#wait i have to post this real quick on tumblr. i keep you all in my thoughts at all times. it's OUR funny concept <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[deadrlngers]

vesper coming back home and witnessing fenix "i'll never like that cat" & nibbles doing this

[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

taglist: @skzenhalove , @taetaemylovie, @soocult, @nyanggk, @grilledbananas, @dneltrise, @becc09, @nielle002, @sjyfolder, @sd211, @moonmoongi, @sweetiewolfie, @ksnooppy, @woongkification, @laxatives4hre, @hiddensideofmoon, @mywaaw, @beomstarz, @multifandombtvh, @heeverseblog, @floclover, @elliesuh, @iloveleeknow, @crazydelulu, @dasa3040, @sluttyhee, @bethroedtojae, @cherryunie, @hiamlili, @seojunandsoju, @parksunghoonsgf, @jungwon-xo, @fxiryeon, @jwnghyuns, @juliesblogs

[silverware-drawer]

Other parts: 1 2 3 (you are here)

19 notas

🪹 philza

OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA OURNA

🪹 philza

sorry phone got stolen please disregard

🪹 philza

stop reblogging this

591 notas

♟️ what-the-muffin 🔁 what-the-muffin

♟️ what-the-muffin

Why does quackity keep reblogging posts from months ago

🪷 quackitieeee

Wait what? shit

♟️ what-the-muffin

language.

♟️ what-the-muffin

QUACKITY WHAT THE FUDGE?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WOULD LIKE IT????

4 notas

🚽 peterparkoier 🔁 cellbo

🚽 peterparkoier

yo viendo paw patrol: 🤓🐶♻️🚒

mi esposo convocando a demonios en otro cuarto: SKF$J🔥🔥+2+81(J—🔥🔥—+2(2 ("_+$🔥++J(2((#+#(🔥🔥🔥🔥$(_HFIWN[n(#SJSK&LQ(2)KSKSK{€🔥 FJ##AJ61IW🔥@KSK18-0QX8🔥J€{ak{XW&L&SJCB({€{|{₡}\🔥🔥~|388=€666 9ha9*🔥🔥+J🔥SK$+🔥🔥🔥🔥|=WIE63+#)91JX£{=₲NQ 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

🐁 ksk18-0qx8

Hi

🚽 peterparkoier

oh shit satanás

🐁 ksk18-0qx8

no no está bien solo soy la reina del infierno

🔎 cellbo

oh yeah guapito actualmente ella vive en nuestra casa

🚽 peterparkoier

chingas a tu madre gatinho

62 notas

🪷 quackitieeee 🔁 cellbo

🔎 cellbo

you'll all see. you'll learn to regret the day you mocked me.

*versión español*

todos lo verán. aprenderás a arrepentirte del día en que te burlaste de mí.

#lmaooooo alright you emo motherfucker #god damn

7 notas

🟥 felppps-6391 🔁 aquimicaehloka

🦠 backflipo-numero-dos

*i enter the federation church*

PAC E MIKE WOAH WOAH

*i leave the federation church*

⚠️ pactriggerwarning

*i enter the federation church*

*i enter the federation church*

*i enter the federation church*

SAINT FELPS WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS

💣 dupe-glitch-aquarius Seguir

hold on let me watch something real quick

💣 the-oldest-anarchy-blog-on-tumblr Seguir

yeah this is funny

104 notas

🪷 quackitieeee 🔁 peterparkoier

🏛️ qsmp Seguir

Official QSMP Ballot

🏝️We hope you enjoy the island.

♟️ what-the-muffin

this is a joke right

#HOLY SHIT LMAOOOOOO #IS THIS REAL #these motherfuckers really know how to run a government

219 notas

🦠 backflipo-numero-dos

@4ever-420 HOLA MI AMIGO EL PRESIDENTE, SUGESTIÓN ENORME: it's really important that ALL of our kids grow up in a safe environment so I think you should film some of those anti-drug public service announcements to help promote HEALTHY CHOICES

🦠 backflipo-numero-dos

@4ever-420 presidente why does it say im blocked

3 notas

🪷 quackitieeee 🔁 baghz-quacks

⚜️ kocwillrock

okay wait so if I hide my armor and i'm naked underneath does it count as public nudity cause im technically still wearing clothes

🐥 baghz-quacks

don't you walk around without clothes on all the time anyway ?

⚜️ kocwillrock

it's a hypothetical baghera try to keep up

🐥 baghz-quacks

I don't think you know what hypothetical means.

#lmao #i bet bad would love it if you walked around naked foolish

98 notas

👾 teeny-weeny-rocket-launcher

i think we should make bad boy halo illegal

[tomorrowsgardennc]

🍠 harvesting sweet potatoes 🍠

this was my second year growing potatoes, but my first year growing sweet potatoes specifically. when i grew normie potatoes, i ended up with less than what i put in the ground... that's how bad it turned out. while researching why i did so badly, i learned sweet potatoes grow totes differently so i decided i would try those this year.

i am very happy i did.

i started off by bringing my teeny tiny harvest basket assuming i did horribly, but after half of the first plant i had to go grab my big boi harvest crate my dad made me. i also found 4 baby carrots that i grew last year during my harvest. ignore those.

prior to harvesting, i turned to the internet out of habit to see what needed to be done. sadly, the internet had varying degrees of how to handle both harvesting and curing potatoes. then i remembered farmer mama used to grow these so i hit her up for the true knowledge. i shall put it here for y'all.

there's no need to wait until first frost, and actually it's prolly not ideal if you wait. it's going to be first frost pretty soonTM so right now is just fine. it's easier to diggie dig if you trim back all the vines first. i did prune back the vines and leaves the deer left for me, and i tossed them in as my first layer of compost for the garlic bed (garlic post soon, i'm running behind on planting them...)

now i can grab on to the neck of the plant and rip it up. totally not morbid to phrase it that way. to say i squeed with joy when i saw large and bountiful potatoes this time is an understatement. hubs was prepping the perennial flower area to plant those plants and he thought i was getting attacked by yellowjackets again. my yipee and my panic screams are the same so i don't blame him.

for digging, since this was in my tall raised bed i just used my arms and hands and dug around. i had my shovel handy, but my acoustic self prefers to use hands for everything, and also because the shovel could pierce the skin of the potatoes. which isn't horrible, but an annoyance and an extra worry when curing so just not worth imo. the potatoes didn't go further than 8 inches below the soil, so no reason to keep digging. you can also tell when the roots get smaller and smaller. i also learned that for sweet potatoes like 90% of the taters are right under that neck, so also no real reason to dig around too much except if you want to find those baby outliers.

so incredibly happy with this harvest 😍❤️🍠

the purpose of me growing these was because, well, why not, but also because i want to offer sweet potato slips at the farmers market next april. i offered only a few this year because i just didn't know what would happen and if i wanted someone else to grow it and see how theirs turned out to compare. why purple? well, why normie???? purple is so much prettier and i'm actually going to focus on a lot of purple produce in 2025 lmao. but i digress.

ok so i hit the tumblr photo limit just from talking about harvesting these gorgeous purple divas therefore i shall do a 2nd post about the curing stage. spoiler alert: i am curing the baby tubers because market slips next year and i washed the big chonkas in my outdoor sink and boiled them immediately.

boiling was a mistake. good news is i learned the kitchen would look pretty with purple floors 🫠 and that if you clean up purple potato water on kitchen floor with clorox bleach that it turns the purple color blue 🫠 i love science.

since i got too overexcited i boiled too much. i saved enough in the fridge to make a sweet potato pie later this week, ate some for dinner, and then froze the rest in ziploc bags. i have a feeling i'll be making multiple purple sweet potato pies this season because why the hell not.

don't worry i'll have photos of the pie when i make it. hehe.

ok chores real quick then on to the next post about curing the potatoes, very important.

[jadedresearcher]

Thoughts on Liminal Horror

So this has been kicking around in my head a while, and I woke up with some actual coherent thoughts on it that I'm trying to capture before I lose them.

There was a tumblr post I saw before that I have long since lost about how liminal horror should NOT have a monster and isn't just "oh you're alone somewhere". And I couldn't agree more! But I haven't been able to articulate exactly why. Liminal, as a word on it's own, means transitional. Liminal spaces are real things that are places where you are on the WAY to somewhere. Liminal doesn't mean infinite spooky mazes, is my first point.

A liminal space could be hallways on the way to an office. Maybe you're trying to get some government bullshit completed. Maybe you're on the way to a doctor you're not entirely familiar with. A liminal space could be the terminals in an airport, as you try to make it to your flight in time. Or a highway you're driving on while looking for a particular exit. Or a carpark as you look for where you had parked among seemingly identical cars. You've been in liminal spaces so so many times. The point is that the spaces themselves aren't what you're really paying attention to. You're thinking of what you'll do when you get there, or going over the things you'll need to keep track of when you arrive. The directions you have to get there, maybe.

So in your MEMORY, and especially your dreams, these spaces take on a peculiar quality. They're SLIPPERY. It's hard to remember any details of them, because you weren't really focused on them. It's just a miasma of "i was in a hallway" or "i was on a road". Maybe a few weird details jump out on you, but it only serves to blend together the rest of the journey. So, when we elevate liminal spaces to HORROR, the first thing we do is lean into that. Impossible spaces because your memory genuinely does not care what any part of them is like save the ending.

Impossible spaces because we tap into that part of you deep down that is unsettled if you try to remember them, and wonders if maybe they really HAD been so weird when you were in them, and you just didn't notice.

This is getting longer than I thought, so may as well put in a cut!

So. I've explained WHAT liminal spatial horror is as well I was going to be able to, I think, but I haven't really articulated why a MONSTER feels like it kneecaps the entire premise.

Have you ever been lost in a liminal space? Keeping in mind that "liminal space" is a thing we all encounter constantly and not shorthand for creepy pastas. Have you ever wandered unfamiliar areas that normally you wouldn't even be paying attention to, increasingly desperate that you won't get to your destination in time? Are you going to miss your flight? What if you can't get your government bullshit taken care of in time? Or your doctor's appointment will skip you and you already waited so long to get it. Did you already miss your exit?

That fear is what I'm focused on here.

It's hard to make you feel that fear in an artificial way.

Even if we give a character in a game all sorts of motives to reach a destination by a certain time, you only feel annoyed at the time pressure, not really *scared*. And although the person lost in a liminal space rarely can just give up and leave, YOU, the player of a game, can.

So liminal spatial horror tends to distill it down to a single fear: where is the exit.

Of course, simply "wanting to leave" is rarely pressure enough to *rush*. And I can see why adding a monster is a quick trick to add that 'going so fast you can't navigate' vibe to the experience.

What I'm saying here is that the time spent is the POINT. That you can slowly build up to that desperate pressure to rush.

You can emphasize that desperation a more subtle way, a way my favorite instances of liminal spatial horror do: bodily needs. You are in a space clearly created by humans, and yet without a single human need met. There are no water fountains. There are no bathrooms. There are no vending machines. Nowhere to comfortably rest. If any of these things do exist they are empty or corrupt in some way.

The temperature, in my favorite experiences, is noted to be wildly incorrect. It's freezing cold. It's burning hot. It's not even remotely the temperature you'd expect an office building full of humans to be.

At first, this leans into this desire to reach a destination, ANY destination. Maybe you can't find the way OUT but maybe you can find out "The Truth"? Maybe if you keep going and going and going you can figure out why this place is LIKE this.

If a human made this space it had to be intentionally to torture people. How fucked up do you have to be to sink this many resources into doing something like this? How long did it take to make? Why did no one notice?

If a non-human intelligence made this space maybe you can find out WHY? Maybe... maybe they were trying their best but didn't realize how uncanny valley and dangerous it would be to a person? If no intelligence was behind it at all, maybe you can find out HOW? Maybe it's a reflection of our collective unconscious, or the planet mimicking the increasing amount of man-made works on itself? But as you continue on and on, as a real living human being in an impossible liminal space horror situation, you realize it doesn't matter how or why or when or any of the questions you dangled in front of yourself like a will-o-wisp driving you ever further in.

Because you realize you're going to die in here. Maybe it'll be the thirst. Humans can only go a few days without water. Maybe hunger will be what finally gets you. Its hard to tell how long you've been in here when any clocks you find in the hallways are all frozen to the same time and the sun hangs over the infinite highway like an immovable, swollen eye. But the hunger is ever present.

There's always exposure. Cold, hot, never anything between. How can you be freezing to death in an office hallway?

That isn't right. That isn't how it should be. Starving and freezing and dying of thirst is something that happens to people OUTSIDE civilization. It would make sense if you were lost in the woods but you can SEE sign after sign of civilization and other people for gods' sake!

How could this be happening? Why isn't anyone coming to help you?

And then we draw back, to you-who-is-consuming-this-fictional scenario. Because the point of horror is to get the person in the chair riled up, not just the character within the fictional premise.

Are you thinking about how often people starve and freeze and die of thirst in our own civilizations? Inches from the trappings of safety? With no help coming?

Are you thinking of how many desperate people navigate government mazes of plaster and brick and paper and online forms, driven forward by the hope of government aid or food stamps or HELP. How many people hunker down in a freezing subway or under a bridge on the highway or other public space knowing that no one SEES them because they're all transitioning from one space to another?

You probably aren't. Not directly. But we all know we're closer to freezing to death under a bridge or denied life-saving medical care in an office than we are to being a billionaire, right?

And there's something about that, deep in our gut, that resonates. That thread of reality in the safely fictional that keeps us coming back. Unable to articulate WHY but also thinking that liminal horror is somehow SCARIER than mere monsters. We all know that deadly predators are unlikely to get us. Adding a monster lets us move our too-real-fear to a safe target. And it's valid to want to do that! To decide spatial horror is too much, to want to thin it out like adding ranch dressing to a too-spicy chicken wing.

But that's why I think that the monsters are an artificial add on. And not a part of spatial horror.

[tikus-library]

"The Visiting"

Avengers AU - Chapter 2

Previous

Characters: Loki x OC!Julia

Posted: Sept 30th

WARNINGS: ???

A/N: this one is snail updates, so sorry, thank you for those that have stuck around with my inconsistent updates to any of my stories! Yall are the best 🫶 (I really forgot to post here to tumblr)

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved. 

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work** 

“Is it fun?!”

Loki suppressed his grin entering his room to find her there once again. “Is what fun?” He asked, already knowing to what she referred to as he let out a long sigh. He had donned his best royal garments of course, he was used to the celebrations, yet his mother had machinations against him, keeping him on his feet and on the floor almost all night.

He did not dislike the women, he did not dislike men, the fact of the matter was that they did not hold the same honey colored eyes. Some had the same curls, yet lacked the length, others had the same color yet lacked the chaos and thickness - he had been tempted to reach out and capture her hair in his hand. Curious as to whether it was as soft as it seemed.

“Loki!” She called his name out, mixing it with her laughter, she twirled on her toes, huffing out a breath as she met his gaze, “DANCING!”

He tugged on the cord at his neck, loosening it to shake off his cloak. “Dancing, ahh?” He stepped closer to his bed, dropping the cloak to the floor. He watched as she continued to turn in circles, “what do you think? You were watching me?” he loosened the cuffs at his wrists, clothing loosening as he undressed, relieved as it no longer attempted to strangle him.

She couldn't hide the light blush that dusted her cheeks, “your my favorite to spy on,” she sang with mirth.

Loki paused, “then there are others?”

She faltered in her steps, “yes but…”

“But - ?” He pried, gaze intense as he waited for her answer. She watched other men?

“Well, most have more than three legs, or eight eyes, and they do not hold a conversation very well.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her, “Julia, I thought you might bring up I was the most handsome.”

She stopped dancing and smiled at him, “you don't need me to remind you!”

“Perhaps I do,” he nearly pouted as he stripped off the heavy leathers and stood in front of her in just his undershirt and pants. Her eyes slid down his face to his chest and further before she managed to turn around. A wicked grin slid into place, “I have figured out where you are,” he hummed, setting the fire alight with a wave of his hand, the low light danced over her curves as she stepped towards the large windows of his rooms. He supposed she was giving him privacy, but did he truly want it?

“Have you?”

“A name like yours? Julia Reyes? You must be a Midgardian, I know some there…” he moved closer to her, “you wanted to dance?”

She sneaked a glance at him and satisfied he was dressed appropriately, nodded enthusiastically. “We don't do dances here,” she said, stepping towards him.

“How boring.”

“Did you like them?” She asked, looking up at him as he eased her into quick steps, hand curling on her waist and carefully gripping her hand in his.

She was real, he could find her. It wouldn't be much. “Who?”

Julia snickered at him, “one of those girls? You danced with so many!”

Loki’s face dropped, he sniffed, “not of my choosing, my mother was delegating and I had very little choice. “

“Who can say no to their mom?” She asked with a laugh.

Loki led her through the dance, his rooms quiet except the soft swish of their clothes, her quiet voice and their shared breaths. This was intimate on a different level. “Julia-”

She hushed him and pressed her cheek to his chest, “let me stay here” she whispered, “they're coming.”

Loki's eyes flicked up and he glanced around his rooms. “Who? Who Julia?”

She jerked out of his arms and he rushed forwards to grasp at her, reaching out with his magic, could he hold her here?

“Loki–” She reached out, her fingers grazing his and he was determined to keep her there to wrap her in his arms and hold her.

But he blinked and he was standing alone.

Read On Ao3

[w0rmb]

Short Byler one shot! A little angsty, and probably ass because I haven’t written in years but I can’t get them out of my head. I don’t have an AO3 account and I didn’t want to post this on Wattpad so I’m putting it here! Enjoy the 10 people who read fanfics on tumblr!

It takes place some time after the end of season 4. Probably beginning of season 5. Will dealing with the battle of wanting to make his best friend happy and sister but hating what that entails. Will you are in the worst love triangle ever I’m so sorry. 😢

Mike was trying to make it not painfully obvious he was looking at Eleven. He wasn’t trying to stare but he was. The boy had a lot on his mind at the moment. Should he go up to her? Ask how they were? Even though he said that four letter word, yelled it to her. She still hadn’t spoken to him since. If he did go up to her, what would he even say? Should he keep it casual? It’s killing him inside to have so many questions but no answers. He meant what he told her during their fight, he did care. He cares so much about her, worried about what happened to her while they were trying to find her. I mean- she had her hair shaved off! Not just the old haircut but her old powers again?

At this rate, the Wheeler was going to be just staring for a while. Will had walked up beside his friend without him even noticing. Didn’t take long for him to understand what Mike was thinking about. Even if he hadn’t been eyeing her up. Will just could read his best friend so easily.

“You should go talk to her,” Mike’s train of thought broke. He looked over to where Will’s voice was coming from on his left. The teenager frowned and continued his staring streak.

“You think so?” His voice full of uncertainty.

Will replied softly, “yeah.” If Mike had been looking he would have seen how somber his face had been. But Mike blew off the weird feeling he was getting, thinking it was nerves. He had a habit of doing that to Will didn’t he? Yet here his best friend was. Accepting being blown off, trying to help him anyways.

Will pushed Mike forward, “go on!”

“Okay! Jesus!” Wheeler shot over a glare.

Once his eyes went back to El it took him about three steps for him to lose the momentum. He looked back at his friend to him giving him a thumbs up with a lopsided smile. Even Will knew this was gonna suck.

Then another three steps and Elevens head was turning before she could have even gotten the chance to meet his eyes Mike turned around so quick.

Oh god nope I can’t do it. Mike gave up before he even tried. But wait where was Will?

—————————

Even though Will hated himself for leaving his friend to deal with this conversation alone. If his friend asked why he left so soon, he could say “I knew it wasn’t gonna be pretty” or “I thought you would want some space for that.” Though that wasn’t the real reason. Even though he was helping his friend with his girlfriend. Will couldn’t stay to watch as it actually happens. To see his guidance actually work.

God, when did he become so selfish?

He was trying to be a good best friend. A good brother for El. Mike wanted El. So Will was going to make sure they stayed together if it was the last thing he’ll do. Yet if that was the case… That he wanted them to stay together. Then why was it so hard to even think about it happening? No matter how hard Byers tried to make himself feel the opposite. Happy. Excited. Supportive. He was selfish. That’s it. He’s selfish and stupid. Why did a part of his heart get crushed at watching Mike be happy? He wants her. If Will really-…loves him he shouldn’t be crying like an idiot in a bathroom about this. It’s not like El is a bad person for Mike. That’s his sister. She’s one of the sweetest people ever and she’d treat Mike well.

All the same his heart was still breaking. Tears still running, chest still burning. At least he made it to the bathroom in time. This is a battle for him and himself alone. That selfish feeling is always there when watching the two be together but the fact it was Will keeping them together this time. Made it really come out. Made him cry because he wished -the idiot he was wished- that he was in El’s shoes. He’s so selfish he really would go through the life El’s gone through if it just meant Mike wanted him…

What was he thinking?

No he doesn’t think any of that. Well yes he did, despite that he knows it’s wrong. It’s all so wrong. Will’s head felt like it had so much pressure getting built up. He was so stupid. Selfish and stupid. Thinking all these crazy thoughts. That’s all they were. Crazy thoughts, that he swore didn’t define him. He got to be Mike’s best friend and if he really loved him he’d be okay with just that.

—————————

Alright where did Will go? If he had just gone to the bathroom he would have been out by now. Wait had he even checked the bathroom yet? Mike went over and before he knocked he heard something. Soft nearly silent sobs. It didn’t take him long to recognize it being his best friend’s.

He knocked, “Will?” Suddenly the only thought of El in his mind was him thanking himself he hadn’t spoken to her. The sobs stopped. He knocked again, “Will is something wrong?”

Will looked in the mirror, he looked a mess. He turned on the sink. “No, I-i’m good!” He bent over to splash some water on his face.

Mike didn’t believe that for a second. “Then can I come in?”

“Uhhh-“ Before Will could respond Mike creaked the door open. He quickly turned the sink off and tried to dry his face. “Mike what the hell? What if I was peeing?”

Mike was going to reply but he saw Will’s state. Mike knows how Will’s eyes look after he had been crying. Slightly red and he knew that the boy was hiding something by the way his lip was trembling. Mike stepped in and closed the bathroom door behind him.

“Will, what’s wrong?” Will’s bangs were wet and sticking again his forehead. Will opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t get anything out. Mike saw his eyes and saw…fear?

“Did you see something?” Mike’s voice softened.

“N-no!” Will replied to quickly. “Mike, I’m okay. Nothing like that.”

“Oh, okay good.” Mike smiled for a moment. Though it didn’t mean he would stop being worried. “Then, what’s happening?”

Will turned from him, “Nothing is Mike I-“ He bit his lip. He turned his head down looking at his hands on the counter. Mike stepped closer to him. Will turned his head to look at him hesitantly. Met with Mike’s eyes, full of worry. Oh that feeling that made him so stupid came back.

Mike felt like fall. Perfect temperature, with a cool breeze. Fun, games, life before he got taken. When life was normal. When their biggest fear was not being able to continue their campaign that night. Before he was reminded of how terrifyingly mortal he was because in those days Mike was always there and it wouldn’t have been the same without him.

Stupid selfish feeling of warmth in his chest when he saw Mike look at him like that. Will had to look back away from him because that warmth had moved to his face. Though he didn’t escape him for long because Mike put his hand on his.

“Will I know it’s been a long time since the last time you trusted me with something but…” Mike’s voice a little desperate with a hint of self hatred from thinking about how long it has been because of himself. “I’m here for you okay? And I want to be.” His hand was warm on top of Will’s. “Please trust me.” Mike’s head racing quickly translated to his voice as he raced. “I know it’s been so long and I’ve been a douche and it’s understandable if you don’t want to but I-“

“Mike.” Will said softly with a smile on his face. “I know.” Mike looked at him with wide worried eyes.

“Sorry… I just think I’m antsy cause of how long it’s been.” Mike smile was a little twisted.

“Antsy?” Will poked. Mike was going to quickly reply with something to try to over explain it but Will stopped him before he got the chance. “Me too. I think everyone is.”

Everyone? Mike thought. No it couldn’t be everyone because the feeling Mike was feeling was just with Will. But maybe it would be better to let Will think it’s whatever he thinks Mike meant.

“I appreciate it Mike.” Will looked up at Mike and his friend mirrored him. Will’s eyes went to their hands. “I’m sorry I worried you, I just was stuck in my head. Thinking crazy thoughts.”

Mike smiled, “well you remember what I said?” Will looked up confused. “If we go crazy, at least we’ll go crazy together.” Will eyes widened, Mike didn’t even know what he just did to Will’s heart. Will flipped his hand over and intertwined their fingers.

Mike let him. “Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I remember.” The two looked at an each other for a moment. Then Mike noticed the tears in his friend’s eyes.

“Hey but please don’t do this again. This is what Vecna wants, us to be split apart with our worst feelings. It’s dangerous.” Mike’s hand tightened. Will’s heart was racing, Mike always is looking out for him. “I get you might not want to talk to me, that’s okay. But at least sit with someone, if not with me at least someone.”

Byers’ thumb rubbed against his friend hand. “I think you’re the only person I’d want to be with when I’m like this.” Will laughed and rubbed his eyes.

Now it wasn’t just Will’s chest feeling something. That funny feeling in Mike’s chest, different from the one that came with El started to warm up his chest. The black-haired boy smiled brightly. “Cool.”

“Cool.” Suddenly the two liked this bathroom. Didn’t mind staying in it for a little while longer.

[ameliapples]

I see people on other platforms talking about cohost going down and I generally see the same few complaints being trotted out over and over as the reasons why it failed and was doomed to fail from the start. "It kept logging me out", "there was no app", "my timeline was always dead", "I got so little engagement", "I had to wait how long before I could post??". It's the stuff people have complained about with the platform forever, and while I think these complaints are generally a bit silly, they do arrive at what's probably the real reason we're all mourning the impending death of eggbug without realizing it.

A big part of what made cohost so different from other social media platforms is that it was the only platform where you had to actually want to be there. Every other platform is basically designed to hold you at gunpoint and force your attention and engagement 24/7. The gun in this situation being mostly fomo - everything is happening so rapidly, there's so much to keep track of, what if you miss something? what if it's something really big and you don't tweet about it within the first 5 minutes of it happening? what if you miss the next Main Character? there's a new one every day and they're forgotten as quickly as they arrive, but a month from now someone's gonna bring it up as a joke and you won't get it and you'll look lame and cringe! you don't want to look Lame and also Cringe, do you?

cohost never felt that way. If you were there, it was because you genuinely wanted to be. The site was designed to ensure that, even. You had to wait about a week after you made an account to ensure you weren't a spam bot before you could post at all. Once you could post, there was no algorithm. None. Nothing was fed into your feed that wasn't directly posted to a tag you follow or a person you follow. If you wanted to see something outside of that, you'd have to do the legwork browsing tags yourself. For budgetary reasons, there was never an app, so you had to either learn to set up a shortcut icon on your phone or else open it manually in a browser. It also logged you out every 30 days as a privacy and security measure. You had to want to jump through all these hoops to use cohost.

And what did you get for doing the effort? Peace. A social media environment that didn't feel like you were constantly stood in the center of Time Square with all the noise and marquees and heckling voices focused directly at you at all times. It didn't try to be a news site, or an advertising platform. No algorithm meant you only got what you actively chose to see, and nothing more. You could say in your head "lemme check cohost real quick", and you could be up-to-date on your timeline in under 5 minutes. It was a place you would willingly go to check in on friends or look at cool art or play around with html like it was 2004 again, not get sucked into for hours doom scrolling. Because there was no algorithm, no push for engagement, no numbers that publicly went up, no one was competing for attention or clout. No one I ever met on cohost was immediately antagonistic, or rude, or trying to dunk someone. People were chill, FRIENDLY even, in a way I have never seen on twitter or tumblr even back in "the good ol days". The adversarial, cliquey, petty nonsense we all expect from social media was almost entirely absent. It was peaceful, quiet. It was the only social media platform I've used to not give me anxiety, or a migraine.

So of course it fell apart. We live in a world where things require money to simply exist, and cohost was designed basically not to make any by virtue of having virtues. It refused to advertise, sell user data in any way, open a weird shop where you can put microscopic pngs next to your name, or force people's worst impulses in order to keep them on the site for as long as possible. It ran off merch purchases and cohost plus, which was meant to give you premium features but never got the chance to do much more than upping your file size limit on uploads. It was essentially a $5 a month donation. It wasn't enough, clearly.

So now it's going, but I don't really think saying it "failed" is right. If anything, it's made it clear what a failure the rest of the social media ecosystem is. Usually when a platform is dying, or looks to be dying (in the case of twitter, or tumblr post 2018), people immediately make plans to jump ship to a new one. But upon hearing that cohost was shutting down, my reaction, as well as that of a pretty large portion of the user base, was that we'd rather spend time on other things. Cohost was so different an atmosphere it seems to have had a healing property on people who used it. It wasn't perfect, moderation was spotty at times due to the limited staff, people had their blind spots and biases they sometimes struggled to work through. But it was better than what we've grown to expect. It made you realize how tiring the rest of the internet has become, and that you don't need to deal with it. You can better spend that time, doing things you enjoy with people you enjoy. Maybe even outside, if you can muster it. You might even meet some cool people out there, wearing cool patches, eulogizing a cool little website, with a funny lil bug shaped like an egg.

[grifff17]

Audiodrama Sunday 6/9/2024

I have so much to say this week! I usually take some very quick notes as to what I want to say in these as I listen to stuff, but this week I have a ton of notes. Also, I made a Tumblr Community for audiodramas. If you want an invite, please ask me! Also, if you can figure out how to reblog posts into a community, which is supposedly a thing you can do, please tell me.

To start off, season 16 of Lost Terminal started this week. It feels great to be back in this world, this show is so cozy. I love the little programming tidbits in this show, as a nerdy programmer into conlangs and hard scifi this show feels like it was made for me specifically. It looks like the premise for this season is an entire season that takes place over 10 seconds, which is such an incredibly cool idea. I love how they are leaning into the relative time different between humans and AIs due to processing speed.

@worldsbeyondpod had so many crazy moments I have to talk about. First off *music change* "roll a stealth check for the fox" out of nowhere was terrifying. I truly felt Erika's gasp when Brennan said the words "patchy corduroy witch hat". I haven't even gotten to the biggest moment in this episode. Holy shit poor Straw. This story has so much moral nuance, I'm obsessed with @quiddie's defense of Suvi on tumblr since the last episode. Speaking of Aabria, "fuck your scene" was so perfect. Finally, Glassheart moment spotted at the end of the episode. Even though it will never happen, I will forever be a Glassheart shipper.

@worldgonewrongpod this week was very fun. It is weird that I was picturing a specific tree at a small local park I walk through all the time whenever the tree was being described? I cannot unlink that tree and this episode in my mind. The reenacted council meeting was great, I'm excited for the update to this episode at the end of the season. Also, I'm not sure I've said this yes, but the theme song for this show is perfect. I've already added it to my playlist.

@wanderersjournalpod ended on a cliffhanger this week. Are we finally going to learn Pluto's whole deal next week? I can't wait to find out.

@midstpodcast that was a hell of an opening scene. This whole episode showed such an interesting side of Weep. I want to avoid spoilers for this show, but that ending god damn. That is not what I expected. We must be getting close to the end of the season, they resolved the opening scene and the episodes are getting much longer. Looking at the lengths of the previous season, there's probably 2 more episodes.

A very short update from my dear friend over at @re-dracula this week. Renfield is so unsettling. I don't actually know anything about Renfield, so I'm learning as I go. I think he's some sort of vampire spawn?

@breakerwhiskey I caught up and what the fuck. This show keeps twisting the knife. Hey, at least Birdie is finally talking in real time again. She confirmed Whiskey's theory, which is nice, and finally gave us her backstory. Then the second reveal in a later episode, holy shit Harry. This really explains the whole dynamic between Whiskey and Harry. This was the big fight Whiskey keeps referencing.

I listened to the first episode of season 2 of Skyjacks Courier's Call. The city that it's going to be set in is really cool, and I loved the Fun Money shenanigans. Going on a road trip tomorrow and I'm going to listen to a lot more of it.

Finally, there was a new SCP: Find Us Alive this week. This was a cool episode, I really liked the art show. But the big thing was the very end of this episode. My theory was right! Sometimes, when talking into the mic, Harley was subject to the memetic effect and forgot what he was talking about. But only sometimes. They've established that it only happens if someone can hear you. This meant that every time he forgot, someone was listening! Great foreshadowing!

Because of the aforementioned road trip, I'm going to post this a few hours early. This is at least better than my usual time of "forgetting it until the last moment."

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Tumblr Fandom: A Year in Review 2023

Tagged by @mistmarauder and I'm pretty sure I'm contractually obligated to do as she says so...

Top Five Blorbos: Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley, Patrick Jane, Edgin Darvis, Xenk Yendar

Top Five Fandoms: 9-1-1, Fast & Furious, Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, The Mentalist, The Witcher

Top Five OTPs: Buddie, Xedgin, whatever the hell Dom/Brian is called (there is so little fanfic for them I am weeping), Jisbon, House/Shenanigans uh I mean House/Wilson/Cuddy

Shoutout to Some New Friends: @princessfbi and @tulipfromtheinternet have been very kind to me, leaving treats out on their porches for me to sniff. I even let them pet me after a few months of slowly earning my trust!

Shoutout to Some Old Friends: @mistmarauder and @catdadeddie are two friends I grew closer with this year, and have done a lot to restore my trust in people. They've put up with an unfair amount of prickliness and distrust on my part with grace and love. @evcndiaz has also put up with me dropping into her inbox with fun (horrifying) facts about human anatomy, which earns her a gold medal. And of course @givemeunicorns @devilsbrokerank @captainofthefallen and @extasiswings continue to be my rocks and remind me that there are good people in this world, and that some of those good people might actually love me.

Favorite Creation You Posted This Year: Genuinely I feel like with my Halloween fics I have done the best work in my fanfiction career. I'm shocked at how proud I am of the fanfics I put out this year, including my Wednesday fic and my Xedgin fics. It's impossible for me to choose a favorite.

Favorite Creation Posted by Someone Else This Year: @kittykatthetacodemon had me reading fic for fandoms and ships I'm not even in or shipping? she's just that fucking good? holy shit go watch Mag7 and then read her fics just. just do it.

People Who Brightened Your Year: @lisbonsteresa always and forever brightens my days, and it was a delight this year to be in the same fandom again as she got me hooked on The Mentalist, @mistmarauder always makes me laugh even (especially) when she's roasting me, and @extasiswings helped me get away from the real world a couple times when I needed it.

Anyone Else You'd Like to Mention: I'm so grateful to all of my readers, always. Your enthusiasm and comments are what keep me going. Thank you thank you thank you.

Five of Your Favorite Authors This Year: I'll be honest I have barely read any fanfic this year since I simply haven't had time but a quick shout out again to @kittykatthetacodemon because Mist forced me to read her fanfics at gunpoint and I've never been so happy to be at gunpoint after reading them. I've reread her Hobbs & Shaw fics literally a dozen times, she nails the hysterical over-the-top banter from the F&F films and it has me giggling every time.

Oh and @henswilsons. Forever and always making me laugh with your delightful fics. Never stop, dear.

Five of Your Favorite Artists/Gifmakers/Podficcers/Etc. This Year: @captain-hen so many times I see a gifset that makes me insane and it's by you, you menace. @like-the-rest-of-la lovely art from a lovely person. @bucksketch you make art that has me screeching and twirling my hair and kicking my feet. @mistmarauder your podfics, babe, you know how much I adore them. Um I'm terrible at remembering urls (I'm even worse with names). Uh. Um. Uhhhh. Uhhhhhhh... *we're all still waiting days later*

Three Things You're Looking Forward to in 2024: 9-1-1 SEASON SEVEN BABEEEEEEY

[buckyarchives]

the trials and tribulations of getting Bucky Barnes a second date.

summary: Bucky hasn’t kissed someone since the 40s and he needs a little… practice.

words: 2.1k

tags/warnings: tooth rotting fluff, gender neutral reader, bucky being old and reader being horny

a/n: small drabble i posted on ao3 awhile ago. i need to post more on tumblr so here’s this.

read on AO3

—♡—

Boredom was going to eat you alive.

Bucky Barnes had fallen into a depression since his last date, it had probably been the tenth one this month because you and Sam were oh so determined to get James Buchanan Barnes back out into the dating scene. And the dating apps were definitely not working. So he opted out. Bucky came through the door of your shared empty apartment and declared he was destined to be alone and threw himself on the couch– and it seems he hasn't gotten back up since then.

“So like, Steve is an asshole.”

You hummed, eyes glued to the television screen. “Wait until you figure out that's not even his real name.”

“Jesus.”

Having been there on the whole failed-date-depression thing, you joined Bucky on the couch and decided to help him catch up with the 20th century. So you introduce him to netflix and your favorite series– shameless. It was trashy and loud and nothing like Bucky had ever seen. He described it as a train wreck that he couldn’t keep his eyes off. You agreed. He likes it.

Anyways, that was about 2 or 3 days ago, give or take. Sam had been texting and calling you both, in his words, to get off your lazy heartbroken asses before he had to come over and rip the television off the wall. Sam also texts you in big capital letters.

FIX HIM.

You scoff at the message and grab another piece of pizza from the coffee table. You glance at Bucky on the other side of the coach, lying parallel to you. His 5 o'clock shadow had grown darker, as well as the bags under his eyes. Bucky is wearing one of his many stupid red henley shirts and some sweatpants, your eyes travel down his body, and his foot is nudged between your side and the couch. You poke it. He flinches, Bucky’s a little ticklish. But don't tell anyone that.

“Alright, Buck.” You snatch the remote and pause the show. “What's your problem?” He looks offended, like he wasn't expecting this conversation at some point.

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” he sends a glare to you, the reflection from the tv makes his eyes glossy and bright. He looks pretty good, for being couch-ridden depressed. “You know what im talking about '' you snark back. Bucky turns, his face lands flat into a pillow. A muffled and pained-groan escaped his lips. Swiftly, you reach across the man's body and grab the pillow.

“Gimme that!” bucky reaches, but you’re quick.

“Not until we fix your… dating problem.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Jesus. You make it seem like I'm some loser.” he sits up, scooting to the edge of the couch. You tilt your head and give a teased look. He notices.

“I know, I know…'' Bucky trails off, eyebrows furrowed close as he dramatically falls back onto the couch. Pick a spot man. Bucky sighs and continues. “I just keep overthinking everything, like Steve always told me about how I used to be, y’know? That charming, romantic boy from brooklyn that swooned girls everywhere he went.”

You punch his shoulder softly, to lighten the mood? You were so not going to let Bucky go all doctor raynor therapy sessions on you, especially over your pizza. “Dude, don't brag.”

“Seriously,” bucky says your name, seriously. “I've come to face the fact, that boy is gone. But, i just overthink, and it gets awkward and then they start nagging me about me and my past–”

“Nope!” you interject. “That is not nagging, buck. That's called getting to know your date.”

“And, we had the talk about if you were going to try dating that mean having to tell people about your past.” you speak, matter-of-factly, your finger pokes his chest.

“Whatever. I just tense up and get nervous, it's hard talking to people. It’s not like you or sam!” he waves his hands around, motioning to you. Your mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out. You close your mouth. “Its just so stupid, dating is so different now. When did getting flowers become... weird?”

bucky looks confused, you could have sworn that sam and sharon gave him the run down on dating in the wonderful year of 2022. Guess not. “It's not weird, the standards have just gotten lower for men and dating.”

“More of a reason for me to be good at dating!”

“Oh poor you, old man!”

You throw his pillow back at him, Bucky grabs it before it hits his face. Almost, you thought. The room goes silent again, you lean back against the couch next to bucky. Your head turns to look at him, his eyes are shut. You take notice of his features, not your first time though. Your mind darts back to when he first came to the tower, when he was still recovering (i guess bucky still is recovering now) and barely spoke a word. But, you were, well– still are, a horrible insomniac and he had his night terrors that left him screaming awake. And Steve knew when he was awake and Bucky cared too much to keep Steve awake at night.

So, call it fate or call it a weird coincidence, you two found yourself in the commons room on late nights, which turned into sharing a bed. Two friends, sharing a bed to comfort each other. Totally platonic! And if the shoes fits. Bucky never had nightmares when he slept in your bed, maybe it was your brand of sheets? That was years ago and he still hasn’t told you that, maybe that was one of the reasons he agreed to buy an apartment with you.

Those nights, when you slept close to him (platonically!) you also, slept better and fell asleep much faster than normally. Which was a plus, but god– you could stare at him for hours. You wished to trance your finger along his jaw, or the curve of his nose, or maybe even just feel this skin on his cheek. You never indulged, you were scared you’d wake bucky and have to stop staring, is that creepy? Maybe, but he looked like he was sculpted by the gods so you’re sure they'd be very flattered knowing you were admiring their work. You’ve been doing that for years now and have yet to tell him about his beauty.

A quiet, breathy nose-laugh comes from bucky. You’re snapped from your thoughts and you see his eyes are open now. He didn't see you staring, did he?

“What?” you’re still looking at him. Bucky shakes his head, waving off your question.

You grab at his hand, the cold metal meeting your warm flesh, a comforting feeling. He doesn't flinch like he used to. You smile to yourself. “No! You can't do that and not tell me!”

“I can't say, really. It's kinda embarrassing.”

'`Oh?” you give him that look, that look that says ‘tell me or i'll cry.’ or maybe it's ‘tell me or i'll hurt you.’ whatever, it works.

“Don't give me that look, doll.” the nickname lulls off his tongue. You smile again. “Fine, okay. It's just… this last date. She– uh, she tried to kiss me and she was so close and i got nervous and tensed up, i panicked, really. Because i dont think ive actually kissed anyone since, well, the 40s.”

Your mouth gapes open. You don't mean to, really, but damn. No wonder he can't get a second date, the old man is practically a 13 year old boy when it comes to girls. Bucky glances over to you and sees your face. He screws his eyes shut in embarrassment and goes back to head in pillow mode. Maybe you'll tease him a bit more. “Buck, your virginity has practically grown back by now.”

“Oh, will you stop with that.” he playful smacks your leg. You laugh to yourself. And bucky swears he felt just a little bit lighter. Just a smidge.

Bucky sits back up again. Seriously pick a position to lay! He looks at you. Shifts his weight, shifting closer to you. He lays his head on your shoulder. You loved it when he did that.

“I'm never going to get laid.” he jokes, is he joking? You both laugh.

“You are shit out of luck, bucky.”

Suddenly, you had an idea. One that would go terribly wrong or terribly right. Maybe even wonderfully right.

You gulped. “Hey, bucky?”

He hums. bucky turned to look at you and you almost, just almost backed out on this very stupid and slightly self-indulgent idea. “I have an idea, to help you… get out of your shell. You can say no and hate it or me, and walk away and be mad at me for even suggesting this but…” you trailed off, slightly fiddling with your hands. Bucky's eyes brows furrowed slightly as he gave you a confused look.

“You can kiss… me. If you want, just to get you out of your shell, you know? And to make you more comfortable with the whole motion… of kissing.. Someone, anyone.” you keep talking, rambling. God, you need to stop talking. Finding the right words seemed so impossible. This idea sounded much better in your head, you fiddle with your fingers more.

He doesn't respond. Fiddle with fingers more. You screw your eyes shut and expect him to get up off the couch, finally, and be depressed in his room.

Bucky thinks for a moment, sucks in his lip. “Sure.”

Your eyes shoot open. ”what?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck–

“Only if you're comfortable with it, sure.” Bucky said. It was your turn to panic now, had you really thought this through? Did you really want to do this? Spoiler, yes you did. But you really didn’t think he’d actually agree to this, you assumed he’d say no and you two would, hopefully, just laugh it off and continue watching shameless.

“Doll? You okay in there?’ he smiled at you like this idea wasn’t crazy.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just thinking..” you stopped yourself from speaking out your thoughts. You faced him. “You really wanna do this?”

Bucky just nodded and moved to face you. His eyes landed on you and just like that, a flip switched and you couldn't stop the word vomit.

“Seriously, I don't want to force you to do this or make you uncomfortable, also I really don’t want this to change anything between us, you know? Because i really like being your friend and if this jeopardized it that would be really bad-”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you.”

Then, suddenly. His lips slant against yours and bucky swears he’s in heaven. Swears that you're an angel. Bucky's hand instantly grabbed the back of your neck to quickly close the gap between you two. You sat there still under his grasp for a second, before snapping back to life and slowly beginning to kiss back. You'd never imagined being in this position years ago, hell even 30 minutes ago. Your hands raised to the sides of his face, this moment was so sensual and sweet it could rot your teeth. Bucky's lips were so warm and soft against yours, this felt like heaven. His tongue grazed your lips, you let him in and soon he danced in your mouth. It was all too sweet and hot. You had to cherish this moment while you could because this could, and probably, will be the only time you get to kiss him.

Pulling away slowly, your eyes made contact instantly. Surprise and… lust, flashed in Bucky's eyes. You were both breathing heavily and you glanced at his lips, they were pink and wet, even a little swollen. He had yet to say anything and it was getting harder to resist going in again. He sucked his bottom lip in and his eyes shot to your lips for a moment.

“Fuck it.” you breathed out.

And you dove into him, pushing him down onto the couch so you were on top of him as you connected your lips again. Your hands latched around his neck as he gripped your waist, pulling you even closer into him. The kiss was more aggressive this time, his hands were all over you as you started to trail yours down bucky's body, feeling how solid his chest was under his henley shirt.

“It's always been you.” bucky pulls away just far enough to murmur against your lips. Your body feels incredible hot. “I just wanted you.”

the world went quiet, your brain short-circuited and all you could focus on was his icy eyes and his hands holding your face. Was this a confession? or were you dreaming? oh my god. your mouth gaped open slightly.

“you’re telling me we could have done this months ago?”

Bucky's eyes crinkled and he laughed. you feel like you're on fire. and he dips down again.

[oht8]

Oops, Chapter 4 |18+|

Yunho/Ateez X Reader fic

You’re working, covering an event for someone else, last minute, and in a rush- you quite literally crash into Yunho.. Oops. What comes to follow changes everything you thought you knew about love and lust.

Pairings: Yunho/various Ateez members X reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, Multi-chapter fic, unfinished, casual encounters, polyamory

Warnings: *MDNI*(Minors DO NOT Interact), Light smut, flirting, coarse language. Please let me know if I have missed any.

Word Count: 810

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Author’s notes:

This is my first fic, first post on here. I’m still trying to figure everything out/how to best use Tumblr for this. This story is a WIP/unfinished, and a multi-chapter fic. Please be kind in comments, I welcome suggestions on how to best use this platform/share my fics. I will do my best to edit tags/summaries, warnings, etc, as the story evolves

Yunho and yourself approach a door and Yunho looks at you and says, “Wait here..” as he slips inside the room, letting the door close behind him.

Holy shit, are you really doing this?? “Fuck it..” you think to yourself, standing in the hallway, alone. You will, indeed, be more than happy to take some photos that no one else will have of Yunho from this event, hoping it saves your ass at work.. even if it’s all you end up with.

The door opens and Yunho looks up at you and smiles and says, “all clear.. come in..”

You walk into a fairly generously sized room, a wall of windows that face a breath taking view of the city, and various, plush furniture is placed tastefully throughout the room.

“Will this work, you think?” asks Yunho. “It’s lovely..” you answer. “Great!” he says grinning again. God, he is so perfect.. you’re grinning back at him as he says, “I’ll give you some time to set up, hopefully just a couple of shots will be enough?”

Not sure where your boldness is coming from, you answer, “Up here, with you looking like THAT, I may even be able to ask for a promotion..” you giggle as you blush looking back at him. “Oh?” Yuhno smiles and chuckles, his gaze lingering on your lips again. Holy hell, he’s making it hard to focus. You’re up here to keep your job.. you reach into your bag for your camera and, as you look in the viewfinder you say, “give me just a second to adjust some settings real quick..”

Yunho walks back towards the door, and, as you’re adjusting some settings to capture the lighting properly in here, you hear the lock in the door click. You tear your face away from your camera and look up at Yunho, shocked, and there’s that damn smirk again, “just for privacy.. I’d hate for you to be interrupted while you’re.. working..” “Oh.. right..” you stammer.

You check your camera again and you look up at Yunho and said, “could you go over by the window and let me take a test shot real quick?”

He walks over to the window and the light hits him, highlighting his perfect jaw line and he looks stunning. You have to force yourself to remember to breathe. You line up a shot as he poses effortlessly and you click the shutter. When you check the view finder you look back at him and say, “perfect.. we can continue..”

Yunho is an utter professional when it comes to this and honestly doesn’t need much direction. You follow his lead and snap a few more shots with different poses but his gaze feels like it is boring into you the entire time. He is clearly taking in the view of you in your tight dress. You’re sure your face in on fire from his gaze. Yunho in this fitted suit with the tease of bare skin? The way this suit is tailored, it shows off his narrow waist, his broad shoulders, and somehow makes him seem even taller. He looks like sex incarnate. It’s almost unfortunate that you’ll have to share these images. You can’t help the wetness that is starting to pool in your panties and he’s looking at you like he knows the effect he’s having on you.

You clear your throat, doing your best to shift your focus on the task at hand and look back to your camera’s viewfinder, scrolling through your images, feeling confident that you have what you need now. You don’t want to take up more of Yunho’s time than he’s already given you, and if you have to be in a room with him alone much longer, you’re going to need to change your lacey thong you’re wearing under your dress..

“thank you so much, Yunho, I think that’s all I need and now we can both get back to work..” you start putting your camera back in your bag and when you look up, Yunho is staring at you with heat in his gaze again.. he walks over to you, getting dangerously close as he looks down at you and says, “now about how you can make it up to me.. please go stand by the windows..”. You swallow hard. “W-what?” you ask, looking up at him.

“It’s only fair that I get some shots of my own of you.. looking like THAT in that dress..” He pulls his phone out his pocket and you just stare in surprise at him, as he adds, “Besides, how else are my friends gonna believe me when I tell them I had the fortune of meeting the sexiest photographer that’s ever shown up to one of these things?” Your face heats and set your bag down and walk over in front of the windows.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, subjugation, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior, gender politics

Summary: Bucky is not pleased when he finds out that his parents tricked him and he's being forced to stay at the school.

Author's Note: *reformatted with a few age and plot changes to adhere to Tumblr's ToS*

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 Part 2 yet!)

Part 3 - A Pedagogy Steeped in Tradition, cont'd

Previously: “How long until you whip him into shape?” Ransom asks as they return back to Steve’s office. They’ve just walked in the room, and James is turning around to look at them as they come through the door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve hems, catching the boy’s gaze and giving him a warm look. “I bet you he’ll be a new James by spring break.”

James’ eyes narrow. “Bucky,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Bucky,” he repeats peevishly. “Nobody calls me James except my grandparents.”

Steve nods, ignoring the boy’s tone. “Nice to meet you then, Bucky. I take it Sharon had to leave?” Bucky shrugs in lieu of an answer, and Steve allows the attitude to go unchecked only because the boy’s parents are still present. “Sharon is a wonderful Handler,” he tells him instead. “I’m sure the two of you will get along famously.”

Bucky glowers at him. 

Steve catches the eye of the security officer. “Mr. Rollins, you can take up your post in the hall. Thank you for waiting with him.”

“Sir.” Jack nods and heads out.

“Oh, Bucky, just wait until you see this place, it’s so neat! It’s got such history.” Winnifred gushes about it to her son, trying to get him excited, telling him about all the different things they saw on their tour of Cragside. She calls it a “castle,” which draws a bit of a laugh from Steve. 

“Hardly, Mrs. Barnes,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s Drysdale,” she corrects. “My name.”

Steve looks over to Bucky. “Oh. But I thought—”

“I’m remarried,” she explains. “Bucky is from my first marriage. He chooses to use his father’s surname.”

“Ah. I see. My apologies, Mrs. Drysdale.” Steve doesn’t miss the sour expression that flits over Bucky’s face. Steve clears his throat and gestures towards the couches. “I’m just having the paperwork drawn up. It should arrive soon. Would you care to take a seat while we wait? Afternoon tea’s an entire thing over here, and it is about that time.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky says, attention sharpening on them. “What paperwork?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, little one,” Steve says, very aware of the displeasure that flits across Bucky’s face at being addressed that way.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ve already decided I don’t want to go here anyway. It’s an all omegas school. Did you guys know that?” He’s asking his mother and stepfather, and Winnifred sighs while Ransom scoffs.

“It’s exactly the sort of environment you need, you little punk. Can’t be a skank here. All you can do is study. That’s what school’s for.”

“Ransom,” Winnie scolds.

“That’s the sort of thing pompous losers who can’t get laid say,” Bucky tosses back, and Steve makes a quick assumption that there is no love lost between these two.

“I’ll call for the tea,” he says, trying to stop their bickering. It works, somewhat, and the Drysdales sit across from Steve on the room’s conversation couches when the service has been delivered and set out on the coffee table between them. Steve catches Rollins’ questioning look through the doorway as the servants are leaving, but shakes his head smally, confident that he can handle an unruly pup like Bucky all by himself, if things get testy.

Predictably, Bucky stays standing while the real adults have tea. He ignores his mother when she suggests that he have a seat, and he keeps making aggressive eye contact with Steve each time he comes over to grab another petit four off the tiered stand to eat.

“Oh Bucky, honestly,” Winnifred scolds after the fifth one. “They’re not all just for you.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to her, just shoves most of the scone in his mouth while he confronts Steve with a blunt, “I’m not even gonna apply to this place.” Steve stares him down, but Bucky doesn’t break eye contact, the little shit. 

“Well,” Steve says calmly, “We’re not a university. We’re a boarding school. Our students are enrolled by their guardians. It’s more a transfer of custody than it is your traditional college application.” He watches as Bucky’s face screws up in confusion.

“What?” he says. “What are you talking about?” He turns to the couch where Winnifred and Ransom are sitting. “What’s he talking about?”

WInnifred leans forward anxiously. “Well, honey, we didn’t think you’d agree to come if we told you.”

“Told me what?” Bucky expression is rapidly darkening. He turns on Ransom with a scowl. “What is this place?”

“It’s a reform school. And you’re attending,” Ransom says.

“No. … You’re joking me right now … right? Are you shitting me?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already paid your tuition. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?! I only agreed to this stupid trip because you promised we could go see Stonehenge and some castles and shit! Not so you could imprison me at some fucking oldworld boarding school in the middle of fucking nowhere! Fuck you!” 

Winnifred nearly chokes on her tea. “Bucky!”

“This is a very prestigious, traditional, very expensive school, you little shit,” Ransom grits, pointing at Bucky. “Maybe they’ll actually be able to drum some manners into you, teach you how to be a proper omega. You need some good old fashioned discipline. ”

“I really don’t care what you think I need, Rancid,” Bucky snaps. “God. I should’ve known the second I saw that one guy on a leash.” He looks over at Steve with a nasty expression. “You’re one of those red pill Alphas, aren’t you? One of those incels who can’t get laid and blames all your problems on the omegas of the world and modern society and feminism and shit, right?”

“What’s with the obsession with getting laid, Mr. Barnes?” Steve drawls, completely unaffected by Bucky’s tantrum. “This is The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence. We’re a finishing school and reform facility aimed at older teens and young adults; exclusive, secure, and very well-equipped to handle whatever hissy fit you might decide to throw at us. This is a school for the rich and overindulged, but not in the ways you’re probably used to. We tame some of the most spoilt brats in Europe here. So I’d advise you to behave. Things will go much harder for you if you don’t.” Steve knows immediately from watching Bucky’s face fall that this is the first time the kid is hearing the full name of the school said out loud. He resists the urge to laugh about how clueless that makes him. The school’s emblem is printed clear as day all over the place, but Bucky has clearly missed every single sign that litters the campus. “Kids these days,” Steve simpers, staring down the boy’s rapidly darkening expression. “Noses always buried in your phones, huh?”

Bucky’s fingers grip tighter around the cellphone in his hand, glaring, and then he whips around to scowl at Ransom instead. “You,” he growls. “You tricked me!”

Ransom looks like his mind is already elsewhere—perhaps on the rest of the vacation he’s already unashamedly told Steve he plans to take without his pesky stepson in tow. “What can I say? You’re pretty easy to trick.”

“You can’t just leave me here!” Bucky squawks from around another mouthful of food, crumbs scattering to the carpet as he flings the hand that’s holding his scone. “I didn’t even know places like this were a real thing anymore! Like a fucking convent? Like some sort of fucked up juvie-meets-Hogwarts?!”

“Bucky, really,” his mother scolds, lips pursed. “You’re making a mess on Principal Rogers’ floor.”

Steve waves her off. “That’s alright, Mrs. Drysdale.” He looks at Bucky. “You’ll be surprised just how well it works, Cupcake. You’ll have no distractions from your education here.” The ‘Cupcake’ obviously goes over like a lead balloon with Bucky, if his continuing glower is anything to go by. Steve ignores the kid’s petulance and turns back to converse with the parents. “The girls’ school still operates down in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, at our original campus. A generous benefactor donated this estate, so now all of our male students attend here at Cragside.”

“Finishing school,” Bucky grumbles over to the side, still displeased. “This is bullshit.”

 “Language, Mr. Barnes,” Steve corrects blithely, and keeps on with Winnifred, “My business partner, Ms. Carter, she’s to act as Headmistress there moving forward. ‘Carter Girls’ Academy’ is now its own entity and will operate independent of this institution.” He looks back to Bucky and locks eyes with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but out here it’s just us boys, I’m afraid.”

It’s laughably obvious how Steve does not fit into any category with Bucky, let alone that of “boy,” and Steve is pleased to note a light dusting of color on the kid’s cheeks after that. Bucky goes tight-lipped once again, and Steve leaves him to his teenaged sulking as he finishes entertaining the parents and assuring them that their son will be well looked after during his time at school. The paperwork for Bucky’s admission arrives and is reviewed, and soon Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale have signed their son over to Steve’s care and are saying their goodbyes.

Winnifred pulls him into a long hug, which Bucky tolerates with limp arms. “Be good,” Steve hears her say. “And remember how generous your stepfather’s being.”

“Forty grand a semester,” Ransom mutters on the way out, reminding Steve that money can’t buy class.

One of the school prefects is waiting out in the hall to act as escort, Rollins standing directly against the opposite side of the hallway in his security guard gear. Steve catches Bucky looking at the man like he’s gauging his chances of making a run for it, but luckily the boy relents and turns away from the door with a huff. Steve sees the parents out and then finally pushes the heavy office door closed.

The room is suddenly twenty times more silent than it was before, though not much has changed other than who’s occupying it. 

Without turning to look at Bucky, Steve walks leisurely over to the office’s wall of windows. He waits there for a moment, until the Drysdales appear in the courtyard below. He watches placidly as they walk to their car and get in, heading off down the drive within the next few moments. Cragside is abutted by forest on every side but one, and soon the trees block the car from view, and there’s nothing more to see. Still, Steve remains standing there, looking out the windows at the grounds and letting the silence stretch out, the tension build, as the boy behind him stares his fill. (Steve is not unaware of what he looks like from the back in a tailored suit.)

Finally, he turns around. Bucky is still standing there in the middle of the room, looking rooted to the spot. He seems apprehensive now that it’s just the two of them, some of his earlier bravado leached away. But after a moment he seems to collect himself, and he winds up jutting his jaw out again. 

Steve’s mouth quirks at that lingering bit of defiance. He always has enjoyed the process of breaking in a new student. “Alright, Honey,” he says softly. “That was fun back there. But now it’s time for the two of us to get properly acquainted, don’t you think?” He beckons him closer with a finger. “Come over here and let me have a look at you.”

Bucky doesn’t move, so Steve sighs and goes to him, fitting one hand to the front of his neck when he gets there. He holds him right underneath his jaw, pushing up to make Bucky look at him. Steve’s hand looks massive against the boy’s delicate throat, and he digs in with his thumb against the glands. Bucky lets out a sweet little gasp of sensitivity that Steve absolutely relishes. “You’re nervous,” he observes. He watches the fluttering of Bucky’s eyelids at his firm touch, his deep tone. Something between fondness and yearning flares in Steve’s belly, pleasurable and aching, like pressing on an old bruise. He ignores it, instead murmuring, “You’ve never had an Alpha, have you?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up to him. “I’m not a virgin,” he sneers. “I’ve fucked alphas before.”

Steve scoffs. “That’s not what I said.” He sees Bucky’s brow furrowing, so he cuts him off with a little scruff. “I said: you’ve never had an Alpha before.” He pulls against his jaw a little harder, watching the reaction it elicits in those angry blue eyes. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. Answer the question. You haven’t, have you?”

“No,” Bucky answers tightly. “I haven’t.” 

Steve nods. He relaxes his hand some. “Then that means most of this is all going to be new to you. You’ve had a liberal education, a lax upbringing. A lot’s going to be asked of you while you’re here. There’ll be a lot you don’t know. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll struggle sometimes. And that’s okay. Rome wasn’t built in a day, now was it?” He strokes softly over the boy’s fluttering pulsepoint and Voices, “I do, however, expect you to be respectful and obedient. Do you understand?” 

Bucky whimpers, though Steve isn’t being unkind. In fact he’s Voiced very softly to him just now, letting the dominant tone of it creep into the words he’s saying, letting it enrich them without hardening them, so that Bucky can really start to get a taste for it. The boy’s eyelids visibly flutter and his lips part as he starts to breathe open-mouthed. Then his tongue darts out to lick his lips as he tries to get a handle on himself. It’s cute. 

Steve circles the pad of his thumb over his bonding gland. “Has anyone ever Voiced to you before, baby?” 

Bucky nods. “Uh huh.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Steve gently corrects. “Who?”

“Who ... huh?”

Steve chuckles. “Aw, don’t go stupid on me yet, honey. I asked you: who’s Voiced to you before?”

“Oh. Just, um, just some … some guys … n’ a girl, from school. Hey,” he frowns, “M’not stupid.” 

“Hush. You get worked up too easy. Just try and stay calm for me, yeah?” A thrill travels through Steve’s body as he watches Bucky’s lips part and his face slacken. He’s so easy for it. In his slacks, Steve’s cock pulses with interest. “Oh Sweetie,” he coos. “You don’t know what Voicing is, if you think one of your little classmates did it to you.” 

Under his hand, Bucky shivers. “What?” he croaks.

It’s no wonder. If all he’s ever experienced are the best attempts of a few pubertal teenagers, then a grown ass man like Steve is bound to feel like a lot. It’s like giving a shot of hard liquor to a kid who’s never drank before. The poor thing has no tolerance. Steve guides him over to the couch, where he sits and encourages Bucky to kneel with a guiding hand pressing down on his shoulder. “There you go,” he praises as Bucky’s knees hit the floor, not missing how the boy’s brow furrows adorably at the change in positioning. 

“I … I don’t …” He looks insulted and confused about how he arrived there, staring down at his knees on the carpet as if they’ve just betrayed him by folding so easily.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothes. “That’s normal. I know it can be a little unsettling at first, that won’t last. You’ll learn to enjoy it, embrace it, even. And it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Ashamed of … what?” Bucky asks, swallowing thickly when Steve touches his neck again. He jerks back, the Alpha’s hand left hovering in the air between them. 

Steve sighs sadly and lets his hand drop. “Submission, Sweetheart. That urge to bare your neck? Going to your knees for me just now? It’s what made that feel right.” He watches the realization bloom on Bucky’s face and the fear leak into his eyes, the way he glances back down to his own body like he’s never seen it before. Steve makes sure to be gentle with him as he says, “It’s not a bad thing to give in when you get the urge. Your body craves it. Your brain thrives on it.” 

“On what?” Bucky growls nastily. “Getting into blowjob position for my principal?”

Steve forces himself not to laugh and instead raises an eyebrow that he hopes looks threatening. “Thrives on submission,” he corrects. “It’s already in you, an innate reflex, but for whatever reason you’ve trained yourself out of it. You’ll have to relearn those behaviors.”

“What behaviors,” Bucky asks, “grovelling?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Things like humility, and subservience, thinking before you speak. Don’t worry, most of our matriculating students are out of practice at best, we know you need a lot of help. That’s why you get the staff, your teachers, me. And of course your Handler, who’s in charge of you completely.” He sees Bucky’s expression sour and sternly adds, “Completely, Bucky. When your Handler asks you to do something, it isn’t a request. If they tell you to kneel, or to sit on their lap, or even strip naked in front of them in a public space, then that’s what you do. That’s how it works here. And if you resist, you can count on punishment.” He watches as Bucky’s visage darkens, a storm of contempt gathering behind his eyes.

“Naked?” he says, scowling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 “Shh,” Steve chides, trying to calm him with a pet to the head. Bucky hisses in rejection though, trying to jerk away, so Steve acts decisively. He grabs the back of his neck, scruffing him and forcing him in close. “Don’t fight, Bucky. Just calm down, rest your head down here.” Bucky grunts and pulls, but that only lasts a second before the Hold and Steve’s Voice make him go limp with a confused whimper. Steve hushes him and strokes his hair. “You’re okay … Take a deep breath ... There you go, good girl.” He waits. “… Now, I'm going to explain a few things for you. I want you to listen.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily from his spot between Steve’s legs, his cheek smooshed against the Alpha’s thigh muscle. “What punishments?” he growls.

“Hush.” Steve presses Bucky’s face against his leg and waits until he feels the next shudder of submission travel through his body. “Okay. Okay, good.” He inhales. “So, punishment. That can be lots of things. It can be spanking, or lines, or restraints at bedtime. It just depends on the situation and what your Handler feels is going to help you best in that specific situation. Often it’ll involve losing privileges of some sort; to your favorite activities or your clothing, or even bathroom privileges if you—”

“What?!”

Steve squeezes his neck again. “We can start right now if you need it,” he purrs, the threat coming through loud and clear despite his calm tone. He waits, and is pleased when Bucky offers no further bratting over the issue. “Okay, good.” He returns to petting him, fingers carding through his short, soft hair. There’s product in it, and Steve would bet money it’s blow-dried. He finds himself wanting to feel it in its natural state. “If you leave your hair alone after a shower,” he murmurs. “Does it dry curly?”

Bucky whines and squirms and completely ignores the question. “You just wanna humiliate me.”

“No, baby,” Steve tuts sadly. “That’s not it at all. I know it’ll seem that way sometimes, especially in the beginning. But this is all for you, I promise. To benefit you in the long run. To make you happy. Everything we do at this school is based on what the science has proven, okay? Evidence-based practice, that’s all. We wouldn’t use these methods if they didn’t work.”

“... what methods?” Bucky asks, voice tiny.

Steve hums and rubs behind his ear. “I’m sure a lot of it will seem old fashioned to you. It is old fashioned, or ‘traditional’ if you like. You met Sharon earlier, yes?” He waits for Bucky’s grunt of acknowledgement before he continues, “She’ll be your Handler. She’s personally assigned to you and nobody else, so she’ll be with you every day all day, almost everywhere you go.”

“Great,” Bucky complains

“It’s a good thing. She’s here to help you with your needs. Just think of her like … like a service animal, yeah? Just a tool to help you succeed.”

“Does she heel and sit?” Bucky mutters, and Steve laughs in surprise.

“No. The other way around, if anything. You have a schedule. You’ll attend the classes and activities that’re set out for you, and you’ll comport yourself with dignity and respect.”

“You assume I know how to do that,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve scoffs and scruffs him playfully,

“Don’t worry about if you don’t know certain things, Sharon will guide you. You’ll never be punished for not knowing something, Buck. Only for disrespect or disobedience.” He pauses for a moment, letting the information sink in. He pets Bucky’s hair and watches where the kid’s got his eyes closed tight. “Do you understand?” he asks, but Bucky doesn’t answer, not even after a few seconds, so Steve gives the back of his neck another firm squeeze. “You don’t have control anymore, Sweetheart. Not over anything. And far from upsetting you, that should make you feel relieved. By the time you leave here it will.” 

Not shockingly, Bucky growls. It’s just a piddly little thing from high up in his throat—an omega’s weak attempt at a sound their bodies aren’t equipped to make—but the intent behind it is clear. He struggles to pull away, Steve Holding him and pushing his face against his thigh until it passes. “Shhh. Calm down. Stop pulling away from me.”

Bucky continues to fight it for a second or two, but eventually he breaks off in an angry little sob. “Lemme go,” he grunts, embarrassed. “What is that? What’re you doing?”

“Holding you,” Steve tells him calmly. “Another thing I suspect you’re completely virgin to.”

Bucky huffs and shivers against him. “Shuddup,” he sniffles. “That’s not true.”

“Mhm. Some more of your school buddies?” Steve guesses, unsurprised when the kid’s flaming face tells him that he’s got it pegged just about right. “I see,” he says sadly. “So it wasn’t what people made it sound like, right? It didn’t make you feel any better. Then you got disappointed and you thought: ‘that’s it?’”

“No …”

“Mmhm. And since it wasn’t good enough, you decided you wouldn’t bother behaving the way anybody said you should. You figured there’s something wrong with you, so what’s the point in trying? Might as well act out, get attention that way. Because at least then you’d be getting a response from people. Am I getting warm?”

“Lemme go,” Bucky mumbles miserably.

“I’d like to, Sweetheart. But I don’t want to let go if you’re not ready.” Steve maneuvers his hand so that his thumb can dig more directly into Bucky’s glands. The omega moans, though he obviously hears himself and tries to stifle the sound. It’s both sweet and pathetic, and it makes Steve wince in sympathy. “It’s okay to react,” he tells him quietly. “Do you know why it feels like that?” 

He isn’t expecting an answer from the kid, and he doesn’t get one. Bucky just cringes and tries to hide as much of his face against Steve’s thigh as possible, holding back the sounds that obviously want to come and making a face like he’s trying with all his might not to pass gas.

Steve tuts in gentle reprimand. “They call them the ‘happy hormones’. Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, Omgestrin.” He lets up on the pressure of his Hold when the smell of omega arousal hits the air. Bucky exhales hugely and slumps against him, all the tension from holding back his vocalizations leaving him in a rush. Steve hums knowingly. “You’ll learn about the science behind it in your classes.”

“I have to go to class?” Bucky asks, sounding wiped out. “Today?”

“No baby. Today is just for getting you settled in.” Steve tilts his head as he considers him. “Do you think you’re ready to work with me, or do you still feel like you’re gonna act up if I let go?” He waits him out patiently, knowing that when it’s new and unfamiliar, the first response most omegas give to having all of their control stripped away is fear and discomfort. “It’s okay if you need time,” he offers. “We can stay here for a little while longer.”

Eventually, Bucky gives a strained little shake of the head, his flushed cheek moving against Steve’s pants leg. But it’s more the fact that he’s visibly thought about his answer before giving it that convinces Steve they might be okay to move forward.

“Okay, good,” he praises, letting up most of the pressure from the back of Bucky’s neck. He smiles in relief when the boy doesn’t pull away. “Very good, Honey. I can tell you’re trying, and I appreciate that. You’re doing okay.” Bucky makes an unhappy little sound in his throat, but it’s more privately grumpy than it is bratty, so Steve lets it pass. “You’re a smart boy,” he tells him, carding a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen your transcripts, so I know you’re very bright. Smart omega like you, I’m sure you’ve got an idea about what’s landed you here. Some clue about why you’re in my office right now instead of back home in Boston. Am I right?”

“... yes,” Bucky whispers, like he’s still recovering the ability to articulate.

“Mmhm. Thought so.” Steve pets his hair. “Think you can tell me a little bit about that?” 

“... I get in trouble for things.”

“Yes. Your parents told me that.” Steve feels him start to tense at the mention of his parents. “I know you disagree with them on this. Hell, you probably disagree on most topics, right? You don’t want to be here, don’t think you need to be, and they think you do.” Bucky nods teresely and Steve hums. “Well don’t worry, I’m not going to make you lie and say you’re happy about being here. I know you’re not. But can we at least agree on one thing? That for whatever reason, and no matter where you think it stems from, you’ve been uncomfortable for a while?”

Against Steve’s leg, Bucky is tense. He gives a tiny nod. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“Okay. And could we maybe agree that the way you’ve acted hasn’t exactly gotten you where you wanted to be?”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Okay. Okay, good. So that’s two things we can agree on. I bet I have your parents beat on that front, then, huh?” He scritches playfully behind the kid’s ear, but stills when it doesn’t elicit anything positive. “So, why do you think that is, Bucky? Why do you think you’ve had these issues?”

“Dunno,” he pouts. “I don’t think about it that much.”

“Well why do you think a judge agreed that your parents should have custody of you for an extra two years?” Steve asks. “Would you say you do things impulsively?”

Bucky shrugs. “I guess.”

“Hm. That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve met a lot of boys like you. Even helped a few of them, if you can believe it.”

Bucky grumbles at that, shifting restlessly on his knees. “You don’t know me,” he mutters. He tucks his face farther down, and then Steve catches the angry little “... this is bullshit” that he whispers under his breath. 

Steve pulls his hand away abruptly and widens his legs so that no part of him is touching Bucky. The omega sways in place and makes a fragile noise of surprise. He looks up at Steve and blinks, looking bereft. Poor thing hadn’t even realized he was taking such comfort from the contact until it was gone. 

“Stand up,” Steve says sharply, using his Voice and the abrupt switch in tone to catch the boy off guard. Bucky obeys without even thinking about it, rising to his feet in front of Steve with a light frown, once again looking like he can’t quite understand why he’s obeying Steve’s commands. Steve nods at him. “Good. Now take off all your clothes.”

“What?”

He prevents a tantrum by reaching forward himself and undoing Bucky’s belt. “Your clothes,” he repeats. “Take them off and show me your body, right now.” He plays on the boy’s pride by tacking on a scornful, “What? I thought you said you weren’t some shy virgin. Gotta get over that embarrassment real fast, Little one.” 

It works like a charm, Bucky’s countenance screwing up in anger before it smooths out again with false bravado. He squares his shoulders and makes direct eye contact with Steve as he toes off his shoes and finishes undoing his pants. He pushes them down and kicks them off to the side, then pulls his sweater hurriedly overhead. He stares at Steve once it’s off, and he probably thinks he’s acting so big and brave, but Steve sees him for exactly what he is: a scared little boy who doesn’t think he can depend on anybody else. 

“Panties too, Sweetheart,” Steve prods, and when Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to do it, he leans forward to help. He gently pulls the omega’s underwear down, easing the waistband past his genitals and down his thighs. He encourages him with gentle touches to step out, and then Bucky winds up holding onto his shoulders for balance as he helps him step out of the socks, one foot at a time. By the time Steve’s sitting back on the couch to have a good look at him, Bucky’s standing before him completely naked. 

Steve’s eyes track down to where he holds his arms ramrod straight at his sides, hands curled into tight little fists in an obvious effort not to cover himself. “Good girl,” Steve praises. “That was very good. Thank you.” He lets his eyes rake obviously up and down Bucky’s body, enjoying the sight of him, but more importantly letting Bucky see that he’s enjoying the sight of him. “You’re just lovely,” he tells him. On the Persian carpet, Bucky’s feet shuffle, shifting his weight in disquiet. “Shhh,” Steve chides softly. “Be still now, Honey. Let me look.”

The looking is, of course, not so much for Steve’s benefit as it is for Bucky’s. Steve’s already seen pictures and medical charts detailing every square inch of the omega’s body. This is about giving Bucky a taste of what it truly means to be vulnerable. He needs to feel seen, exposed, before he can ever truly learn to give in to his submissive urges. And he needs to learn to trust. Trust that the person caring for him won’t hurt him or let him down after he’s made himself vulnerable. It’s something that can only be gained through moments like this; experiences where he shows his metaphorical belly and bears his metaphorical neck. The more he learns to do that, the easier it’ll be to give in to what his body needs.

“Turn around and face the other way,” Steve says quietly, though still using his Voice to help him along in these first few moments of nakedness. Bucky obeys, turning, and Steve makes sure to rumble low in his chest for the boy to hear his approval. “Good girl,” he praises.

“M’not a girl,” Bucky grumbles, annoyed.

Steve tuts. “Come on, Buck. I’ve got two masters degrees and a Ph.D. And I just saw your little cocklet, didn’t I?”

“... yeah,” Bucky admits, though he also sullenly repeats: “M’not a girl,” under his breath.

“It’s a term of affection,” Steve scolds, eyes raking over the omega’s pert little backside. “Now be a good girl and stand still while Alpha looks at you.” 

Bucky’s buttocks tense, the sides flexing gorgeously in response to the domination of being called a “good girl” all over again. That flex of muscles is involuntary, and a dead giveaway that if Steve were to grab his cheeks and spread them right now, he’d probably find his little hole clenching and releasing, too. In his slacks, Steve’s cock thickens with renewed interest. Bucky starts to whine almost subvocally. He shuffles his weight on his feet again, and the motion causes the room’s light to catch on a faint sheen. It’s a small amount, but it’s there. Right by his taint and the swell of his little sac, he’s got some slick smeared on his inner thighs.

Steve has to take a deep breath and give his dick a cruel pinch while he’s still got Bucky facing the other way. “Good,” he murmurs, letting a few more seconds tick by. “Very good.” 

Bucky’s ass keeps flexing, muscles tensed and his hands still clenched up into tight little balls at his sides. “Can I move?” he grits.

“Not yet. Be still.”

Steve knows what’s going on in the kid’s mind and body right now. Most people watching Bucky would only recognize the anger, or the fear. It is those things, to an extent, but that’s not all it is. Even without that tantalizing little smear of slick, Steve would know, because can detect the deeper scent of satisfied omega. Bucky’s responding well to the orders and directions, miniscule as they are.

“Nobody wants to bully you here, honey,” Steve tells him gently. “It might feel like that at first. I bet that’s how you feel right now. I know you’re not used to such a … traditional pedagogy. But I want you to know I’m not doing this to be mean. Nothing that happens to you during your time here is done just to humiliate or demean you. It might make you feel that way at first, but in the end you’ll see that this is about helping you.”

Bucky’s facing the other side of the room, but Steve still hears the disbelieving scoff he gives. “I don’t feel like this is helping,” he says, tacking on a sarcastic “Sir” at the end.

Steve calmly leans forward and flicks the boy’s sac. Bucky yelps and all but jumps out of his skin, looking back over his shoulder with wide eyes and an outraged scoff. “Hey!”

“Hush. Turn back around and stand still.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like another?” It’s almost amusing, how fast Bucky’s lips seal themselves into a thin line and he shakes his head with wide eyes. He turns around as ordered, and Steve softens. “Look,” he says gently. “I’ve been doing this for a long time now, and I’ve helped a lot of boys like you, okay? 

“You think you have,” Bucky counters mutinously, shoulders tensing a second later as he anticipates having his balls flicked again for brattiness.

The only reason Steve doesn’t do so, is because this is a point worth addressing. “No, Baby,” he counters sadly. “It works. It really does. This isn't just an Alpha’s ego talking, or whatever you may think it is. I haven’t been Headmaster at this school for almost two decades for nothing. Trust me, we produce the desired results.”

“... whose, though?”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky shifts nervously. “Whose? Desired results?”

Steve has got to smirk at Bucky’s backside, at that one. Even cowed, it’s clear this boy is going to be a challenge. “Let’s just put it this way,” he drawls. “If my methods here didn’t produce well-behaved omegas, parents wouldn’t still be sending me their children to educate at sixty-grand a semester. And if that doesn’t carry weight in your book, then think of this: If my methods didn’t produce happy, grateful omegas, then all of my omega alumnus wouldn’t still be donating millions of their own dollars back to their alma mater each year, now would they?”

He can see from the way that Bucky’s posture slackens, then stiffens, then slackens all over again, that the boy can’t come up with a counter argument to that one. “Good,” Steve says with finality. “Remember that. I really do mean it, Bucky. I want you to take it to heart when I tell you that everything that happens while you're here is for you. To make you happy and healthy.” He can practically hear Bucky’s brain working up there, and sure enough it only takes a moment or two more of bare-assed vulnerability before the omega is snottily asking,

“Any other advice, Headmaster?”

“Oh sure,” Steve says cheerfully. “For example, I’d definitely advise you to try and reign in your attitude while you’re here. You and your ass will have a much easier time of it, if you do.” He’s laying it on heavy right now, but he’s had plenty of students like Bucky, and he’s always found that it’s best to come in hard and fast with the dominance, take them by surprise and play to their bodies’ own instincts before they can gather too much of a defense. Still, he switches to speaking in his most gentle and reassuring Voice as he tells him, “You’re handling this well, Bucky. I’m pleased with you so far.” He gives it another long moment, and then he murmurs, “Okay, Honey. You can turn back around now. Face me.”

Bucky turns slowly, one foot at a time, shifting on the carpet until he’s made a full turn. Steve isn’t surprised to see his little cocklet at half mast. He smiles gently to let him know it’s okay. “I expected that,” he tells him. “Did you know that it’s normal for your body to react that way?” He waits, but Bucky gives no answer. He’s glaring at the floor and quite obviously clenching his teeth. Steve hums. “You’re probably pissed at me right now, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Steve chuckles. “I appreciate your honesty, Bucky,” he teases. “And I know you’re pissed. It’s obvious. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” He pauses, waiting until Bucky’s eyes flick up to him before he pointedly looks at the boy’s penis. “But you’re also aroused. Why do you think that is?” Bucky’s lips tighten into a thin, unanswering line, and Steve sits forward on the couch cushion. “C’mere.” He spreads his legs wider and pats his knee. “Step closer to me,” he Voices, and that time Bucky does listen and come closer, despite the attitudinal little huff he gives. Steve stills him with hands on his hips. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, before reaching to take him in hand.

Bucky gasps, his stomach sucking in and his body tensing up like he’ll pull away. Steve’s palm makes a loud ‘clap!’ as he delivers a quick smack to the side of his ass. “Be still.”

“... what’re you gonna do?” Bucky squeaks.

“I’m going to touch your genitals,” Steve tells him calmly. “And you’re going to hold still, unless you want to earn your first spanking.” He looks up at him, meeting those wide eyes with a calm nod. “I’ll put you over my knee right now if you need it,” he promises. Then he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need it, boy?”

Bucky’s face screws up, and Steve is honestly surprised when he controls himself enough that the only thing out of his mouth is a terse, “No.” 

Steve smacks him again. “‘No Alpha’. Let me hear you say it.”

Jaw working in frustration, Bucky acquiesces with a gritted, “No, Alpha.”

Steve gives him a few seconds more of the warning look, just to make sure that he knows he’ll make good on the threat if he needs to. “Good,” he says, looking back between Bucky’s legs. “You know,” he muses, as he takes his time admiring the omega’s little prick. “This school isn’t just a place for academic learning. We teach all the classics, of course, but that’s probably the least important part of our curriculum. There are a lot of other things to learn: Manners, etiquette, self-care … and how to listen to your own body, how to understand what it’s trying to tell you, how to interpret the things you feel.” He cups his hand over Bucky’s cocklet and balls, holding them delicately in his palm. “I’ve barely touched you, yet you’re harder now than you were even thirty seconds ago. Do you know why?”

Above, Bucky gulps. “... fear boner,” he whispers, and when Steve snorts at that, he pouts and asserts, “It’s a thing.”

Steve smiles. “That’s cute, but no.” Gently, he takes Bucky’s stiff little prick in hand and plays with the wrinkle of foreskin that’s bunched at the tip. “Omegas are less than four percent of the population,” he murmurs. “And alphas not even double that. Which means, that despite your natural inclinations, you wind up spending most of your time around a bunch of betas. Of course it wouldn’t have been that way historically. Those things used to be arranged, but in modern society it has unfortunately become all too common.” He peeks upwards, pleased to see that Bucky’s staring down at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks.

“S-so?” he breathes.

“So, right now you’re in a room with an adult alpha male who’s touching you, and talking to you, and dominating you. And you’re biologically geared to respond to those things, especially when you haven’t had much regular exposure to alphas. That just increases your sensitivity. So that when I use my Voice, when you smell my scent, or when you see my big hand covering your tiny sex …” he cups him fully between his legs again and gives a little jostle “It’s all hardwired into your brain as positive, pleasurable. Your body likes it, seeks out more of it. That’s why you’re even getting a little wet right now.”

Bucky bristles in defense, “I’m not—”

“Shh. You don’t have to do that, honey. I already know.” Steve holds his prick and eases the foreskin down, revealing the delicate pink tip of him with an approving hum. “Mmhm. There it is. Look at that sweet little nubbin.” 

Bucky all but stumbles into him, whispering a breathless, “Alpha …”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Steve steadies him with a chuckle. “You’re okay. Don’t lock your knees, honey. See what happens?” He trails a fingertip over the adorable little line of Bucky’s erection, eliciting another whimper from the boy. “It’s okay for you to call me that. I am your Alpha while you’re under custody here, and you may not think you care about that, but your body does. So even though you’re feeling all these other kinds of other emotions right now—anger, fear, embarrassment; your mind and body are still going to fight you on it. They’re gonna prioritize and respond to what you need, and if you don’t change your behavior to reflect those same priorities, then the only outcome you’re gonna get is dysfunction and illness.”

“I’m not,” Bucky says weakly, brow furrowed. “M’not dysfunctive.” 

Steve smiles sadly. “Well first off, that’s not a word, baby.” He pulls on Bucky’s hips and leans back further into the couch, urging the boy to come down to sit on his lap. When he does, Syteve cups his chin and pecks him gently on the lips. It’s the most chaste kiss to ever exist, but the boy is still blushing when Steve pulls back enough to see his cheeks. Steve wraps an arm around his waist to draw him in against his larger body. “Now Bucky, I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer right away. I want you to take time to really think about it. And when you’re ready, you tell me.” 

The boy’s looking up at him with wide, confused eyes that pluck at Steve’s heart, and Steve swipes his thumb just under his plush lower lip. “When’s the last time you were happy?” he asks quietly. Bucky’s expression instantly screws up, but Steve hushes him. “I don’t mean just happy from having fun in the moment, or from a specific thing that happened. I mean ‘happy’ as in content, consistently and thoroughly. When’s the last time you can remember when you felt truly settled in your skin?” 

Bucky frowns. “I …”

“Shh. Remember what I said. Not right now. You just think on it.” Steve offers him a tender look and squeezes his chin. “You think you can do that for me?”

“... okay,” Bucky whispers. 

Steve smiles. “Good girl.” He claps his hand on Bucky’s leg. “In the meantime, we’ve got quite a few things we have to do to get you set up: administrative and practical. Are you ready to see your room, get your uniform, a tour of the grounds, all that good stuff?”

Bucky nods, looking almost faint in relief—likely at hearing that he’s going to be given clothing. “Yes,” he breathes eagerly. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and pats his waist. “Thought you might say that. Alright boy, get up. We’ve got a lot to do.”

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

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[sinnabee]

hey guys! i’ve got a bit of a (big) life update for y’all.

unfortunately, i’m having to figure out a new living situation pretty unexpectedly. my roommate and i talked, and basically he’s wanting to live on his own again. so i’ve got about two months to get moved out of here and find a new place. (i’m working on it! luckily i recently reconnected with a friend who’s a real estate agent, so who knows - maybe i’ll get my own damn house >:D)

for anybody that follows me on ko-fi, you might have seen the update i put there. this is a more detailed version of that.

basically, this means (and i am so so so SO sorry about this) it’s going to be a while before i can get a lot of these charm orders out.

i’m going to try my best to get out what i can in-between packing, but don’t be surprised if your order takes several months to ship. again, i’m so sorry - i know it took me ages to even get them listed.

one of the other things this is going to effect may be sticker orders and new stickers.

sticker orders:

i try to include free doodles with my sticker orders, and i am going to continue to try and do that, but some of you may not receive a doodle, and for that i’m sorry.

if you would rather get your stickers sooner, and don’t mind missing out on the doodle, please message me, either through tumblr or through ko-fi. (ko-fi will help me keep track of who’s who a bit better.)

if you REALLY want a doodle, and don’t mind waiting, then let me know and i’ll move yours to the back of my list. this way, i can prioritize anyone who doesn’t mind going without a doodle and start cutting down on my workload.

if you don’t message me either way, i’ll try and get your doodle done, but there’s a chance i may just go ahead and send it without one. luck of the draw.

some of you have ordered stickers AND charms! (omg, what the heck! y’all are amazing!) despite being in the same order, i may try and at least get you your sticker orders, unless otherwise requested. (i have a few people that have already spoken to me about having their items shipped together, so no worries if we’ve already talked.) for anyone that ordered stickers + charms, i wasn’t going to do a doodle anyway, since the main reason i have those is to do something with the cardstock i use to keep the envelopes flat. this way y’all will at least get something sooner! (again, message me if you’d rather i’d send it all together. don’t worry about shipping if i send them separately, i’m not gonna apply a charge for that, it’s fine.)

new stickers:

i had intended to start printing and eventually list my new halloween dca sticker design by october first at the absolute latest. but with the whole “ideally be moved out within two months at the latest, earlier if possible,” thing, that may not be happening.

i’m still gonna try, though!!!!! i’ll try and save my sticker making things for later in the packing process, and maybe try and get that stuff figured out before the end of this month. we’ll see if i can juggle it with everything else - i really think it’s dependent on me catching up on my other orders, first.

in addition to all of this, i’m still out of work on FMLA for my back problems. on the bright side - my appointment is FINALLY coming up!!! yippee!!! but that also means i have to take a lot of breaks from packing and working on stickers because… back hurty. but it ALSO means i have the time to do all this stuff, breaks included, because i’m not working. so…silver linings, am i right? :D

also just wanna say thank you to everybody again - i have made SO many friends in this fandom, and i’ve had a blast being able to make stickers and finally charms!!!! half the reason i’ve been able to bounce back so quick after getting this news the other day is because i’ve already had some of my pals who saw my kofi post messaging me and wishing me well. and the money from the charm orders is gonna help ease the moving/shopping process a lot, so - thank you all so much!!!!

again, i’m sorry everything is so delayed. but i WILL get it out to you eventually, once things settle down a bit. but y’all are amazing, and i appreciate you lots, k???? don’t forget it!!! <3

[msmargaretmurry]

Okay but Matthew's curls, Matthew's shameless mouthguard-chewing, Matthew's jawline and neckline and collarbone, thank you for keeping us current with all of these very important gifs and videos and stills because they must be shared. With the world. And it is making me want more fic where someone, anyone (Leon, probs) takes advantage of Matthew's slutty ripped shirts and uses him like a chewtoy. How the orally fixated tables have turned...

hello anon!! ❤️ first of all thank you, i appreciate the appreciation, however i must redirect your gratitude to all the wonderful folks making the gifs i get to reblog on here. they are the real mvps. they are the backbone of the rat boy economy on tumblr. last week i used one of those gifs of matthew lounging on the ice like one of our french girls from his first game of the season to reply to my roommate about something (she is not currently a hrpf girlie but but is very supportive of my hobbies) and because this was the same night as that game she was like "i can't believe there's already a gif of that." she is one of the most Online people i know and she is impressed by the tkagif makers of tumblr. we are so spoiled and privileged. we blog amongst greatness.

second of all. yes. correct. our boy has come out hot and hard this season. the curls are curling. the scruff is scruffing. the oral fixation is fixating. sexual tension with every member of the nhl already thru the roof. the slutty ripped tshirts have all the guys in a tizzy over the décolletage. the "quick and dirty hookups in a convenient supply closet" genre of hrpf could do so much for us here. in this house we love a post-trade matthew/leon fic and, like, when you only play your guy twice a year, what are you gonna do? NOT maul him in a closet in the free 15 minutes you have before bus call? get real.

anyway when a guy is giving us a really great neck/throat situation i do inevitably start thinking about vampires. there's like half a concept in my head about leon being a vampire and the tkachuks coming from a long line of vampire hunters (and vampire hunting is seen as so antiquated and uncivilized, now, with modern scientific advancements letting vampires live mostly normal lives! but that doesn't mean a guy has to TRUST them. no matter how hot they are.) (yes this is just an excuse to think about leon literally getting his teeth into matthew.)

in conclusion: so much 2 think about!!! i am currently sitting in an apartment in boston waiting for beloved hrpf scholars @hopetorun, @bropunzeling, @postoperation, and @ohtemporas to show up so we will be sure to discuss. we'll be together all weekend, ask us anything 😂

[snowbryneich]

Info post

About me

She/her - early 40's -UK based. I live in my own timezone for various reasons but occassionally have to operate on GMT.

Most people call me Snow because bryneich throws people obviously.

I do not have another blog for none fandom stuff because I'm interested in nothing real world online especially on tumblr. No politics. Don't send me gofundmes.

Writing etc

It can all be found here on ao3 I am too lazy to keep an fic list up to date on tumblr.

Asks and DM's

I am happy to receive asks and dm's.

I am happy to discuss my WIPs.

I am really not as grumpy as my answers to some asks might make me appear.

That said if you want to ask me the same question nine times I am just going to ignore it or post the you'll have to wait and see gif. Take a hint. (I also tag everything about my fics with the fic name or anon asks so maybe have a quick look and it's the same question I've had nine times I'm going lean into assuming you're the weird purity hole anon - that's just the way it goes when I'm being harrassed regularly - sorry not sorry)

I am happy to discuss my writing. Happy to discuss pairings I ship (which should be really obvious from this blog) I will not be telling you what happens in stuff I haven't written yet. (If I had a working crystal ball I'd be getting lottery numbers so I can do this full time.)

I am not going to bitch about other fic writers, other pairings, other interpretations of the characters. I'm not here for anyone who wants to do that.

I will not be entertaining any notion that fic writers are misogynstic for writing dark fic.

My writing smut in fanfic does not mean a) want to answer weird personal questions or b) that I wish to receive smut in my inbox - get an ao3 account.

I will not be here for language lawyering such as 'I didn't say that I said like that' - you still said it - get in the bin. 👀

Lastly a reminder for a particular anon:

Meme credit to @mirabellemoira as are most of the ones i post <3