake is tasting them, relishing in what you’ve chosen to give to him. Never realizing how good pain can taste until it comes from you, and then he pulls back just slightly.

It was nothing but a long and drawn out act of lying lips against each other. There was no tongue, there were no frantic movements. It was just…a first kiss, that lasted what felt like years to you, and only a split second for Jake.

He blinks down at you, noting the beads of tears bunching up in your bottom lashes and uses his thumb to swipe just under your eye. That view alone of seeing his hand do it was enough to confirm for him that he is no longer chasing. You are his, and never will another person get the chance to look at you as closely as he does. 

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Jake smiles when he says it, feeling your tears nourish his body. 

You nod, still blinking up at him. 

“In passing, on dates. Never like this though.” You admit in a small voice, feeling a bit shy with the way you feel entirely new when he’s with you. 

“I’ll tell you every day.” He says, leaning down to connect his lips with yours once again solely because he can’t choose between staring at you or kissing you now. 

All of his senses are in overdrive. Kissing you, looking at you, sitting on your couch in your apartment, none of it will ever satiate his need for more, more, fucking more of you. And all of it is happening right there, in front of his camera. 

He can relive this time and time again for the moments he can’t be with you. 

You stay silent after that, alternating between the same long and simple kisses and staring at each other until you can see the sun shift positions in the sky. Sometimes he will say things during this time, sweet and passionate words that only make you feel safer and safer in your own space.

Up until you feel his body shift and his hands pull back to his own body.

You look at him as if he just interrupted a very important moment in your life, and in a way, he did. You could sit with him like this for three hours more if he allowed it, but unfortunately, nature does tend to call. 

“I’ll be back–” He whispers right up against your lips, knowing that you’re already growing familiar with how they feel against you. Smiling when your lips chase him as he stands up. He lends you one more. A quick kiss, one that reminds you that he isn’t leaving you. “Just a second.” He adds in an even smaller voice, heading straight for your bathroom.

You’re still so in awe at how slow the night feels with him, loving every warm second of it. You’re not thinking about anything but him and the way his lips feel. Hell, you haven’t even gotten a full glimpse of him since that first kiss. 

So, of course you don’t notice how he somehow knew which door held your bathroom behind it, or how long he stayed in there. You weren’t paying attention at all as you flop back and do your very best not to kick your legs out of happiness at this moment. 

You finally feel comfortable, even while a threat looms just outside of these walls. You have a boyfriend now, one that appears to be willing to stay beside you through all of it. 

You’re happy. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

All good things come to an end but at least this time, it’s temporary. 

The night with Jake felt much needed on both accounts, but it became one sided when your discomfort kicked in. It’s not that you didn’t want him to stay, above all you almost needed him to. 

He was so willing to stay, you could tell just by looking at him sitting next to you with kissed lips and dazed eyes, far too late in the night to excuse what you eventually made happen. He had to go back home.

Again, it’s not because you didn’t want him to stay, it’s because you felt better. You felt so much better that you didn’t think even for a second that Jake wouldn’t come running back over if you so much as hinted through a text that you needed him. Not to mention, upon your anxieties calming, your rational thoughts took back over and reminded you that this was enough. You don’t need him to coddle you more, or to worry for you. 

You’re not entirely ready to let a man sleep in your home, despite very much loving the time you spent with him here. 

After all, you interrupted his day already by asking for him to cater to you. Cater he did, and you wanted to do the same for him. Kissing him one more time with an apologetic look, stating that it’s best if he goes back home for the night. 

You still remember the look on his face when you walked him to the lobby. Reluctance, confusion, even a bit of panic. He needed another kiss, and another kiss you gave. 

His shoulders relaxed at that, and you watched him turn on his heel and head back home to presumably sleep without you. 

And while you slept well that night, thinking of him and how you somehow found a boyfriend amidst all of your fears, Jake was wide awake and reeling from the conversations he shared with you, the kisses, the cuddling, the smell. Fuck, it was so much to face by the time he made it back into his cold and dreary apartment. 

He doesn’t belong in this space, he belongs just across the street with you. But, for your sake…he will continue the patience he promised you. After all, he could see in your eyes that briefly, you considered letting him stay. 

And throughout the night, his calm overtakes him as he rethinks, staring down his camera and trying to decide if he should watch it back until you eventually text him after you wake up. 

He ultimately decides to watch, checking that your lights are off one last time before moving to his PC and plugging in the camera. The first thing he does is fast forward to your first kiss, and then the second, third, fourth…

He rewinds it to watch again, almost feeling that you’re still against him when he presses play a bit too far back in the footage. 

You pull away from him in that moment and suddenly he remembers why.

Before the blissful moments he spent with you, there was a moment of intense and uncontrollable rage within him. When you told him the less-than-detailed story of what your ex did to you, he was expecting it. He knew how to act surprised, he knew how to comfort you, he knew how to make you understand that your past wouldn’t scare him away.

What he wasn’t prepared for was to find out that your fears that he read in your journal were very real. Learning that your ex texted you and that he knew where you were was one thing, but hearing your voice crack upon telling him that he wants to meet with you is another. 

Jake couldn’t have prepared a reaction for that even if he tried. Not one that wouldn’t have scared you, at least. And now, this night of reliving the hours in which it took for him to make you his girlfriend once and for all turned into a night of internet sleuthing. 

Finding the man on social media can’t be that hard. All he had to do was search your name to find your family, which he has done probably a thousand times by now. He knew that within the public posts of your family, this guy had to have been associated somewhere. 

And after three hours of finding nothing, a little hint of who this man is reveals itself. 

So far into his searches, intense googling, and even yearbook studying, he finds an older facebook account of your mother and he slaps himself in the forehead for not double checking the profiles sooner, he could have saved at least two hours if he had found this earlier. 

She must have made a new account after the divorce that she clearly had and shared with the world. It only takes a single scroll with his mouse wheel to find an image of her, another woman, you, and…that man. 

Jake sits and stares at the old image, noting that it’s over four years old. Indicating that you must have been with this guy for a long time. You look happy in the photo, with his arm snaked around your waist and gripping you tight.

Jake, above anyone else, knows that grip he’s got on you. It’s the same one he had on you just hours ago but he tries not to think too hard, prying his eyes away from a happy you with that piece of shit. If he ruminates on this image of you with another man, he very well may resent you for ever letting another man be with you in the first place.

Instead, he has to force his eyes from the younger college version of you and look at the reactions of the photo. 

Of course your mother is the type to have hundreds and hundreds of friends, most that she doesn’t even know in real life surely. The image has seventy three likes, and he goes through each and every single one until he finally recognizes the account of the very man in that photo, holding you, as if it’s his rightful place beside you.

God, safety concerns be damned. He cannot believe that your mother never deleted this account. Your ex probably looks at this photo all the time, he probably gets off on it too. Like he must think that because he had you once, he could win you over again. No.  Jake will see blood before he ever lets that happen. 

Jake rolls his eyes, giving himself a mental note to find a way to tell you that your mother should really watch her online presence if her own daughter’s safety is in danger, and then he continues his snooping on your ex.

One simple google of his name and city and Jake’s got a workplace address. Come Monday morning, you’ll never have to worry about this guy again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Every. single. day. 

Every day you have texted him since the night he left your apartment, and every day he hopes that you force him to be patient with you. Why? Because for the first time, he needs to stay distant for now. 

He kept his promise. Maybe he even overdid it a little bit. 

Given, he knows you’d probably be happy in knowing what happened, he just thinks it would be best not to tell you about it. For now, at least, he doesn’t want you to see the mark above his eye because if you find out what happened, perhaps you’d stop needing him for comfort. Maybe you’d even break up with him since you’d no longer need him. 

He’s going to ensure that you are safe, and he’s going to keep you. 

Unfortunately, Jake is awful at telling you no, awful at living up to his patience, and fucking horrible at staying away from you. When you text him this morning, just two days after he met with your ex, it’s not your usual greeting. 

You: they need me to go to the office today…

God, has he no shame? No. He doesn’t. Never in his life could he even imagine being ashamed to instantly come at your beck and call. Though you have nothing to be afraid of anymore. 

Jake: I’ll walk you there. 

You smile at his immediate act of protection of you. 

You: It’s okay, my manager is already on her way to pick me up. she knows about everything so i’m still safe!

He pauses, trying to look at the bright side of not seeing you. He’s not in fear of your safety like you are, because he definitely took care of the matter, but…under the guise of you still needing it, he doesn’t like that you’re letting someone else protect you on your trip to work. 

Jake: oh

You stare at your phone, feeling bad that you haven't offered him much since he was last at your apartment. You don’t want him to think you’re avoiding him again, or to think that you don’t want to see him but…your manager has a car. If you were to let him walk you to work, you’d just be paranoid of being on the street. 

You’d just feel bad for him to have to walk back home alone. And you’d feel even worse knowing he’d make the same trip to walk you back home. 

You: i don’t want to have to walk to work, even if I know you’d be there with me. It’s just a huge inconvenience for you and a big safety concern for me…

He reads your text and scoffs. Do you still not understand that it’s what he lives for? He would walk across the fucking country if you so much as suggested there was a leaf on the ground that you wanted to look at. It’s not an inconvenience. 

The inconvenience is you giving someone else the right to what he is supposed to be doing for you. 

Jake: it’s ok love, just text me when you get there safe

You pause, unable to shake the feeling of guilt that’s threatening your brain right now. It feels awkward, it feels weird. You’re more than aware to know that he probably wants to prove something to you, especially with such a new relationship but you can’t help but feel like you’re the only person who needs to prove something. 

You need his protection, but you don’t want to exhaust him. That is your biggest fear, even over the idea of your ex finding you. The idea of being wanted by someone you hate hurts far less than the idea of being unwanted by the man who is seemingly upset with you over not getting to walk you to work.

So, you’ll prove to him that this isn’t because he isn’t capable of protecting you. You’ll prove to him that you do want to see him. 

You: Can I see you after i get home? I miss you.

His reactions are always so immediate as he slams his phone against his chest, sighing out of relief that you want to see him tonight. So what if he has a blatant and obvious bruise on his face? He will proudly present it to you, with a lie of course, solely because he knows it’s proof that he would do anything for you. 

Jake: I miss you too :) just tell me when she’s bringing you back to me and i’ll be waiting in the lobby for you. 

For some reason, those little typed words of “bringing you back to me” hits you hard in the chest. It makes you feel warm, happy even, as you head out of your apartment and straight for your manager’s car.

Sure, you might not be walking to work when they need you to come in for a while, but you’ll sure as hell be certain to make it up to Jake every single time. You can practically feel his excitement through his quickly sent texts, and you can’t help but thrive off of it. 

Now, even as you’re worried that you’ll be at work, in a place where he can find you, you feel excited. You’re looking forward to getting to go back home, and looking forward to hugging Jake, and talking to him, and seeing his pretty face. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

  You don’t recall your work days going by this slowly, as you fiddle around your desk wondering why they called you here today in the first place. “For a meeting” Your manager had said. Well that’s all fine and dandy if it weren’t for the fact that the meeting isn’t scheduled until four thirty in the afternoon, the end of the fucking day. 

You could have worked from home and just came in for the meeting if that was the case, but you’re already here and mostly just annoyed that you had to come at all.

You scroll your phone, do some paperwork, scroll some more, more paperwork, and then, just as you open your messages so you can complain to Jake about how stupid this work day is, you pause.

Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of everything and everyone around you, and all you can do is sit at your desk and pretend that you don’t see the man across the large room filled with fifty other cubicles, eyes scanning for you. 

The only thing you know how to do is drop to the floor upon seeing that familiar smile. You’re not ashamed when you text your manager, telling her who security just led to your floor. You’re even less ashamed in the way you quickly rush to the back, around a corner, and out the fire escape.

You came to work today to miss not one meeting, but two, apparently. The only reason you even feel safe enough to power-walk back to your apartment is because you know exactly where your stupid handsome ex is, and you know exactly why he’s there.

He’s not following you right now, you’re sure of it. You told your manager exactly who he was before, and she knows exactly where he is now. Surely they’re distracting him, because your manager, bless her, already texted you that she would take care of it and that you should get home quickly.

Insane scenario, really. You should have just called the police, but it’s not like he fucking did anything within these city limits outside of take an elevator to your floor. 

God, how did he even know you were going to be at work today? 

And as you rush into your apartment building, not even knowing how long or how short it took you to get there, you feel your phone vibrate before you even get in the building’s front door.

Jake: why are you home so early, and why did you walk alone? 

Instantly you call him, not thinking even for a second that it’s strange that he saw you come in. If anything, it was probably just a coincidence. He just happened to look outside and you just happened to be panic-walking inside. 

“Come over.” You say, out of breath into the speaker. 

Jake doesn’t even respond, he just hangs up and is immediately rushing to your building as quickly as his feet can carry him, for the first time unsure of what’s going on with you. 

He thinks this may actually be his record time of getting to you even, considering you’re walking up to your door as soon as he steps out of the elevator and rushing up to you.

“What’s wrong!?” You hear his panicked voice from behind you as you unlock your door, stepping inside and grabbing him by the shirt, not even looking at him before pulling him inside. 

“I missed you.” You say, desperate to feel safe again and running entirely on adrenaline as you lift up and kiss him harder than you ever have before.

Jake freezes, feeling your grip on his shirt and your hardened pucker against his lips. He doesn’t relax into it at all, in fact, the way you just grabbed him runs straight between his legs and all he can do is grab your shirt back, pulling you up more, kissing you twice as hard. 

He knew you could be forceful, and somehow this is the last thing he was expecting. Did you rush home alone and call him with that desperate voice because you needed him? Did you finally give in? Does he mean this much to you already?

There are no words in this breathless moment as you let yourself spiral into a void with Jake. Feeling only safe when he’s with you, on you, holding you, touching you. You really should have let him walk you to work. You should have let him stay with you there, you shouldn’t ever let him leave your side. 

You only feel calm when he’s with you, and god you almost hope your ex followed you here so that he can walk in and find you kissing someone else. Someone better.

“What happened?” Jake groans out his words between the harsh kisses that are quickly turning heated. Your grip on his shirt only tightens, and you stumble back to pull him with you. 

You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to explain, you just want to…do this. You need him to give you that brain fog that makes you forget about anything else. 

And it’s the first time he’s ever felt your tongue. So desperate to part his lips, so frantic, so sweet. The new feeling is more than he ever could have imagined, he feels like he’s almost forgotten how to kiss you back at this point. He lets you do all of the work right now, tasting inside of his mouth and fluttering your lashes against his cheek bone when you skew your head just a little bit to kiss him deeper. 

He’s feeling everything at once, and the fact that he’s finally back in your apartment only makes this worse for him. Or maybe, better? He isn’t sure, but what he does know is that if you keep doing this, he won’t be able to hold back. How could he? You’re pulling him, nearly tripping over your own feet just to pull him deeper into the room– right there in front of that same fucking window. 

Your tight grip on his shirt warms him along with knowing this is being recorded, right up from the brief amount of cold air that hit him on his run over. It was freezing, and he left without even throwing on his hoodie. Which is nice and detrimental to his health. It’s like you’re closer than you’ve ever been to him without two layers of clothing on, just this shirt keeping you from gripping his skin instead. 

And he would let you, he would let you grip and claw through his chest to pull him further into your space. If you missed him so much, perhaps he wouldn’t need to hold back. Your kisses are bruising, and the little breaths you take with each tilt to your head drives his heart to tremble in his chest, he’s sure you may not want him to hold it in any longer. 

He’s tasting you right now and only because you’re tasting him first. 

Safe to say, he’s in shock and entirely turned on right now with the way you try to overpower him. He lets you. Yes, yes, yes. Why wouldn’t he? You’re not being shy and your defenses are entirely down for him. 

You continue to stumble back with him, up until your legs hit your couch and he very nearly falls on top of you, but instead he holds steady, watching you fall from the close proximity against his lips with a huff after you hit the soft cushions.

He felt his shirt slip from your fingers in the descent and can do nothing but look at you in pure awe. You look like you want him right now, you look up at him the same way he looks at you.

Your pupils are dilated, your chest is heaving, and you’re just staring up at him with each breath. 

“Jake?” You mutter in a slight whisper and furrow your brows at your findings upon finally looking at him. In your rush to kiss him and to have him as close to you as possible, you nearly missed it. 

You reach a hand out and see him immediately take it, your gaze still trained on the bruise above his eye. You pull him to you instantly, landing your lips just below his right brow. “Why is there a bruise?”

He pauses to feel your breath hit his brow, entirely forgetting that he is a human being with flesh that can be marked by another. Forgetting that pain exists, solely because the kiss you just landed against that swollen spot felt good. So good.

“Ah–” He chuckles slyly, feeling you repeatedly kiss the area, bruising it more by the force behind your lips. “Dropped my phone on my face a few nights ago while texting you.” 

You smile against it, finding the image endearing before pulling back and taking note of the way he hovers above you, not letting a single part of his body touch you without you prompting it. 

“You should be more careful,” You smile, pulling him down more, until he is forced to use his arms on the back of your couch to steady himself. “Stay like this.” 

He notes how you look so small under him, and he would want nothing more than to stay like this for you. 

“On top of you?” He asks gently, allowing his hungry eyes to fall to a half-lidded stare, he tilts his head and inches back to your lips as he says it, entirely drunk on the image of you against the couch and totally barred from the outside world by his body.

“Yeah,” You sigh at how pretty he is close up, dark eyes taking you in with that deep stare. “Feels like nothing could ever get to me if you’re like this.” 

He nods confirmation. 

“You were scared of being alone today, weren’t you?” He asks gently, pulling back from the almost-kiss and now adjusting you to lay down on your couch, all so he can more comfortably fulfill the request you just asked of him. “Don’t go anywhere without me again, and I'll stay like this for as long as you need me to.” 

You stare up at him and his words as he crawls onto the couch with you, over you. He nudges himself between your legs and only now do you understand what it must feel like to want someone to love. You never imagined you’d let a man be with you like this again, and yet there’s so much truth in his facial expression after he said those words. You can’t help but feel like you were stupid to ever think you could do any of this alone. 

You never could do it alone to begin with.

“I won’t,” You confirm for him, lifting your hand to move a strand of hair that hangs over that darkened bruise above his eye. “So, stay like this.”

And he does, eyes lost as they glance at every part of your face, only closing his eyes to feel your fingers in his hair for that short moment. He lets out a long sigh, trying to keep his lower half from losing control, both understanding and not comprehending that he’s on top of you right now. 

Only now, with his mind racing and skin reacting does he dip back down.

“Alright.” He whispers just before the kiss, intentionally relaxing his lower half and allowing you to feel exactly what you’re doing to him. 

He feels you shift when you feel it, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he presses forward a bit more with his hips, making sure you feel his love for you in its entirety. 

And when your hands find their way into his hair and you hum against his tongue, that’s when he pulls back.

“Sorry,” He admits, looking away from you. “Didn’t know you were going to just– grab me like that and kiss me.”

All you can do is smile at him, refusing to question why you don’t recoil at the idea of a man being turned on. If anything, you give in to the feeling of pleasure yourself. Especially after so long of not only denying it to yourself, but fearing it.

And the two of you just lay there, shifting from time to time to get more comfortable and to ease numb limbs. Just kissing. Just making out. 

Hot, wet, warm kissing. To the point of being out of breath but not yet pulling back. Never wanting to be the first one to break the contact, but always wanting to be the first to dip back in. You feel his excitement throughout all of it, and you feel his patience as well.

He doesn’t even chase when your body arches into his intense kisses, he doesn’t ask for more, and ultimately, it doesn’t matter that your ex showed up at your workplace today. Because you’ve got Jake right here, on you, shielding you, holding you. 

No one can get to you right now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake holds you as you sleep, as tight as he can manage without waking you up. Thinking in his head over and over again about how pretty you are, how perfect you are, how utterly infatuated with you he is. 

He wasn’t expecting you to fall asleep like that, gentle fingers scratching the back of his neck and holding him just as tightly. Whispering to him that you don’t want him to leave this time.

Muttering that you want him to stay. 

He remembers so well how pretty your half-asleep voice sounded, with your half-asleep eyes, and half-asleep legs tangled in his own.

He didn’t sleep. 

No, no. He couldn’t have. He didn’t want to miss a single breath or twitch of your brow as you dreamt. And he really didn’t miss a single one either.

The sun is long gone in the sky by the time his own heavy eyes force him to blink. It’s so dark in the room but you brighten it up for him just fine, with that pretty breath and sleeping face. His gaze falls upon the window as he smiles, hugging you even closer to him just to feel you nuzzle your nose up and against his neck.

He has yet to set foot into your bedroom since the first time he’s been here but that doesn’t bother him. You both fit perfectly on this couch. Forced proximity really lives up to its name in this city, apparently. You haven’t ever been without him, and you never will be. 

He’s more than delighted to–

His thoughts shake the same way your phone does. A vibration sending his mind into a spiral at who could possibly be texting you at this hour if not him. 

The phone lights up the room and he’s very careful to reach for it, smiling when your sleepy brain tells you that he’s reaching over you to hug you closer again, not to grab at your phone that you left forgotten on the table.

He’s so quiet, so careful. 

The screen lights up his face, causing his dry eyes to water until they adjust to the notification. 

A text message.

From an unknown number. 

His eyes fall to you as he tries to remember the patterns of numbers you’ve typed into your phone, only to fail a total of three times before gently shaking you. 

“Love,” He whispers, lying his lips against your forehead. “What’s your passcode?”

“Hmm?” You mumble against him, his shirt bunched up against your own lips. 

“Your passcode,” He repeats in a more gentle voice, trying to keep from waking you entirely. “I forgot my phone at home, and I want to set an alarm.” 

Your sleepy brain barely registers his words, or the fact that he’s lying. You felt his phone in his pocket when he was lying on top of you all night. 

“Ah,” You sigh out, clearing the sleep from your throat as you whisper out the numbers to him, slurring out the last one as you fall right back into your deep slumber 

Jake smiles, dumbfounded yet again by how adorable you are for him. 

Now, with one hand unlocking your phone and the other tracing his name, once again, onto the fabric of your back, he swipes to your messages.

Rage.

Unknown number: so who is the new guy

Unknown number: get me banned from your work then you send him? fought like a bitch

Unknown number: i’ll be seeing you soon babe

Empty threats, he knows they have to be. Blatant lies and empty fucking threats. This idiot can’t do shit considering how battered he managed to leave him. 

He thinks hard about the pain against his knuckles and even harder about how you didn’t note that they’re just as bruised as his eye. Thankfully, you were too enveloped in kissing him to take note of his bruised hands, or the lie about dropping his phone. 

Jake easily deletes the texts and blocks the number, understanding that this little problem of yours is his problem to solve. And the worst part is that he knows exactly why this man wants you back. He hates that he understands the thought process from the root, knowing that if he, himself, couldn’t have you, he’d have to take desperate measures too. As if he hasn’t already. 

He’s similar to your ex, who was far more handsome with blood on his face, and you can never know that. As similar as he is, mirroring the love and abundant weakness he has for you, he would never. fucking. hurt. you. Infact, Jake would set himself aflame before even imagining you crying for him to leave you alone. 

Why would he set himself up for you to fear him? Your ex is a royally vacuous man, at least Jake has the smarts to treat you well. 

Still, he gets it. 

Who wouldn’t want you all to themself anyway? 

You’re Jake’s though. You belong to him and only him, you always have, and that’s the only reason, he thinks, that you’re in this mess. Had you not tried to love someone before him, perhaps you wouldn’t have that little journal filled to the brim with night terrors and body shakes. 

And as he ruminates on whether or not he should pay your ex another visit, this time without holding back, he searches the rest of your messages simply because he is entitled to it. 

Every text you have is from your family and him. Good. 

Your photos. 

Most of you and your family, one specific photo of you. Deep within your camera roll, pressing your tits together, hand grabbing one of them, panties sitting prettily on your hips. 

Who did you send that to? It’s old, your hair is different, but he’d like to hope it wasn’t to the man whose blood he’s currently craving. Still, he feels discomfort in knowing this photo was taken long before he loved you, and long before you loved him. Meaning, whether it was to your ex or not, it wasn’t for him.

His length stirs immediately still, so turned on by the image of you, the feeling of you currently against him, and the internal future promise to feel your ex’s teeth break against his fists. All of it is making his dick ache, as he chews the inside of his bottom lip and easily sends the nude to himself before deleting it from your phone forever. He’d better be the last to see this image of you, and the last to ever feel you hug against him like this. Then, he removes the sent message from your phone to hide the traces of it entirely.

You shift against him at this moment and he pulls back slightly to look at you, quickly closing out your apps, locking your phone, and tossing it to the floor. There, he wraps both arms around you, hugging you so tightly that you do wake up this time. 

“You’re so cute,” Jake mumbles against the top of your head. “Wake up so I can kiss you.”

You smile against him, shifting your head up and finding his lips within the dark room. It’s soft at first, and you assume he’s going to pull back, satisfied with it, but he doesn’t. 

It’s a quick movement, one that causes your sleepy groan to come out as a surprised yelp. He easily moves on top of you again, using his knees to spread your legs so he can lay between them, and his fingers locking into yours, pressing them into the cushion above your head. 

“Sorry,” He pouts, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.” He continues, kissing down to your jaw, and just below your ear. “I’ve been so turned on all day, please.”

You chuckle, feeling the tickle of his plush bottom lip meeting the sensitive pulse point of your neck. Pleased with how much he wants you, and even more pleased that you kind of…want this too. But, you’re not entirely ready. Even in this perfect atmosphere with the perfect man. Room shielded entirely by night, warm lips kissing you, strong arms holding you…

You’re still not ready. 

“Mm, Jake.” You hum, catching his attention and feeling him move his head back to look at you. “Not yet.”

And then you hear him let out a nervous chuckle, a sigh, and a whisper. 

“Alright, baby.” He pouts again. 

He moves back to your side and hugs you against him, trying not to seem as disappointed as he really is right now before you hear him speak again. You barely hear it, and you barely comprehend it within the comfort of his hug, but you do think you’ll remember it. 

“Then when?” 

Even as you fall back to sleep, you think about it. The fact that he’s already been so patient with you and that you knew it would run out eventually. You’ll lose him at this rate, and these soft arms vowing to protect you.

If anything, Jake has given you everything and you’ve given him nothing. If he finds out that you’ve already spotted your ex at work, he might really run away knowing that no matter what he does, you may never be ready to give him intimacy on a deeper level as long as said ex is around.

You felt how much he wanted you today right up against you. If you were any other woman, you wouldn’t have been able to pretend it wasn’t there. You would have touched him, you would have given yourself to him. 

And god, you want him so badly at the same time. The only thing holding you back is the fear of it hurting. The fear of regression, of dissociation. 

Yet, still, your dream state forces you to promise. You’ll be everything that Jake needs you to be in time, and he will be the only person able to teach you how to love again, the only man that will touch you in a way that feels good.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

part two

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[redflowersociety]

Saying “I Love You” for the first time. - Mouthwashing HC

These are written with the pretense that… THEY LIKE U BACK!! (Except for Swansea cause he’s married…sorri) THIS WAS SO PAINFUL CAUSE I WAS WRITING THEM IN PARAGRAPHS AND THEN… boom. 1000+ words lost. Never writing on tumblr again, rookie mistake. Anyways, enjoy!! Promise next post will be higher effort

Curly (Pre-Crash)

He’s quick to make a teasing comment on your unprofessionalism, confessing to your captain and all. But he’s honestly super flustered and trying not to grin like a kid on Christmas Day.

He takes a moment to sit with it. It’s likely that you two would have made advances toward each other for a while, as Curly is the type to take things slow if he’s serious. After a year of pining, you two were finally dating! But hearing those words from your lips brought him to such happiness because he knew you meant it unconditionally, without expecting anything from him.

After this instance, it became common practice for both of you to remind the other of your love. Curly had never been a “words-of-affirmation” kind of guy, but this was an exception. “I love you” turned into his favorite phrase, as it was the perfect way to release the tension building in his heart from just how badly he had fallen for you.

Curly (Post-Crash)

He honestly couldn’t believe that you could stomach looking at him, let alone still sit with romantic feelings for him. It brought him to tears when he heard it, unable to comprehend how somebody could show him such boundless affection and care. He wasn’t used to unconditional love.

He forced himself through the immense pain to slur the words back, and that’s when you began to cry. He forced it out again and again, until you convinced him through pleading not to speak. You knew how much it hurt him, so you assured him that knowing was enough. You didn’t need the reassurance.

Upon your return to Earth, Curly not only had surgeries to make his face a little more structurally sound, but he had attended speech therapy to make up for the years he spent in near silence. One of the first things he learned was your name, and then “I love you.” It brought you to tears hearing it again for the first time in so long. It was okay though, as he could hold you in his scarred arms as long as you needed to cry it all out.

Daisuke

At first, he thought you were being silly. “Aww, I love you too,” he giggled. It wasn’t until you spoke up again with a more serious tone that he realized, and you swear you’d never seen a man turn red so fast. He was so taken aback, asking you at least five times if you were serious and if you were sure. Once his nerves were satisfied, he returned the gesture.

“I love you too. Like a lot, a lot. Soooo much. Like, I really thought I was tweaking out or something from like, the way my whole body would go numb around you and my brain would get fuzzy-“ his drawn out explanation on how his romantic feelings for you overwhelmed him made you laugh. Within the next day, you two were dating.

Even before you two got together, Daisuke ranted to anybody who would listen about just how perfect you were. Now? Oh, man. Swansea has been really considering throwing him out into space after hearing about your confession for the twentieth time from his loud-ass mouth.

Anya

It was honestly a relief to her that you had said something first. She had been trying her best to stay professional, but seeing you all the time, your smile and laugh, the way you spoke passionately about what you loved; it made it harder every day as she fell further for you. You were one of the first people she grew close to on the Tulpar, and the first she went to when Jimmy… did what he did. The trust between you both was ample and strong.

She was quick to say it back, like it was a breath of air she’d been holding in way too long and needed out. You two laughed from the sheer relief on her face, teasing her thoroughly about it. She didn’t hesitate to grill you right back for being the one who confessed first. It shut you up pretty fast. You both agreed within the hour to start dating!

There were mixed reactions among the crew. Some extremely supportive, and then some straight up bitter and resentful (Jimbo). Jimmy began to treat you especially cruelly, and you refused to stand by and let it happen. Curly also helped to defend you when he could, seemingly coming to his senses about Jimmy’s behavior. You could tell that Anya felt intense guilt for your pain, but you assured her that it wasn’t her fault. It was your decision to date her knowing everything you did. You were happy by her side. She certainly cried over that privately, completely enamored.

Swansea

Swansea is married, so he knew to take your words in a familial sense. He didn’t return it, saying something like, “You’d better kid. With all I do for you.” But when you him on his lonesome in the utility room? Yeah, he smiled about it.

f you had a bad childhood due to your parents, Swansea could tell pretty quick. He never considered it his problem, but even still, he took you under his wing with Daisuke. He wanted to give you guidance in the ways he knew how. You deserved that, at least. He would go out of his way to help you when you needed, mostly with solving practical problems. He had never been the most emotionally aware, but he tried with you. He figured even if he couldn’t assist you much, it’d be good practice for his daughter on the way.

That’s not to say he never had any advice. He struggled to comfort, but he was quick to pick up on your mistakes and told you the blatant truth. You appreciated that, even if he was harsh at times, cause it helped you become a better person.

Jimmy

Your confession was certainly an ego boost, but nothing past that. He couldn’t believe that you could say something like “I love you” to someone like him without there being pity behind it. Even still, he returned the gesture because he knew that getting with you would make you so much easier to use. He took the opportunity.

The entire crew, aside from you two, were completely flabbergasted when they found out you two were together. Swansea was quick to ask “Why,” hoping to understand the reason behind such a horrible decision on your part. He didn’t get a good answer from you. Anya felt such pity for you, sure that a good person like you had been manipulated into that position. Even still, she couldn’t help you without putting herself in danger, so she kept her distance.

After the crash, Jimmy took out all his frustrations on you in private through abuse: sexual, physical, verbal, and however else he felt in the moment. Nobody was confused when you started wearing more covering clothes beneath your uniform. Swansea was the only one to really step up against Jimmy when he found that he was hurting you. You had to beg Swansea not to kill Jimmy for that alone, and even still, jimmy got a beating. Daisuke checked on you as much as possible, worrying constantly for your well being. Curly found your relationship to be one more thing to feel guilt over, as he once again couldn’t do a single thing to protect somebody from him.

[kamehamehamlet]

The Tumblr reblog sensation is returning. But like the Sayians or Shakespeare’s folios, it has the potential to develop in many forms.

Visit kamehamehamlet.com to be notified when we have more details.

Follow this blog for a peak behind the curtain.

And read on to learn more about the show, how we got here, and where we’re going.

Thank you for waiting just a little bit longer.

Revival Project FAQ

Who are you?

Hi! I’m Daniel Cole Mauleón (@writepictures), the writer of Kamehamehamlet. In 2015 I co-founded the theatre company Play-Dot Productions with KHH’s director Shalee Mae Cole Mauleón.

What is Kamehamehamlet?

Kamehamehamlet: Good Night Saiyan Prince, was an hour-long one act play, performed during the 2015 Minnesota Fringe Festival. It’s a staged retelling of Vegeta and Freeza’s battle on the planet Namek. Marketed as a Dragon Ball Z and Hamlet mash-up, the parody quickly shuffled off its weighted gi, revealing it was actually a Waiting for Godot spoof. After five performances, Vegeta hung up his helmet of spiky hair. Seven years later, K (@amokslime) wrote this incredibly gracious post on Tumblr, which inspired two people to reach out to me via Reddit to ask if I had a script or a recording of the performance.

I want to pause the semi-marketing voice and say a heartfelt thanks to K. Kamehamehamlet was brought to life by an incredible team of artists during a summer I’ll never forget. We got laughs at jokes, gasps at fight choreography, and we broke even on the budget (a Fringe miracle TBH). K’s post gave me the chance to revisit that show through someone else’s eyes. The mix of pride and humility it stirs up is truly indescribable.

If there is art which has changed you, and especially if the artist is still alive I encourage you to non-intrusively share that with the artist.

Is there a copy of the script?

Yes, I’ll speak more about that at below.

Is there a recording of the performance?

There was, but I genuinely lost the files. And that’s for the best, honestly. It was a last-second attempt, filmed from two cheap cameras (with different qualities and resolutions!), both at bad angles and with truly awful audio. Trust me. It’s better this way.

That said, I do have other archival footage from rehearsal's, tech, etc. that I look forward to sharing for those curious.

What’s next?

This is the question I’ve been asking myself over the past year and the reason it took so long to post anything. Especially since one thing I want to do differently this time is make sure that any artists involved are meaningfully compensated for their time and skill. However, I can’t plan without a better estimate of what kind of support we would have, and I didn’t want to share our intentions without concrete details. Right now, the best way you can support this project is by signing up for the announcement on kamehamehamlet.com and following us on Tumblr and YouTube!

The second best thing you can do is to share with others about this project, if I’ve learned anything reading through the comments on K’s post, it is that there’s a much bigger audience for KHH than I could have ever imagined, and you likely know at least one more person who would be interested.

And while I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver on, I will share that I’m planning on making the script available this year and I’ll be writing a separate post about that in near future.

Update 5/21/24: We've announced a staged reading for later this year! (Click to learn more) Update 6/11/24: We're going live on YouTube every Saturday through June to rally fans and talk about the project. This link will always take you to the upcoming stream. And this link will take you past recordings.

If you’ve read this far thank you so much.

Photography by Ann B. Erickson. Vegeta is played by McKenzie Shappell. Freeza is played by Cayla Marie Wolpers. Costumes by Sarah Noel Simon.

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[badkitty3000]

It's A Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

So, I got two asks today about Christmas stories:

**are you going to put your other Christmas story on here? Not trying to be pushy it's just easier to read them on here and I saw you linked others. I love your stories btw :⁠-⁠**

and

*I loved your Santa Five story. Would you be willing to do another like it? Something for the season? 🙏🙏🙏*

So, first of all, thank you so much to both of you! Wow! I was assuming the first ask was about this story? This is a multi-chapter one I wrote a year ago on AO3. It's a cross between It's A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol, with Five getting a visit from his guardian angel after he's not doing well without his powers in Reggie's new world, post-season 3 (written before season 4 came out). I will post it below.

In regards to the other ask, I won't be writing any new ones most likely this season, but I do have a couple other one-shots that were part of a series and that @kaybreezy3000, who is the co-author on them, and I are currently working on to make them into reader-inserts for tumblr. Those should be posted soon.

Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this sexy, sad, but sweet with a happy ending Five story! Have a wonderful holiday everyone! Cheers!

A Five x Female OC, 22k words, multi-chapter, cross-posted on AO3 from 2023

Warnings: Explicit sex, rough/angry sex, but also sweet sex, little bit of daddy kink

Chapter One: Candy

Number Five does not believe in God, or Heaven, or Religion as a whole. He knows what Klaus has told him, about the Void, and he knows he’s not lying. It’s just that Five is a man of science and logic, and he operates on proven theories and facts. He figures whenever he dies someday, if there is something to see, then and only then will he develop a belief system. He doesn’t really see the point in speculating about something that is inevitable anyway.

So, if someone were to tell him that guardian angels really existed, he’d laugh in their face. He’d ask for proof; solid evidence on which they could base this claim. And when they couldn’t produce any, he’d smirk in that knowing way, basking in the glow of always being right.

There was just one tiny flaw with not believing in the existence of angels, however, and that was the very real presence of the one currently lying naked in his bed.

🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️

The seedy bar was mostly empty, occupied by only a few sad and lonely patrons that had nowhere better to go. The lone bartender looked about as despondent as his customers as he mindlessly poured the cheap whiskey and beer that they asked for. A few strands of red and white lights hung over the bar, casting a reddish glow over the dirty countertop, and someone had set up a sparsely decorated tree in the corner. Somehow, those small attempts at cheeriness just made the place feel more depressing. The jukebox playing “Blue Christmas” for the third time in a row wasn’t helping, either.

Five sat in a booth near the back wall, the table in front of him wobbling periodically on its mismatched legs. He was on his fourth drink. Or maybe it was five. He had lost count and frankly didn’t care either way. He sat staring wistfully across the table, lost in his own dark thoughts.

Along with the number of drinks that he had consumed, somewhere along the line Five had also lost count of the number of years he’d been on the planet. He thought he was around 63, but then once you factor in all of the time travel, who knows exactly. Well, actually, he should know. He was the genius, or so he had thought. Calculating his age shouldn’t exactly be a brain buster. Whatever it was, he was still younger than he felt, which was about a million years old.

Not that it mattered, really. He was here now, in this timeline, with no powers and nothing much to show for all of the effort he’d put into trying to save the world. The world was still standing, he supposed, but how much of that was him and how much of it was Reginald?

Five years had passed since he and his siblings had been dumped into this fucked up, dystopian world created by his former adopted father. He refused to think of him as anything other than an alien in human skin that used them all as living batteries and abandoned them without powers. What a giant dick.

Having no idea where to go or what to do was bad enough, but to be suddenly without the power that had coursed through his body his entire life was a real fucking drag. It took Five at least six months before he stopped trying to blink away from things or teleport as a mode of transportation.

He’d narrowly missed getting run over by cars several times, and got his face beaten in more than once for running his mouth to the wrong people and then not having an exit strategy. He could still fight, but it was a lot harder without time and space manipulation on your side. Even now, every so often, he found himself staring down at his clenched fists in surprise when his body automatically tried to jump and nothing happened.

Not surprisingly, Five had found it difficult to adapt to normal life. Part of this was the years spent in isolation and not really having a good foundation for living a normal life in the first place. He had been told, on several occasions, that he lacked “basic social skills”, and was “surly” and “borderline psychotic”, whatever that meant. If people couldn’t deal with his attitude, so what? He wasn’t exactly dying to make new friends, thank you very much.

He and his brothers had managed to stick together, despite a rocky start. And as much as he hated to admit it, he did love them, even if they were astonishingly infantile and annoying. He no longer had a sister, or at least one that he acknowledged. Allison was off living her best life, probably laughing at all of them. But the rest of them, they were ok. And they were all Five had.

All things considered, the past five years had been decent to his siblings. They still struggled with having their powers stripped, just like Five did, but overall, they were doing much better than he was. Diego and Lila had started a new life together, and now had an almost five-year old daughter. The fact that the two dimmest people on the planet were responsible for another human life was astounding, but despite all odds his niece was actually a delight to be around and insanely smart. Luther had found Sloane, although it did take a couple of years. He never gave up hope, and eventually he found her, convinced her to fall in love with him again, and they were now married for a second time.

Viktor probably had the most successful turn-around out of all of them and had moved a few miles outside of the city where he had opened his own music school exclusively for trans kids. Five didn’t see him that much anymore, but they talked about once a week on the phone. As time went on, though, Five found they had less and less to talk about.

Klaus was still Klaus, albeit much happier. With no more ghosts tormenting him, he had found he had no reason to go back to hard drugs anymore. He still liked to grab an occasional drink with Five, but overall, he was sober and doing well. At least, Five assumed he was doing well. He actually had no idea what the hell he did for money, but he always seemed happy and well cared for. Maybe he had a sugar daddy or an old lady somewhere that took care of him. Five never asked and Klaus never volunteered.

Ben (the asshat version) was still around, but he kept his distance most of the time. He had tried to go crawling back to their dad at the over-the-top skyscraper that bore his name, but was quickly dismissed by security staff, saying that Reginald Hargreeves had no children. Ben had been obviously hurt and embarrassed, but since he never really considered himself part of the Umbrella family, he went off by himself. Occasionally he would check up on Sloane, though.

So, that left Five. There were only two things from his father that Five could say he was thankful for. One was that, on top of giving him his arm back, he had also added on a few years to his body when the universe was reset, so that Five had been 18 when they emerged into Oblivion Park. The other was that all of the siblings had found a bank card in their pockets, giving them access to individual bank accounts with a few thousand dollars in them, allowing them a chance to start a new life.

Five still lived in the small, crappy apartment he had found and rented back then. He could afford a better place now, but he didn’t see the point in moving. It was just himself there and anything with a roof over his head and simple furnishings still felt like a luxury. He didn’t have a job like the rest of his brothers, but he did have a steady income. Right from the start, he took half the money from Reginald and made investments that paid off nicely. The thought of working some dead-end office job at his age made him cringe, so he was perfectly happy to play the stock market from the comfort of his living room.

With no need for a car in the city, and no interest in a fancy apartment or house, Five had plenty of disposable income. Most of it was spent on his family, particularly his niece, who he liked to spoil as often as he could. He loved watching her face light up when he brought her a present and she was about the only person he would tolerate and enjoy hugs from. It made him happy to see her happy, with the added bonus of pissing Lila off by being her daughter’s favorite uncle.

The rest of his money went to his wardrobe. Afterall, what was the point in having a trim, young body again if you didn’t put in an effort to showcase it? Between his school boy Academy uniform, scrounging for clothes in the Apocalypse, and the drab Commission-issued suits he’d had to wear throughout his life, he was finally getting a choice in his style. And while that was a small victory in the scheme of things, his finely tailored and expensive suit collection was one of his only pleasures in life.

Five had tried to fix things, in the beginning. He had tried to figure out what Reginald’s end game was and how to take him down once and for all. Luther and Diego even got the taste for revenge, and for a while they were a small team. But after that first year, they determined it was fruitless. There was no way to get to Reggie, up there in his tower. He owned the city, literally. And without their powers, his forgotten children were no threat. Five never really gave up, though. He knew there had to be a way; he just couldn’t figure it out. Even now, it’s always there in the back of his mind.

With his family off living their lives as best they could, Five was alone. Which you would think he would have been used to by now, but this time seemed different. Five had gotten used to having his siblings around again. Even if they were obnoxious and had the collective IQ of a fruit fly. He had liked talking to them, and fighting alongside them again. He had even liked fighting with them again. After all, everything he had ever done was for them.

Five knew that he needed to open himself up more. It’s not like they didn’t try to have a closer relationship with him. But he remained closed off for the most part, often alone. He knew the reason, too. He was angry. Angry at Reginald for landing them there, angry at the Handler and The Commission, who had really screwed him over. Or maybe he screwed himself over, he still wasn’t sure how that worked. But most of all, he was angry with himself. And that anger was so big and so raw, that it was always threatening to burst out at any moment. So, it was just better that he kept to himself.

The same went for relationships outside of his family. They were constantly bothering him about dating or finding someone to settle down with. While they were all a little fucked up in the head, and maybe had some major daddy issues, Five knew he was different. He wasn’t blind to women, despite what his brothers thought. He’d even tried to date a few. But there was too much baggage, too many secrets. And that was not even including the mind/body age difference, which was a whole other complication to add to the mix.

Because of the constant turmoil inside, Five hadn’t let himself get close to anyone. The last few “relationships” he’d had were nothing but one-night stands that he’d barely remembered the next day. And even those left him feeling guilty and even worse than he had before. Because what would Dolores say if she knew?

He had worked so fucking hard for everything, and for what? One time when he was drunk, he had asked Klaus that same question. Klaus had told him that he had saved them; that he had technically achieved what he had wanted, just maybe not in the way he had envisioned. But Five had just laughed and poured another drink. They didn’t get it.

So, there he sat, alone on Christmas Eve, at a shit bar, drinking shit booze, and wondering what the fucking point was. He just couldn’t find a purpose anymore.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he groaned when he saw the caller ID, but he answered.

“Hi, Diego.”

“Hey, where are you? I thought you were going to come over for dinner tonight. Everyone is going to be here.”

“I can’t. I have plans,” Five answered dryly, his glass raised halfway to his mouth.

“Bullshit. You don’t have any plans, you just don’t want to come.”

“If you know that, then why did you ask?”

Diego sighed heavily on the other end and Five took another drink. Then he heard some shuffling and a small voice screamed into the phone, making Five wince and pull it away from his ear.

“Hi, Uncle Five! Are you coming over? Are you bringing me a present?”

“Grace!” Diego scolded. “Stop screaming into the phone, and also that’s not polite.”

The girl ignored her father and continued talking loudly with her mouth way too close to the phone.

“My mom said you’re being a grumpy twat. What’s a twat?”

Five couldn’t help smiling. “It means a really cool person.”

“Ohhh! Ok. Well, I hope you’re coming for dinner and I hope you’re going to come over and watch me open presents tomorrow morning, too. It’s Christmas tomorrow!”

“I know, Gracie, and I did get you a very nice present. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to be there tomorrow morning.”

“Why?”

“Because I might be doing something else.”

“Why?”

“Because I just am.”

“But why?”

Five ran a frustrated hand down his face. “Can you put your dad back on please?”

“Ok. DAD!”

Five pulled the phone away again before he went permanently deaf in that ear.

“Ok, here’s my dad. Hey dad, you’re a twat!”

Five laughed loudly, unlike his brother.

“What the fuck, Five? If we get a call from the school saying she’s calling the other kids twats I’m giving them your number.”

“Lila started it.”

“Jesus, you two. Anyway, are you coming over or not?”

“Not.”

“You’re kind of being an asshole.”

“This is not new information to you, Diego.”

“Fine. Well, Merry Christmas or whatever. Have fun drinking alone.”

“Thanks.”

They hung up and Five set his phone down, lifting his glass back up. He shook his head. “Fuck, I really am an asshole,” he muttered to himself.

As Five sat there, contemplating when he had become such a jerk, a waitress came over. He hadn’t noticed any waitress before, just the bartender. But she sidled up next to his table and he looked up.

“Can I get you something, handsome?”

Five blinked at her a few times. She was extremely pretty, with long, thick black hair, dark eyelashes and full, red lips. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught Five’s eye. She was dressed head to toe in what he could only describe as a slutty elf outfit. An extremely short, flared green skirt with red trim, and a tight red shirt that buttoned up the front. The neckline was so low and her tits were pushed up so high that Five was honestly perplexed at how she was keeping them from just spilling out altogether. The red headband in her hair was adorned with tiny bells that jingled anytime she moved her head. A brief vision of that headband jingling loudly as it banged against his headboard passed through his mind, but he was in no mood for company tonight. Not to mention, she was probably half his age.

The waitress smiled down at Five and spoke again after she received no response. “Did you want anything?”

Five looked back down at his half-full glass. “No, I’m all set.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing you want that I can get for you?”

Five sighed, annoyed with her persistence, and flashed her his best fake smile. “Nope. All good.”

She pursed her lips and put a hand on her hip. “What are you doing here on Christmas Eve? You seem way too classy to be hanging out in this dump. Don’t you have a family to go home to?”

Five looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I don’t have a family. I’m here to drink and be left alone.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then looked around the bar again. “It’s pretty slow tonight. Mind if I join you?”

“What part of alone did you not understand?”

Pretending like she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, the girl shrugged her shoulders and plunked herself down in the chair across from Five, her headband jingling. He gritted his teeth together.

“If you don’t have a family, then who were you talking to just now?” she pried.

“Are you always this annoying to everyone, or am I just special?”

She shrugged again, unaffected by his insult. “I just overheard you talking and saying you didn’t want to go somewhere. Was that your family? Did they want you to come over for Christmas?”

Five slammed his glass down. “Jesus! Look, I don’t know what your angle is here, sweetheart, but I just want to be left alone. Go bother someone else.”

“I don’t have an angle. And my name’s not sweetheart. It’s Candy.” She extended her hand out to Five, which he promptly ignored.

“Candy?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “That’s a little cliché, isn’t it? Even for made up names.”

“It’s not made up! That’s my real name. Candy.”

“So, what’s your last name, Cane?”

She laughed, moving her head so the bells jingled. It wasn’t a funny joke and Five wasn’t being nice to her, so he had no idea why the hell she was still sitting there with him and laughing, of all things. He looked down at his glass, which was now empty from when he sloshed it all over the table.

‘No, silly. We don’t have last names where I’m from,” she answered with a giggle.

Five chose not to address that odd statement. “Well, then, Candy , looks like I could use another drink after all. And since you apparently have no other customers at the moment, would you mind grabbing that for me?” Five picked up the empty glass, waving it in the air to demonstrate the emptiness as he smirked at the waitress.

She frowned. “Are you sure you need another drink?”

Five rolled his eyes. “You just asked me ten seconds ago if I wanted anything!”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about a drink,” she smiled, leaning forward so that her ample cleavage was even more on display.

As aggravated as Five was by her, his eyes were still drawn to her chest. Because of the buzz he had going, too, his look wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. She noticed and ran her hand across her collarbone, drawing attention to the delicious looking divot between her clavicle and neck as she brushed her hair off her shoulder. He tried not to think about what it would be like to run his tongue across that very spot.

Five leaned back against the booth, his arm slung across the back of it. “Thanks, but no thanks. Not interested.”

Candy pulled back in shock, even though she was still smiling. “I find that a little hard to believe, but that’s ok. My feelings aren’t hurt. As much as I would love to get inside those tight pants of yours, I can take a hint.”

Five leaned in again, speaking through clenched teeth. “Then if you aren’t getting in my pants, and you aren’t going to bring me a drink, I think our little conversation here is done.”

For the first time since she’d wandered over, Candy looked a little bit at a loss of what to do. Then she smiled again and stood up. “Ok, one more drink, I’ll be right back.”

When she turned to walk away, she glanced down at the black suede ankle boots she had on. One of the laces had come undone and she bent over, directly in front of Five, not even trying to hide what she was doing. Underneath the miniscule skirt, were an even smaller pair of red and white panties, striped like a candy cane. They were cut in a way that showed off a good portion of her ass and Five found himself staring yet again. He was also very glad she was not looking at him right then, because as he was caught in the tractor beam that was her tight little rear end, he licked his lips and let out a puff of air.

“Damn,” he murmured, hopefully quietly enough that she didn’t pick up on it.

She righted herself and looked over her shoulder with a grin before she set off to get his drink. Just as Five was imagining a hypothetical scenario involving those panties and his teeth, she appeared in front of him again, fresh drink in hand. When she handed it over to him, Five paused.

“Where did you..how did you get over here so fast?”

She shrugged again, and Five found that just that small action of her shrugging was really starting to get on his nerves. In her hand was her own drink of some sort and she took a generous sip.

“I’m a really good waitress, I guess.”

“Huh.” Five eyed her curiously as he lifted the glass to his lips.

Without any invitation, Candy dropped herself onto Five’s lap, her legs swinging to the side. Five gave her what he intended to be a very murderous glare, but considering her perky round tits were right under his face, it didn’t have the same effect that it normally did. He kept his hands at his sides, not touching her in any way, but he also didn’t push her off. Because her skirt was so short, he knew that the only thing between her and his lap were those little striped panties. He could feel the warmth of her thighs seeping through onto his. She may have been annoying as fuck, but he still had a brain and a dick, and sometimes those two things got very confused about which one was in charge.

“So, if you’re not spending time with your family tonight, what are your plans?”

“To finish this drink, stagger home, and pass out in my bed. If I’m lucky, maybe I won’t wake up until Christmas is over,” he answered.

“Well, that sounds terrible. Why would you want that? Don’t you like Christmas?”

Five shifted in his seat, the irritating jingling of bells now closer to his ears. “I used to.”

Candy nodded with a small frown. Then she placed a hand on his chest. “Maybe I can help you like it again.”

Five lifted his eyes to hers, raising one eyebrow.

“I’ll let you roast your chestnuts over my open fire,” she purred with a grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Subtle. But, even after that cute show you put on for me a minute ago, and this little stunt you’re pulling right now, I’ll be going home alone this evening.”

She stuck out her bottom lip, shiny and wet with lip gloss and her drink. She traced one finger down the side of his neck and over the buttons of his white dress shirt. “That’s a shame. I was really hoping you’d have a special package for me to unwrap later.”

One side of Five’s mouth curled up and his jaw twitched as he took another drink, trying to decide how drunk he was and how much of a hassle it would be to get rid of this girl in the morning. He leaned in closer, placing a hand lightly on the small of her back.

“Sweetheart, I would shove my package down your chimney so hard and so deep, you’d still be feeling it by New Year’s. But that’s not going to happen tonight, I’m afraid.”

She laughed and then nodded, like she hadn’t expected him to say anything less. “I just thought maybe I could remind you how wonderful Christmas is. And maybe how to enjoy yourself a little more and stop closing yourself off to everyone.”

With narrowed eyes, Five lowered his glass that had been midway to his mouth. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know a lot about you, Number Five. And I know that your family loves you and they wish you could have a full and happy life.”

Five’s hand flew up and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward and squeezing it hard.

“How do you know my name?” he hissed in her face.

The girl only smiled again. “I’m your guardian angel, Five.”

He clamped down harder onto her wrist and roughly jerked her towards him again. “Cut the shit. Who are you? What do you want? Do you work for Reginald Hargreeves?”

She had the audacity to laugh, those fucking bells ringing again. “Of course I don’t work for your father. Like I told you, my name is Candy and I’m your guardian angel. And I’ve been sent here to make sure you know what a wonderful life you could have here, Five. If only you could let yourself.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, or what you want with me, but you have seriously underestimated what I could do to you right now.”

“Oooh, I would love to find out all the things you could do to me,” she said, still not trying to pull her arm away or move off his lap. “I bet you could really put me on the naughty list.”

“How about this? If you don’t get away from me right this second, I snap that pretty little neck of yours?” he growled, digging his fingers into her wrist.

Candy sighed, rolling her eyes skyward and talking out loud to the empty air above her, gesturing to Five with her hand that held her drink. “I know, I know…you warned me. This is going to be a tough one, like you said, but I still think he’s hot, though.”

Five shoved her roughly off his lap and stood up, pushing the table back with a loud screech. “Since you know all about me, then you should know what I’m capable of. So, keep that in mind; because if I ever see your face again, you’ll get to witness it firsthand. Now get out of my way.”

He shouldered past her, out of the bar, and into the cold night air. All around him, just like every other day and night for the past five years, he saw the glowing signs bearing his last name. He paused and took in the giant Hargreeves Enterprises building that loomed over the whole city. The first few snowflakes of the night had started to fall, landing in his hair and onto his eyelashes. With another look back at the bar, he hurried off down the sidewalk. His apartment wasn’t that close, and he had forgotten his coat inside the bar, but he didn’t care. He needed to walk and clear his head and try to figure out what the hell just happened back there.

Five knew the girl had to have been sent by someone. But who? And why? Maybe she was sent from another timeline, here to stop him from doing something that will affect the future. But she didn’t say that. She said she wanted to help him, which made no fucking sense. Then, to matters more fucked up, how the fuck did she know how he felt about things?

After a few more blocks, Five came to a bridge that spanned over a large river. He stopped halfway across, nearing the icy rail and peering down at the roiling and freezing water below. It was windy on the bridge, and he bent his head against the falling snow. He remembered how a year ago, he’d stood in that very same spot, looking down. He had been drunk and in a dark place, just like he was now. He hadn’t gone through with it then, and he wasn’t going to do it now, either. After everything he’d been through and survived, it seemed like a pretty stupid way to end things.

Five huffed out a short laugh, speaking into the empty dark night. “Guardian angel my ass. If that were true, where the fuck were you when I was wasting away in the Apocalypse? At least then I could have had something else to fuck besides my hand.”

“I was there with you, Five, but you didn’t need me then. You do now, though, and you’re much too hot to just be flinging that body of yours over the side of a bridge.”

Five pulled the gun he was carrying out from his waistband, spun around, and pressed the barrel into the side of the girl’s head, clicking off the safety. She gasped a little, but otherwise didn’t seem afraid. She had thrown on a red, faux fur coat over her skimpy outfit, but it remained open, blowing in the wind.

“Why are you following me?” he yelled, a little more frantically than he had intended.

“I don’t know how many times I can tell you, Five. I’m your guardian angel.”

“Forgetting for a moment that angels don’t exist; if they did, I highly doubt they would look like you.”

She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “Why? What’s an angel supposed to look like?”

Five couldn’t believe he was actually having this conversation. “I have no idea, but not someone that’s dressed like they just came from working the pole at Santa’s workshop.”

Candy actually laughed, despite the very loaded gun pointed directly at her head and the blatant insult he had just hurled at her. “Santa’s strip club? That’s good! Oh! I bet it would be called ‘The South Pole’.” Her eyes flitted down to where Five had pulled out his gun. “And I wouldn’t mind getting my tongue frozen to your pole.”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! God, you are annoying!”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. But I’m very delightful once you get to know me.”

“I highly doubt that. I’m also not going to find out. Because, even though I could blow your brains out and throw your body into the river very easily right now, I’m not going to do that. So, I highly recommend that you walk away from me before I change my mind.”

“Oh, Five,” she said with a smile, running her hand down his arm. “You’re not going to hurt me. That’s not you.”

Five blanched at her words, lowering the gun. Even though he had liked the feeling of her warm hand on his arm, he shook her off and got in her face.

“I have killed more people than you could ever know,” he snarled.

“263.”

Five’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “What?”

“I do know how many and it’s 263.” She pointed up to the sky and shrugged her shoulders. “We keep track.”

Five didn’t know what to say to that. His heart began to race and his hand trembled as he shoved the gun back into his pants, trying to process the craziest thing this woman had said to him yet. She was right; he had kept track, too.

Chapter Two: Christmas Past

“Fuck.” 

When Five shivered against the cold, Candy opened up her coat, pulling it around his back as she stepped in closer to his side. “Here, let me warm you up.” She leaned in even closer and whispered next to his ear, her lips ghosting over his cheek. “You’re an amazing person, Number Five, and I want to show you that.”

“How?” Five’s voice came out soft, and he realized he was quickly losing his control of the situation.

Candy pressed her body into him, her arms circling his waist. When she kissed him, he didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he felt himself giving in to her and the heat of her hand as she touched the side of his face with her palm. The snow was still falling and landing over them both, but Five was no longer cold. The heat radiating off of her body was more than enough to warm them both. His eyes fell closed as he felt her pull away just slightly, her voice sounding both far away, and directly inside his head.

“Just relax, Five. Let me remind you.”

“Remind me of what?” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure he’d spoken out loud.

“When you were happy.”

Five’s vision started to fade; the snowy landscape around them shimmering like water. For a split second he thought he had his powers back. The sensation was the same. The same surge of energy through his veins, the pull of time and space on every molecule in his body. His heart raced with the possibility that his old self was back. But instead of appearing out of a portal, it was as if he stood still and his surroundings shifted into something new.

One second Five had been standing on a freezing bridge with Candy’s body pressed to his; and the next they were standing in the warm living room of the Hargreeves’ mansion. He was inside of his childhood home and Candy was holding his hand loosely in hers. None of this made sense and he looked to her for an answer. Instead of an actual explanation, she smiled cheerfully, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, and squeezed his hand.

“Just watch,” she chirped.

Five really had no other choice but to wait and watch, considering he had no idea what the fuck was going on. The main room of the mansion had been decorated for Christmas, with wreaths on every window, garland on the mantle above the fireplace, and a tastefully decorated tree in the corner. Looking up, he noticed that some of the trophy heads his father had collected had lights strung across their antlers and necks and he smiled. He actually remembered helping Ben string those up, with both of them wondering if they would get in trouble when Reginald saw. By some miracle, their father either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and the rest of their siblings had laughed and clapped when the oryx and wildebeest were suddenly illuminated with twinkling lights.

Five’s smile turned back into a frown when he realized how old that memory was. They had been around 8 years old then. How the hell was he seeing this now? Before he could question Candy, he heard the stampeding sound of multiple feet running down the hallway towards them, accompanied by loud shrieks of laughter. He watched in disbelief as the 8-year-old version of himself, along with the rest of his brothers and sister, came clamoring into the room.

Five immediately ran his hands over his face and down his arms, fully expecting his body to start sweating and itching like crazy. But he felt fine, and he didn’t feel the normal paranoia creeping in. Maybe it was the denial, though. He looked back at Candy, who was watching him, and she shook her head with a smile.

“Don’t worry. There’s no psychosis here. It’s more of a flashback or like watching a home movie. They’re real but they can’t see us.”

Five rolled his eyes. “So, we’re doing the Christmas Carol thing? How original,” he muttered.

Despite his suspicions of all of this, he went back to watching the scene in front of him. He remembered that exact Christmas Eve because it had always been his favorite. They were still too young to have officially formed the Umbrella Academy, and so life was a little freer than it would be in the coming years. Even though they fought sometimes, and formed alliances behind each other’s backs, that was all forgotten at Christmas time. Everyone was happy and getting along. Their mother brought in a tray of seven mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows and each kid excitedly grabbed one.

Five watched his younger self double over with laughter when Diego stuck a marshmallow up his nose and shot it into Luther’s mug. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, and seeing it was both heartbreaking and uplifting. He smiled, wishing so badly he could step out of whatever bubble Candy had put them in and warn his little innocent self not to ruin his life on a whim just to prove a point.

“I remember this Christmas,” Five said to Candy, not taking his eyes off of his family. “Klaus and Allison had written a stupid play called ‘The Unhappy Christmas Tree’ and forced us all to be in it. We performed it for our mother and Pogo on Christmas morning.”

His supposed guardian angel laughed. “And what part did you play?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“The unhappy Christmas tree?”

Five nodded and chuckled. “I had absolutely refused to speak any lines or sing their dumb song, so they made me stand there covered in garland with a star on my head while the rest of them performed around me.”

“I bet you were an adorable little tree.”

“I don’t know about adorable. I was a pretty pissed off little tree, anyway.” Five sighed and shook his head. “Of course, you would have thought it was worthy of a Tony award based on our mother’s reaction. Not that that was real in any way, but it made Allison and Klaus feel good.”

“Did your father enjoy it?”

Five snorted with derision. “Fuck no. He never would have lowered himself to actually spend time with his children. No, I’m sure he was either out with his high-society crowd, or up in his office planning our eventual demise.”

They watched in silence for a few more minutes as his young family laughed and played. They really were a real family once upon a time, all seven of them together. Here was the proof. Ben was alive and Five hadn’t even thought of time travel yet. They even included Viktor in everything back then. Five’s chest tightened with the emotion of a lost childhood and he turned to Candy.

“Make it stop,” he told her, his voice cracking.

“But there’s more to see, don’t you want to—”

“Now,” he demanded harshly. “Stop doing whatever you’re doing.”

She looked sad, the smile that she always seemed to wear fading and she nodded her head slowly. The time travel sensation was back and gone just as quickly, and they were back on the bridge with the wind and snow whipping around them.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Five yelled at her, yanking his hand away.

“I brought you back to a happy moment in your life. So you could remember what it used to feel like.”

Five wiped aggressively at his face, telling himself that it was wet from the snow, and stumbled backwards away from her. “Stay away from me, whoever or whatever you are!”

Candy raised her arms up and let them drop back down to her sides in frustration. “Five, please! I’m trying to help you.”

“Stay the fuck away from me! Understand? If I see you again, I will kill you!” he yelled into the wind.

He took a few more steps backwards, to make sure she wasn’t going to follow him, but she stayed where she was. Then he turned around and headed towards his apartment as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint.

Head down, Five pressed on for the few remaining blocks, not daring to look behind him. He didn’t know what had happened back there, or who that woman was, but he wanted no part of it. She probably drugged his drink at the bar and everything he had seen was a hallucination. That was the only logical explanation. Logic aside, it had still scared the shit out of him, and Five did not like being the scared one in any situation. He liked to be in control, and back there he had let himself lose control. All because she had pressed her body against his and kissed him.

So what if she was insanely hot, and had a nice ass and her tits were perfect? And so what if she was actually nice to him, even though he was being a dick to her? She was clearly insane. Even attractive people with amazing boobs could be insane, he reminded himself.

When he finally reached his apartment, Five hurried inside and shut and locked the door behind him. He stood shivering with his back against the door, breathing hard and flexing his frozen fingers to try and warm them up. He was still a little tipsy from the bar, but after what he’d just been through, he needed another drink. Striding over to his small, drab kitchen, he pulled out a glass, pouring a generous amount of bourbon, and tipping it back to swallow it in one gulp.

“Fuck,” he said out loud to no one, grimacing from the burn of the alcohol.

Before he could think what to do next, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, startling him back to reality. With a glance at the screen, he sighed heavily, but was actually grateful for someone else to talk to. If only to make sure he wasn’t completely losing his mind.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, Cinco! We miss you buddy, where are you?”

Klaus was just about as loud as his niece had been, and Five found himself pulling the phone away again.

“I’m at home,” he answered flatly.

“Well, what the hell are you doing there? It’s Christmas Eve, Fivey!”

“I’m aware of the day.”

“Then why would you want to be alone? Come hang out with us. We miss you!”

Five’s heart tightened just a little on hearing that. He missed them, too. A little, anyway. But he stayed silent.

“You’re not still mad at me for spilling guacamole on your suit jacket that one time, are you? Because it really was an accident.”

Five pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes. “No, Klaus, I am not mad about that. I just don’t want to come, ok?”

There was a pause. In the background, Five could hear the rest of his family being loud and obnoxious as always, with Lila’s voice carrying over all of them. “Klaus, don’t waste your time with that crabby old fart. Let him be miserable and alone. That’s clearly what he wants.”

“We’d really like you to be here,” Klaus said apologetically.

“Yeah, sounds like it.”

“Fivey, come on—”

“Really, Klaus, I’m fine. But as Lila said, don’t waste your time on me, because I’m not coming.”

“Can you at least tell me why?”

Five huffed angrily and raised his voice. “Because maybe I just don’t want to spend Christmas with you people, ok?”

There was silence on the other end and Five immediately felt like shit. Klaus didn’t deserve that. None of them did. Why did he have to be such a stubborn asshole all of the time?

“Yeah, ok. Ten-four, big bro. Have a nice life.”

Five watched as the call went dead and he slammed his phone on the counter.

“Fuck,” he said quietly. But as usual, no one was around to hear it.

He was still wet and shivering from the snow, so after a quick check out the window and a glance at his locked door, he went into his bedroom to change. He just needed to go to bed and go to sleep, that was all. Whatever drug that girl put in his drink would wear off by tomorrow, and maybe then he could think straight. Then maybe he would go over to Diego’s in the morning and apologize; if he wasn’t too hung over, that is.

After pulling off his soaked shoes and socks and peeling off his shirt, Five was in the process of unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly when he heard it. Those fucking bells. He paused, his hands on his waistband as he listened with his heart pounding loudly in his ears. There was no fucking way he had actually heard that. He must be going crazy. But then he heard it again, and he gritted his teeth together.

When he stormed out of his bedroom, there she was. Standing in his kitchen, helping herself to his bourbon, and looking like she had every right to be there. Her red coat had been discarded in the living room, thrown onto a chair. Five also noticed she had thrown her boots off by the door. When she saw him, she smiled happily and raised her glass.

“This is good! I see why you like it.”

Five wanted to scream or yell or do something. Something other than what he did do, which was to stammer incoherently and run his hands so hard through his hair a few strands were pulled out.

“What the…how did you…god damn it! How the fuck are you here?”

He looked over at his door, which was still dead bolted from the inside. If he had been freaked out before, that was nothing to how he was feeling now. Candy, however, only tilted her head like she had no idea what he was talking about and took another sip of her drink.

“Angels don’t need to use doors, Five. I thought that was common knowledge.”

She shrugged her shoulders, drawing his attention to the smooth skin of her collarbone again. He really wished he could stop thinking about running his lips over that skin and wondering how it would taste. He did not want this girl here. He wanted her to leave him the fuck alone. He’d been very clear about that.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” he spit out between clenched teeth.

Candy ignored him and hoisted herself up onto the kitchen countertop, wiggling her sparkly red painted toes. Her skirt was riding up far enough that Five was able to get another glimpse at those red and white striped underwear of hers. She made no attempt to try and hide them and she looked Five up and down, only just then realizing he was standing there shirtless with his pants halfway undone. She raised her eyebrows.

“Damn, Five” she exhaled quietly. “You can deck my halls anytime.”

Five’s eyes darkened and he strode over to her, muscles dangerously flexed, and he grabbed her around the neck. Only inches from her face, he hissed menacingly as he pressed his fingers in harder.

“I told you I would kill you if I saw you again, didn’t I?”

Candy clasped onto his wrist, but she didn’t seem panicked at all. In fact, it looked like she was trying to smile.

“You’re not going to kill me, Five.”

He tightened his grip again and he heard a small gurgle in her throat.

“What makes you think I won’t?” he snarled.

“Because I think you’d rather do something else to me,” she breathed out.

Five’s chest was heaving and his teeth were bared as he stared her down, his fingers not loosening from around her slender neck. Up close like that, he could see down her shirt and he realized he was standing between her legs, with the inside of her thighs brushing against his hips.

“Is that really what you want?” he growled as he leaned in even closer. “You want to get fucked by some stranger on Christmas Eve? Right here, in this shit hole apartment?”

He saw a small twitch at the corner of her mouth and she inhaled as best she could while he was choking her. Five could feel the intense heat pulsing off her body again, just like when they were out in the snow. She looked him directly in the eyes and nodded.

The one ounce of resolve he had left in him to not let his lust for this woman take over in any way dissolved immediately with that nod.

“Shit,” he cursed to himself in between his heavy panting.

Her head was slammed back into the cupboards behind her as Five moved his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her brutally, his other hand sliding roughly up her skirt and onto her hip, where his fingers dug into her skin.

Five leaned down and sucked a dark bruise on to the delicious looking indentation next to her collarbone. He heard her hissing inhale from his teeth scraping against her and he let up, grabbing a handful of her hair.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here, honey. Because I’m not the nice guy you think I am.” He kissed her roughly before pulling away again. One hand was still in her hair while his other traveled around the font of her skirt and he pressed his entire hand between her legs, pushing his palm hard against her until he heard her let out a little moan. “You are going to get fucked hard and rough, and I’m going to come inside of you because I don’t really give a shit about anything anymore.”

It hadn’t been a question; his drunk self just blurted it out there. He waited for her to tell him to drop dead, or to finally realize who she was dealing with and leave him alone for good. Instead, she reached down and pressed his hand in harder and smirked.

“It’s not nice to tease.”  

With a vicious smile that was more like a snarl, Five pressed his body into hers so that she could feel his hard on grinding into her thigh. He left more bruises over her neck as he eagerly bit and sucked at her skin.

“Get these fucking panties off.”

With one hand he yanked the tiny red and white striped underpants down, letting them fall to the floor while he started fingering her under her skirt. He watched with satisfaction as her eyelids fell closed and she tipped her head back with a low groan.

He wasn’t gentle with her, but she seemed to like it, and even in his inebriated state he knew what he was doing. Five pushed his groin into her again, rubbing himself against her while he stroked the soft, wet folds between her legs. She was starting to roll her hips into his hand, urging him on with the way she was panting, her chest heaving and her breasts pushed up against his chest.

When Five began finger fucking her, hard with two fingers, her moans came out louder and she thrust her hips into him.

“Ohhh…yes,” she whined, her hands clutching the edge of the countertop.

With another growling noise, Five pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping for air. He ripped open the front of her shirt, the buttons pulling apart and exposing her breasts. The bra she had on was striped just like her underwear. He pushed the shirt the rest of the way down her arms and let it fall off of her.

“Let’s see those tits you’ve been shoving in my face.”

Five reached around and unhooked her bra, throwing it on the ground. The sight of her perfectly round breasts displayed before him was too much and he let out a pathetic noise from deep down in his throat. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to fuck this girl and he needed to fuck her now. Candy watched, breathing hard, as he unzipped his pants the rest of the way.

“Fuck, Five…I knew you would have a big package to load into my sleigh.”

He was filled with nothing but rage and lust when he pulled her forcibly by her hips, shoving her skirt up around her waist. With one hand he began stroking his straining cock while the other grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back so she was forced to look at him. Her mouth gaped open and her rapid breaths were loud and rasping.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

She nodded as best she could with his fist in her hair. He shook her slightly and her head hit the cupboard again, the bells on her headband jingling.

“You haven’t shut up all fucking night, so don’t stop now, sweetheart. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she whimpered quietly as one side of her mouth turned up in a half smile.

Five let go of her hair and positioned himself carefully, using his hand to slip the head of his cock inside of her. She sucked in a sharp gasp at the same time that Five sneered in her face.

“I am going to ruin you.”

The first hard thrust all of the way inside pushed her back and she cried out while grabbing onto his shoulders for support. Five had her hips and ass held tight in his hands as he began to pound into her hot, wet core. Candy’s headband continued to jangle pleasantly each time the back of her head hit the cupboard behind her.

“Fuuuck,” Five groaned out.

“Oh my god you’re good at this,” she moaned. “Keep fucking me like I’m your ho ho ho,” she added with a smile as her head bounced off the cupboard in time with each ‘ho’; those god damn bells ringing.

“Shut. Up.” Five panted. Then he reached up and grabbed her headband, flinging it across the room, the bells making one final, sad tinkling sound as they hit the linoleum. “Jesus, I hate that thing.”

Candy’s laugh was quickly cut off by another desperate moan as Five banged into her over and over again and she clutched at his shoulders. In contrast to his apparent anger and viciousness towards her, he couldn’t help pulling her closer. He liked her impossibly warm skin and the weight of her body on his. He began to kiss her mouth, hard and hungry, sucking at her lips and tasting her tongue on his. She was delicious, like her name, and he kept going back for more until he was clutching her against him and feeling the soft skin of her cheek under his palm and her firm tits pressed against his bare chest.

“Whatever you’re doing to me, stop it,” he begged her as his lips grazed over the corner of her mouth.

“It’s not me, this time. This is all you, daddy.”

“Oh, fuck…I like that,” he groaned into her neck.

“I know you do,” she smirked.

He was still drilling into her hard and fast, and Five could tell that he was doing something she liked because she finally shut the fuck up. The only sounds he heard were the slamming of his body into hers and her whines and cries that were getting louder and more pleading. Her fingers were digging into his skin and her head was thrown back.

“Yes…please,” she gasped in between more of his voracious kisses.

He felt her release against him as she clung to his body with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands on his back. Her body seemed to give off a shimmering glow as she climaxed and she felt even warmer to the touch, her hot walls pulsing around his dick.

Five picked up his pace, slamming even more violently into her as he chased his own high. He felt like he wanted to break her, to crack her open with each thrust of his hips. He wasn’t even angry at her anymore, but she was the outlet for his chronic rage and he poured every ounce of it into her. It was unrelenting as he shamelessly used her as a way to get his rocks off and maybe a little relief from the constant ache of resentment he felt every day.

The aggression and ferocity kept building until finally Five couldn’t take it. He was barely aware of her existence anymore, just mindlessly penetrating her over and over again. His own orgasm came hard, and he did exactly what he said he was going to, coming inside of her with no warning. Sweating, shuddering, and with a final long, low grunt, he finished unloading into her and fell limply against her body.

“Damn it,” Five groaned sadly under his breath as he rested his forehead against his shitty cabinet door, her hair brushing against his cheek.

He was still breathing heavily, but he wasn’t pent up with rage anymore. He felt the inevitable shame washing over him like a thick, creeping fog. He had let his anger and fear get the best of him, and he had taken it out on her. When he felt Candy’s fingers threading lightly through his hair at the back of his neck, he flinched and drew back, pulling out of her and stepping away.

He immediately zipped his pants back up and pushed his hair off his face. He was having a hard time looking her in the eyes, but he watched as she hopped casually down from the counter to retrieve her bra and panties that had been thoughtlessly discarded on the floor. Once she had them back on again, she stepped closer to Five. He had no choice but to look at her.

“Wow,” she breathed out with a satisfied smile. Her eyebrows creased together when she saw his expression. “What’s wrong?”

Five wasn’t sure how to answer that question, considering it seemed pretty fucking obvious to him. He looked away from her again, turning back to the bottle of bourbon on the counter. With a shaky hand, he poured more into his empty glass. Then he felt her hand on his arm and he turned back around.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Five. I asked for something and you gave it to me. I know you were mad, but that’s ok. That’s what I’m here for. To make you feel better.”

“That’s what you’re here for? Jesus, what kind of fucked up thing is that to say?”

She sighed. “See, this is exactly why I needed to come down here. You think you’re this cold-hearted, uncaring person, but I’ve seen the real you. And you have so much love inside you, Five. You just need to figure out how to let people see it.”

Five turned his back on her, bracing his hands on the counter so that the muscles in his back tensed and flexed and he let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

“How can you even say that, after…” His voice trailed off, too ashamed to finish the sentence.

She placed a hand on his back. “Can I show you more?”

“More what?” he asked miserably.

“Well, even though one of my objectives tonight was to take a ride on your Polar Express, that wasn’t my main one.”

Five rolled his eyes at her stupid innuendo, but he also had to fight down the smile he felt creeping up. He turned to face her again, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And now I suppose this is the point where you show me another vision or whatever it is and I come to some conclusion that life is just one big fucking ray of sunshine?”

Candy shrugged her bare shoulders, standing there in just her skirt and peppermint striped push-up bra. If Five had been in more of a romantic mood, he would have thought she looked adorable. Instead, he just rolled his eyes again, thankful that at least that fucking headband was gone.

She took another step towards him, prying one of his hands away and taking it in hers.

“Don’t you trust me?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not even a little.”

Chapter 3: I'll Stuff Your Stocking

With another soft smile, Candy placed her hand on the side of his face, just like she had done on the bridge. She leaned in to kiss him, so softly and sweetly that Five couldn’t stand how much he loved that feeling. Just like he had gotten lost in the sensation of kissing her while he roughly fucked her, he was losing himself again. He didn’t care about whatever it was she wanted to show him. He wanted to keep kissing her while her warm body was against his. There was something comforting about it and he let himself relax into her.

When he opened his eyes, he and Candy were fully dressed again, standing in another warmly lit home, with her hand clasped in his. He shook off the strangely familiar feeling of teleportation and glanced around. He knew exactly where they were and he let out a disappointed groan.

“Here?” he asked, turning to Candy with a pointedly annoyed look. “Ok, I get it. I’m a big jerk that everyone hates. Can we go now?”

Candy shook her head with a smile, and Five noticed the fucking bells were back on her head.

“Sorry, that’s not how it works.” When she saw his unamused face, she laughed. “Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just carry them out.”

Five reluctantly turned back to the scene before him. It was happening in real time, on that same night, and he watched his entire family as they gathered around Diego and Lila’s small but cozy living room.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and he felt Candy squeeze his hand.

“So, why isn’t Uncle Five here again?” Grace asked, as they all took seats and she sat on the floor surrounded by presents.

“He is just very busy, sweetie, that’s all,” Luther lied.

Diego and Lila exchanged eye rolls behind their daughter’s back.

"I’m sure you’ll see him soon. Now, why don’t you go ahead and open up the presents everyone brought for you?” Diego said.

Distracted by the presents from her other uncles, Grace started tearing into the paper while everyone watched. Five felt a stabbing sensation in his chest, knowing she was asking about him and he hadn’t even had the decency to show up.

He and Candy watched as the little girl opened each gift, and each time she held one up to show everyone, Five would scoff, growing increasingly agitated.

“Barbies? Please. She doesn’t even like dolls!”

“She already has Candy Land! I know because I bought it for her two years ago. She cheats, by the way.”

“Pink fuzzy bunny slippers. Ok, Klaus, you’re supposed to pick out things for her, not you. Gracie hates pink. She likes purple.”

Five was getting more and more worked up as Grace continued to open her ill-thought-out gifts. He was gesturing wildly to the scene in front of them and looking over to Candy in disbelief.

“Oh for fucks sa—are you seeing this? Dr. Seuss books? Her reading level is much too advanced for those.”

Candy stood silently next to Five, watching his reactions with her usual smile. Grace finished opening her presents and thanked and hugged everyone politely. But Five could see she was secretly disappointed.

Candy finally piped up. “Too bad you aren’t there to give her your gift. You seem to know her the best.”

Five huffed. “Well, it’s not that hard to figure out what a kid likes. All you have to do is pay attention once in a while. Dumbasses.”

“What did you get her again?”

Five hesitated. “A telescope. I told her how I used to look at the stars every night when it was just me and Dolores and she said she wanted me to show her. I was going to take her outside of the city so we could see them better.”

Candy nodded. “When were you planning on doing that? Before or after your very busy plans of getting black-out drunk all by yourself?”

Five’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say? She was right. He had no excuse as to why he wasn’t there with his family and doting on his niece like he loved to do. Only that he was a selfish asshole.

“Alright, so are we done here?”

Candy shrugged, and Five noticed the bruises he had left on her neck and chest were gone. “That’s up to you. Have you seen enough?”

Five turned back to his family. Grace had already slipped away from the group of adults, leaving her new gifts on the floor untouched. He was about to tell Candy that he had seen enough, when he realized his siblings were talking about him.

“…couldn’t take ten minutes out of his busy schedule of tossing off to mannequin catalogs to hang out with his family?”

Five flipped Lila off, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“I don’t know, I feel bad for him. He’s been through a lot.”

Surprisingly, Luther was defending him. Then Klaus spoke up.

“I know, but haven’t we all? And we’ve somehow managed to get on with life.”

“Yeah, but we have each other. He doesn’t have anyone,” Diego added.

Lila snorted. “Well, he could have if he tried even a little bit. It’s like he loves being a miserable little shit.”

“I do want him to be happy, though,” said Viktor.

Klaus sighed and nodded. “Yeah, me too. It’s just too bad he can’t let himself. I’m not sure the old man even knows how anymore.”

After that, the subject switched to something else and Five was left standing there with a dull ache throbbing in his chest.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly to Candy.

She nodded and took his hand again. The room started to shimmer and then disappear altogether. In a second, they were back in Five’s apartment. Candy was back to wearing nothing but her skirt and bra, her red headband lying on the floor where Five had so rudely flung it. Five was wearing just his pants, which only brought back the shame he had been feeling earlier. Shame heaped on top of shame.

“I thought you said you were supposed to make me feel better.”

“I am!”

“Well, then you’re terrible at your job because I feel shittier than before. Maybe you need to go back and take a guardian angel refresher course.”

Candy laughed. Because of course she would. “I’m sorry, Five, really. But can’t you see how your family just wants you to be happy? And little Grace…she loves you so much.”

Five nodded and leaned against his kitchen counter, hands braced behind him. “Yeah, I heard. And that’s great. But I just don’t know –” his voice trailed off and he looked away from her.

“What?”

“I don’t know how.”

“To be happy?”

Five nodded.

“Five, everyone has the ability to be happy. Some people just have to work for it a little bit more than others. But I have no doubt in my mind that you could be if you just tried.”

Five flung his hands up in frustration. “You keep saying that! How can I try to be happy? That makes no sense. You either are or you aren’t. It’s not like I can wake up in the morning and say ‘Gee, I think I’ll be happy today!’”

“Actually, that’s exactly what you can do.”

Five sighed angrily, but stayed quiet. She obviously didn’t know what she was talking about, and was the world’s worst guardian angel. Amazing body; terrible angel.

“What do you think Dolores would say?”

Eyes flashing and jaw set, he glared at Candy. “Don’t talk about Dolores,” he warned.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you listened to her –”

“STOP! RIGHT NOW!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to make ripples in the bottle of bourbon next to him.

Candy put her hands on her hips, tipping her head back and exhaling loudly. A piece of her dark hair floated upwards from her exasperated breath. With her head back like that, Five could see the love bites he’d left on her neck, renewing his guilt.

“Wow, you are making my job difficult,” she spoke out loud, to him and to whoever else was listening above.

When she looked back at him, her normal smile returned and she let her arms relax at her sides.

“Ok, how about this? You take some time to reflect on things, while I go take a much needed nap in your bed.”

“A nap? Now?”

“Yes. You are very exhausting,” she huffed. Then she smiled and winked at him, reaching out to run a hand down his arm. “In more ways than one.”

As she sauntered past him, towards his bedroom, Five continued to stand in one spot, thoroughly confused. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she’d trip him up again. He had shouted at her, insulted her, and angrily banged her into his yellow, Formica countertop. And what had she done? Nothing. Nothing but continue to be sweet, and encouraging, and sexy. Damn, she was sexy. But why was she still here? He just didn’t understand.

After a few minutes, Five wandered over to his bedroom doorway. Candy was under the covers, lying on her stomach with her head on his pillow, on the side of the bed he normally reserved for himself. He tried not to let that little fact irritate him, though. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing soft and rhythmically.

"Why are you here?” Five asked out loud.

Candy opened her eyes slowly and smiled when she saw him standing there.

“What do you mean? You know why I’m here.”

“I mean, why are you still here? I’ve been awful to you. I threatened to kill you, I screamed at you. Nothing I’ve done has been nice. And you’re still here. Why?”

She propped her head up on one hand. “Those things don’t bother me.”

Five took a few steps into his room, closer to the bed. “They don’t bother you? How?”

“Because I told you, Five. I know you. The real you. And I know you don’t mean any of those things. I’m not scared of you.”

As he was mulling that over, he came and sat on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“I know.”

He looked at her, lying there in his bed, looking serene and peaceful despite everything that had happened. “Really, Candy, I am sorry. I’ve treated you like crap and you don’t deserve that. Even if I still think you’re a lunatic.”

She laughed and nodded her head. “It’s ok.”

With another, longer look at her, the sheet hanging loosely over her, he realized something. “Are you naked?”

Candy giggled and nodded. “All guardian angels sleep naked. We generate a lot of heat, so it’s much more comfortable that way.”

Five blinked a few times and swallowed. Apparently being sorry for treating someone like shit did not deter instant boners when that someone was a beautiful woman lying naked in your bed. He shifted, pulling at the crotch of his pants.

"I guess it’s a good thing that I got you as my angel instead of a 300lb hairy man.”

“Ah, that would be Todd. I actually fought him for this job. So, you’re welcome.”

Five wasn’t entirely sure if she was kidding or not, but then she laughed at his confused face, which made him smile in return. He still sat there on the edge of the bed.

“So, are you going to keep me company under these covers, or do you want to just sit there in your uncomfortably tight pants?”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

She nodded.

With a grin, Five stood up and shed his pants while Candy looked him over with an approving smile. He slid into bed, close to her so that he could run a hand gently down her back and over her tight butt. She was still lying on her stomach and she wriggled under his touch.

“What, no clever Christmas-themed sexual innuendo, this time?” he teased.

“I can’t think of any good ones right now.”

“Hmmm…” Five leaned in close, his hand resting on the small of her back. “How about I stuff your stocking and give you some of my special eggnog?”

Candy burst out laughing, burying her face in the pillow, before looking back at his smirking face. “I knew you were funny! See, you just need to loosen up a little.”

He looked thoughtful as he continued to trace soft lines down her shoulders and back with his fingertips. When he pushed her long hair off to the side, he saw what he hadn’t been able to before. Two angel wing tattoos, intricately drawn on each of her shoulder blades. He let out a soft laugh as he touched each one lightly.

“So, what did you have to do to earn these?”

“Nothing. Standard issue.”

“I thought guardian angels were supposed to do something special to earn their wings. You know, like every time a bell rings…”

She shook her head with a smile. “Nope. That’s just in the movies. We all have them. This is just my Earth version. My real wings would look a little too obvious down here.”

He looked at her dubiously, with one eyebrow raised. “Then what do you get if you successfully turn me into a believer?”

“I get to stay.”

“Stay where?”

“Here. On Earth.”

He let out a loud, short laugh. “Why in the hell would you want to stay here?”

She shrugged. “I like it here. You have the ocean, and the sun. Rain, trees, snow, buildings, cars, people. Oh! And the food! It’s all so wonderful!”

Now Five really thought she was bat-shit crazy, but he didn’t comment. She continued.

“It’s an incredibly difficult wish to have granted, though. That’s why they gave me you. Or rather, I chose you.”

“And why is that? What’s so special about me?”

Candy smiled coyly, shifting her body over so that she was pressing Five back into the mattress by his shoulders. She climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and letting the covers fall off of her.

“Because you, Five Hargreeves…” she rocked her hips into him and he groaned. “…are a very hard man to please.” She rubbed herself against him again, sliding her wet heat over his cock.

Five grabbed her hips and she straightened herself, allowing him to see her fully naked body on top of him. He let out a stuttering breath.

“Well, I’m pretty fucking pleased right now. Does this count?”

She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun in the meantime.”

After reaching up to cup each breast, rubbing his thumb over her stiff nipples and watching her throw her head back, Five ran his hands slowly down her sides. He loved the softness of her skin and the curves of her body; the intense heat that got stronger with her arousal. He desperately wanted to feel himself inside of her again, but without all of the anger and malice that he had projected onto her the last time.

“If you kiss me, will you make me see things again?”

“No. Not this time.”

Five nodded. “Then kiss me,” he whispered. "Please."

When she leaned over him, she paused for just a moment, an inch from his mouth, and then her lips met his as he closed his eyes. His hand caressed the side of her face and his fingers found their way into her long hair. This time there was no anger or violence; no screaming urge to drive her away or control her. He just wanted to keep kissing her, to touch her hot skin, and feel the weight of her body on top of his. He hadn’t realized it before, but it felt so good with her naked body pressed to his. There was something comforting about it. And he was so rarely comforted.

Five wasn’t sure when she had adjusted herself so that his cock was sliding inside of her again, but her hips were moving in a steady rhythm against his, her sex so hot and wet that he was positive he’d never felt anything so amazing in his entire life.

She moved her mouth to the side of his neck, still slowly riding him, as he breathed loudly into the sweet scent of her hair.

“Five,” she whined, drawing his name out as her lips brushed across his skin.

“Oh, fuck…” He knew he had a tendency for arrogance, but he never realized just how much he loved hearing his name moaned next to his ear while he was being fucked. But he could say for absolute certainty now that he would not get tired of hearing it.

His hands were on her hips again, urging her to ride him faster and harder, all while her chest remained flush with his. Their soft kisses had turned into hungry ones, and Five latched onto the creamy skin next to her collarbone again, sucking another purple mark onto it.

“I want to give you what you want. Just tell me,” he panted, his breath hot on her already flaming skin.

“I need you in deeper, Five. I want more of you.”

“Sit up.”

Candy took the direction, pulling herself away from Five’s mouth and neck, and sat up, sinking deeper down onto his cock. Five’s strong hands pushed her down further, harder, and he thrust his hips up to meet hers.

“Oh fuck yes !” she yelled, letting him roughly guide her body.

Grasping hands; fingers digging into hot, damp skin; the sound of the bed slamming into the wall, and her desperate moans and cries were mixing together into one erotic symphony as Five drove into her again and again. It was the most blissful experience he’d ever had. He couldn’t even remember why he was so angry towards her earlier. Oh right, she claimed to be a celestial being, wouldn’t shut up, and broke into his apartment. Well, right now he didn’t care about any of that. Right now, he watched her amazingly tight body rock back and forth on top of him, his dick buried deep inside her.

“You feel so goddamn good right now. Maybe you’re my guardian angel after all.”

She let out a breathy laugh and bit her bottom lip as she continued to ride him.

“That’s another reason I want to stay here…fuuck…the sex here is…oh god, yes, do more of that…amazing…ah shit, Five!”

With a long wail of pleasure, Candy tipped her head back, mouth open, as she came undone. Five watched her face, lost in ecstasy; took in her body that was writhing and shuddering on top of his; felt her tight cunt pulsing around him. The arrogant, asshole part of him that lived inside his brain was practically gloating over the fact that he was the one responsible for all of it, too. And, fuck, if that wasn’t the final push he needed to be filling her up with his cum again, groaning through a clenched jaw as he pressed his fingers further into her flesh.

Afterwards, they laid there in silence, Candy’s head next to his on the pillow as she smiled over at him and let out a contented sigh, stretching her body out long like a cat warming itself in a sunbeam. Five laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through his head. That old feeling of guilt was creeping back in again.

“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “For earlier.”

“And I already said it’s ok.”

He tapped his fingers on his bare chest, as one of the many nagging thoughts in his brain surfaced again. “Candy, how old are you?”

She let out a giggle that she quickly suppressed. “Are you worried that you’ve taken advantage of an impressionable, young woman that’s half your age?”

Five looked over in surprise, and then remembered that she seemed to know everything about him. Even things no one should know. So, of course, she would know his true age.

“That’s a bit of a concern of mine, yes.”

“Well, if anyone is taking advantage of anyone in this scenario it’s me with you.”

“How so?”

“We don’t really have years like they do down here, but if I were to guess, I’d probably be around 390.”

Five raised his eyebrows at her and let out a disbelieving laugh. “390 years old.”

Candy stretched out languidly again, showing off her body that could not have been more than 22 years old by the looks of it. After a yawn, she nodded. “Yep. I’m the ultimate cougar, aren’t I?” She laughed at her own joke.

With a shake of his head, Five let out a soft sigh. He was not even sure why he bothered. Every time she answered one of his questions, it only created more. In the matter of a few hours, he had gone through about every emotion in his inventory, and he still didn’t understand what was going on. Just a couple of hours earlier, he had threatened to kill this woman. He had held a loaded gun to her head. And now, here she was, lying naked next to him in his bed, as comfortable as could be. The even weirder part was that Five felt comfortable, too. He had no panicky urge to kick her out with some lame excuse; no sudden need to get up and shower, remaining aloof until she left on her own.

He liked her. He thought. Or maybe she drugged him again, who the fuck knows? Whatever was going on was strange, to say the least. He looked back over at her, and she had fallen asleep. If this little game of visions they were playing was going to continue, then that meant there would be one more. The future, he supposed. He laughed quietly to himself. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

He laid there for a while, thinking, and watching her sleep. He wasn’t tired, though, so eventually, after covering her gently with a blanket, he slipped out of bed. In the bathroom, he washed his face and looked in the mirror. He thought about what Candy had said. “What would Dolores say?” Well, he thought, what would she say? If he wanted to depress himself even more, he’d realize he could literally ask her right then. She was there, staring him in the face as he looked at his reflection. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the love of his life had been just a branch of his subconscious. Created for the sole purpose of not going completely insane. Five wasn’t sure that had worked entirely, though. Just look at him now.

“She’d say you’re being an asshole.” He spoke out loud to the mirror. “She’d tell you to stop being a whiny cry baby all the time and try to be grateful for once.” Five ran a hand down his face. “She’d tell you to stop drinking so much. And maybe be nice to people. Even if they are idiots. And to stop closing yourself off to your family.”

He sighed. Then he looked down at the chipped porcelain sink and smiled to himself.

“As usual, my darling, you are right about everything.”

As Candy slept, Five sat in the dark of his apartment, in his underwear, and thought. He had poured himself another bourbon, more out of habit than anything else, but then thought better of it and dumped it down the sink. He’d had more than enough to drink that night. So, he’d chosen water instead, and sat in the worn armchair in his living room, staring out at the skyline.

He normally hated looking out that window. When he had moved in, he had asked if they had anything on the ground floor, but the only availability was on the sixth. So, every day he had to stare out into the world that he supposed he was partially responsible for creating. In the very far distance, he could make out the obnoxious search lights that circled the night sky from the roof of his father’s skyscraper. He would listen to the sounds of the police sirens wailing continually, the constant roar of choppers overhead as they completed their nightly rounds. Each one of the vehicles were emblazoned with his father’s HE logo, since he owned the law, too. Most nights he would slam the blinds down so he wouldn’t have to look at it.

But Five was tired of being angry and resentful. He was tired of being a miserable, crabby old fart, as Lila had said. He was exhausted, actually. So, maybe it was time to take Candy and Dolores’ advice and move on. Be grateful for the things he did have. Be happy for once.

Chapter 4: White Christmas

Five was still sitting there an hour later when Candy came strolling in from the bedroom. She had thrown on one of Five’s white t-shirts, with it barely covering the striped panties she had put back on. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, and Five could make out the faint outline of her nipples through the material. When she walked over to him, she smiled and sat down in his lap, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Just thinking,” he mused, while looking her delicious looking body up and down.

“Good, you need to think. Thanks for letting me sleep, though.”

Five’s hand immediately began stroking her bare legs and not-so-subtly trying to grind up onto her tight little butt.

“I guess that means you have more energy now?” His hand crept up higher, onto her hip. “Why don't you let me do something about that.”

He gave her a playful nip to her neck and she giggled. He was starting to like that sound. Better than the bells, anyway.

“That is very tempting, and I can tell, or rather feel , that you are ready for another round of ‘Hide the Yule Log’, but we can’t do that just yet.”

Five frowned. “You can’t expect me to behave when you come in wearing nothing but my t-shirt and drop into my lap like this.”

She laughed. “I know, I’m rotten. I do like seeing you squirm, though.”

Five would rather be squirming into her underpants, but considering his earlier transgressions, he decided to behave. That didn’t mean he had to stop running his hand up and down her smooth thigh, though.

“You’re going to make me see things again, aren’t you?”

Candy nodded. “It’s time.”

“Please don’t make me do this again.”

His voice had come out soft and the words caught in his throat. He looked away out of embarrassment.

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re going to show me the future, I’d rather not see it.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared,” he croaked out. “I don’t exactly have a good track record with seeing future events. Or future versions of myself, for that matter.”

She smiled sadly, but nodded, tracing her fingers lightly over his lips. “I know, but it’s ok. You need to see it.”

“I don’t need to. I get it. I’m an old, ungrateful bastard that needs to let people in more and live a happier life. See? I don’t need this part. I figured it out already.”

“That’s not really how this works,” Candy argued.

Five let out a frustrated groan. “Who cares? I learned my lesson, end of story. Now, why don’t you give me my shirt back and we can do something much more fun.”

He leaned in to kiss her and she held him back with a hand on his chest, shaking her head.

“Later. Right now, I need to show you.”

Five inhaled a deep breath and swallowed hard, giving her a small nod of assent. “Ok.”

Another soft kiss, another pulling sensation over his body. When Five looked up, they were back in Diego and Lila’s living room. It was the same house, but things were different. Different furniture, wall paint, and light fixtures. He was about to ask Candy if she screwed up, but then there were voices and his brother and Lila entered the room.

They had aged, that much was clear. By how many years Five wasn’t sure, but there were deep wrinkles in their foreheads and around their eyes. Diego’s hair had streaks of gray running through it.

“We don’t have to invite him, you know. It’s not required.”

Diego sighed and put his hands on his hips, addressing Lila. “He’s my brother. We kind of do.”

“Well, by that logic, do you want to send off an invitation to good old Reggie, too? Just because he’s your adopted brother, doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Besides, do you even know if the little shit stain is still alive? We haven’t seen him in like, what? At least three years.”

Five balked at that. They hadn’t seen him in three years? How was that possible?

There was another long sigh from Diego and he shook his head. “I guess I just assume he is. The old bastard is hard to kill.”

Lila crossed her arms and looked at him in the pointed way that hadn’t changed in so many years. “And do you really want another incident like Grace’s college graduation?”

“No, of course not. But maybe he’s changed; maybe he’s better now.”

“Diego!” Lila threw her arms up and looked at him in disbelief. “The man showed up hammered drunk, interrupted the commencement speaker to yell at them about how wrong they were, and then proceeded to upchuck in the parking lot in front of all of Grace's friends! I highly doubt he’s just miraculously better now.”

Diego nodded in agreement.

“And it’s not like that’s the only time. Remember that Thanksgiving when she was in high school? He drank all the wine and passed out on the floor in the living room? All in front of her boyfriend? She was so embarrassed.” Lila’s voice softened and she put a hand on Diego’s arm. “You tried your best. We all did. But you can’t change someone that doesn’t want to be changed.”

“You’re right. It’s probably for the best that we don't invite him. I wouldn’t want anything horrible like that to happen at her wedding. Besides, I don’t think she will want him there, either.”

Five’s insides were churning and the tightening sensation in his chest was making it hard to breathe. He looked over at Candy, who was watching him with a pitying look on her face.

“This can’t be real. I would never do those things. Ever! Especially not to Grace.”

Candy shook her head sadly. “I know you don’t think you would. But it’s a slippery slope from where you are now.”

Five shook his head, refusing to believe it. There was no way he’d ever let himself stoop so low. Would he? And they weren’t even going to invite him to Grace’s wedding? He clutched at his stomach.

“No. There’s no way. This did not happen.”

“But it has happened. This is the future. Unless you do something to change it.”

Five was silent for a moment, taking that in. “Lila said they weren’t sure I was still alive.” He turned to Candy again. “Am I?”

“Well, see for yourself.”

There was more shimmering around them, the living room fading away as it was replaced with a different scene. As it came into view, Five could see that it was his apartment. Or, at least a version of his apartment. It looked like many years had gone by and it had fallen into disrepair. The paint was peeling on the walls, the window looked like it had been broken at one point and was now half-hidden behind some plastic held up with duct tape. The kitchen was falling apart, with cabinet doors hanging crooked on their hinges, and the faucet dripping continually into the old, stainless-steel sink.

The television was on, tuned to some news station. The anchor was talking about the upcoming New Year’s Eve gala that was held every year inside Reginald Hargreeves’ tower. Only the very elite of the city were invited, of course, but that’s not what Five was focusing on. It was the date. He was looking twenty years into the future.

If that were true, that meant he’d been living in the same shit hole for two decades? And it really was a shit hole now. The place looked like it should be condemned.

Just as Five was about to question Candy, there was a groaning sound coming from the beat up couch in front of the tv. A figure slowly hoisted themselves up and ran a hand through their graying hair. He couldn’t see his face, but Five was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“Shut the fuck up! Fucking Hargreeves bullshit.”

Five watched as his older self grumbled out loud at the tv, standing up to turn in their direction. His heart sank. How many times was he going to have to face his future self? Of all the versions so far, however, this one might have been the worst. He should have only been in his early forties, but he looked about eighty. Even his 100-year-old self had looked marginally better.

With thinning hair and a prematurely aged face that looked like it hadn’t been shaved in several days, the older version stumbled into the kitchen, scrounging in the cupboards. Five noticed that his clothes were wrinkled and stained, like he’d been wearing them for days at a time. In fact, he looked like he hadn’t showered in about that long, too. His expensive clothes that he was normally proud of were now thread bare; his dress shirt looking more yellow than white.

Once he finally found the bottle of cheap whiskey he had been searching for, his older self poured a large glass and then wandered back to the couch again.

Five looked to Candy, his face horror-struck. “This can’t be…how could I live like this?”

“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?”

Five nodded guiltily. The other version was mumbling out loud to himself and Five listened to his own voice croaking out of the pile of detritus that was his older body.

“Yes, I know what you said, but this is the last one for the night, I swear.” There was a pause. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. This is only my second one.” Another pause and a heavy sigh. “Alright, Dolores. Whatever you say.”

Holy shit. He was back to talking to Dolores? And he didn’t even have a solid, mannequin version of her to at least give some realness to it. He was just mumbling to himself; like a crazy person.

Five closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to erase this vision from his memory, but of course that didn’t work, and he turned to Candy, his eyes wide with fright.

“Stop it. Please, I can’t stand this. This can’t be me. Change it back,” he pleaded.

“I can’t do that, Five. Only you can change it.”

“Fine. I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry for all the ways I’ve fucked up over the years, and all of the horrible things I’ve done. I’m sorry!”

She shook her head, the bells on her headband jangling sadly. “I know you’re sorry. But that’s not enough to change things.”

“Well then what the fuck! I…I can’t let this happen. It’s such a…”

“What, Five?”

Five’s eyes filled with tears and his voice broke. “A fucking waste of a life! After everything I have done. I did not spend 45 years in a fucking wasteland to save my family and the world, just to end up as a sad, old drunk all alone. I worked too hard for it to end like this. Why didn’t I appreciate what I had? Why did I pull away from my family?” He shook his head. “No, this is not going to happen. I refuse to go out like this. I have to make it right. Starting now, I’m going to make this right.”

Candy smiled warmly and pulled him in close. She kissed his cheek and put her arms around his shoulders. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

When they were back in Five’s apartment, even though it looked the same as usual and in better shape than the future version, he still couldn’t help but cringe. He needed to find a new place, and soon, that was for certain.

Candy was not on his lap anymore, but sitting across from him in another chair. She was still wearing his t-shirt and nothing else, but Five wasn’t really focused on that at the moment. She leaned forward, her forearms resting on her legs.

“Please tell me we’re done. That was horrible and I never want to see that again,” Five begged.

“You won’t have to. As long as you change and don’t let yourself become that version.”

He nodded and exhaled a long and shaky breath. “I won’t. I’m going to stop being such a prick and start living my life.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to forget everything he’d seen, and then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still the middle of the night. Too early, or late, to really do anything now. But first thing in the morning, Christmas morning, he was going to start making things right. Five looked back to Candy.

“Even though I hated all of that, you helped me see what I really needed to see. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Does this mean you believe in guardian angels now?”

Five narrowed his eyes, a smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. “I guess I have to, don’t I? I have no other explanation.”

Candy laughed and clapped her hands together, then pumped her fists in the air. “Yes! Ha! I knew I could make you believe!”

Five laughed along with her, that horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach starting to fade away. Then he quieted again and looked at her thoughtfully.

“So, does this mean you’re leaving now? Now that your job is done?”

She shrugged, and Five found he didn’t find that little mannerism nearly as annoying as he used to.  “Yes, eventually. But I don’t have to leave this very minute.” She smiled and spread her legs just enough so that Five could get a glimpse of the red and white stripes between them. “Why? Have something in mind?”

“Well, I figured I have a few more hours before I have to start being a better person. Might as well make the most of it.”

Candy stood up and crossed over, plopping herself in his lap again, making sure to wiggle her butt over just the right spot to get him hard again.

“And just what naughty thing were you thinking?”

Five smiled slyly. “It is after midnight; technically Christmas.” He leaned in to kiss her neck, not hard like before, but gently; trailing his lips over her hot skin, teasing, until he heard her make a little sighing noise and she shifted in his lap, rubbing against the growing tent in his boxers. His hand crept back up her leg and onto her hip, where he slipped one finger into the waistband of her underwear. “And since you’re sitting here on my lap, grinding your cute little ass into my crotch, why don’t you go ahead and tell Daddy what you want?”

Her breath hitching in her throat, Candy closed her eyes for a moment, teeth digging into her bottom lip before looking back at him, her breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. She grazed a finger down his neck and over his chest.

“Will you give me anything I want?” she purred with a smile.

“Anything.”

“Then I want you to bend me over…” she kissed his lips softly, “…grab my hips…” another kiss, “…spread me open…” one bite under his jaw, “…and give me a White Christmas, Daddy .” With the last word she pressed into him harder.

“Jesus Chri—” he started to moan, but he was cut off.

She was kissing him. Slow and deep, lacing her fingers through his hair while he swallowed each whimper and moan she breathed into his mouth. Five couldn’t stop his hands roaming over her body, her skin like hot silk under his fingers. Every part of her was a piece of heaven, maybe even literally, and he wanted to commit every curve to memory. She was still kissing him when he stood, picking her up with him, and carried her into his bedroom. When he placed her on his bed, she immediately yanked his stolen t-shirt over her head, propping herself on her elbows and displaying her flawless breasts.

After removing his own underwear, Five climbed onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. Leaning over her, his hands on either side of her and holding himself up, she was forced onto her back.

“I’m going to give you what you asked for, sweetheart, don’t worry. But first, I need to get a taste of this stunning body of yours. See if you live up to your name.”

He leaned in, like he was going to kiss her, stopping just before their lips met, and then he pulled away again. Flashing an overly-confident smirk, he moved south, massaging each breast and taking turns with each side; licking and sucking at each perfect nipple. Five could have spent an entire day just worshiping those soft mounds of flesh. He’d always considered himself a titty man. Tits and ass; that was his thing. As long as a woman had a nice rack and a tight ass, Five didn’t really care what else was going on with them. And fuck, did Candy have a nice one of each.

After a particularly hard bite onto her sensitive nipple, Candy gave a small shriek, but that only spurred Five on further. His bites got harder and he sucked at her skin until he left more marks all over her chest. With each one, though, her back would arch off the bed and she’d push her hips up into him.

“Five…” she pleaded softly.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get there. But these gorgeous tits are just too good to ignore.”

She threaded her fingers through his hair as he continued to blissfully torture her. “Please, just…I want your partridge in my pear tree!”

Five rolled his eyes and ignored her remark.

Candy hissed sharply as his teeth dragged across an already bruising mark. “Load up my one-horse open sleigh.”

He resisted the urge to laugh, and instead gave her a hard pinch on her already abused nipple.

“Ah!” she cried, digging her nails into his scalp. “But I need you! Stuff my Christmas turkey, frost my gingerbread house, eat my fruitcake, mmmph!”

Five clapped a hand over her mouth and raised himself up so he could look down on her face, his lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance. He could feel her smiling beneath his palm.

“Candy?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

After she nodded, he released his hand, and thankfully she did shut up for once. He knelt in front of her again, frowning as he started pulling her panties down her hips.

“And don’t ever wear these again. They just create more work for me.”

He shoved them the rest of the way off and flung them over his shoulder with a scowl as she laughed. Five took a moment to appreciate the fact that this amazingly stunning woman was stretched out before him, completely naked, and waiting for him to fuck her. She was dying for it, too. Chest heaving and hips twitching, it was a small miracle that Five wasn’t shoving his dick into her already. But he really did want to know what the rest of her tasted like.

When he ran his tongue up her wet slit, she thrusted up so hard that he had to forcefully hold her hips down so he wouldn’t get bucked off.

“Oh shit!” she cried out, her hands clutching the sheets underneath her as her head flung back. “Five, oh my god, that’s –”

She was cut off by her own high-pitched whine as Five sucked at her folds and her clit, using his tongue to penetrate her and hungrily lap up the slick wetness that was running out of her. He didn’t have much experience in eating anyone out, since most of his one-night stands got right down to the fucking with not much time for foreplay. Even though he was making it up as he went along, it seemed to be working in his favor, judging by the sounds she was making and the strength it took for him to hold her writhing body down.

When he felt her getting close; when she was panting loudly and moaning his name, he started drawing it out longer. He slowed down his pace, no longer devouring her, but licking languidly at her hole and pausing to kiss her inner thighs. He smiled when he heard the disappointed groan.

“Five…”

He stopped altogether and raised his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile on his wet and shiny lips.

“Yeah?”

She exhaled loudly and tried to buck up into him again, but he was still holding her down. “Damn it…don’t stop now!”

“Why? Did you like that?”

“Fuck…Five, please.” Her desperate whine was on the verge of turning into an all out sob.

“Well, since you asked nicely.”

It didn’t take long after he was back on her before her moans turned into loud screams and her back was arching off the bed again. Five worked her into more and more of a frenzy as he felt her pulsing against him, coming against his mouth and soaking the sheets underneath them. He had started grinding himself into the mattress as his own arousal peaked, and Five was very afraid of blowing his load with his dick not even touching her.

He sat up and looked at her lying there with her hair in a mess around her, her chest flushed pink and littered with his bites and bruises, gasping for air from the intense orgasm that he gave her. Holy fuck, he needed to come.

Five moved up, straddling her waist as he clutched his straining dick in his hands.

“I want to fuck your tits,” he breathed out desperately.

Candy nodded eagerly and Five positioned himself so that his cock nestled in the valley of her cleavage and she pushed her breasts together, sheathing him in her warm skin.

“Oh fuck, yes,” he groaned out.

Straddling her chest, Five started thrusting hard and fast, all while he looked down so he didn’t miss out on the pornographic visual. His dick was so hard that the leaked pre-cum that was dripping steadily out smeared over his shaft and between her tits. Candy was massaging and squeezing them around him, running her thumbs over her nipples as he rutted into her. She was so soft and tight at the same time, and the feeling was so fucking good. So much better than when he used to try and use Dolores in the same manner. Back then, he’d had to envision a real live woman beneath him, but now it was very real and he was going to lose it in about ten seconds.

Not wanting to risk it by coming in her face, Five backed off, slipping out of her. Still kneeling over her, he grasped his rock-hard dick and jerked himself vigorously. He tipped his head back with a groan while he worked his fist over himself faster and faster until he was just on the precipice.

“Fuck, I’m going to come on you,” he groaned, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

He gave her the White Christmas she had asked for, painting her perfect tits with ropes of cum, covering her until it was sliding down her sides and onto the bed. Five continued to work himself over, each spasm seeming to create another spurt of semen that was strewn across her chest. When he was finally spent, he let go of himself and climbed off of her, flopping on his back in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Holy shit,” he murmured between ragged breaths.

After a minute, he looked over at Candy, who had propped herself up on her elbows and was watching him. The sight of her covered in his dripping load was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and if he had a few more minutes, he could probably use that image to get hard again. But that wouldn’t be very nice to leave her like that, and even he wasn’t that much of a selfish asshole.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with a washcloth, Five helped to clean her up.

“Sorry. I guess I didn’t really ask if that was ok.”

“No, you didn’t, but that’s ok. I like when you take charge.”

Five gave her a sexy smirk, but then it faltered with the realization that she was probably going to leave him soon.

“Do you have to go now?”

Candy hesitated, but then she shook her head. “Not quite yet. I can stay for a little longer…if that’s what you want.”

Five nodded, then pulled her into him, trapping her in his arms, her back flush with his chest as they laid side by side. Candy wiggled in closer and pressed her ass against him.

“Stay as long as you can, ok?” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Ok.”

With his free hand, he traced his fingers down her side and over her hip and thigh. She let out a soft sigh and relaxed into his chest. Five kissed her neck and her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me.”

“This time I mean for everything. Thank you for making me see what I couldn’t before. But also, thank you for just being here. I didn’t realize how lonely I had become.”

“You’re welcome. And…I wish I could stay.”

He gave her another kiss to her neck and she closed her eyes. “Why can’t you?”

“There are rules. And I have to go back.”

“Will you ever come back?”

“If everything goes the way I want, then yes.”

Five pushed his groin that was already starting to harden again, into her firm backside. Candy let out a tiny moan and pushed back.

“Then I hope you find me,” he said softly against her skin.

“I think it would be very hard to stay away from you.”

He could feel her skin getting warmer again, and he moved so that his cock slid between her legs, brushing against her folds that were already wet for him.

His mouth sucked another mark onto the nape of her neck as he lowered his voice and his hand slid down to squeeze the inside of her thigh. “Do you want me again?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. She pressed backwards, slick running down her inner thighs and wetting his dick as he rubbed between them.

“God, I could keep fucking you all day,” he groaned.

“Just fuck me for as long as we have.”

With a deep growl, Five pulled her hard against him, as she lifted her leg and rested it on top of his. He inhaled sharply when she reached back and grabbed his cock, guiding it into her dripping cunt and thrusting backwards so that his full length was completely inside of her.

“Five,” she moaned sweetly as he rocked into her.

He kept up the slow pace, pulling at her hip and kissing any area of exposed skin that he could reach. He had wanted to hold himself back; to draw it out as long as possible. He had wanted to drink in the scent of her hair and trail his mouth over her soft skin. But then she moaned his name again.

Digging his fingers into her hip, he hissed next to her ear.

“Be a good girl and let Daddy fuck you hard, ok sweetheart?”

With the shamelessly loud groan that she released as her back arched against him, he really didn’t need an answer, but he waited for one anyway.

“Fuck yes. Give it to me.”

Five pulled out and roughly flipped her over so that she was on her stomach and he positioned himself behind her. Grabbing her hips and jerking them backwards, he lined up with her entrance again and shoved himself inside of her. With teeth clenched and jaw set, he got to work. Banging into her ferociously, his hips slapping against her as he railed into her as hard as he could. He didn’t need to feel guilty. She wanted it like this, and he wasn’t doing it out of rage. Anger wasn’t driving him this time, just pure animalistic lust and feral instinct.

He continued pounding into her and they were both lost in their own highs. Candy was moaning loudly, begging for more and clutching at the sheets underneath her. Five was grunting through gritted teeth with the effort he was putting in to fucking her; fueled even more by the hypnotic visual of her angel wing tattoos flexing and twisting as she braced herself against his powerful thrusts. After a few minutes, it was clear that neither one of them were going to be able to take much more.

With another long whine, Candy reached down to rub her clit while Five slammed into her. He could feel her hand every time he thrust forward and his balls slapped against it.

“Five…I can’t…I’m going to come!”

“Go ahead, baby. Come on my dick while you touch yourself.”

“Oh fuuuck, Five!”

When he heard her scream, he came with a loud growl, holding her flush to his body as he pumped one more load inside of her. He could feel her contracting around him as his hips stuttered against her backside. Candy’s legs were shaking and Five pulled out so she could lie down flat, her hair covering her face as she sucked air into her lungs. He sat back on his knees and gave her a playful slap on the ass before lying down next to her.

As they both laid there, trying to steady their breathing, a few minutes passed in silence. Then Five heard her giggle under her curtain of hair. When he pushed it out of the way, she was grinning up at him

“When I think about you, I touch my elf. ”

Five shook his head with a smile. “Have I told you how annoying you are?”

“You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he flipped her hair over her face so she was hidden again. “There. Much better.”

Chapter 5: It's A Wonderful Life

In the early morning hours, Five finally drifted off, warm and content, with his arm flung across Candy’s stomach. She never let him know before she left, but in the morning when he woke, there was no sign of her. He didn’t know why he was surprised; he knew she wasn’t going to stay for much longer. But when he walked into the living room of his apartment, there was no red coat. No black boots by the door. And, most notably, no red headband. All evidence of her existence was gone. All except for the lingering scent of her hair on his pillow and one tiny bell that he found on the kitchen floor and slipped into his dresser drawer.

He was sad she was gone, but not in a way that felt permanent or oppressive. She had shown him there was a lot more to live for, and it needed to start with himself. He didn’t need her with him to make the changes he needed to.

It was still early, but he knew Grace would have woken up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, so he was sure Diego and Lila were up. The rest of his family would probably sleep in a little but then they would be over at their house again, too.

After a shower, Five changed and grabbed the wrapped present he had for Grace on the way out. He stopped by a bakery that happened to be open that morning, and then caught a cab to Diego’s. When he knocked on the door at 7am, he tried not to laugh when his brother opened the door. Diego was still in his bathrobe, looking disheveled and sleep deprived, a cup of coffee in his hands. But the look on his face when he saw Five standing there was priceless. He actually poked his head out of the door and looked around him, as if there might be some kind of prank being played on him and there were cameras around to film his reaction.

“Five, what are you doing here? Are you still drunk from last night?”

“No! I’m here to watch Grace open her presents. And to hang out with you guys, too, if you’ll let me.”

Diego frowned like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was hearing. He looked Five up and down, taking in his clean-cut appearance, and coming to the conclusion that he must not have come directly from a bar.

“So, can I come in, or do you want me to stand out here all day freezing my nuts off?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah…sure, come on in. Grace and Lila are in the living room.”

He stepped aside to let Five in, still not completely believing what he was seeing. After a moment though, he smiled and clapped Five on the back.

“I’m glad you’re here. We missed you yesterday.”

Five nodded. “I’m sorry about that. I won’t miss any more family things from now on.”

Five handed off the box of pastries he had picked up and headed into the room where Lila and Grace were gathered around the Christmas tree. When Grace saw her uncle, she let out a little screech and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his waist in a big hug.

“Uncle Five! I knew you would come! My mom said you weren’t going to, but I knew you would!”

Five laughed, then he looked at Lila who was staring at him with the same expression Diego had given him.

“Merry Christmas, Lila,” Five said with as much of a smile as he could manage, and only a hint of snark. He could learn to be nice, but he still had his limits.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said slowly, her eyebrows creased together in confusion.

Five didn’t even respond when he heard her add “wanker” under her breath.

“Is that my present?” Grace asked when she eyed the large box that Five was holding.

“It is. Do you want to open it? I think you’ll like it.”

She nodded and sat on the floor as Five handed it to her and then joined Diego on the couch. They watched as the little girl ripped open the paper and gasped.

“A real telescope?!”

Five nodded, smiling. “Yep. Now we can go look at the stars together.”

Grace looked up at him with her little chubby face and wide, dark eyes. Then she jumped up from the floor and ran to Five, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you! I love it so much!” As Five hugged her back, Grace pecked his cheek with a kiss. “This is my favorite present and you’re my favorite person.”

Five grinned and gave her a kiss on the top of her head “You’re my favorite person, too, Gracie.”

As she returned to the telescope and busied herself with getting it out of the box, Five heard Diego sniffing next to him. Lila groaned.

“Oh my god, are you crying , Diego?”

“No! I’m not crying. It’s just…dry in here…and I have allergies…and I’m probably getting a cold.”

“Uh-huh. Ok, babe. Sure.” She rolled her eyes, but she was obviously just as happy as he was.

Diego turned to Five. “So, what happened? You just suddenly changed your mind, got your shit together, and decided to be a decent human being? Overnight?”

Five shrugged, reminding himself of Candy’s annoying habit. “Without going into the boring details, yes, that’s what happened. And I apologize for not being around more. But that’s going to change. I’m going to change.”

Diego raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Wow. I don’t know where this is coming from, but I’m happy. Like, really happy.” He grinned widely at Five. “I’ve missed you, buddy. We all have.”

“Speak for yourself!” Lila exclaimed from across the room.

Five turned towards her. “You know, Lila, you should really think about letting go of some of your anger. Try to be a little bit happier, sometimes.” As she looked at him like he was deranged, he mouthed “Fuck you” to her over Grace’s head. Lila just shook her head and smiled, glad to see that it wasn’t the end of the world after all.

Five stayed at the house for the rest of the morning. His other siblings trickled in, as well, and it eventually turned into another official Hargreeves’ family party. Seeing that their notoriously high-strung and unhinged brother was suddenly acting like a mostly sane person, they were obviously concerned. But after they realized he wasn’t going to suddenly snap or turn into a pod person, they all loosened up a little.

Klaus sidled up to him at one point, offering him a freshly made glass of Lila’s famously strong Christmas punch. Five waved him off, though.

“No, thanks. I’m not drinking today.”

“Uh, ex-squeeze me? Did you just turn down a drink? You know it has alcohol in it, right?”

Five laughed, a little embarrassed, and put his hands in his pockets. “I know. Just trying to turn over a new leaf.”

“Ohh…I get it. You met a girl, didn’t you?”

Five looked up at him in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

Klaus took a drink from his glass and grimaced at the strong mixture. “You hanging out with us, not drinking, being nice …it reeks of new girlfriend.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, yes. I mean, not a girlfriend, but there was a girl.”

“You should have brought her! I’d love to see what kind of woman managed to snag my darling, murderous brother.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible at the moment. But maybe someday. Stranger things have happened.”

🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽

“Gracie, honey, we’ve been here for thirty minutes. Pick a book, already.”

The little girl sighed and looked down at her pile on the children’s table where she and Five were seated. One of them comfortably so, the other scrunched up with his knees to his chest.

“But I can’t decide.”

“I told you, pick as many as you want.”

“Yes, but I want to make sure they’re the right ones. What if I get home and I change my mind?”

Five rolled his eyes and shifted in the tiny plastic chair. “Then I’ll return them. Or you can throw them out, I don’t care. My ass is falling asleep.”

Grace gave her uncle a disapproving look. “That’s a bad word.”

“Yes, it is. But if you don’t pick your books in the next five minutes, I’m going to say a lot of bad words.”

She sighed again, as if this was the most difficult decision in the world.

Five and Grace had spent the day together, just like they had once a month for the past six months. It was now July. July 3rd, to be exact, and they had opted for indoor activities to escape the oppressive heat of the city. Earlier, they had gone to the movie theater where Five sat through one of those horrible movies where they take real animals and CGI them into playing sports like soccer or basketball. Oh, and the animals talked, too. Completely asinine. It was ninety minutes of torture and Five wanted to stab his eyeballs out with Grace’s lemonade straw, but she giggled through the whole thing so he deemed it worth it in the end. Now they were at the bookstore next to the theater, where Five told her he would buy her some new books.

As he sat there with his expensive pants jammed into a chair in the children’s section, he decided he was going to give her about two more minutes before they were leaving. Books or no books. Who was he kidding…he’d probably sit there all day if it made her happy.

His young niece was about to say something to him, when Five snapped to attention and held his hand out for her to be quiet. He thought he had heard something. Something very familiar. But he was probably just going crazy.

“I think—”

“Shhh!” he hushed her again.

Grace sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest with a pout. She did not like being quieted.

Five concentrated, listening for the sound he thought he had heard. There was nothing, though, which made a lot more sense, and his body relaxed again. He turned to Grace to apologize, but then he heard it again.

Those fucking bells.

It could have been anything, of course. The bells over the store door, or a baby’s toy. Maybe someone had their dog with them and its chain was jangling. But he would know that sound anywhere. He heard it in his sleep sometimes.

The sound seemed to be coming from a few aisles away. Five sprang out of his chair, his body stiff from being folded up like a pretzel for so long, and the chair tipped over behind him. Grace looked up at him, confused.

“Are we going? I haven’t made my decision yet.”

“Yes, come on. Just…grab all of them, let’s go.”

“But…”

Five groaned with his head back, wishing he could say what he really wanted to which was “Get the fuck up now.” Instead, he looked hastily around him at all the books on the shelves and on the table.

“Here.” He began scooping up piles of them, not even looking at the covers. He was grabbing four or five at a time off the shelves and balancing them in his arms. He shoved a couple at Grace, too. “We’ll just get all of them.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “All of them?”

“Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go.”

With one arm full of random kid’s books, he held out his other hand for her to take. He all but pulled her arm out of the socket as he yanked her out of her chair.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, Gracie,” he mumbled, still dragging her behind him as she tried to keep up.

Five hurried through the store, looking frantically down each aisle. He couldn’t hear the bells anymore, and he was afraid maybe he was too late. But as they rounded a corner into the “Religion” section, he stopped. And stared.

There she was, just like he remembered her. She wasn’t wearing the slutty elf outfit, but her body was still as sexy as ever in a pair of small cut-off shorts and a tight, red tank top. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was looking over the back cover of a book in her hand, and Five could see she was smiling. Of course she was smiling.

Five walked slowly towards her, Grace still in tow. When she looked up, her smile grew bigger.

“I thought I told you to stop following me,” Five said with a smirk.

“Who says I’m following you? Don’t you believe in coincidences?”

Five shook his head. “Not really.”

Candy actually looked flustered and she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s good to see you again.”

Five let out a sigh of relief. “It’s really good to see you.”

Candy looked down at Grace, who was staring up at her in curiosity, and then back at Five.

Five cleared his throat. “Oh, this is my niece. Grace. But you already know that, I guess.” He looked down at his niece. “This is a…friend of mine. Candy.”

Grace smiled shyly. Then she stuck out her hand and pointed at Candy’s wrist. “I like your bracelet.”

Five’s eyes were drawn to the jewelry at the same time Candy smiled down at Grace in return. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”

Then she moved her wrist to show off the gold bracelet made up of tiny, jingling bells. The source of the bells Five had heard. He laughed, shaking his head and looking at the floor.

“I really hate that sound.”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

There was an awkward pause, and Five glanced over at the book Candy had in her hand. The title was The Path To Enlightenment: Discovering Your Guardian Angel .

“Brushing up on things?” he asked, gesturing to the book.

“This? Oh no, this is what I read when I need a laugh. This whole section should be titled “Humor”. I mean, you should read some of the things they try and pass off as fact.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Candy looked to the books Five was holding and pointed a finger at the top one on the stack. “I hear that’s a good one.”

Five looked down, seeing that one of the random books he’d pulled out was I Pooped on the Potty, And You Can Too! , complete with a drawing of a cartoon elephant sitting on a toilet. Five blushed, but then he laughed.

“Well, better late than never.”

Candy nodded. “Definitely.”

Five felt a tug on his hand and he looked at Grace, who was motioning with her index finger for him to lean in closer. He crouched down so he was at eye level, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear. Although, being a kid, the whole damn book store could have heard her whisper.

“She’s pretty.”

Five feigned surprised, then looked back up at Candy, then back at Grace. “You think so?”

Grace nodded. “You should take her on a date,” she whispered loudly and Five heard Candy giggle.

“What do you know about dates?”

“I know that girls like them because my mom always gets happy after my dad takes her somewhere to eat.”

Five nodded like he was mulling this over. “I see. So, I should ask her now?”

Grace nodded, her face serious. “If you want her to like you.”

When Five stood up, Candy was covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. Then she waited expectantly for whatever Five was going to say to her.

“My tiny wingman here has informed me that I should ask you on a date. Would you like that?”

Candy nodded. “I think I would, yes.”

“Would you like to come over to my brother’s house tomorrow? He’s having a family barbecue for the 4th. It will probably be a giant shit show, but I said I’d be there.”

“How could I pass that up? I would love to.”

When Five looked back down at Grace, she gave him a thumbs up. Then she sat on the floor to look at her books since her job as matchmaker was now done. He set his own books down and took a step closer to Candy, reaching out to touch her hand lightly, brushing his fingers over the back of her hand. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that, but seeing as how they were in a bookstore and his niece was present, he held himself back.

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, Five.”

“So, you’re here now? Permanently?”

She nodded. “I am. Thanks to you.”

“Why did it take so long? Where have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been around. You needed some time to get things sorted out by yourself. But I’ve been keeping tabs on you.” She looked down at Grace. “Seems like you’ve got things figured out now.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you.”

“Just part of the job.”

Five laughed and then reached up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I really want to kiss you again.”

“I would love that,” she breathed out.

He was about to lean in, when he stopped himself. “Wait. You’re not going to make me see anything weird again, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. I promise.”

“Good. Because I’ve had enough of that shit to last a lifetime.”

In a second, he was kissing her, softly and deeply, while he pulled her body in closer with an arm around her waist. He let out a sigh when he felt her fingers trace down the back of his neck. She felt and tasted just like he remembered and it was taking everything inside himself not to pull her down to the floor right there in the Religion section.

“Ew! Gross!”

Five pulled away, the disgusted sound of his niece snapping him out of his trance. Candy laughed and Five looked down at Grace, perturbed that she had abruptly turned from adorable wingman to major cock blocker. But he supposed this wasn’t the most appropriate place for a steamy make-out session anyway.

Five cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should get going. I have to get her home.”

“Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Five nodded, gathering up his books again. “Oh, wait. I’m not very good at this dating thing, but don’t you need my phone number?”

Candy shook her head. “No, that’s ok. I know how to find you.”

Then, with a sly smile, she added “Oh, and Five? Keeping in the spirit of the holiday tomorrow…you can declare my independence anytime you want. Give me your John Han cock . If you’re up for it.”

With a slightly evil smile of his own, Five stepped in closer to her again, close enough to lean in next to her ear.

“Baby, the British won’t be the only ones that are coming. Not when you red, white, and blow me.”

Candy laughed loudly, her entire body shaking and her stupid bracelet jingling. Five just smirked and turned to walk away, holding his niece’s hand and feeling undeniably happy.

[martsonmars]

Hi friends! I keep committing and recommitting to making a serious effort to come back to the fandom, and I think this time finally I got my Snowbaz feelings back for real. So I'm going to try. Thank you to everyone who kept tagging me; I'm a little lost re: new people existing on Tumblr, but I hope to catch up!

So much to do in this post. For now, some snippets.

Exhibit A: my writing goal for the month. It's okay if it doesn't work out, but I decided I need short-term writing goals and this is my first one.

Baz pushes his sunglasses up his nose, staring at the man behind the counter of the shop. He hopes that hiding in plain sight—without his costume, without his mask—is a more effective disguise than trying to wear a fake moustache.

The apron is there, gloriously stretching over a broad chest that does not turn Baz's insides into soup and make him wish he could go back three—five, ten—years and do everything differently.

Exhibit B: COBB idea. I'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!

Going right is never the right choice.

I've known this since the first time my father brought me along on his travels (read: I hid in his trunk) and I had to face a crocodile armed only with a blunt Swiss Army knife I'd stolen from said trunk. All because I'd turned right. And then right again.

When he found me, scraped knees and his precious knife lost in the belly of the beast, he didn't even yell. He just looked at me like he always did. Like the biggest disappointment in his life of failures.

Exhibit C: potential second COBB idea, that I'm going to submit only if I make enough progress by the end of the month.

[Baz] holds my hand like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. Present. The minutes are trickling away from us like sand in a broken hourglass. The sun hasn't started rising yet, the night as dark as it gets, the cold seeping into our bones.

He holds my hand like he's afraid he'd float away if he didn't.

I know I'd be glad if it happened.

I have a lot of fandom resolutions for this year and I'm scared they'll end up like any New Year's resolutions... but I'll list them anyway. 6 resolutions Sunday:

Be more involved on Tumblr. I want to post more, but especially start reblogging and commenting on things again.

Write more. Last year I wrote so little and posted even less, and it made me sad when I realised it in the past days. So much was going on, so I don't blame myself, but I miss writing and I believe I can try to make it a regular thing again.

I want to read more fics. It's been years since I last read fics consistently. I missed everything!! Time to slowly catch up.

Relatedly, I want to try to comment more. I've never been a great commenter because it overwhelms me, but it's hypocritical since I need everyone and their brother to leave 10 paragraph long comments on everything I write... So I want to commit to doing better.

I want to try to publish a fic every month, at least. @palimpsessed suggested doing some sort of monthly countdown to Carry On's birthday in October and I'm all in.

I want to succeed at COBB. For one reason or the other, more often than not because I am cursed and I never finished writing my things, I've never managed to start and finish posting something for COBB. But I have two concepts I'm so excited about (not sure yet if I'll try both of them) and I want to commit to doing well. Wish me good luck.

My good old tagging list <3 I hope to add new people soon! But hi my dear old friends, how's it going?

@facewithoutheart @sillyunicorn @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @palimpsessed @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @orange-peony @larkral @raenestee @stitchyqueer @hushed-chorus @technetiumai @brilla-brilla-estrellita @thewholelemon @theimpossibledemon @imagineacoolusername @blackberrysummerblog @theearlgreymage @rimeswithpurple @messofthejess @alexalexinii @whatevertheweather @jbrrring @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @best--dress @theotherhufflepuff @monbons @run-for-chamo-miles @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @dragoneggos @gekkoinapeartree @ionlydrinkhotwater @erzbethluna @shemakesmeforget @basiltonbutliketheherb @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @noblecorgi @j-nipper-95

[colubrina]

How I Got My Agent, Take Two

I’m so ridiculously over the top happy to say I’ve signed with a literary agent to sell my magical bookbinder book.  This has been a long process that started in 2017, and I’m genuinely overjoyed.

It played out thus:

Write book one.

Write book two. Query the book.

Write book three. Query the book.

Write book four. Get into Pitch Wars with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book five. Get into Author Mentor Match with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book six.

Write book seven.

Write book eight.

Write book nine.

Get a Revise and Resubmit offer from an agent for book five. Do it.

Start querying book six.

Get an offer from the R&R (Yay!)

Write book ten.

Book five dies on submission.

Start writing book eleven.

My agent and I amicably part ways.

Start writing book twelve.

Finish querying book six.

Query book ten.

Start writing book thirteen.

Go back to book eleven.

Go to a live pitch event. Pitch book eleven to two agents. Neither likes it. One asks what else I’m working on, and when I do the one sentence pitch for book twelve, says, “I could sell that.”

Pivot to finishing that book.

Query book twelve, sending queries first to four agents who only want queries and who are actively requesting off those queries. Get a 75% request rate. Query is fire. Check.  Unfortunately, every agent rejects when they see the opening pages, which turn out not to be fire.

Revise opening

Resume querying book twelve.  In case you’ve lost count, while this is the twelfth book I’ve written, it’s ‘only’ the seventh I’ve queried.

Finish drafting book thirteen in NaNo. Revise. Send to CPs.

Have existential crisis on a Tuesday. Meltdown on Tumblr. Weep in my living room. All my books have failed.  I do not know how to write a better book.  Maybe I should give up. This turns out to be a very well-timed dark night of the soul within the narrative.

Get two full requests for book twelve on Wednesday.

Get an email telling me one of my short stories has been held for consideration on Thursday.

On Friday get an email that the woman who handles submissions for one of those agents from Wednesday loved the book but she doesn’t think it’s a great fit for the agent I queried.  Would I mind if she forwarded it in-house to a different agent?  In shocking news, I would not mind this. 

On Monday, get an email asking for a call.

On Wednesday, which is Valentine’s Day, have a call with the agent.  She’s lovely in every way, her thoughts on the book are so good, every editorial idea she floats is good. Like, really good.  She is super enthusiastic about repping the book and offers to do so.

There is an etiquette requirement at this point that I tell any agent who has the book that I have an offer on the table and give them two weeks to respond, so I go around nudging all the agents with a full (four people) and several agents who only have a query. Three more agents request fulls. The rejections start trickling in.  People are very sweet and complimentary, and I am deeply, deeply relieved that I never waver from how much I adore the original offering agent.

I sign with her on February 29.

Final stats for Book Twelve (THE ARCHIVE OF THE WORLD):

Total Queries Sent:  39 Requests Before Offer: 8 (20.5% request rate) Request Rate Including Post-Offer Requests: 28.2%

Year I Started this Nonsense:  2017 Total Queries Sent across 7 books:  456

Takeaway wisdom:  The query trenches are a soul-mangling machine into which we all keep putting our souls and most of us don’t make it out unmangled.  I am not unmangled. BUT, I am a persistence hunter, and I will walk steadily towards publishing until it lies down in exhaustion and gives up.

Thanks for hanging out with me as I do.

Also, this book is so much fun.  You’re going to love it.

[tessabennet]

Hello my friends

So. It's been five years, give or take. There was a worldwide pandemic, I got two and a half-ish degrees, I got diagnosed with epilepsy, I lost my dad and my grandpa, I worked various jobs, international politics have been nothing short of awful for a long time now... Yeah. It's been stressful, the whole time I was writing What I'm Looking For.

And in all this time, in between all of that, working on this massive project has been a comfort that I can't even begin to describe. This was something I could dive into when I was at my worst, in all this time, even when it felt like this series was the only thing that I was doing well. It was something that kept me going and that I'm proud of having finished.

Having said this much, I don't want to make some stupid kind of speech about being done with posting now. For most people, this is probably not as big a deal as it is for me. But I totally will make this a speech, because I have some things to say that mean too much to me to leave them unsaid.

You may already know that I first started writing These City Walls as an excercise to practice writing dialogue. At the time, a lot of what I did came from a place of frustration, with myself and especially with the MCU. But the more I worked on it, the more I realised that this fanfic stuff wasn't going to be a one-time thing, and I'm glad I decided to make this a longer series. And it kept getting longer, the more I thought about, outlined, and finally wrote it.

And throughout this whole journey, there were people that I want to mention, now that we're at the end of it. Starting with girlbookwrm, whose Hundred Year Playlist was the initial inspiration for huge chunks of this series (please go read it, it'samazing). And then, I have to mention @jesuschristtakethewheel, who was my beta reader for the first two parts of the series, and who encouraged me to start publishing it in the first place. I also have to say a huge thank you to @the-littlefangirl, who I've only gotten to know because of this series, who occasionally served as my test audience, and who, I can honestly say, is one of my best friends today.

There's a lot more people I want to thank, and those are my amazing, incredible, wonderful, and lovely regular commenters. You guys have been a rock for me to hold on to for so long. There's @haluton with their excited (and at times incoherent) screaming at me, there's @numberonestuckyshipper with her never-ending kindness to me and my writing, there's @smlmsworld who never gets tired of recommending my work, there's @hipsterdiva who approaches my fanfic like it's an actual piece of literature that deserves analysing, there's @mythicalmxyhem who's been with my series from so early on, and there's @radicalpeachie who made amazing fanart for me. I only know a lot of people here because this fic made me part of the stucky community. And then on AO3, there's PanamaRed, Jo_Dee, kawherp, saturns_moons, SaphDragon494, helloilovefanfiction, TylOcephale, AlwaysAkin, shakleton2, dxzei, Shinigami24, thisisalright, theearthisntflatatall, kingandlionheart, crazyjane, machka, and many, many more that I'm really, really scared of forgetting here. If you guys are here on tumblr, please let me know so I can follow you. And to anyone else reading this: if somehow you aren't on this list but feel like you should be, I agree that you should and apologise. Believe me, I recognised your name in my emails every time and I love you very, very much!

I can never thank you guys enough for the praise and support I've gotten from you over the years. Every single comment still means the world to me, and I'll no doubt always go back to them when I'm feeling bad or need a boost in confidenc. My life will definitely change now that I probably won't wake up to all those lovely comments as often anymore.

This is exactly why I'll be selfish and ask anyone who might still read or reread the series to consider leaving more comments and kudos. Or if you want to, feel free to create fanart and link it to the fic. Consider this my blanket statement: you can translate it, podfic it (you'll be my hero if you do that actually), make playlists, write your own spin-off based on it - just please link it to the series and let me know so I can share it too. It would mean the world to me if you don't let this fic die just yet.

(Also, just as a shot in the dark: In case you know someone who works at Disney or Marvel or happens to be a talent scout for publishers, please recommend me and my writing to them. That would be the cooles possible thing to come out of all this.)

In the meantime, I'll keep writing. I've been working more on original stuff this whole year, and if I ever publish a "real" book, I'll be sure to let you know. And more recently I've also been toying with some ideas for possible spin-off stories in the What I'm Looking For universe, so who knows? Whatever they could be, those fics probably wouldn't me stucky-centric. But maybe I'll write and publish them at some point - you never know.

For now, this is it anyway. And I don't want to be didactic or patronizing about this in any way. It's just, if there's even one thing you can take away from my version of this story and these characters, I hope it's that there's nuance in the world. Perspective matters, empathy matters, and so does understanding. And with that in mind, I think there's hope. I have to believe that, no matter how dark and dire the world seems at times. Steve and Bucky managed to go back to Brooklyn. We'll be fine too.

So yes, for now this is it. And for a while now I've been thinking about how to say goodbye to this fic. I still don't know. I'm not sure I want to. And I definitely don't want to say goodbye to all the lovely people I got to know, all the amazing friends I made because of it. And if you want to, you can come talk to me whenever you like, I really mean that. My asks are open and you can dm me any time. You guys have been the greatest audience I could've asked for. I wasn't expecting anything when I started posting - never could I have imagined that one day my stupid writing exercise would mean so much to some people. I love you all, each and every one. I'll miss you.

And finally, now that I'm all emotional about this anyway, I'll say this last thing: next year's gonna be different, but that doesn't mean it can't be a good year. I hope it will be, for all of us. Please stick around. I love you so much, and you mean the world to me. So - goodbye, guys. And, from all my heart: Happy New Year 💜

[clones-cyare]

Self care Sunday

Pairing: TupxGN!reader

Warnings: none

A/N hello everyone!! This is my first time posting my stories on tumblr and I hope you enjoy!!! I had so much fun writing this and I can’t wait to write more!! Enjoy!!

Divider from @vodika-vibes

The 501st was on shore leave on Coruscant for the next two weeks. You were overjoyed because your boyfriend, Tup, was Planet-side. You received an invitation to join Tup and his brothers for game night at their barracks. And of course you said yes, you got to spend time with your beloved and his brothers. So that’s how you found yourself curled up next to Tup with sabacc cards in your hand in the 501st barracks. You were all pretty drunk but you were in for a night of games and brotherly fun.

A collected group of groans sounded from the group of boys as Captain Rex placed down his winning cards.

“You have to be cheating!” Fives exclaims frustratedly.

“You’re just upset you lost all your credits two rounds in” Kix points out, with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s not my fault you’re a sore loser Fives” the captain says, a shit-eating grin adorned his face as he reached out to collect his credits. And that’s when the group erupted into bickering.

You let out a sigh of content as you snuggled closer into Tup’s side as the brothers broke into yelling and accusations. You felt Tup chuckle next to you and you looked up to see auburn brown eyes staring back. Tup had let his hair out so his curls framed his face angelically. You stared at him for what seemed like forever until you tore your gaze back to watch the chaos unfold. 

A small tap on your shoulder distracted you though as you looked back at your lover. Tup jerked his head lightly towards the refresher and you immediately knew what he meant. You nodded back and sat up. 

The two of you waited until it was a full on brawl so they were all distracted before you snuck towards the back. Within seconds, you were inside the refresher with the door sliding shut behind you.

“I’ll get the products, you get the robes” you instruct, movie to a cupboard on the wall. Tup gives a nod before moving to do his own thing. After a minute, you have robes, face masks, cucumbers, skincare and hair masks laid out with a diffuser sitting to the side.  

You both slip into the fluffy robe and she let out a small sigh at feeling the soft fabric against your skin. Tup walks over and holds up the hair mask, turning you around so he could be ever the gentleman and put it in your hair. 

You heard the squirt of the product and then felt Tup run his soft hands in your hair, being so careful, like he thought you were glass. You make a noise of content and he massages it into your skull and your knees feel weak at the feeling. 

Ever too quickly, he detangles his hands from your hair and settles it into a bun stop your head. You smile and turn to your adorable boyfriend before taking the hair mask in your hand and getting to work on his hair. 

His hair was soft as ever and you felt a bit of jealously at how gorgeous his locks were. You worked the mask into his hair and hear Tup let out a small sigh of content. You stifle a laugh at the cute noise and continue to massage his head before finishing up. 

You pull your hands away and before he can stop himself, Tup lets out a small whine from the loss of contact. This makes you giggle as you bend down to pick up the fancy packaging of the face masks. 

Handing one to Tup, you tear open the packet and take the gooey face mask into your hands. You quickly unfold it and settle the cold paper against your skin. Immediately, relaxation and refreshment wash over you and you crack another smile. You loved have self care days with the love of your life; as rare as they are. 

Settling yourself on the ground, leaning against the metal wall, you pick up two slices cucumbers and settle them on your eyes before leaning your head against the cool barrier. A hand crawls into your lap, lacing its fingers with yours and you grin, squeezing Tup’s hand.

With a deep inhale, you breathe in the flowery scent from the diffuser, trying to figure out what exactly is the scent. Maybe meiloorons mixed with an alderaanian flam rose? Or perhaps some barelia flowers combined with spine barrel. You couldn’t tell but whatever it was, you loved it. 

A mix of voices broke you out of your trance as they approached the door.

“What do you think they’re doing in there?”

“Maybe they’re-“

“Shut it, Hardcase!”

“Tup’s too innocent for that” 

“Just shush!”

The voices come to a stop as you feel a few presence outside the door. With a small click, the door swishes open and move your head, causing the cucumbers to tumble down your face. You feel Tup do the same and you both come to look at Tup’s brothers’ staring at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” 

“What’s that on your face?”

“What the kriff is going on?”

“It smells nice”

The voices overlap eachother and before you can stop yourself, you let out a small giggle at the shock on the boys’ faces, having never experienced a self care day.

“It’s self care” you explain, “it helps your hair and skin. It’s also meant to relax you.”

Fives lets out a little ‘ohhh’ as the others nod along, still a little confused. 

Tup sighs and shakes his head before resting his head back against the wall.

“Can I have some!” 

“I wanna try” 

“Is there a robe for me?”

“Shove over”

And yeah, the fighting continued. But if you were honest, you wouldn’t change it for anything. 

Giving Tup’s hand a quick squeeze, you lean your head on his shoulder and watch the brotherly banter.

Yeah, you can’t wait for the next self care day.

[aphrodeiities]

i've returned to post about a particular subject i've been fighting to or not to post, because i used to consider this person the closest person in my life and i even considered her as a best friend and a sister.

and we have fallen out and apologised to each other many times, but perhaps whenever we argued it was life telling me that she is not supposed to be in my circle. and you could be wondering why am i bringing this up and telling tumblr this but im telling tumblr this to be aware of @couerardent and her scamming behaviour.

couerardent also known as MYSTIICWINTER OR MYSTICWIINTER.

talk about WORSE SERVICE I HAVE EVER GOTTEN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

[other people have come to me and spoke about how bad her services were, but i tried to overlook it because i really cared for her, lessoned learn]

i have always been empathetic towards ardent and her money situation, but there are moments when excuses turn into reasons to not do something. on august, i sent alex money because she needed it, but she also said in return she will give me 4 packs she usually gives her clients and she told me she would give me my money back.

first pack is "tell me your story."

second and other packs she hadnt told me what they were but she informed me that i'll be receiving them weekly since august, and now its november.

at first i was empathetic, since i used to be close to ardent, i knew she went through a lot of stuff at home, so i was patient. until august turned into september, and september turned into october and then october turned into novemeber.

and slowly i became annoyed, [as i should] because her services arent even long or good, as someone who gives chart readings to other people that consists more than fourteen pages, the effort to write that would take long, but ardent doesnt even give five pages for her services, three at most, so why is it taking her so long?

previously, she has joked to me about scamming other people, but would put the blame on them and not want to take accountability until they start using threats to expose her, i think she deleted the making fun of scamming them but here is some of it:

and when i would message her for updates about my reading because it'll take months, she would ignore me and even change her pfp on tumblr or discord, until i reach out to her on more platforms to get her attention.

and what would annoy me even more is that she would talk about how she never has something to do or would focus on other stuff knowing she needs to get my reading done lmao and this would be like 1-2 months after i was supposed to receive any of it lol.

worrying about the layout for almost 3 months PLEASE.

i have received 1/4 readings, and that was now almost 2-3 weeks ago, we should've been on my 2nd or 3rd reading by now, the only reason i have received 1 reading is because i did threaten to expose her if she didnt send the money or reading my way, because even i had some issues because living in london has gotten really difficult and i have been trying to support my family as much as i can, but im doing better right now.

its all about the principle. and she has none of that. and even attempted to victimise herself and behave like she was in distress whenever she got called out about her behaviour.

she lost track of time, the time being 3-4 months lol.

and when i was speaking to her she ignored me for a bit again ha, it was almost comedic. for almost two weeks she didnt try and check what i was speaking about.

she has gotten ill, but this was still months after.

and i have remembered, she has used much of her earned money to fund for her nose job but also uni, but during the moments it was best to pay me back was at the job she said paid her well, she informed me that when she gets paid by her job she'll pay me back, and she never did and ended up quitting the job.

[the unfairness i was speaking about is how uni her country dont do student finances, she's from romania, because they do in the uk it was just a surprise].

i asked her recently on how i was supposed to receive a reading but she didnt reply but change her pfp on whatsapp and discord, again.

if there is any confused people comment please because i did this half asleep lmao

[suckmybearings]

ooc —

Thank you to all of my current mutuals who've reached out through my interest checker (and the little discord call), and I continue to welcome those who haven't done so, but someday may want to! Something came up not that long ago, when I inadvertently tripped a mutual's RSD (god, I'm still very sorry for it). More than ever, I feel that I need to give a little bit of IRL info.

I am, first and foremost, a workaholic. Please, please, please understand this. I work 3rd Shift (graveyard shift hours). I get up at 8:20PM, clock in at 10:30PM, and then clock out at 6:30AM, five days a week. This schedule, though, is new. Before this, for two months, I was straddling 3rd Shift (4:00AM) and 1st Shift (12:00PM) to help cover for another coworker while she was out for maternity leave. Even though I was supposed to leave at 12PM, I wouldn't actually clock out until 4-6PM every day for two months, because there's just so much to do. On top of this, I'm cross-trained in different departments; I keep all four departments in my room, across all three shifts, on the same page of communication involving management, the quality team, and other departments not in the room; I'm available when someone has a question or needs direction; I am in a consistent state of training someone into my primary department. (And when my factory manager is feeling extra generous, he'll 'volunteer' me for company-paid business courses when they crop up, so I have to split my time away from factory production to be in those classes.) It is only because I've taken on the responsibility, two weeks ago, of picking up a coworker and then dropping her off after work that I've been able to clock out on time (because I have no choice now lol). And even though I am working strictly 8hrs now, I feel more exhausted than ever. Maybe my body is trying to catch up on all the lost sleep and stress? I don't know. When I get home, I have about a 10-20min window before I'm nodding off at the computer. My only real free time is on the weekend (if I'm not volunteering to work a Saturday), but I still have responsibilities. I have a wonderful, patient, and (all things considered) forgiving man who takes care of me, our cat, and our apartment, and I try to spend time with him as much as I can. I also have my 10-year-long friend and writing partner, Katie, over at in @deceitfulcharmer. We've been developing, plotting, writing a massive original scifi/romance story together for years, and we've only really started roleplaying them this year(?), so that story will always take priority for me; it's our baby. <3 And then to top it all off: I am deeply introverted and private, and so my batteries for interacting directly with people are usually depleted before I ever get back from work. With that all being said— I'm here and I want to be here. I want to interact and roleplay Wheeljack, a muse that I've been in love with since I first watched TFP in 2012. (Factoid, it was TFP that even introduced me to the Tumblr roleplaying scene itself. And even though I loved Wheeljack, I came into the community as Megatronus/Megatron.) I explained to Katie that I have never played such a dauntingly sociable, go-getter muse like this, lol. Even when I'm exhausted and stressed, it doesn't influence him or his moods. He's literally just, "You done over there? Good. Let's go." 'Cause he's got people to see, people to talk to; he's not going to be held up by my shit. TL;DR Did you send Wheeljack an ask or prompt for a meme? Did you message me in Tumblr DM? Have you been dropping messages in our Discord? Did you create a starter for Wheeljack because I liked your starter call? Have you been seeing me active through Wheeljack or posting music/wreckerisms? Does it show me online in Discord? But no response from me to you? I promise that I've seen it; I promise that I have it drafted. ;-; I'm just an overworked, exhausted scumbag who has never had such an outgoing muse that has simultaneously attracted so many people to him. It's just going to be slow. So damn slow. But I will get to you. <3

[pedrostories]

UPDATE! New deadline: 20 August (Sunday)

PedroStories 1000 followers celebration

PedroStories hit 1000 followers in May, around the same time the blog had its 2nd birthday, so we decided to celebrate it with the fandom’s writers and readers!

We prepared with a few general quotes, other quotes from Pedro and his characters and with some fanfiction tropes. You don’t have to stick to the character whose quote you choose – actually, we encourage you to mix and match any of them as creatively as you want! The celebration starts today and lasts until 20 August!

Please read the rules carefully, then you will find the list of prompts under the cut.

Rules

We welcome pairings with readers/characters of any gender, non-romantic pairings or even fics with no pairings. 💚 The rating can be anything from general to explicit.

Choose at least one quote from any of the quotes lists (you can use more prompts in one fic) and choose at least one trope. You can write as many fics as you want using these prompts!

It’s not necessary to let us know what prompts you’ve chosen! Just let your creativity flow - this challenge is completely open!

Please mention in your post that your work is for @pedrostories’ celebration and use the special tag #pedrostories1k, just so we can track and queue every single entry.

Please post your work until 20 August – we will track the special tag until that day, and in a few days we create a masterlist of all the fanfictions. You can keep using the list later and we will queue them as usual if you tag the blog, but we won’t track the special tag anymore and won’t update the event’s masterlist.

Please make sure you use tags and warnings properly – we take tagging stories seriously to help our followers find the story that caters to their needs and avoid those they don’t want to see on their feed - If there’s character/trope/dynamic/etc. you would like to avoid, you can easily blacklist tags on tumblr, you can find a tutorial about it here! 

Please remember that even though this list has quotes from Pedro, we don’t reblog real person fics (aka fics about Pedro himself)– this blog is for fanfiction written for characters played by him.

Following the blog in order to participate in the game is not mandatory, but it’s very much welcomed! 🤗

Send us an ask if you have any questions – we will use the tag #pedrostories1k questions so you can check previously answered asks about the event.

Signal boosts about this event are appreciated!

Have fun! 🌻

List of prompts below the cut!

List of prompts

Quotes

General Dialogue Prompt List: 

“The price of my affection is high.” 

“You pushed me off the bed!” - “I’m sorry?”

“I got shot and I’m fine! Relax, would you?” 

“If I (…) will you behave for me?” – „Only if you kiss me first.”

 “I can’t believe I ever thought you were different.”

“You’re not going to believe this” 

“Not again”

“Run!”

 “Do you trust me?” 

“Please, just listen to me!” 

“You’ve lost.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I hate that I can’t seem to live without you!” 

“Oh, don’t be modest, just kiss me.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes sparkle in sunlight?” 

“You can’t go until I tell you” 

 “Do I really have a choice?” 

“You’re the reason I wake up every morning.”

 “I hate you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now.” 

“You wanna go save the world?” 

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I had in mind.” 

“‘Sorry’ just isn’t going to cut it anymore.” 

“Come back in five more minutes”

Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe Quotes: 

Pedro Pascal quotes:

“I’m not short”

“But bad guys are more fun!”

“Smack me, I deserve it” 

“That bad?”

“I really need to stop eating the sticker on the tomato”

“I’m sitting in the dark. I like it.”

"You naughty dog.”

“That me. Working on the buns.”

“But those were MY CRISPS!”

“I’m going straight for that bottom.”

“Somebody gimme a hug.”

“If you're freaky you're hot, if you're hot you're freaky.”

Dieter Bravo quotes: 

“I’m trying to care, but it’s hard.”

“We’re fucked” 

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” 

“This is creepy, but I like it”

“I’m not giving this up!”

“Hold my hair!”

Javi Gutierrez quotes: 

“I fucking told you” 

“Honestly, I’m too nervous” 

“I think I need to go to bed” 

“Whether you like it or not, you have a gift.”

"Sometimes circumstances get in the way of love. That's just the way it is."

“We need to open our minds to the infinite possibilities of what the cosmos has to offer."

Din Djarin quotes: 

“I know everything that’s in there”

“This is a pile of junk”

“I’m not leaving my fate up to chance.”

“Your song is not yet written. I serve you until it is.”

“Take it off.  Or I will.”

“I like those odds.”

Javier Peña quotes:

 “You're breaking my fucking heart, baby.”

“Sleep with a communist? That would be downright un-American.”

“Things don’t always go according to plan.”

“I got a better idea.”

“Fuck this!”

“Well, what have we here?”

Dave York quotes:

“ There is no sin. No virtue.”

“Who did this?”

“There’s no coming back from this.”

“You do what you have to do and you move on.”

“It’s who we were. It’s what we did.”

“You shouldn't start a war with us.”

Jack Daniels quotes:

“Whoo. I feel like a tornado in a trailer park.”

“What are we doin’?”

“Looks like we’re hookin’ up with a chick at a rock concert.”

“It's a lasso.”

“How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy?”

“Now, is that any way to welcome a visitor from out of town, moonshine?”

Pero Tovar quotes:

“Maybe you can fool them, but I know what you are.”

“The time before that I saved your life!”

“You can never undo things you have done.”

“Is that the best you've got?”

“I want to eat.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

Frankie Morales quotes:

“Alright baby, alright baby. Come on now.”

“This is not what I signed up for.”

“What the fuck we’re gonna do with that thing?”

“Move. Move!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“It's not a big deal. Actually, it's a big deal.”

Fanfic Tropes

AU fic 

Forced Proximity

Time Travel 

Roadtrip

One Bed

Second chance romance

Friends to Lovers 

Enemies to Lovers 

Fake dating

Redemption

Forbidden love (legal)

Hurt/Comfort

Soulmates 

Secret identity/billionaire/royal

Blind Date 

Platonic Relationship 

Body Swap

Love Triangle

5 times this and 1 time that

Opposites attract

[dreamtofus]

Hey lovely i saw u are taking requests! could u do some fluff with Daryl, maybe him taking care of an injured Reader? <33

Hurt

Author's Ramble: someone asked me in my inbox about my gifs, i just search daryl dixon on the gif feature on tumblr and use it... sorry idk if this breaks a tumblr rule or sum

Summary: Daryl taking care of injured Reader

Contains: "girlie" is used once but other than that gender neutral, pain (not in detail (??)), bear trap injury and then kinda fluff i think this is more an interaction but cutey either way, also second person

Word Count: 548

guys sorry i just realized the format of this post was fucked

Five minutes ago you and Daryl chose to split up to check the traps and cover more ground, the plan was to meet back at the tall oak tree shortly after. You had been looking for one of your smaller traps when you felt it. Shrieking out in pain, you firmly clamped your hand over your lips as your gaze fell down.

Keep reading

Currently you lean against a sturdy oak tree with a pretty metal trap caged around your upper ankle, nearing you calf, your blood dribbles out from the claws. Eyes growing heavy, a twig snaps from behind you, bringing you back to an alert state. It could be your potential end, a walker or, maybe just a harmless deer. The latter is preferable.

Knife clutched in your right palm, your ears pick up on a certain sound. A rough soothing noise. You hadn't heard him say yet a hundred words, but yet you knew the sound of his voice as if it was your own.

"Y/N?" a grunt so low you might've missed it over your pounding heart.

"'m here.." a light groan escapes your parted lips.

Your body washes over with a wave of relief before your lids shut as if being weighed down with heavy buckets of lead. A must scent envelopes your surroundings as...

Your eyes flutter open as your senses adjust to the new setting. You recall your previous events as your back straightens in an attempt to sit up, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle.

A deep voice shushes you as large hands push your shoulder back down, " 's just me."

Laying back down, your eyes meet Daryl's. His eyes are dampened with bags, a shade redder than usual. Some of the archer's belonging are scattered around the room.

"How long have I been out?" Your lips are cracked and parched.

"Day or two, ya lost some blood." He hands you a plastic cup of water.

Gulping it down, "How long till I heal?"

" 'M not sure, yer hungry?"

You slowly nod and he exits.

Daryl comes backs with a metal bowl and thick silver spoon sticking of it. He takes heavy steps until he reaches your bedside. He places the bowl of stew aside as he sits you up. You shoot him a smile as he picks the metal back up and tries to spoon feed you.

"It's ok, I really got it." You mutter shyly.

Daryl raises an eyebrow before placing the metal spoon on your bottom lip, prodding at it to open. You allow him passage and let him feed you. You hide your gaze from him, directing at the floor instead. He repeats the process until eventually you shake your head for him to stop, feeling sick at the thought of another bite. Daryl frowns but eventually sets the bowl aside once again.

The silence is thick as he tries to put his words together, sentences collapsing in on themselves, "Well girlie, yer know..."

You watch as he takes hesitant steps back, you hum with disappointment as a response.

His eyebrows furrow and he takes your hands in his, "need anything?"

You met his eyes, "Just you?"

"Ya got it."

He delicately moves you to the side and lies down next to you.

ugh i lowk think daryls ooc here cus idk how to write something like this.

[dee-the-red-witch]

This originally posted here a few days ago for members, but I wanted to also release here as audio- for one, it has some beautiful quotes and poetry in there, and for another, it's more where I'm really at- disconnected, discombobulated, spun around and trying to figure out which way to go next and what of the million things I need to be moving forward on, but hopeful and feeling better despite all of that. Text of the original post to follow:

Transition Notes Part Five: Final Girl? Monster?

This got started a few months ago as two different posts in my drafts. I'm including these bits here because they're relevant to a chunk of what I'll be talking about. Shame patreon doesn't give me dates from when I start a post, just the date I last looked at the edits, which for both was a few months ago. I'm just gonna label them "Earlier" for the one post, and "quotes" for the other, since the second post was largely me shoving quotes together for a later analysis. Also a "Now" tag for the current additions. Is it a jumbled mess? Yes. But that's also very much where my brain is at this point, so it makes a kind of sense. Plus, it unintentionally flows, so I'm going with it.

Earlier: My hair touches shoulders constantly now. I've never had hair this long in my life, and despite the curl, it is constantly in contact with my shoulders or my upper back depending on how I sit, and it's amazing. I'm also in crisis and have been for a few months. Getting regularly paralyzed by executive dysfunction while being trans (and having some of the concurrent Life Events that happen when you're trans) seems to have that effect. And so help me, though parts of this are going to sound like me complaining about my life, I'm not just jotting stuff down to vent or get sympathy, but hopefully more so other folks can learn from it.  Quotes: The monster is a liminal creature embodying the very boundaries humans have overreached. The identification of something as monstrous denotes its place outside and beyond social norms and values. Such extraordinary warnings or reminders proceed from divine power to humankind when they have transgressed, or are about to transgress, the limits of what humans are supposed or rather allowed to do. -Daniela Carpi, Monsters and Monstrosity

Now: I'm moved. I've been living in my own apartment for over a week now and settling in. It's... different. Better. Safer. I still end up breaking down in tears on a daily basis over feeling alone, or grieving what I left, or realizing and just starting to come to terms with some of the trauma I'd been living with and covering up, or just for making the choices I had to for my own survival. This is a better place. I feel safe here. I'm worried as hell about everything I sacrificed to get here and how I'm going to be able to keep it. Quotes:

"They made a monster of Medusa as well. Hated how loud her trauma was. Couldn’t believe she had the audacity not to take it lying down. They made a war-ground of her body so she made one of theirs." -Trista Mateer, Aphrodite Made me Do It

Now: I know I'm going to be called a monster for it by people at various points. I've already seen a few of the people my ex is still friends with come right up to it without actually saying it. People will choose the narrative they want, the people they stick or agree with, and just who to demonize in any given situation. I can't help any of that. All I could do was take actions that could easily get seen as being monstrous, while at the same time, being one of the only paths I could secure to staying alive. You're either the monster or the final girl, and sometimes the one looks like the other. But y'know, when I wrote this months and months ago on tumblr:

I didn't think I was writing it about myself at the time.

Earlier: I knew my odds when I came into this. Too many trans stories of heartbreak from friends as they cut people out of their lives, lost relationships and more. I knew how common it was. I wasn't expecting all of it myself, but it's where I'm at. Final Girl mode. The realization that you're very likely going to have to be walking out of the movie alone at the end right before the credits.  Now: I knew the odds going in. It had been one of the facts that haunted me and kept me from coming out before. A conservatively placed 70% of marriages where one partner comes out as a trans woman after the fact end in divorce. Often very badly, with the woman in question finding herself homeless, alone, and dying on the streets without resources or any kind of network to fall back on. I came out thinking I was safe from that after my oldest kid had had a fairly smooth go of it. Turns out, I was wrong, very wrong, like a lot of people are. I ended up with three very real choices- wait and try to make it work, and see the all too stereotypical story play out. Wait until my surgeries were done with, and likely end up with massive complications and health problems because I'd still be having to push myself like mad to take care of and support more people than just me. Or get out and get out as soon as I possibly could. Obviously, I went for the last option. So, why write this? Because I know at least half of you are cis or unfamiliar with the transfem side of the experience. Because people need to know that this stuff happens, still, even in today's somewhat more accepting climate. Because I needed to exorcise all this before I felt like I could move on to newer things. And the biggest, the number one thing that I want anyone to take from this? Because I wouldn't undo any of it. If I could somehow snap my fingers, re-boy myself and make no-one the wiser, slip the denial blinders back over my own eyes and all... I wouldn't do it in the slightest. This is what I'll be moving forward from, even if I am currently hurt and just scrambling forward, I'm still moving and surviving. And I will make it out through all of this in the end.