#yayyyyy now i get to carry them around :^)

[flamingoinkart]

whatever *turns you into a wooden keychain*

art by @karatekamania

[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

[chebyshevptera]

So i know you said no destiny swap Cole leaks yet but… what about Morro wtehrbgdhd

No pressure your au just really interests me and i love reading you yap about it

okYESSSSA :33 THIS I CAN! Anything for u of course asrik I Know ur the Morro fan ever

the hiccup braids are courtesy of hellz and cappy btw . ok yayyyyy Morro stuff under cut !!

morro is the elemental master of ice, the oldest member of the team, and their leader. in destinyswap, he is a very solid, intelligent guy, … as well as the epitome of a 90s sitcom older brother that leans against the doorframe and makes stupid comments .

he prefers close combat and taking the time to think before he acts . even though he’s pretty impulsive by nature, he knows that he has to reel it in because his team is, frankly, full of idiot kids that need his guidance

backstory …..pretty similar to canon morro. financially unstable, living on the streets, yada yada …. except morro’s family is recently dead, so he’s all alone trying to survive. one day, he is caught attempting to climb the wall to the monastery , and instead of being scolded or threatened, his unkempt appearance … causes garmadon and misako to take pity on him . after a meal and some questioning about his home , he is taken in by the couple

n that’s basically it! morro adjusts to a new way of life, much more forgiving and exciting than what he was doing before . misako helps to homeschool him and catch him up to the grade level that he should be at for his age . lloyd becomes extremely attached to morro, viewing him as a brother of sorts, and morro feels the same way towards lloyd; they become inseparable . eventually, garmadon teaches him prophecies and elements and such, all the things that he has already taught lloyd, and morro soon learns that he , himself, is an elemental master

(and because morro staying at the monastery did not begin with a life of training and the promise of a destiny such as the green ninja’s, he didn’t develop the obsession that canon morro did , and his training as the elemental master of ice was a lot more stable and fulfilling)

somewhere along the lines, garmadon finds another elemental master, zane, who seems just as lost and uncomfortable as morro was when he was first taken in. morro does his best to soothe him. he understands. he learns that zane is one hell of a craftsman .

and then there’s another, kai, who is angry and stressed and constantly straining himself in an attempt to improve . his little sister has been kidnapped , and morro knows what it’s like to lose a sibling. he does his best to soothe kai. it doesn’t work , not at first , not really, but he tries anyway.

and when nya is saved , and when her fate as the green ninja is sealed, morro does his best to soothe her, too. she’s begun feeling like she has to do everything on her own, handle the world because that’s her situation now, and he gets it, because he was in her shoes once , too. maybe their situations weren’t the same, but he understands bearing the weight of your world on your shoulders

anyway

that’s all I can reveal for now <3

have some ds morro facts : )

- he’s the most agile on the team for a while !

- he’s kind of a jungle gym for lloyd and harumi . they beggggg him to carry them around and they cling to his legs while he tries to walk, so he has to stumble down the hallway like he’s stepping in snow .

- even though he tries to be calm, he has a pretty short temper, . however, he’s learned to …… cope with it (he once put his entire palm over kai’s face and then pushed him into the couch cushions because he was being rude)

- since unlocking his true potential , when he’s really emotional, snowflakes flurry around his face . he wasn’t aware of this for a while

- he likes to give gifts , so if he sees something that reminds him of someone when he’s out and about , he absolutely will make sure to buy it

- coffee addict …..

- he really likes LIZARDS! for his 18th birthday, he got a tattoo of one on his right side

- he has a fancy sword collection…… swords he never uses. They’re just hanging on his wall

- he’s kind of just, good at everything . which can be really aggravating… especially when he beats all of kai’s high scores

- his pokemon card deck consists of GHOST TYPES!!!!!!… this was not an intentional callback. but it gets me sometimes

blahblah yap yap

[uhhh taglist… let’s see if i can remember]

[ @hellsballz @captain-space-kin @jammahanna @rusted-fairy-wings @kindaasrikal @old-pine-woods @guacadoodledoo @cherrivixx ]

[lucy---lou]

Part 17 Lucys-hdg-story

I wake up in a cocoon of vines. I feel safe and relaxed and decide to fall asleep again.

****************************

"Time to wake up little one."

"Njjjooo more cuddles", I mumble.

"Alrigth you can cuddle a bit more"

I didn't expect is her to just stand up wiith me inside her. That'll do I guess. We move put I can't see anything from inside her.

"Good morning my little Ellie, sleept well?"

"Good moring Mistress. It was alright, but Lucy wasn't there to cuddle"

I feel a pang of guilt and pull on a vine to tell Misstre Miss Duralis to let me go. The cocoon opens and I am lifted out.

"I'm sorry I - don't know what to say. I... I ehm sorry for leaving you.", I embrace Ellie in a tight hug.

"That's relly cute of you thanks, but you definitely needed the core cuddles. But you do seem surprisingly lucid."

"After a while I moved some leaves between her and my core, otherwise I don't think she would be thinking right now"

"Your core? sorry I didn't mean to go up your privates. I thought is was a big stem or something like that."

"Oh my little kitten, you and Ellie both have a very special place inside me. That includes my core"

"I .. ehm", don't know how to process that," Soooooooo breakfast? Cereal please", I distract. An eeep escapes my mouth as we are picked up on deposited at the table. Cereal is placed in front of me and I just stare at it.

"Can't eat yourself anymore? Do I need to feed you?"

"No- no need to, I was just lost in thought."

I take a spoon full and then begin to stare at it again. Not really at it more like into the nothingness behind it.

*tap* yeah cereal is good

*tap* I chew, wait - oh. I blush again and look at them dumbfumbled.

"I can-" *tap* *tap* "-feed myself"

"Well you were struggling so I'm helping you"

*tap* *tap*

"I was just-" *tap* *tap* "-lost in thought!"

"Sure cutie♡"

"Could you-" *tap* *tap* "-stop?"

"Well petal"

*tap* *tap*

"We're finished anyways", Misstr Miss Duralis smirks,"Your are a natural at receiving commands. Makes me think you want this"

"No! Why should want this. This is humiliating. I can feed myself. I can-" *prick*

"-meow mreow. miauw meow mauw. meowe mrrp mreeoowwwww", I cross my arms and - get petted. I turn away from them and still get petted.

"Is my kitty angyy, awwww", Ellie kisses me.

"skeeecchhhh", I hiss at her. Water is sprayed in my face.

"Bad kitten, we dont attack florets"

"meowwwww", I shake the water of my face and hop of the table. Well I hop of and then get gently lowered to the floor.

"What did I tell you kitten"

"Meow miau", I pout.

Ellie can barley contain her laughing. I walk over to the compiler and hope it can understand catspeak.

"mrrp meow mreau, meoww?"

"Coming up kitten", the hab chirps. Atleast the hab can still understand me.

I grab the cardboard box and lift it over me before I settle down underneath it and sulk. Great they're aawwwing me again. Even worse Ellie is full on laughing at me.

After I while my box is lifted with me inside it, flipped over and closed, tumbling me around. I get carried away.

I poke out to see where I am and spot a plushy. I lift the box grab it and hide again.

"awwww"

"so absolutely adorable, hab please tag this recording"

"Recording tagged, Miss Duralis"

"Thank you"

"grrrrrrrowoworrrr"

"Even cuter"

My pad is slid into my box and I happily accept the distraction it provides. Until Ellie texts me.

Elnolongerlonely: Hey I hope you come out soon. I'm really sorry. I miss you.

Cuddlekitten: Heyi, maybe dunno. Maybe never.

Elnolongerlonely: I won't survive that.

Cuddlekitten: Im sure miss Duralis won't let you die. Also why are our usernames different.

Elnolongerlonely: I think mistress changed them. Can I atleast join you in the box.

Cuddlekitten: fine if you have to

Elnolongerlonely: Yayyyyy, I'll be there in a sec.

The box shuffles a bit an Ellie joins me.

"Hi cutie", she giggles

"miau meow"

"Oh, oops forgot about that. You dont need it to cuddle anyway"

"moewe"

"You'll be fine", and she cuddles me. It actually helps me calm dawn and I feel my self doze of.

-Yes Lucy sleeps alot, that's her way of processing things. Also it's an easy way to start and end a chapter. Call me lazy.

[kittenpower05]

You guys should probably know my ocs huh.

so anyways YAYYYYY FINALLY AN INTRODUCTION!!! Kind of spoilers but mostly not because their story is nowhere !!!!! And if it were I'm not telling you ANYTHING about how it goes!!!!!

We have Ashton, they/them, 20 years old. They have. An INCREDIBLY LARGE hero complex. This is mostly something that's repressed until one day where they feel confronted in the streets, retaliates in self defense. Uh oh, they now have a Taste for Justice and begins their journey as a self described vigilante. They start to uncover some Messed Up Stuff going on underneath the city's nose but! Guess what! It's NOT their problem, nor SHOULD it be their problem, and ESPECIALLY not alone! But they feel like it's their responsibility to carry this burden alone all edgelord style, and so they won't be asking for help, and they sure will be doing this to the detriment of their own mental health :)

Then we have their sister, Jadyn! Jadyn, she/her, 16. She is bubbly and energetic, an optimist on the surface, generally a ray of sunshine. She does her best to mask as the support pillar of every friend group, but as it does, it starts to WEIGH ON HER REAL HEAVY. She begins to feel like she needs to be positive and helpful all the time or else everything round her will start to crumble. This starts to feel real familiar huh. So when she notices that Ashton is not doing swell, oh boy will she get to the bottom of it if it's the last thing she does! If they won't tell her what's wrong, then it's her job to figure it out and stop it at once!! Very cool of her, Ashton does not appreciate this.

We then got Darius! He/him, 19, Ashton's best friend, the spontaneous outgoing guy who always seems to make friends wherever he goes. Sweet guy, really caring, INCREDIBLY oblivious. But not at all stupid. Though he's a bit pushy, he has everyone's best interests in mind and is always looking to help improve the people around him. Sadly. He is not good at this. Though it takes him a while to realize what's going on, when he realizes it, he is ON IT LIKE A HAWK. He realizes Ashton's crush on him before *they* even realize it, and once he figures out the vigilante stuff, his #1 priority Shutting It Down. Ok, yeah maybe hunting them down and trying to catch them in the act may not be the *best* course of action, but what is he going to do? Have a conversation with them? In their current mental state??

We also have a lot of side characters! But I don't have names for them, just vague ideas! So yay! Ashton is the Main Guy running the biz, story is told from their pov. The other two are the other driving forces that help Ashton through their journey and by help i mean be a massive hinderance.

[frecklenog]

finally watching house of wax 1953 ,, thots under tha cut

YAYYY WAX WOMAN W KNIFE

HI MR PRICE HIII HIIIII

the subtitles dont work o no :(

“that should be they now” pronoun user ..

soo curios whether these r real wax sculptures.. some of them are. obvious. but others i straight up expect to move. the craftsmanship is incredible

HI JOANIE !!!!!!!!

also curious about the clothes. are they real cloth or are there sculpted parts too. is it just a full body underneath or is it just the skin that’s visible. tho admittedly i don’t know much abt wax sculptures despite having the ‘05 movie as a longstanding hyperfixation 🥴

HIS NAME IS FUCKING JARED????

oh okay he just turned booth’s head. so that’s probably not connected to like. more wax skin.

if jared is the one doing the killing i support him. jared did nothing wrong this mf is setting his art on fire for insurance fraud. he should murder

marie :(

ok the burning clothes r answering my questions LMAO

JARED GET UPPPP

JARED

jared you fucking suck at fighting. knock it off w the water bucket and KILL THIS FOOL

ono. explodegeon.

OLD TIMEY FIRE DEPARTMENT YAYYYYYYYY HORSES YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY 🐴🐴🐴

OH THIS BITCH.

“had i been there i might have saved him” kys you fuck

“they always want a corpse :)” i love this strange woman

ohhhh all these mary poppins ass dresses J’ADORE

i hope jared is waiting in this fucker’s house with a club

OH MY GOD YAYYYYYYYY

he’s got a little bit of a “freddy kreuger cosplaying nosferatu” thing goin on. tbh

hiding..

someone get this man a cane or smth. my god. SOMETHING

LMFAOOOOO GOODBYE BITCH

“yes. but he hung himself instead 🥰” SHE IS SO BIZZARE

“you got all the brains and all i got is the boobs!”

CATHY’S SO SWEET 🥺🥺🥺

her laugh is. a little much. cute here and there but with the amount she does it it gets grating. but it’s very much of the time ain’t it. cinderella and snow white and alice in wonderland ass giggle

oh hey jared i almost forgot this was house of wax

SUE ???????

i mean tbf. what on EARTH is jared doing here. but maybe he would explain if he could get some dialogue

not that i don’t love silly chase scenes. i just wanna know Why yfeel

jared please leave sue alone

SUE YOUR SHOES?

oh weaponshoes. punch shoes.

ok i was here for killing matt or whatever his name was but cathy didn’t deserve that :/// cmon jared

I DIDNT THINK THOSE AUTOMOBILES WENT FAST ENOUGH TO HURT ANYBODY AHSJSGSJGXJAGSJSBAN

dont call dead women “honey” like that that’s weird.

I DONT THINK EMBALMING FLUID MAKES PEOPLE SIT UP LIKE THAT.

someone sit up again that was funny

YAYYYYY HI JARED

he is just scrimbling around……..

boy what on earth are you doing

is he going to defenestrate her bo- HE IS OH MY GODDDD

who is helping him. what

JARED DONT STEAL BODIES?????

“no human being can look like that” you wouldn’t say that about a scarred vet you chunk of shit i oughta kick you in the both of your balls

who is this very attractive man in the apron……….

JARED OH MY GOD. HI JARED !!!!!!!! how.

igor is so pretty and so fucking talented. would. in a heartbeat i would.

jared’s wheelchair fucking rules. vincent should’ve used a wheelchair i think.

i wonder if this is really how any of this process goes. it makes more sense than vinnie’s godawful shower

MATT FALLING OUT OF THE BOX AJSHSJHSNZHSJSB

daaamn this movie has an intermission. not even an hour in

HELLO PADDLEBALL MAN

OH MY GOD IT MOOOOOOOOVESSSSSSSSS

the 3d nonsense is so funny omg

THE LADIES PEEKING THE WAX DICK SKDHJDBSNDB

WAX CHOPPPPP

oh millie :(

WHY DO YOU CARRY SMELLING SALTS. JARED. IS THAT TYPICAL 50S BEHAVIOR. (genuinely unsure)

just a dead ass body on display lmao get fucked matt

the chamber of what.

OH MY GOD CATHY.

jared this is why we don’t just put wax on human bodies. you get found out by the friends of the deceased. also the rotting

jared please dont kill sue i like sue. i liked cathy :((

jared seems like a chill dude. aside from the.

waves my hand vaguely. You Know

please got JUST SCULPT HER. JARED. JUST SCULPT HER. STOP CHEATING

something is deeply wrong w the paddleball man. sir this is post-hayes code why do you have balls in your mouth

JARED. JUST ASK HER TO MODEL. CHRIST.

honestly tho WHAT is the explanation for his face. please. pl

THOSE DRESSES LOOK SOOOOO FUN TO SPIN AROUND IN !!!!!!!! 🥰🕯️

“you never saw a show like this in provincetown” MASSACHUSETTS MENTIONED 🐞🐞🐞🐞🐞 (there r no chickadee/elm/mass flag emojis)

PTOWN ALSO MENTIONED 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

girl put your ass away i’m here to watch vincent price be Odd and Peculiar

“cathy had the habit of wearing an earring in her right ear. she had the lobe of her right ear only pierced for that” cathy was out there in 1953 using flags for gay men to spot each other not established for another two decades

sometimes i watch dancers in old movies like this and i try to spot my grandma maggiepat. that’s not really related to the movie but i do wonder. i know she was in the red shoes…

“why should joan of arc have her right ear pierced?” “why not? they wore them then.” “two, not one.” WHY DID CATHY ONLY WEAR ONE THEN !!!!!! someone who knows about 50s culture help me

ohh his name is henry jared. whatever.

the long highwaisted skirts….. :)) 🕯️

sue. sue get down from there

igor is SOOO HANDSOME god okay i’ll be normal sorry 😔

jared. no. bad. knock that off. spraying him with a squirt bottle

god he’s INCREDIBLY charming tho. mad props to mr price

oh my god LEON..

sue should Not be in here alone at night. girl this is a horror movie and you are TRESPASSING

oh hello skeleton

unidentified fucking thing just drifting creepily around the room 🆗🆒

WIG…………….

hiiii mr price

ok jared can walk like. fine. who ACTUALLY fucking killed cathy whose physicality was that

HE WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE A WAX FACE …….

JARED SHES STILL ALIVE. JARED. JARED.

why was leon convinced by that guy pouring liquor djgsjdbs

idc what happens i could fix igor. me and him and vincent sinclair. fuck timelines

hdkdhjdgd THIS FUCKING GUYY

i’d let igor do this to me. who said that.

HES SO RESOURCEFUL AND INTELLIGENT

girl what is scratching the wax gonna do. be serious

LET IGOR BEHEAD THIS GUY

HE IS DEAF AND MUTE LEAVE HIM ALONE STOP SLAPPING HIM I WILL BECOME VIOLENCE

why are you using the pointy end of that thing to bust thru this door. surely there are more effective ways to go about this

goodbye pig

“every time i shave i can still feel that guillotine blade” it never made contact with you. or you would be dead. dont try to be funny

why did shane sneeze.

NOOOOOOO IGOR :((((((((

[shrekstoefungus]

SAPNAP ONESHOT

(I’ve had this idea FOREVER so I finally did something about it 🤗)

Summary: You take a trip to the gym with Nick

It was a pretty normal day for me. Just laying down and watching tv all day. It was now 8:00 pm and I was laying on the couch. I heard Nick come down the stairs. He told me he was streaming so I assumed he was done.

"Hey mamas, I missed you. Wanna go to the gym with me?" he said coming toward you and giving you a kiss on the cheek. He was already dressed in his workout clothes

"But it's..." I look at the clock, "8:00 on a... Friday."

"So? It's the BEST time to go. Literally no one's gonna be there and I once heard online that when you work out at night, your muscles will get bigger than in the morning"

"oh really? By online do you mean TikTok? don't believe everything you hear online."

"Excuse me?" he says and gets closer to me, picking my whole body up. He begins walking through the house to mine and his room.

"PUT ME DOWN NOW NICK."

"hmm... i think i'm good."

"ILL GO TO THE GYM WITH YOU FINE."

"Yayyyyy" he says and puts me down.

I go in the room to get changed. I decided to wear a crop top with leggings, my usual gym fit. I found the leggings on Tiktok and have been obsessed with them ever since. Nick is also obsessed with them because they make my butt look big, but that's not the point. I put my hair in a quick messy bun. I walked downstairs, put my shoes and coat on, and fill up my water before heading out to the car.

Nick was already in the car, sitting in the drivers seat. I got in the car and closed the door. "Ready?" Nick said as I buckled my seatbelt. "Yup" I said to him and smiled. He put his hand on my thigh and began to drive.

We get to the gym about 10 minutes later and we walk in. I see about 2 other guys, but other than that, it's only Nick and I.

Today I needed to work on my arms, so I did pull ups on the bar.  I set your water down and take my jacket off. I put in a headphone. Nick always had the other one when we went to the gym. "Nick." I said while looking at him.

"Yes, baby?" He says while putting his headphone in.

"Would you help me up please? I can't reach."

"Of course, princess." He says and comes over to where I was. I lift my arms up while his hands secure around my waist. He lifts me up until I tell him I'm good.

Nick starts doing his workout next to me with the hand weights while I begin my workout.

As I'm workout out, I notice a creepy man to the other side of me. Since there is a mirror in front of me. I can tell that he is staring directly at me.

I try ignoring it but after a few minutes, he still hasn't taken his eyes off of me.

I finally finish my set and drop down from the bars. I bend over to get my phone from the floor, but as I'm bent over, I felt someone slap my ass. Before I can see who it was I hear Nick yell, "Hey man! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

I turned and saw the creepy man. Compared to Nick, the man was way shorter than him and didn't have much muscle.

Nick immediately shoved him back and said, "Hands off of her. You hear me?"

"I didn't do anything bruh" he says back to Nick.

"Oh so now you wanna talk back? I told you to leave her the fuck alone or it won't be pretty." Nick said getting close to the man and his collar.

"o-ok I'll stop." the man says before running the the bathrooms.

"Yeah that's what I fucking thought dickhead." Nick says before turning to face you. "Sweetheart, are you okay? I noticed him staring but I didn't think he would do anything more."

"Nick, I'm fine. I just wanna go." I said while grabbing my water and coat.

"Ok. Hop on my back." He says while crouching down for me to get on. I crawl on his back and he carries me out to the car.

When we get in the car, Nick gives me a big kiss. "I'm so sorry that happened, baby. Next time I'll protect you. I just don't like when other men touch my things.

I pull him in for another kiss. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

"I love you Nick"

"I love you too princess."

After I pull away from the kiss, I notice the creepy man exiting the gym. It's completely dark out so I don't think he notices us in the car.

"oh, hey look it's that guy." I said.

"oh that little piece of shit" Nick says while rolling down the window

"Nick don't-" before I could finish Nick yells,

"HEY YOU LITTLE BITCH GO FUCK YOURSELF" he says while flipping him off. He quickly rolls the window back up and we burst into laughter.

"oh, you're too good for me Nick" I say in between laughs.

"hmm i think it's the other way around" he says

"whatever you say, Nicky."

"Nicky? That's a new one."

We continue driving home and randomly, Nick says,

"We're not going back to that gym by the way" nick says

"oh just because one dude was staring at me?"

"mhm" Nick says

The whole ride home Nick has his hand on your thigh. You really loved this guy.

[sleepyheadincoulds]

Rabbit Hole - Emmanuel M. Ruiz - Ceremonial Robes Vignette Pt. 2

We got part two done yayyyyy and gave it a titleeee

Emmanuel was in her own little world, but she can’t help but wanting to know more about this person. This man’s gravestone that she stands before her. She eventually found herself just standing there in this moment of silence, and eventually moved on to her venture. No one has noticed her being outside by herself yet. It still feels nice and cool outside, comforting and content to her. She started to look more around the place, yet her thoughts were focused on the man, William. Was he a good father? A good husband? A good friend? A good pastor? Who knows. It was like a puzzle that could never be solved, maybe it has to remain unfinished. Maybe a piece of it is missing, but it’s taking a long time to find it. She finally snapped out of her train of thought, as she found a small glass bottle on the floor, a tag written on it, whiskey. The bottle was empty, but it looked new. Maybe someone had recently visited here. Emmanuel remembers how her father would say, people will drink if they need to cope for themselves. She knows the bad outcomes of having an addiction to drink alcohol, but she never tried it. Nor touched the bottles at her house. She noticed some whiskey left in the small bottle. It wouldn’t be so bad to try it, now would it? She took one sip, the taste of it was bitter, but that was all it was for the whiskey. She didn’t like the taste, it didn’t fit her taste buds, or maybe she isn’t grown up yet. But, overall, she didn’t expect it to taste like apple juice or Coca Cola. At least the bottle was empty now, she knows not to lie but maybe trying whiskey for the first time at fourteen can be kept secret. She puts the now empty bottle of what used to have whiskey, in her satchel. She’ll wash it when she gets home and put it in her collection of trinkets. Who would ever find out? She continues to walk around the cemetery, following a path that is leading her somewhere. The trees started to become crowded, the sunlight barely visible, only some shines of sunlight hitting the dirt, rocky pathway. Her long, curly hair flowing with the gentle wind that hits her frame. Her hair looks like silk, but each strand carries a sort of special memory. Maybe bad memories too. Hair carries memories, don’t get rid of them. She could hear those words from her mother ringing in her head. Her mother never lets her cut her hair short; let alone color it. A trimming will do once in a while. You have the most beautiful hair, just like your father’s. Almost everyone in her mother’s side of the family says that. You have your father’s eyes too, they look like pearls. Just like your father’s. Emmanuel was a spitting image of her own father, she only had her mother’s kind heart, but she was as charming as her father. Maybe it was just coincidental of how she had most of her father’s features, except for late blooming. She still looks younger than her actual age. As Emmanuel continues her small adventure, she can’t help but have that odd feeling, again. The feeling of being watched, she'd always had that feeling since she was little. Always afraid of what’s hidden in the shadows or what could be watching her without her knowing who exactly. Her parents had mentioned how when she was a baby, she cried almost every night, just out of fear. Maybe I have a sixth sense.

Growing up, she would have nightlights in every corner of her bedroom, and her bedroom door left open while she sleeps at night. Just so she knows her parents are near. She oftentimes would have stuffed animals smothering her, they were like her shield. Her mind seemed to snap out of these thoughts of her past, when she noticed a large mirror up ahead, against a tree that towers over her height. The mirror looked old but in good condition, surprisingly no cracks or smudges. She came closer, something was telling her to come closer to the mirror. The frame of it was pure gold, the sunlight reflecting its color. Her hand was itching to touch the mirror, something was drawing her body to just touch the mirror. A voice, or something just telling her, “Touch it.” That voice repeating those words in her mind, “Touch it, touch the mirror.” Her body was just drawn to the mirror, like a mother to a flame, but in the back of her mind it was telling her to get away and go back to the church. She went too far down this rabbit hole, but her mind was in conflict with the voice and her body. That was until she touched the glass of the mirror, her life flashed before her eyes, and everything went blank.

• • —— • • Emmanuel’s eyes shot open, her breathing was labored. She woke up with everything pitch black, the space around her felt claustrophobic. Am I dead? Or in some silly dream? She moved her hands up, and she was touching something smooth, something keeping her in place of her current position. She pushed the object, but as she did, some light was shining. Her eyes squinted as they were adjusting to the light, but when she pushed the object to the side her eyes widened in shock, but curiosity. To her surprise she was in a room of floating coffins, and she just stepped out of one. Holy- Am I actually dead?! “Oh my god, what rabbit hole did I get myself into?” She muttered underneath her breath. –End–

[pastelpaperplanes]

You mostly draw Megatron with Crusade in his Cybertronian look but in your canons it was said that while carrying the spark Megs wore his Marauder look. Did Megatron changed bodies or is the Canon changed?

yes! haha so hmm let’s see. So far up until A Little Too Familiar I have tossed Crusade into my Crackship AU—because with the Cybertron’s future AU with a whole lot of my other sparklings, ones that have considered backstories, they wouldn’t exist because of Shamus and Envoy!—and yes in the Crack AU, Megan does sport his Marauder Upgrade.

I’m still 1000% open to keeping Crusade as like,,a cameo for the Crack AU but I will say I’m getting far too attached to their character to better NOT explore them more in a more intricate backstory kind of sense! Many of the asks I’ve answered previously about Crusade’s personality and future are still canon—with the exemption that Crusade has a far more present/loving relationship with their Carrier, who as a literal helicopter parent is near suffocating in his protectiveness and efforts to keep his sparkling away from the hands and influence of the Autobots, even if that means locking them away on the Nemesis far too much to be healthy, and lying straight to their face, and others, about their origins.

Since the TFN 2021 S4 kickoff script reading I’ve been leaning towards guess what—a whole other AU that continues RIGHT after that point, much like where the CF AU would—only certain rescission within the timeline have been changed leading to, in some relationships, a vastly different setting for a next generation! (No, I don’t think I’d create a whole ton of other sparklings in place, for example a planned Strika/Lugnut kiddo wouldn’t happen for obvious reasons, nor would Shmaus or Envoy exist!! Who would remain, THAT I will figure out later down the line.) So Megatron is not in his Marauder form, Optimus is named Magnus, Jazz is with team Prime/Ninja Corps, Sentinel is still a dick figures, Prowl is still dead and so forth.

What I have planned is sort of like where the Deceptions sport a retreat after their bust on Earth when attempting to take over the central line of techno organic energon. The Cons faced losses, high command was scrambled and still very much injured from their cruel, and unusual keeping within Trypticon, heavy sacrifices turned out to NOT reap greater rewards, and the troops are still starving—and starving, scared mecha are far more dangerous than angry ones.

Optimus is still coming to terms that he is due to lead Cybertron, under the title of Optimus Magnus as soon as he’s back, whether he likes it or not as the front lines are still very much on edge with the evermore increasingly violent rouge Con raids.

I made some commentary on the reading as a whole which was PHENOMENAL and I’m still riding the high that is the fanTASTIC work that was put into is, like god. There was a brief but hilarious moment from Rattletrap where he attempted to sell off a crudely photoshopped Megop photograph as dirt—a part of me thought it would be even MORE hilarious if said photo was actually, used and Op was left sputtering after a double take going like how did they find that. HOW.

My poor, poor fanfic loving heart got going on of course the What if the Enemies Were Fraternizing Throughout the Whole of The Show, Morals be Damned in Those Stolen Moments Because I Like YOU For Some Reason trope. Wow is me, be still my beating HEART. It did not stop—so I made another AU :D yayyyyy

Basically the creation of Crusade follows along in this timeline in that sense. They were a product of one too many lonely nights in some far off abandoned cave that never could quite seem to end with a civil conversation, let alone spark apprehension from the other when it came to going toe to toe of the battlefield for the sake of their Causes. A Comfort without Strings relationship, even if they did come to grow fond of each other, not that they’d ever admit it—a confession, in a sense, would only hurt both parties knowing that the two would never give up their motivations in the ‘impossible ‘case that said feelings were mutual.

From the looks of it, the Autobots did not once tend to the Deceptions during their stay at Trypticon. Megs still sported bare struts and tattered armor up to his escape—it would be believable that medics never once ran scans, let alone were ordered to get anywhere near the high command. With already being in such poor shape, battered, humiliated, starved, violated (those minicons?? homage to Trepan??? yikessssss) and sedated—it would be believable that Megatron wouldn’t pay notice to a small flutter in his spark amongst all the pain and anxiety, at least until he finally could gather his bearings under the lockdown of his temporary fortress stuck on Earth.

Megatron, knowing he was alone, now extremely vulnerable, heavily outnumbered and out favored by his remaining struggling troops, called upon his definitely not most favorite sub team to cower behind—the DJD, to meet his blaring distress beacon.

Tarn and his crew, with the help of the rest of high command’s signal dampeners, are able to as covertly as possible—minus the world sweeper size of the Peaceful Tyranny and the paralyzing droning on of the Empyrean Suite that Tarn just loves so dearly—made it off planet save for a few bumps and bruises from the small force of Team Prime. The High & Mighty Megatron was no where to be seen in the action. Probably off in a hurry to lick his wounds in retreat after getting his ass handed to him, many assumed, but Nickel knew better. Tarn knew better. Something was terribly wrong in order to resort to a ‘cowardly’ extraction and evasion mission.

You can see where I’m going w this—so anyways YES that is the general gist of where this AU kicks off!!! Megs and Op, particularly Megs, got unlucky on their last night together—eventually all leading to the introduction of the previously secretive back up weapon that was the DJD. Coming to the rescue of their Fearless, All Powerful, and Resilient Leader?? A strange, but instantly understandable measure to resort to once Megatron reveals himself as a carrying mech, the beholder of a true heir and a testament to the resilience that is the Deceptions though the terrible reign the Autobots have held against them through the eons.

I’ll go into why he keeps Crusade on a tight leash and Op out of the loop entirely for as long as he possibly could—and how the rest of Megaton’s troops behaved around this clearly, half blooded Con sparkling their leader doted on— later!

Needless to say, Crusade’s reputation from the moment they were born was tottering on a fine line between that of pitiable condolences for their leader, and that of true Decepticon pride knowing that the one to lead them to glory some day is none other than one of the Autobots’ very own descendants.

Hope that kinda better explains things! I like Meg’s Cybertronian design, it’s sleek, it’s sexy, it’s easier to draw, and since S4 gave us a fresher design to admire of Optimus, why not have the same for his other half!

YEAHH. so new AU :D AYOOOO I’ll tag this timeline/future mentionings of Crusade and their journey as Cybertron’s Legacy AU

extremely stupid doodle under the cut! I can’t get over the duality of Old Written vs New Written Crusade ahhh 💀💀

I found a horrifically perfect tik tok audio for these two oml

Swapping Megatron stories!

[shootingsun]

First Time For Everything

Yes I wrote over 3,000 words of Platonic Felila fanfiction. No I don't regret it.

@shslharrisonkinnie I finished it, Lila now has friends, yayyyyy

#Give Lila a real friend 2021

Class was tiring, Lila thought, starting aimlessly into space. Who would need this stuff when she would end up being rich and powerful anyway? She didn’t even know what the lesson was about, it didn't matter to her. Lila looked at the board and tried to pull her head out of the clouds. But it was no use, so she thought, she thought and thought.

"Please come in Miss Rossi," The doctor's had said to her. She remembered questions, about her home life, about her school, about her as a person. But. She had lied, she said things were fine, they weren't. She had told them she had friends, she did, but not exactly good ones. She had told them about her glamorous life, full of adventure and intrigue, the kind of thing adults ate up. They hadn't believed her.

There were more tests, she had lied her way through those too. She hadn't exactly wanted to lie, it just happened. Lila "Lie-a" Rossi, that's who she was, no, who she is. And so, when the letter had came back in the mail, it hadn't really been that much of a surprise.

"Lila, honey, come and talk to me," Her mother had said, before explaining her disorder, to a 12 year old Lila, this had been fine! It just meant that she was good at telling stories. That was what she did to everyone, spin them pretty stories. About her. About them. About others. About anything really.

"Tell me about yourself Miss Rossi?" My name is Lila, I've stared in movies, ("Why haven't you shown us them, Lila?") I fly on a private jet, ("When are we gonna get to see it?") And I know a bunch of celebrities! ("Stop lying to everyone!") She could spin her stories well, she had found.

'Compulsive Lying Disorder' that was what the doctors had called it. She had passed the test with flying colors.

"Alright class!" Miss Bustier cut through Lila's thoughts like a knife. "We have a new transfer student coming in today, so please treat him the same way you treat each other. Félix? Will you come in please?"

And then… Adrien came into the room?! But that can't be right, Adrien is sat at the front of the class with that Nino kid. Besides, Adrien doesn't wear a turtleneck. The class murmured amongst themselves about the model's look-alike. Lila was stunned. There were two of them now??

"Hello, I'm sure you're all wondering why I look so much like Adrien. Well, that's none of your business, but if you must know - we're cousins. My name is Félix, that's all you really need to know about me." The boy in grey said.

"Well… that was- anyway! Félix would you sit next to… Lila! Go and sit with Lila please," She smiled at him and gestured to the empty seat next to Lila. He shrugged and walked to the seat, placing his bag on the ground next to the chair.

Now that she could look at him better, she noticed the differences between Félix and Adrien. Félix carried himself with something that Adrien lacked, although she wasn't sure what. Félix wore a dark grey turtleneck that contrasted Adrien's famous snow white jacket. It was like looking into an alternate universe. What Adrien could have been…

They sat in silence for a while as the teacher talked. Lila hated the quiet, her house was always so silent and still. Félix kept his head down and scribbled away at a notebook. She tried to sneak a peak, just to see what he was writing about, but his hand covered the writing almost instantly. He stared at her.

"Do you need something?" Félix deadpanned. "Or are you just being nosey?"

Lila blinked. How dare he? Nobody at the school talked to her like that! Nobody ever talked to her like that, not since… not since-

"Li-la!" Noemi, her sorelle called out to her. "Come over here!"

Lila was 7, at the time, and loved Noemi more than anyone in the world. Her sister was the sun and Lila was the planets. Noemi was the epitome of perfection. Perfect hair, perfect style, perfect tan, perfect skin, perfect smile. Lila wanted to be just like her.

"Wow Noemi, your sister is like a mini you!" Her sisters friends giggled. Lila liked it when people compared her to Noemi, it meant that she was doing something right.

Besides, the teens weren't wrong. Lila wanted to be like her sister. Neomi wore a pleated baby blue skirt, a black blazer, and a tucked in white shirt. She was so beautiful, at least, in Lila's eyes she was.

"Lila, didn't you get the gymnastics solo in your class? Noemi told us all about it. Congrats! You have such a talented sister Noemi!" The teen girls smiled down at her, but Lila was confused.

She hadn't gotten the solo. Lila was the understudy, whatever that meant. So she told them the truth. That she didn't get the solo. The girls got angry at her, and at Neomi. They left, her sister wasn't pleased.

"Why couldn't you have just gone along with it?! Huh?! Don't you get it, people like you more if your an interesting person! And now you've ruined it for me!" Neomi had screamed in 7 year old Lila's face, which made her cry.

"Don't be pathetic Lila! God. You're hopeless."

"B-but I don't understand! Why would you lie to them if they're your friends?" Lila sniffed, trying to wipe away the tears.

"Lila, it's not lying if you tell them what they want to hear, is it? And besides, keep your little nose out of my business!"

"Hello? Lila Rossi? Are you still here?" Lila blinked and came back to reality, Adrien's clone was waving his hand infront of her face. Rude.

"Ugh," She pushed the hand away from her face. "Yes I'm still here and- wait. How do you know my full name?!"

"Adrien told me, Miss Rossi." His green eyes were like steel, unmoving and cold. "We talk a lot, so I know things."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" She raised her eyebrows, he doesn't know anything about Lila. Not even Lila is sure if she knows anything about Lila.

"Hm, I'm not sure, you seem to be a walking contradiction, Miss Rossi."

"Honestly! My name is Lila," She doesn't tell him how much she hates it, and how even though she's carrying the name of the man who left them, Rossi sounds better to her. "How would you like it if I called you Mister…"

Then Lila realised that she doesn't know his last name.

"De Vanilly, Graham De Vanilly." Then he smirked, just a little, and she wanted to finish her sentence and her thought but Miss Bustier interrupted again!

"Alright kids, we're gonna have a science project in partners this half-term! So I'm gonna read off the pairs, and then you guys can get started on this after school, okay?"

"Zoe and Sabrina, Nino and Luka, Chloe and Ayla, Rose and Juleka, Alix and Mylene, Kim and Max, Marinette and Adrien," Lila glared at the mention of that girl. "Lila and Félix."

Absolutely not!

Lila's hand shot up. "Um, actually Miss Bustier? My parents don't like it when I work with other pupils and so I can't work with Félix!"

"You didn't seem to have an issue when you were working with Adrien on the last project Lila?" The teacher stared at her.

She opened her mouth, not really aware of what she was saying. The story's flowed out of her, winding and winding, coiling up almost everyone in the room. The coils seemed to cut into her. She couldn't help it, and it didn't matter. It doesn't matter.

But she still had to work with Félix. How unfair!

"Well then, come in I guess." Lila held the door open for him. 

"Thanks Miss Rossi." He stepped into her room and glanced around, it was a nice room! What was his issue?

"Why do you call me that anyways? It's weird." Lila scoffed, flopping onto her bed. Félix took the seat across from her.

"Oh, I have a system."

"A system? For names?"

"Yes, if you're an acquaintance I call you Mr/Miss/Mx whatever your last name is, family I like are called by their first name, family I don't like are called by their function to me, and friends are either called by their names or a nickname." Félix said, waving his hands slightly as he spoke.

"Huh, so I'm an acquaintance then?"

"No you're a family member- of course you are." Félix said calmly.

Lila made a small mental note to refer to him as his last name, just to annoy him.

"Speaking of family members, did you know I'm distantly related to the British Royal Family?" No! No! Stop talking! Lila wanted to scream.

"Really?"

"Yeah! And I know tons of celebrities, like-"

"No offense, but I think that you're lying to me." De Vanilly stared at her. Lila recoiled - just keep talking! Make him believe you!

"What?! No! I would never!" Yes, Yes you would Lila. You know that you would so why do you say things like that? Bashing her own head into a wall or taping her mouth shut seemed like very favorable options to Lila in that moment.

De Vanilly was quiet for a while, looking around the room. His green eyes settled on her bookshelf. What is he looking at? Lila wondered before realizing. Oh, oh no. He pointed to a picture.

"Is that you?" He asked, moving over and picking the picture up carefully.

The picture was one from Lila's childhood, a family photo of one of Lila's gymnastics contests. Noemi, her mother, and Lila were all staring into the camera. The photo was taken after Lila had "won" the contest. Lila hadn't won, Lila came fourth. But her sister payed to have an exact copy of the first place medal made. They had taken the picture a few days after the actual contest. Neomi was smiling, but it didn't meet her eyes, her mother was looking the other way and Lila, despite her forced grin, looked like she was about to cry.

"Uh yeah, it's a medal that I won, it was awarded to me by Alberto Busnari. Cool right?" She just hoped her smile didn't look pained. 

"Yeah, who's that then?" He pointed to the triumphant Neomi, if the medal wasn't around Lila's neck, you would have thought Neomi had won there. Maybe, in a way, she had…

"Oh, that's my sister Neomi," Lila said, wincing slightly, looking at the picture, she looked so much like her.

"You look like her." He looked between her and the picture twice, before settling on her face.

"Well, I'm not her okay?!" Lila hissed. Before covering her mouth with her hands.

Older students.

"Oh isn't that Neomi's sister?"

Her classmates.

"I've heard of Neomi, she's like insta famous! You're so lucky!"

Even her teachers!

"Ah Rossi, you must be related to Neomi then. You have a lot to live up to!"

It was always "Neomi this! Neomi that!" Never about Lila. People only ever liked Lila when she lied.

"Are you… okay? You're shaking." He reached out to touch her.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?! By the way, did you know that I-" Lila turned her brain off as she spoke, rambling about celebrities and adventure.

The boy only looked at her with concern.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks before the incident. De Vanilly had been working with her at Lila's house ("Anything to avoid my uncle," He had said) and their unstable opinions of each other had gotten quite better.

They were walking together, Lila needed to see the counselor for her… condition. And De Vanilly wanted to learn the school's layout, so he went with her. It had been going fine. Things had been fine.

They weren't fine anymore.

It wasn’t Lila's fault. Another lie, designed to make her feel better. She hadn't looked, and ran into that stupid, clumsy girl. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  She had tripped, her bag fell to the floor and although she hadn't seen it at the time, her diagnosis papers fell out. Marinette had scuttled away, and Lila clambered off the floor only to see, Vanilly going through her stuff?!

"What are you doing?!" She had yelled, snatching her shoulder bag and papers out of his hands.

"I picked up your stuff. You have Compulsive Lying Disorder?" He had looked at her dead on, bluntly.

Her heart rate quickened. She blinked rapidly. No no no no no, this won't happen again! It won't! It… it can't.

"No! Shut up! I don't have that because if I had that then I would be always lying wouldn't I? And I don't tell lies so why don't you take your false accusations of me and go away!" Lila turned tail and ran out of the school, heart pounding out of her chest, eyes stinging.

Lila gasped as she reached the park near school. This went wrong, so wrong. Now she's gonna have to transfer schools again and she'll be all alone and tell more lies and- Lila vaguely felt tears run down her face. She clutched the diagnosis papers in her arms.

"Guys, guys! I wanna tell you something!" Lila had waved her friends over, excited to tell them about her new label for her mind.

She had tried to explain her disorder to her supposed friends. She had tried, but by then, her friends had already thought she was a liar. And the label, was just the proof they needed. She had only wanted to tell three or four people until she was comfortable.

The next day, when Lila went to school, everyone avoided her. Everyone stared. This went on for two weeks, her trying to reach out and being rebuffed for her efforts. She was confused, they were her friends… weren't they?

Then, the nickname came, nobody addressed her as Lila anymore. It was always "Lie-la" or "Lie-a" with special emphasis put on the lie sound in her name. Eventually, even the teachers called her "Lie-a". And Lila the Liar was born.

Kids would push and shove her in the halls. Then, when Lila accused them, they would just say "Lie-a is just lying! As usual." And they would believe them. Nobody believes a liar. 

And soon Lila didn't have any friends at all, no one could trust her not to tell her lies and not even Lila could help but believe them. She was bad. She was awful.

She was a liar!

Her mother moved to Paris. Lila went with her. A new school, a new chance.

Just tell the truth, she had repeatedly told herself, just tell the truth! Another lie that she told herself.  She lied to Ayla, she lied to Adrien.

She lied to everyone.

And then, and then! This stupid girl had the nerve to accuse her of lying (Marinette was right). She had the nerve to point out the flaws in her story (It wasn't Marinette's fault that Lila had lied in the first place). And then she told her to stop lying!

...like it would ever be that easy.

But the truth? The truth was that Marinette was the person Lila had wanted to be. Talented, special, honest, LOVED. That was the reason why she hated her. The real one.

"It's called lying!"

"B-but I don't understand! Why would you lie to them if they're your friends?"

Why would you lie to them if you just want them to be your friend Lila?

She hadn't even seen the Akuma coming. It was flying toward her quickly, she gasped. Not today, not now. Please, please! Lila doesn't want to be akumatized again, not right now! Was that pounding noise coming from her? From her beating heart?

It wasn't.

Hurry, hurry! Kali demanded in his head.

Félix was running, he had to get to Rossi. He hadn't meant to find her diagnosis papers, she had to have had a reason not to tell the other pupils about it. Whether it was privacy or a previous experience, everyone deserved the right to tell things when they felt comfortable.

Judging by the look on her face, she was clearly distraught. Félix, for some stupid reason, wanted to make sure she was alright. Make sure that his Uncle didn't get to her first. And he was right. Lila was sobbing on the ground, and although he couldn't see it - Kali could sense the akumas presence.

Watch out! The kwami yelped to him.

She tilted her head up, and there was the Akuma. Ready to pounce. Félix wouldn't let that happen, he may not be a hero, but he has an ounce of compassion!

Lila recoiled, trying to escape the Akuma but- someone jumped in the way… a blond boy wearing a grey sweater?

He winced as the Akuma went into his ring. The boy sharply inhaled. He went completely still for a moment. No…

His head dipped. No, no…

He clenched his fist. No, no, no-!

And then he laughed. He brought his head back up and relaxed his hands, all while laughing.

"You seriously think that I want to help you! That's pathetically naive and genuinely sad. I would never betray my loved ones. Not. Ever." Her acquaintance declared, scratching his arm up and down, the Akuma flew away.

Lila was speechless.

"I- you- Akuma- what?" She forced out, De Vanilly turned around to look her in the face, and he was smiling? Stranger and stranger.

"Didn't you know? Physical pain can ward off Akuma's, only if you don't have the negative energy though," He bent down and sat with Lila on the floor.

"Oh, I bet you're wondering why I followed you. Well, I wanted to apologize. It wasn't right of me to look through your things like that, it was an accident, but I'm still in the wrong. I hate to think what would have happened if I wasn't quick enough…" He placed a hand on hers gently. She looked him in the face, green met green.

"You, you took an Akuma for me." She was confused, nobody had ever done anything for Lila without her having to convince them to. But this boy, who was barely even her acquaintance, had saved her.

"Yes, I did."

"You won't tell anyone right? About my whole disorder thing because then-" She was interrupted.

"Not until you're ready." She smiled gratefully at him.

"Well then, Mr. Graham De Vanilly, it seems I'm in your debt." She said, taking his hand and standing. Although the idea of owing someone made her slightly uncomfortable, maybe he wasn't like most people.

"It seems you are," He began to walk away, heading for the gate to the park.

Her owing someone was something that Lila was unfamiliar with, how did it even work? Would he just tell her what to do or demand something of her. She wasn't sure.

It didn't matter though.

Because, it wasn't like he wanted her around. She was just an acquaintance, he had only helped to make himself feel better. Lila would never have a real friend. Lila had never had a real friend.

That was fine.

She would learn to live with it. Probably.

He stopped.

But then again, Lila thought.

"Actually, I do have an idea of how you can pay me back,"

A real friend might be nice.

Lila whirled around to look at him. "You do?"

Maybe she did want one?

"Yes," De Vanilly said, green eyes glittering like a peridot gem.

Lila did want a friend. But she could never have one.

"How?" She insisted, anything to repay her debt and keep her secret, even if it was embarrassing or annoying.

"You could call me Félix."

Lila Rossi had never had a friend, but there was a first time for everything.

[vannahfanfics]

Pikachu, I Choose You!

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Kyoka Jiro, Denki Kaminari

Requested By: Spoilerz_Alert (Ao3)

"Nonononono- Ahhh, Denki, nooooooo!" 

Kyoka rubbed her eyes sleepily as she shuffled down the last few steps of stairs. Hanta's miserable wail floated out of the kitchen, making her ear jacks twitch as she registered the high-pitched sound. Metallic clangs and muttered curses followed, and when Kyoka approached to inspect the chaos occurring in the kitchen, she also could discern Denki's characteristic low-toned "yayyyyy."

She smothered a giggle as she rounded the corner to find the aforementioned blond seated at the table, drooling a little as he pushed his upturned thumbs through the air. Hanta was carrying the fried remains of their toaster over to the trash can. He tossed the blackened, sparking metal into the bin with an annoyed grunt, then slammed the lid closed. "God damn it, Denki! That's the third one this semester! Mr. Aizawa'll probably start making you pay for them!" he scolded. 

"Yayyyyyyyy," responded the short-circuited boy jovially. Hanta rolled his eyes and collapsed against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. 

"I just wanted some toast," he lamented woefully. His head lolled over to watch Kyoka as she strolled into the small kitchen. "Mornin'." 

"I see Chargebolt here has apprehended the toaster villain yet again," the girl quipped playfully. Denki's head bobbled on his neck like a baby's as he mindlessly ogled at her. As Kyoka raised an eyebrow at him, he cooed and gave her his thumbs-up motion. Kyoka smiled, unable to not find his addled state comical and endearing, and walked over to affectionately ruffle his yellow locks. "Great job, buddy. You saved us from a real menace." Denki released a bubbly laugh and flopped forward, forehead striking the table. 

"Fuck, did Pikachu fry the toaster again?!" Katsuki cursed as he stomped into the kitchen to find the boy slumped over and still constantly humming "yayyyyyy!" When Hanta and Kyoka nodded solemnly, the volatile blond angrily kicked the nearest chair and tromped over to the pantry. He ripped open a box of corn flakes and shoved his hand into the bag to grab a massive handful of the crunchy cereal. He pushed them into his mouth, a few missing the mark and clattering down to the floor, while glaring at Denki. "Fucking hell. I just wanted some fucking toast," he grumbled with full cheeks. 

"Me tooooo!" Hanta cried exasperatedly and threw his arms up in an irritated gesture. "The world's against us today." Denki blinked slowly and lifted his head to peer at Katsuki. 

"Yay?"

"'Yay,' indeed, moron," Katsuki huffed and shoved another handful of corn flakes into his mouth. "How the fuck does he keep fryin' the damn thing, anyway?" Passively listening to their conversation, Kyoka hunted through the various drawers for a can opener so she could peel the lid off the canned peaches she wanted for breakfast. 

"When he stays up all night gaming, he's super tired in the morning and can't control his Quirk!" Hanta answered with a pointed glare at the clueless blond, who nodded sagely and confirmed with a succinct "Yay." Not that he knew what they were even talking about. 

“Dumbass Pikachu,” Katsuki grumbled under his breath. Just as Katsuki uttered his nickname for Denki, Kyoka spied a few washable markers in one of the kitchen drawers. A mischievous ploy bloomed in her head, and so with a playful grin, she plucked up the red marker and uncapped it with her teeth. Katsuki raised an eyebrow at her as she crossed the kitchen and sat down in the chair beside the dazed Denki. “Uh, what are you doing?” 

“A little payback for the toaster,” Kyoka mused. That was her reason for them, but at the moment, Kyoka’s mind was absorbed with how absolutely adorable Denki would look like a cute little Pikachu. She chuckled to herself as she put the marker to his cheeks. Hanta and Katsuki watched her with wide eyes as Kyoka scrawled two oval shapes on Denki’s cheeks with the red pen, and dotted a cute little rounded triangle on the tip of his nose. They all snorted as Denki blinked incomprehensibly and hummed, “Yay?” when Kyoka finished. Sniggering, Kyoka snapped a picture and used her phone’s editing function to draw a pair of Pikachu ears and a zig-zaggy tail on him. She sent it in the students’ group chat, and Hanta and Katsuki’s phones pinged. They both burst into laughter when they opened up the message. 

“That’s rich,” Katsuki snickered, admiring Kyoka’s handiwork even as he shoved the cereal box bank into the pantry. By this time, Denki was beginning to regain his senses, blinking rapidly. It took him a moment to register Kyoka’s presence beside him. After he finally returned to his baseline state, he groaned and rubbed the side of his head. 

“Aw, man, did I fry the toaster again?” 

“Yup,” Katsuki confirmed as he strolled out of the room, apparently not wanting to hang around for the pending conversation. Denki whined self-loathingly and flopped forward against the table. He opened his phone to read the notification and shot upright when he saw the picture. 

“What the-! Hey!” he whined loudly. Kyoka stifled giggles with her hand as Denki opened his front-facing camera. “Not funny!” he complained, poking at the red ovals decorating his cheek. The marks made the pout he tossed her exceptionally cute. “You’re so mean, Kyoka…” 

“What? I think it’s adorable,” she complimented jokingly. Denki just groaned and pushed his cheeks around, smearing the edges of the circles. “Relaaaaax,” she laughed and nudged him lightly in the ribs with her elbow. “It’s washable ink. You don’t have to go to class like that.” 

“Thank God!” he exclaimed with relief, rising promptly from the chair. “I don’t think I could face Aizawa like this!” 

“Like what?” Denki jumped a foot in the air at the teacher’s sudden appearance; the dark, broody man hovered in the entranceway to the kitchen, clutching an empty mug that smelled faintly of coffee. Aizawa stared levelly at Denki as the boy gawked at him like a deer struck by headlights. Aizawa then just sighed and proceeded to the coffee pot to refill his cup with the bitter brown liquid. He mixed in a faint amount of sugar and then turned to stare blatantly at the blond boy while sipping at the beverage. “Pika-pi,” he said monotonously before sauntering off. As Kyoka and Hanta collapsed in hysterical laughter, Denki’s face turned a shade of crimson. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys, laugh it up,” he mocked irritatedly as he made to leave as well. “Next time I’m frying the toaster on purpose!” he called as he rounded the corner. Kyoka nearly fell out of her chair as she tried to get up and follow. Holding her belly, she staggered to the wall, holding onto the edge as she shouted after him. 

“Denki! Come on; it was a joke! You’re not mad, right? Right? … Denki?” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Denki was obviously mad. 

Kyoka squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as she discreetly stared at him from across the classroom. He’d refused to speak to her since that morning, and had even resorted to avoiding her. They usually walked to class together, joined by Momo and Hanta, but when she’d joined the three on the front porch, he’d stomped off by himself, insisting he wanted to walk alone. He’d arrived to class first, and when she’d cheerfully greeted him, he’d ignored her. Groaning, Kyoka flopped forward onto her desk, not even bothering to get a head start on the English homework they’d been assigned. 

I’m so stupid… 

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, much to her surprise. She sat up to brush her fingertips over her eyes, which widened when she saw them glistening with salty tears. Hurriedly, she asked Present Mic if she could be excused and scurried off to the restroom. She slipped into a stall, locked it, and sank onto the toilet with a mournful sigh. What’s happening to me? Why am I so upset? She thought wildly as she rubbed at her eyes to stifle the tears. They stopped, but only just. 

Sure, maybe Kyoka’s prank wasn’t in good taste, but normally she’d just wait for someone to come around rather than moping over the silent treatment. But this was different. She couldn’t stand that Denki was angry with her, and it hadn’t even been six hours. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she fidgeted on the toilet, nervous energy causing her to twitch endlessly. She pulled up the damning photograph, and couldn’t help but smile at his adorably dorky expression. She laughed shakily and swiped her thumb over the screen, causing it to zoom in a little. He’s just so cute he makes me stupid… 

Kyoka squeaked aloud and sat bolt upright in the chair, dropping her phone in the process. She didn’t even rattle over the fact that the screen might have shattered. Her mind was shattering with a startling realization. Could I… Could I have a crush on Denki?! It was ludicrous. Ridiculous. Impossible! … And yet, as she thought of the boy, her heart fluttered in her chest. Groaning, she ran her hands over her face. And now he’s super pissed at me, she lamented. It was no wonder she hated the fact that he was angry… She was crushing on him, and only wanted to be in his good graces. 

“All right, Kyoka. Get out of your head,” she huffed, knocking on her head with both of her hands for emphasis. “Just calm down and be reasonable. All you have to do is apologize… That’ll smooth things over.” How could she apologize, though? She didn’t know if she could wait all day to corner Denki alone. “Drop some hints. That’s all you have to do,” she huffed doubtfully. Anxiety bubbled in her belly, making her a little nauseous. “That’s all you have to do,” she repeated, as if doing so would strengthen her will. 

It was much easier said than done. 

“Okay, Kyoka. Just relax. You got this,” she murmured under her breath. After returning from her solitary pep talk in the bathroom, the lunch bell had rung. She had just exited the line and was searching for a seat- a specific seat. Denki was settled with Hanta across the room. Kyoka’s eyes locked onto the empty booth seat across from them. After sucking in a breath like it was liquid courage, Kyoka speedily crossed the lunchroom and plopped her tray down in front of Denki, probably a little too harshly. Denki peered critically at her from under the strands of his bangs. A blush began to crawl up her neck. Much more calmly, she slid into the seat and cleared her throat. 

“H-Hey, Denki.” She saw the corner of his mouth twitch and hoped that was a sign he would break his silence. His gaze then dropped to his beef stew, and he swirled it around disinterestedly, steeping the rice in the thick broth. Kyoka swallowed, not one to be deterred, and pushed her tray forward slightly with a finger. “I know you much you like egg pudding,” she offered with a gesture to the little jiggly pudding sitting at the edge of the tray. “I don’t like it, but I thought you might like another, so…” she trailed off, hoping the boy would get the memo. His eyes were lidded as he studied the egg pudding. Silently, he reached out to take it off her tray and put it on his. He then resumed mindlessly stirring his stew. 

Hanta’s eyes shifted rapidly between the two of them, a noodle hanging out of his mouth. He slurped it up and then quickly stood, announcing that he was going to see if he could pilfer some more ramen from someone before running off like the Devil was behind him. Denki said nothing, but Kyoka saw his body tense uncomfortably. 

“Denki, I’m sorry, okay?!” she blurted before the boy could try and escape. “I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that. I just… I just…” She couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation aside from she just thought he would look cute, and she sure as hell couldn’t say that. Denki’s golden eyes flickered up from the stew to stare fixedly at her. She slumped down in the booth seat at the harsh edge of the bright gold depths. “I’m sorry,” she repeated meekly, tears rising to her eyes without realizing it. “I’m just stupid…” 

“Kyoka,” he sighed, and the sound of his voice made her heart sing. He pushed the trays aside to reach across the table and grab her hand. He stared at it as he swept his thumb over the soft skin, and every caress sent fire flying through her nerves. Her cheeks burned pink, but Denki was seemingly oblivious to the romantic implications of his gesture. “You’re not stupid.” The smile he flashed her made Kyoka melt into a relieved puddle of mush right there, but she couldn’t help but object. 

“Denki, I took that dumb photo, and it was insensitive, and-”

“It’s okay!” He laughed with a dismissive wave of his free hand. He then looked bashfully down at the egg pudding she’d given him. “I mean, I was a little upset at first, because… I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s all you think I am. Some dumb, stupid Pikachu.” Before he could continue, Kyoka interrupted with her free hand flapping around wildly. 

“Oh, Denki, no! No, no, no! I just… I, um… Bakugo kept calling you Pikachu, and I just…” Growing meek, she slumped down into the booth until her shoulders hunched up to her ears. “I couldn’t help thinking about how cute you would look as a Pikachu…” Denki’s eyebrows nearly touched the roots of his hair as he gawked surprisedly at her. He then flashed her a brilliantly bright smile. 

“Oh, so that’s it?” Kyoka used her free hand to cover her bright red face as much as she could, embarrassed by how pleased he was at the prospect. Still holding her hand, he grabbed a fork and took a big bite of the egg pudding while Kyoka nodded admittingly. He seized his phone and pulled up the photograph, then smirked. “I guess I do look pretty adorable,” he reasoned with a wink at Kyoka. The girl’s headphone jack ears wriggled nervously, a bit unsettled by his one-eighty in mood. He dropped the phone and smiled sweetly at her. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shoulda just been a man and talked to you about it instead of giving you the silent treatment.” Kyoka’s throat bobbed as she swallowed the relieved sob rising in her chest. 

“Yeah, but… Fair’s fair, I guess,” she said guiltily. She flushed red as Denki leaned across the table to use his thumb to wipe away her tears. 

“No! Even if I was upset, taking it out on you like this was petty. As Kirishima would say, it wasn’t very manly of me.” His light-hearted tone all but forced Kyoka to give him a hiccupy laugh. How could she stay sad with the sunny boy around? Still, she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit blue; though he was gently sweeping her tears away, she could tell just by the look on his face that it was a purely platonic gesture. Still, she couldn’t help but lean a little into his touch, making her chin brush lightly against the heel of his palm. “I’ve got an idea,” he suggested with a bright smile. “How about tonight we watch a movie, huh?” 

“J-just the two of us?!” she squeaked, blushing at the high-pitched tone of her voice. Denki didn’t notice, nodding enthusiastically. “O-okay…” She was relieved that he was no longer irritated with her, but she couldn’t help but think that she was jumping out of the frying pan only to land in the fire.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kyoka had landed in the fire indeed. 

Her body burned with a fierce blush as she sat on the end of Denki’s bed, unable to focus on the anime movie playing on his television screen. He’d insisted on sharing a blanket, and so there she was, snuggled up under the covers with the oblivious blond and feeling like she would spontaneously combust at any moment. Denki lay on his stomach with his cheeks pushed into the palms of his hands. His ankles crossed over behind his back. Jiro was sitting upright beside him, hugging her knees to her chest and sweating nervously. 

Just play it cool, Kyoka… Don’t be weird… she encouraged herself frantically. With every passing second, she was terrified that Denki would notice the damp puddle of perspiration surely forming under her. She had to suppress a squeak when Denki shifted positions, sitting up beside her and tugging the blanket to enclose them in a suffocating bubble of heat. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth until the skin shredded a little. She’d only realized she was crushing on the boy less than eight hours ago, but now it was all she could think about. When his arm inadvertently brushed against hers, she couldn’t take it anymore. Squealing, she jumped out of the covers to stumble out onto the floor. 

“Kyoka? What’s up?” Denki blinked owlishly at her as she panted heavily. Every inch of her skin felt like it was submerged in lava. Part of her was frustrated that he wasn’t picking up on the undeniable signs, but the other part of her thought she’d surely die if he posed the possibility of her crushing on him. The turmoil of the day had fried Kyoka’s brain to charred mush, so she could only sink into one of his bean bag chairs with an agonized groan. 

“I don’t… I just… I need a minute,” Kyoka whined miserably. Denki blinked slowly, then peeled the blankets off himself and timidly crawled over to her. She peered through her eyelashes at him as he approached cautiously, her cheeks growing redder with every inch he crept closer. 

���Kyoka… Are you feeling okay?” he inquired with a suspicious look. Sure that her cheeks were the shade of tomatoes, she groaned and looked away ruefully. She rubbed at her face, flinching at the sheer amount of heat radiating off her body in suffocating waves. “You’re acting weird,” Denki continued with a concerned tone. “Look, I promise I’m not mad at you.” 

“It’s not that,” she admitted through the fingers laced over her lips. She stared intently up at the ceiling with shaky eyes. Was she really about to confess this? “Do… Do you know… Why I was so upset at the fact that you were mad at me?” Denki grunted, and she could tell by the way his clothes shifted that he was rubbing the back of his neck puzzledly. 

“Well… I dunno… I was a little shocked at how sensitive you were about it.” The bean bag creaked as she wiggled uncomfortably in the embracing soft bag of beads. 

“I… Well… I couldn’t stand the idea that you were mad at me because… because…” Her throat closed up, preventing her from forcing out the words though she desperately wished she could just spit them out. Her chest felt like a great big balloon had swelled up inside her, pushing on her chest wall to make it impossibly tight. Denki waited patiently for her to continue. Kyoka just couldn’t. Frustrated tears began to burn her eyes, and she desperately tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Whining in agony, she clamped her hands down over her eyes, praying the darkness would push her over the edge into a confession. It didn’t. 

“Kyoka?” Denki’s voice was soft, inquisitive. She heard him crawl around the edge of the bean bag to sit on his knees beside her. She whimpered as his fingers began to pull at her own, slowly prying her hand away from her left eye. Hesitantly, she cracked that eye open to see him smiling amusedly. “You’re not trying to say that you like me, are you?” She pulled her bottom lip under her teeth and chewed anxiously on it, debating whether to admit it or start vehemently denying it. After a few seconds, she managed a tiny nod. “This better not be some kinda cruel joke.” She squeaked and started sputtering refusals at his deadly serious expression. Then, in the next second, he was laughing animatedly. 

“Denkiiii!” she whined, red-faced, and punched him in the shoulder. He kept cackling even as he rubbed the now sore area. 

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t help but get a little payback,” he chuckled. Kyoka settled down after a minute, but her face continued to burn. He smiled affectionately; it made her heart thump loudly in her chest. “I like you too, Kyoka. To tell ya the truth… Being angry with you made me so miserable I couldn’t stand it.” 

“Really?” she asked in a small voice, and he nodded. 

“Yeah. That’s why I couldn’t stay mad,” Denki said gently. His hand rose to cup Kyoka’s cheek, and she pressed her face into it, relishing the soft skin of his palm embracing her. “I could never stay mad at you.” 

“Even when I do stupid stuff?” 

“Hey,” Denki snorted, “considering I’m the world’s leading expert in stupid stunts, I can cut you some slack for the occasional lapse in judgment.” Kyoka giggled. Her body sung with a bubbly champagne-like high that sent her mind floating into blissful, foggy euphoria.

Denki leaned forward to press his forehead against hers, eyes lidded as he smiled lovingly. “You haven’t smiled all day,” he remarked, catching her off guard. “I love it when you smile.” His compliment made the small smile on her lips stretch wide across her face. His thumb caressed the arc of her cheekbone as he stared deep into her eyes. 

“So are you gonna kiss me orrrrrrrr what, Pikachu?” His eyebrow cocked at her blatant request. Kyoka’s cheeks tinged pink at her boldness, but she levelly held his stare, challenging him. Denki smiled impishly, but then leaned in, pressing his mouth to hers in a lingering sweet kiss. Kyoka hummed approvingly at the pleasant sensation of his soft lips molding over hers. The movie they were watching was long forgotten as they basked in the glow of each other’s presence and the bliss of young love blooming between them. 

~Bonus~ 

Kyoka’s smile was bright as daylight as she stared into her phone screen; Momo could see it across the room. She approached Kyoka from behind as the girl lounged on the common room sofa, feet kicked up over the back and reclined against one of the throw pillows. 

“What are you smiling about?” Momo inquired as she leaned over the arm of the couch. Kyoka was staring at her lock screen. It was a photo of her and Denki; they had marker on their faces- red ovals on their cheeks, and a little rounded triangle on the tips of their noses. Brown-tipped, long, pointed yellow ears and zig-zaggy tails had been scrawled in the background with her editing app. They looked so happy together, pressed against one another as they smiled for the camera. Momo smiled, glad to see her best friend so madly in love. Kyoka tipped her head back over the arm of the couch to grin blissfully at Momo. 

“Oh, you know… Making plans. Denki wants to go out to eat tonight.” Momo hummed approvingly and leaned down, pressing her cheek against the top of her friend’s head as she hugged her loosely. 

“I’m happy for you, Kyoka. You deserve it.” 

“Thanks,” the noirette said and glanced back to her phone to respond to a message from Denki. “So, when are you gonna start going out with Todoroki?” 

“I-I beg your pardon?!”

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​ @simplybakugou​ @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​

[writersblockpeter]

tiktok famous (hc) - part one | p.p.

a/n: definitely didn't get distracted on tiktok while making this it's fine

summary: the wonderful chaotic adventures of y/n and peter making tiktoks

warnings: cussing (i do in every one of these lol) and lot's of fluff and tiktok references

+ + +

- yo yo bros what is UP

- so my last imagine was 5k words

- aka like 5x more than i usually write

- so it's time for...

- A HEADCANNON WOOOOOOOOO

- let's get it !

- SO BASICALLY

- you and peter are besties right

- straight-up vibin

- and you're in his room one day and you're scrolling on tiktok

- and then you get an idea

- you smile, glancing at the boy (who is conveniently in his spider suit, testing out some of his webs) before going to your saved sounds and tapping on the one you want

- and then

- oUt Of NoWhErE

- you hit record and your phone BLASTS the sound

"what are you doing with all that ass?"

- peter WHIRLS around

- like what

"double cheeked up-"

- peter's face practically explodes into a smile

"on a thursday afternoon"

- the camera shakes as you laugh, heart fluttering as peter doubles over, eyes shut as he wheezes

- "Y/N"

- "wHat, pEter?"

- you turn the phone and show it to him

- his face basically blends into his suit he's blushing so hard

- i mean how can he not half of the goddamn video is zoomed in on his ass

- okay i don't know how to transition so NEXT TIKTOK

- at this point the two of you are like "okay yes let's make tiktoks"

- and guess what

- chicken butt

- jkjk

- you two both have saved sounds

- that you imagined

- the two of you

- would do

- TOGETHER

- AHH

- okay yay let's get started

- "okay pete i have an idea"

- "what"

- you turn the phone around

- it's one of those premarital ones and peter blushes a little bit (because hE KNOWS WHAT'S GOING ON HE'S A SMART BOY)

- and he nods

- and you're like yes

- so i ain't sure exactly how to word this in the best way possible

- so i'm gonna leave this up to the imagination (which is, honestly, better in this situation)

- but BASICALLY

- it's one of those premarital ones lol

- AGAIN, uP tO tHe iMaGiNaTiOn!!!

but it includes:

almost kissing holding hands and then ripping them away and then you two fake vomiting

- cute

- OKAY NEXT TIKTOK

- (btw that last one was a little uncomfortable to film but at the same time you were laughing so yayyyyy)

- throwback to all those "i kissed a girl" ones where ppl got their stuffed animals and threw them on the bed

- shoutout to that one pair of "bEsT fRiEnDs" who did it

- but PETER shows it to you

- and you're like awwww cute

- and then you're both like

- well

- well

- yes.

- so peter sets up the camera, gives you a nervous cute smile

- you sit on his bed

- and then this mans is like

- "do... do you think it'd be easier if i were carrying you..? and then layed you down?"

- WHEW CHILE

- B U T T E R F L I E S

- anyways sooooooo

- you're like "oh, yeah"

- all nonchalant and shit bc y/n is a bad bitch who shows NO emotion

- we're all afraid of Confrontation and Commitment here

- (the two c's)

- *shudders*

- got a little sidetracked there oops

- anyways

- you stand up

- and babey pete takes your hands and wraps them around his neck

- then wraps his arms around your waist

- (AHHHHHHHHHHHH)

- and you jump, swinging your legs around his waist and hugging him so you don't fall

- you feel him cautiously take his arms away and walk over to where the phone is setup

- you laugh, "i feel like a monkey"

- peter laughs too and the butterflies in your stomach are like BROOOOOO

- (bonus: may walks in and sees the two of you and is like "did i miss something" and you're both like "it's for a tiktok" and all she does is squint at the two of you before backing out slowly, leaving the door open just a crack)

- he then sets the timer and you two nod at each other

- you hear the audio start playing and giggle before immediately putting on a straight face

- strong-boi petey somehow manages to lay you on the bed in a way that looks like it was all heated and whatever but it was so gentle

- like what

- how

- and peter fucking WHIPS OUT HIS SEXY SKILLS

- AT FIRST YOU'RE LIKE WOAH THERE BUD

- AND THEN YOU'RE LIKE

- DAMN... FUCK ME

- HE'S ALL

- HOVERING OVER YOU, MOUTH LITERALLY LESS THAN AN INCH AWAY

- AND GUESS WHAT YOU FUCKING DO

- GUESS

- you don't kiss him sorry for the letdown

- you eXPLODE with laughter

- which causes him to laugh too

- babey falls onto you, burying his face into the crook of your neck because what we're just best friends this would never actually happen what do you mean

- oof

- y'all watch it over and it's the cutest thing ever

- he posts it and it's amazing and great (and when you go home later you save it to your phone and watch it on repeat)

- alright NEXT TIKTOK

- y'all are gonna scream

- ready?

- ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

...

- F-R-I-E-N-D-S

- WE'RE JUST FRIENDS

...

- LDSJKHVSDF AHHAHAHA

- SO BASICALLY

- you and peter are sitting on the bed, scrolling through your for you pages

- and you come across one

- and you decide

- it's now or never, bITCH

- you sigh, standing up with the hint of a smile on your face

- you set up the camera and peter watches you

- "which one is this?"

- "you'll see"

- (HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE)

- you hit the timer, look back at him, and HERE WE GO BOIS

- you grab his hands, pull him up, and get on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck

- he's so confused and it's adorable

- you begin tilting your head and leaning in

- peter gets SO HAPPY HE's LIKE YES FINALLY

- and then you pull away, mouthing "we're just friends"

- you start laughing at his confused face before his expression drops and he practically SNATCHES you

- and smashes his lips against yours

...

- goddamn

- can you imagine

- let's just say it's a little ako-taco when the two of you pull apart bc it's a whole moment n shit and the fcking audio keeps repeating

- the two of you look over at the phone to see a replay of what just happened

- peter smiles

- "i sure am smooth, aren't i"

- "shush"

- and the two of you hug for a very, very long time

- *butterflies*

BONUS TIKTOK:

- you're doing a dance where you tHROW IT BACK

- (HELL YEAH BITCH)

- and let's just say

- peter's eyes are...

- SOMEWHERE

- ...

- lol

+ + +

hope y'all enjoyed <3

i love writing these

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Fairies May Cry

You prove that no trinket nor treasure will ever be lost again as long as you're around the shop.

Chapter 10: Pretty Boy’s Lost Marbles

I would like to thank @vergilsangel for the cute marble idea! Hope you enjoy, darling! 😘

Vergil has learned that the mischievous reputation of the fey folk most definitely proceeds you ever since he agreed to your offer of assistance. He thought that a lot of that pent of playfulness would be spent on pranking his younger brother. However, you did disappoint him on that front. It is nice having a pixie around to punish Dante for “being a big ol’ meanie” by making a mess of his precious magazines and hiding all of his free strawberry sundae coupons.

And Vergil was no fool when he made the deal with you. He knew that he would have to deal with some of your mischief since you are after all his “very pretty pixie” as you put it. What he did not expect was all your playfulness toward him to be so fond and sometimes downright flirtatious. A part of him blames Dante for subtly encouraging you, but he knew that the fey folk are known to show overwhelming interest to those that get their attention.  

The proud expression on your face as you show him all the lost trinkets you have found. The soft chiming quality of your giggles when one of your silly pranks comes to fruition. The charming pink glow of your fairy light while you shower him with genuine admiration and compliments. All of it has been a new experience for Vergil, especially the perplexity of your open displays of affections. But like a true Son of Sparda he has handled the capricious nature of his new frolicsome fairy with utter grace.

“Prettyboyprettyboyprettyboy!”

Vergil sighs at the sound of your tiny voice calling him from afar. He turns the page of his book while sitting on the couch in the office before answering you. “For the last time, Peaseblossom, call me by my-” He cuts himself off as he looks up from his book, totally stunned by the sight that greets him.

You are twirling just above his head with a pleased grin on your face as your pink fairy light shines brightly. The usual sprinkle of fairy dust sparkles under your light, but now you are wearing what looks to be a tiny bikini made of flower petals. And judging by the color you must have used a bluebell along with a few strips from a daffodil petal for polka dots to make it.  

Dante, who is lounging behind his desk, glances over and wolf whistles. “Well, look at you!” He holds up magazine and shows a voluptuous woman wearing a rather revealing bikini striking a provocative pose. “Not bad, Lil’ Blossom,” he commends with a cheeky grin, earning him a severe scowl directed at him from Vergil.  

You giggle and spin around in the air before striking the exact same pose of the swimsuit model. “Well?” you urge sweetly. “Aren’t I pretty?” You surround your small form with glittering hearts made with your fairy dust as you bat your eyelashes at him expectantly.  

“Uh…” Vergil clears his throat and reminds himself not to stare as he maintains his composure. “Well…” He huffs air out of nose, irritated that once again you somehow caught him off guard despite being smaller than his hand.

Your face drops into a sad frown as your fairy light turns blue. “You don’t like it?” you whimper, pooching your lower lip out as your eyes grow wide and glossy with unshed tears.

Just the sight of your sorrowful face churns his stomach. Even though this entire situation is completely absurd he did not want to hurt your feelings. After all, it looks like you put a lot of hard work into your new garment and Vergil is not one to ignore such dedication and passion despite its lack of modesty. So, he swallows his pride for a moment and gives you the praise you desire.        

“It’s…very becoming of you, Peaseblossom.”

Your sad frown is instantly replaced by smile of pure happiness. “Yayyyyy!!!” you squeal in delight, fairy light shuffling through an array of colors as you dart over close to his face and hug his nose with all your tiny strength.

Vergil clears in throat again as he looks away from your embrace, but your sheer joy at his compliment makes a crack in his stoic demeanor. He can already feel a slight blush color his cheeks and once again he wonders how such a small and dainty being can have such an effect on a Son of Sparda.    

“Oh!” you gasp, iridescent wings snap open as your fairy light glows yellow. “Hold on, Pretty Boy!” You let go of his nose and fly away back towards the stairs. “Be right back!” you call out before zooming off down the upstairs hall. Vergil release the breath that he did not even know he was holding and looks up the stairs, curious about what has gotten you so excited this time.

“Awwwww!!!”

Vergil scowls at the sound of Dante’s mushy voice as he shoots a nasty glare over at his meddlesome brother. But it will take more than that to make Dante stand down from whatever foolish sentiment he is about to share. His cheeky grin just widens even more as his shoulders shake in silent snickers.

“Looks like Lil’ Blossom made Pretty Boy blush again!”

Vergil’s eyes flash with indignation and he does not even have to focus that much to summon a sword behind his brother’s chair, skewering him for his unwanted observation. Dante bends over his chair and groans in pain just as you reappear at the top of the stairs. You are carrying what looks to be a small sack by its drawstrings. It must be a bit too heavy since you keep drooping down during your flight, but you manage to bring it all the way to the couch.  

“Here ya go!” you exclaim, dropping the small sack in Vergil’s hand. “Scruffy Boy said that you lost your marbles, so I, your very pretty pixie, found them for you!” you announce proudly, fairy light shining brightly as it flits between pink and yellow.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Dante sputtering, quickly recovering from the stabbing, “you actually found a lost sack of marbles somewhere in the shop?” he inquiries as his brow arches a disbelief.

Vergil puts down his book and opens the small sack and, sure enough, there are several colorful marbles inside. He reaches in and plucks a royal blue one out, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as he holds it up for closer inspection. His mind turns and turns until he finally remembers that Dante did say something about him “losing his marbles” before he first introduced you.    

“That’s right, Scruffy Boy!” You cross your tiny arms and puff out your chest. “Nothing will ever be lost again as long as Peaseblossom is around!” you cheerfully vow, sprinkling fairy dust around you and shaping it into a blooming rose around your small form as you hover happily in the air.

Vergil wanted to explain that “losing one’s marbles” is just a figure of speech, but he knew that you probably would not understand. And as he looks up at your adorable show of affirmation, he finds that he does not have the heart to burst your bubble. Especially after all the effort you put into finding the marbles that not even the owner knew he had lost somewhere among the chaos of the shop. So, he hums softly as he extends his hand and offers you the royal blue marble with a soft grin.  

“Thank you, Peaseblossom.”

The biggest smile spreads across your face as you beam up at him and take the marble. Then a lot of squealing, dancing, and laughter ensues as you celebrate, zig zagging in the air as your fairy light phases through many different colors. Dante laughs along with you and even Vergil cannot help but chuckle at your spritely flight.

Every now and then, Vergil may wonder if it really was a good idea to make a deal with a fairy. You are, after all, not only a very pretty pixie, but the embodiment of mischief and whimsy. But it is lighthearted moments like this, the over the top expressions of jubilation and honest displays of admiration, that brings a certain light into his life that was sorely missing until you came along.

And this Son of Sparda counts himself lucky to have a fairy like you around to brighten his day and make living among humans even more interesting.  

My Ao3

My Masterlist

Read Chapter 11

Tagging: @drusoona @bettybattaglia and @exsultry 💖

[recurring-polynya]

I hoped you would reblog that! :3 A fic after Aizen arc, where Ichigo DOES NOT lose his powers, and seireitei is in full party mode. Someone asks where Rukia is. Renji's like "she went to get snacks". and Orihime, tipsy as hell, just blurts out "Of course you know where she is! You're so cute together!!" and everyone is either like "yeah true" or "WAIT SINCE WHEN?". aka the dorks get peer pressured into realizing they should date already By Everyone. Feat. Women's Society paparazzi.

Hey, so you know how always spend a ton of time on my really long fics and don’t post them until I’m all the way done so that I can make everything internally consistent, etc, etc? What would it look like, as your therapist would say, if I just wrote some nonsense and posted it? And if I feel like writing more chapters later, maybe I will? To post something with a 1/? Also, what if was Canon, Never Heard of Her? and also full of things that do absolutely do not belong in Soul Society (like potato salad?) What would that look like?

Anyway, here you go @unohanadaydreams. I’m sorry it took me so long to do this and also I also messed up your prompt a bunch (I figure that everyone knows how bad Renji has it for Rukia and wouldn’t rag him about it, so I switched ‘em), but I think I captured the spirit of it, along with the spirit of that filler episode where everyone makes movies.

Enough! Enough intro! Here it is!

Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!

“HELLLLLLOOOOOOOOO, SQUAD 10!” Inoue Orihime yodeled, flinging herself into the courtyard, where a barbeque of epic proportions was gearing up.

“Orihime!” Matsumoto screamed.

“YO!” Kurosaki Ichigo announced, stumbling in behind her, arms raised victoriously. “What has two thumbs and just saved Soul Society?”

“This guy!” Orihime squealed, trying to point her thumbs at Ichigo as he also tried to point his thumbs at himself.

Ichigo squinted at the hands waving around his general vicinity. “How many thumbs do I have? Hey, hey, Ishida?! Did I grow any extra arms while I was fighting Aizen?”

Sado Yasutora suddenly plunged through the gate behind them panting and out of breath.

“Are you two drunk?” Captain Hitsugaya demanded.

“My new best friend Captain Doctor Unohana Retsu gave me the good stuff, because I am the Hero of Three Worlds, possibly Four,” Ichigo explained. 

“Painkillers,” Chad gasped. “He’s on a very high dose of painkillers. It’s…okay… I'm… keeping an eye on him. He’s still really fast, though.”

“What about Orihime?” Rukia demanded, from where she was trying to sculpt a bowl of potato salad into a diorama of herself defeating Rudabone. Or possibly Chappy. “She wasn’t even hurt.”

“She was very nervous about Kurosaki,” Uryuu explained, sauntering up next to Chad. “So Lieutenant Kotetsu gave her some of Captain Unohana’s home-brewed ginger beer, which was… allegedly non-alcoholic?”

“I feel so powerful right now!” Orihime chimed in. “Like my body is filled with thousands of dubstepping bees!”

“I literally cannot feel any part of my body, right now,” Ichigo chipped in, “but at least I didn’t lose my Soul Reaper powers while performing the Final Getsuga, like some sort of contrived plot hook.”

“Why is it called the Final Getsuga, then?” Orihime asked.

“Beats me!” Ichigo hooted.

“It’s because Europe had just released ‘The Final Countdown’ when I invented it, and that song slaps!” Isshin shouted from somewhere near the kegs.

“DAD!” Ichigo shouted. “Dad, I have something to tell you! Also, Rukia, you are like my other dad, if I had two dads!”

“I am not,” Rukia protested.

“Maybe Byakuya is like my other dad, then, which would make you my sister.”

“I am definitely not,” Byakuya protested. (Did you, gentle reader, think that Byakuya would not attend one of Squad 10’s infamous keggers on the occasion of Aizen’s defeat? You were incorrect. Byakuya is a great fan of Matsumoto’s guac.)

“Listen, Dads,” Ichigo insisted. “I defeated Aizen and I think that definitely means I should get to borrow the car on Saturday, but also, Orihime proposed to me and I said yes , we are now engaged to go to the movies the next weekend that we are back home. Which is why I need the car, you see.”

Orihime dabbed.

“My precious son, I am so proud of you!” Isshin announced, throwing his arms wide. “But you can take the bus to the movies like a normal teenager.”

“Way to go, Orihime!” Rukia congratulated, abandoning her potato salad to perform an elaborate handshake/high-five routine with Orihime.

“This is so exciiiiitiiiiiing!” Matsumoto wailed. 

Ise Nanao sidled up to Kusajishi Yachiru. “Madam President,” the Vice-President of the Shinigami Women’s Association intoned gravely. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

Hisagi Shuuhei sidled up to the other side of Kusajishi Yachiru. “Are you thinking about a special Seireitei Bulletin feature, presented in cooperation with the Shinigami Women’s Association–”

“–'Heroes of the Hueco Mundo Invasion – In Love!!’” Nanao and Hisagi chorused in unison.

Yachiru blinked. To be honest, she had mostly been thinking about the red bean dumplings she knew Captain Hitsugaya had hidden somewhere earlier, and had not been paying much attention to any of the goings-on up until this point. This may seem to stretch belief, but you have to understand, gentle reader, that this amount of shouting represented a pretty typical day at Squad 11.

Yachiru bounded up to the former ryouka. “Hey, Pencil!” she demanded. “Are you and Muscles dating?”

“Chad!” Ichigo yelped, grabbing at his own hair. “You sneaky person!”

“Uryuu!” Orihime gawped, clapping her hands over her cheeks. “You sly dog!”

“No,” Uryuu corrected stiffly.

“You are mistaken,” Chad added.

“He’s way out of my league,” they said at the same time.

There was a long silence.

Uryuu looked up at Chad out of the corner of his eye.

Chad looked down at Uryuu out of the corner of his eye.

Ichigo was making tiny, excited claps.

Orihime was bouncing.

“Doooooo iiiiiiiiittttttt,” Captain Kyouraku said out of the side of his mouth, pretending like nobody could tell it was him. Everybody could tell it was him.

Rukia straightened up to her full height. “Do it, you dorkuses. The Women’s Association will pay for it. If these two dummies can get their act together, you haven’t got any excuse.” She glanced over at Ichigo and Orihime, who were gazing longingly at one another, and promptly did a horrified double take. 

“Errr…” Uryuu waffled.

“I understand if you’re uncomfortable participating in a Soul Society-related activity,” Chad offered an easy way out.

Uryuu opened his mouth, looked at Chad, and closed it again slowly. “I’ll take their money and waste it frivolously. That is within my moral code.”

“YAYYYYY!” Orihime squealed. “Triple date! Can I be an honorary member of the Shinigami Women’s Association?”

“What do you mean, 'triple date’?” Rukia tried to interrupt.

“Yes,” Nanao proclaimed. “But it will be three separate dates, covered as a three-part series.”

“In the World of the Living,” Shuuhei broke in. “The readers are crazy-go-nuts for the World of the Living.”

“Who is the third couple?” Rukia pressed.

“Genius,” Nanao threw a finger gun at Shuuhei. “Matsumoto, you’ll do host segments? Pre- and post-date interviews and such?”

“Give me a clothing budget and you’ve got a deal” Matsumoto agreed.

“WHO! IS! THE! THIRD! COUPLE?!” Rukia demanded.

“You and Renji, obviously,” Orihime replied. “You two are sooooo cute together! I bet your readers would love that, wouldn’t they, Lieutenant Hisagi? If Rukia and Renji went on a date in the World of the Living? Rukia’s like a princess or something here, right?”

“They will go apeshit , Hisagi replied breathlessly. "You have to understand that Abarai is actual very well-known among the Bulletin readership for his incredibly popular column, 'Let’s Do Shikai!!’ This is essentially the Soul Society equivalent of David Beckham marrying Posh Spice.”

“I…. don’t know who that is,” Rukia stammered.

“How do you know who those people are?” Uryuu asked, perplexed.

“I read Living World newspapers,” Hisagi excused with a shrug.

“Rukia, do you have something to tell me?” Byakuya frowned.

“No!” Rukia yelped. “I’m not dating Renji! I have no interest in going on a date with Renji, even though he consistently moves Heaven and Earth for me and we have really similar taste in craft beers and he’s objectively, like, smoking hot. I refuse to go on a date with Renji. Don’t ask me any more questions.”

“Where is Renji, anyway?” Ichigo frowned. “I don’t hear him shouting, so he must not be here.”

“He went to go pick up a bunch of snacks for Matsumoto because he’s a sucker and I’m sure he stopped off to trade out his sunglasses for polarized ones because he says they’re better for late afternoon glare,” Rukia excused very quickly.

“Rukia,” Ichigo noted, suddenly sounding a lot more sober. “Listen to yourself.”

“Soooooooo cuuuuuuuuuuuute!” Orihime repeated, exaggerating her lip movements.

“She’s not wrong,” Uryuu pointed out.

Chad did Big Shrug Arms and nodded in agreement.

At this moment, the man in question strode into the courtyard, carrying several grocery bags and wearing a pair of polarized sunnies. “Hey, party people!” Renji greeted cheerfully, somehow managing to hold four overstuffed grocery bags in one arm while he fished something out of one of them. “Why’s everyone so quiet?”

“Hey, Abarai, will you do me a big favor?” Hisagi asked innocently.

“Yeah, sure,” Renji agreed. He found whatever he was looking for. “Oi, Ruki-Ruki,” he called, tossing a small paper packet to Rukia. “They had those melon-flavored gummy salamanders you like when you get hammered.”

Rukia caught them easily, her cheeks flaming red.

“'Ruki-Ruki’?” Ichigo mouthed to her, making the most judgemental face he could manage under the influence of Unohana’s Special Sauce.

“So, what’s can I do you for, Shuuhei?” Renji asked, trying to find an empty spot to deposit his bags.

Shuuhei told him.

“Oh,” said Renji. He looked over at Rukia, who managed an awkward, sheepish half-smile as she clutched her candies. “Well, shit.”

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke smut: Fireplace

To celebrate the kickoff of my week of staycation (YAYYYYY), Chapter 17 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which there are sappy feelings, some wedding-related talk, and smut. 

Read on AO3 instead (~5400 words). 

***********************

Hawke cracked open the door to the Rusted Horn and peeked inside. “Hello? Anybody home?”

Fenris waited, then relaxed as her echoing voice returned unanswered to his ears. Hawke smirked up at him. “Looks like our resident clandestine couple have gone home,” she said.

“Good,” Fenris said. It had been a long and effortful day of hunting bandits and closing rifts and killing demons in the sodden remains of Old Crestwood, and he was looking forward to a night of uninterrupted peace and quiet. He pulled the door wide and gestured for Hawke to enter the abandoned tavern, then followed her inside and bolted the door behind them with no small amount of satisfaction.

He walked down the short corridor to the main room of the tavern. Hawke was already building the embers in the fireplace into a proper fire. Fenris put down the large wolfskin blanket he’d brought from Caer Bronach, then pressed his focus into the lyrium marks on his skin and carefully inspected the darkest corners of the Rusted Horn.

When he was satisfied that the tavern was truly empty, he allowed his tattoos to go inert and returned to the main area. A fire was dancing merrily in the hearth, and Hawke had rolled the wolfskin blanket out in front of the fireplace. She’d already hung up her cloak and discarded her socks and boots, and she was contentedly wiggling her bare toes in front of the flames.

Fenris studied the back of her dark-haired head with an odd sort of pang in his chest. They used to do this all the time in the study of her Kirkwall mansion – stretching out barefoot on the carpet, enjoying a blazing fire. Through all the years they’d known each other, this was the most constant activity they’d retained.

While sitting in front of the fire in her study, Fenris had begun to release his guarded suspicions, and Hawke had dropped her jocular mask for the first time. They’d spent years in front of that fire: talking and flirting, fighting and fucking, laughing until there were tears in Hawke’s eyes and clutching each other close as her rare bursts of grief and stress soaked into his shoulder. He and Hawke had spent so much time in front of that fire that Fenris almost couldn’t distinguish the memories anymore; they were melded and blended in his mind, mixing together until he couldn't disentangle one moment from the next, leaving him with a general impression of pure and peaceful contentment.

The fireplace in Hawke’s study had borne witness to the nebulous shifting of his feelings. It had seen their faltering growth from acquaintances to unlikely friends to ex-lovers, then finally to two people who were bound so tightly that they couldn’t bear to be apart. Now, as Fenris watched her lounging comfortably in front of a fireplace for the first time since they’d left Alamar…

The sight was both painfully familiar and strange at once. It gave him a vertiginous sense of nostalgia, like an ache of love and longing even though the object of his affections was sitting right in front of him, and he inhaled carefully through his nose before padding over to her side.

He hung his cloak next to hers, then sat beside her on the blanket. “Privacy at last,” he said quietly. He began to idly thread his fingers through the short chestnut hair at her nape.

She smiled and closed her eyes as he ran his thumb behind her ear. “Mmm,” she murmured dreamily. “Yes, privacy after six whole days of communal camping.”

Her tone was teasing, and Fenris huffed quietly. “Don’t pretend you are not enjoying it too,” he said. He leaned in close, then inhaled the scent behind her ear before nipping her neck with his lips.

She released a soft little sigh, and Fenris trailed his mouth along the line of her jaw until he met her lush parted lips. Hawke cradled his cheek as they kissed, and Fenris savoured the taste of her tongue and the crackling warmth of the fire against the soles of his feet.

A moment later, she pulled away and fondly stroked his chin. “I feel so young right now,” she whispered. “Like a delinquent youth.”

The smile that lifted her lips was mischievous and warm, and Fenris gave her a chiding look. “We are not old, Hawke.”

“I suppose not,” she said. “It’s just funny, that’s all. That Lonnie and Milton sneaking away for a sexy moment alone, despite those nasty undead wandering around everywhere.” She playfully pinched his chin. “You pretended to be all huffy at those poor kids, and now here we are doing the same thing as them.”

Fenris pulled her hand away from his chin and kissed her knuckles. “Who said I was pretending?” he said.

She chuckled and shifted closer until her legs were slung across his lap. “I know you were amused. Admit it.”

Fenris smirked faintly and wrapped his arm around her. “All right. I’ll admit it was mildly amusing. But still, it was irresponsible.” He shook his head ruefully. “They weren’t carrying a single weapon between them.”

Hawke laughed. “Most people carry no weapons, Fenris.”

“In this day and age, perhaps they should,” he retorted.

She raised an eyebrow. “And who’s going to train them in using these weapons? Are you volunteering?” She suddenly sat up a bit straighter. “Maybe an Inquisition task force or something to train civilians in basic combat! That’s not a terrible idea, right?”

Fenris nodded thoughtfully. “It is a good idea, in fact,” he agreed. “I will suggest it to Cullen and Cassandra.”

Then he frowned. Why in the Void were they discussing the Inquisition? He’d brought Hawke here to escape the cursed Inquisition for a time.

He shook his head slightly, then cradled her neck in his palm. “Enough business for now,” he said.

A slow and saucy smile lit her face. “Ah. Exchanging business for pleasure, are we?”

“Yes,” he growled softly. He gently brushed his nose against hers. “I hope you’ll agree the exchange is more than warranted.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she whispered, and her lips found his once more.

They kissed in front of the fireplace, and her fingers plucked at his chestplate until he pulled it off. Their belts were the next to go, discarded between the increasingly urgent meeting of their hungry lips, and it wasn’t long before Hawke was straddling Fenris’s lap with only their trousers and tunics and smallclothes to separate their skin.

Hawke stroked his arms and his chest and his abs, and Fenris’s whole body seemed to loosen and lighten with want at the heated touch of her hands. He slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt to feel the small of her back, and he carefully nipped her full lower lip for the sheer pleasure of hearing her breath catch in her throat. Then her hands were on his shoulders, gripping firmly as she rolled her hips toward him.

He grunted approvingly as she pressed the juncture of her thighs toward his swiftly swelling crotch. Her forehead was pressed to his, and her panting breaths were eager and hungry, and then her left hand was slipping down his chest to creep beneath the hem of his shirt.

He grabbed at her hand, then exhaled shakily as she pressed her groin close to his. “Hawke,” he rasped. “Slow down.”

“Why?” she breathed. “We have all night.” Her fingers were persistent, and despite his gentle grip on her wrist, her thumb was smoothing a teasing circle around his navel. She delicately traced her tongue along the tip of his ear, sending a ripple of excitement down his spine, and her words were vibrant and teasing when she whispered in his ear. “Fast now, then slow later.”

Her fingers were trailing slowly from his navel down toward the edge of his wool leggings. He helplessly lifted his hips toward her, then pulled her errant hand out of his shirt and nipped her wrist in playful punishment. “I am done with rushing anything more today,” he told her. “Go slowly.”

She tutted mockingly, but her hand relaxed in his grip. “All right. Since you ordered me in such a nice way. Benevolent but bossy: that’s your style of leadership.”

She was grinning. Fenris smiled back at her, then took her chin in his fingers and pulled her close. “Shut up, Hawke,” he whispered.  

She giggled, then fell silent as he kissed her once more. She twined the fingers of her left hand between his own, and the feel of her onyx-and-ruby engagement ring perked a small reminder at the back of his mind.

He slowly peeled himself away from her lips. “Hawke,” he murmured. “I have been meaning to ask you something, but I – we have not had the time…” He hesitated. Did he really want to bring this up right now, especially if it had been Josephine’s (albeit well-meaning) pressure that reminded him of it?

“What is it?” Hawke said. She smoothed a strand of hair back from his face.

He nervously licked his lips and considered backtracking, but no; Josephine might have reminded him of this, but if Fenris was honest, it was something he’d wanted for a long time now.

He took a deep breath. In for a copper, in for a royal, as Hawke would say. “Would you like to get married?” he said bluntly.

Her eyes went wide, and she released a bark of laughter. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now? Getting married?” She cocked her head teasingly. “I can’t decide if that’s a slur on my sexual prowess or insanely romantic on your part.”

He pinched her waist, making her squeak with laughter. “It has no bearing on your sexual prowess, I assure you,” he drawled. “And it’s a simple question. Or so I thought.”

She grinned and clasped his neck in her palms. “It’s been years since we got engaged,” she said. “It’s a little late now.”  

Her tone was casual and playful, but her cheeks were slowly turning a telltale shade of pink, and Fenris raised one eyebrow. “It is never too late,” he said. “Not if it is what we want.”

Her grin widened further. “When you asked me to marry you three years ago, you said you didn’t care either way–”

“I know what I said,” Fenris said with a hint of exasperation. “Are you really arguing with me about this?”

She burst into laughter. “No! No, of course not. I… yes, let’s get married!”

He smiled at her flushed cheeks, then pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. He could feel the laughter in her lips as they kissed, and he slid his hands into her hair and pressed his forehead to hers. “Just to be clear: of course I want to marry you,” he told her. “I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t what I wanted, as well.”

She coyly ducked her head, and Fenris tipped her chin up to face him. “Why are you acting shy?” he asked. “You and I both know there’s not a timid bone in your body.”

She laughed loudly. “Thanks. I think,” she chirped. Then she ruffled her fingers through her short dark hair and shrugged. “I’m not being shy, really. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m happy.” She affectionately stroked his jaw. “You’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

Her tone was jocular as always, but Fenris tilted a chiding look at her. “Hawke, I have been tied to you for years. Practically since the day we meet, if I am frank.”

She barked out another short laugh. “Well, that doesn’t sound particularly flattering.”

He tipped her chin up once more and frowned at her. “I chose this entanglement,” he said quietly. “This is what I want. You have always been what I want. You know I have had little choice in my life, but… you have always been my finest choice. Do not question that.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. Fenris lifted his chin, and Hawke answered his wordless demand with the press of her lips.

This time, their kisses were slower and more lingering than before. His lips brushed softly over hers, tenderly painting the lush canvas of her mouth with his love, and her fingers were soft and gentle as they combed through this hair. When she broke away to pull off her tunic, he took advantage of the moment to remove his own as well.

She threw her shirt aside, and Fenris immediately reached for the laces of her bustier. Hawke snickered softly as he skillfully untied the knots. “What happened to taking it slow?” she teased.

He tugged the laces free from the last rung of eyelets, then swiftly parted her bustier and set it aside. “I am simply stripping you quickly,” he said. “Then I will go slow.” He admired the peaks of her dusky nipples and the subtle planes of her belly, then hooked his finger into the laces of her leather trousers.

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Take these off for me,” he whispered.

She smiled, then slid off of his lap and rose to her feet. Fenris slowly shifted onto his knees to watch her, and his swollen manhood pulsed in time with his heart as Hawke’s nimble fingers untied her trousers.

The trousers pooled at her feet with a soft hush of fabric. She unceremoniously kicked them aside, and Fenris reached for her. He stroked the subtle line under her sternum, and he brushed his thumb beneath the gentle swells of her breasts, and when Hawke subtly arched her spine, he ran his hand down over her belly and stroked the angle of her hip.

She whimpered softly, and Fenris darted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were half-closed and her lips were slightly open, and when he stroked her body with his other hand as well, smoothing her hips with his thumbs before running his palms down the length of her thighs, she jerked her hips and shifted her legs slightly farther apart.

His greedy gaze dropped between her legs. Her curls were damp, and there was a sheen of desire at the innermost corners of her thighs. Fenris lightly swept the moisture away with his thumbs before smoothing his palms down her silken inner thighs, then back up her body to tease the undersides of her breasts again.

A desperate little sigh left her lips, and her hand rose to claw at her collarbone. “F-Fenris,” she begged, and she arched her back more insistently toward him.

He shuffled closer on his knees and kissed the spot just beneath her navel. Hawke moaned, and her hands tensely clasped his shoulders. He gently kissed the inside of her thigh, and she burst out a gasp.

“Fuck,” she whined. Her fingertips pressed into his shoulders, and when he licked the inside of her thigh, her nails dug into his skin.

He hissed softly at the sudden bite of her nails, and she pulled her hands away. “Sorry,” she gasped. “Maker’s balls, Fenris, I’m really… sorry… oh Maker.” She broke off with a moan as he carefully ran his fingers along her cleft.

“Replace your hands,” he told her. “You might need the support.” He gave her a roguish smirk, and before she could do more than breathlessly laugh, he parted her folds with two fingers and pressed his lips between her legs.

He caressed her clit with his tongue, and she grabbed his shoulders once more. “Oh fuck,” she gasped.

He stroked the angles of her hips with his thumbs, then clasped her thighs as he kissed the swollen spot between her legs. Her sweet-and-salty flavour bathed his tongue, and he stroked his tongue carefully over every plump fold until all he could taste was the moisture that his mouth had left behind.

He kissed her sweetly, and the mewling sounds that left her throat were just as sweet. Fenris treated her slowly just as he’d said he would, tracing two fingers between her legs in a lingering caress while tracing her clit in a slow and tender circle, and her thigh grew tense beneath his palm while her fingers became tense in the tawny skin of his shoulders.

He ran his tongue along the length of her cleft, and Hawke clenched her fingers and sobbed his name in a broken voice, and then her pleasure was echoing to the rafters as she trembled and struggled to stay upright while he lifted her to her peak with the careful devotion of his fingers and his tongue.

She arched against his mouth, then fell to her knees in front of him, and Fenris didn’t give her time to catch her breath before taking her lips in a kiss. He clasped her neck in one hand and delved his tongue into her mouth, and she hungrily accepted his kiss and all the fragrance and flavour that he was passing from his lips to hers.

Hawke reached for the laces of his leggings without breaking their kiss, and Fenris slid his hand up her thigh. She started untying his laces, and he slipped one finger inside of her, and she cried out into his mouth.

“Fuck – Fenris, I – I c-can’t concentrate,” she begged. She moaned and pressed her forehead against his shoulder as he curled his finger inside of her.

He didn’t reply. He was too preoccupied to speak, preoccupied by her hands curling against his abs and the heavenly feel of her heat pressing around his finger. He started tugging his own laces to free himself, and all the while he continued to stroke his finger inside of her to coax her pleasure forth.

Her gasping breaths ghosted across his neck as she pumped her hips toward his hand. As soon as his laces were partially undone, she shoved his hand away and burrowed her fingers into his leggings to cup his balls.

A rush of sensation flooded his abdomen, and he choked out a gasp of pleasure and surprise. Then her fist was wrapped around his length, and her other hand was clasping the back of his neck, and Fenris moaned into her mouth as she kissed him hard.

Hawke stroked his cock, and he groaned and pressed his finger inside of her. A few rushed moments later, his leggings were hastily tossed aside, and he was kneeling behind her with his hands on her hips.

He leaned over her so his chest was flush to her back, then lowered his mouth to the tattoo curling across her skin. Her back was heated and damp against his chest, and her nipple was a perfect pearl between his fingers. The silken skin of her bottom was blissful against the throbbing eagerness between his legs, and he quickly arranged his cock to stroke her slick heat as he rocked against her from behind.

He slowly slid his length along the threshold of her folds, and she cried out and dug her fingernails into his wrist. “Please,” she begged. She pressed her other palm firmly into the blanket and arched back toward his hips. “Fenris, please, I – I really need you…”

He breathed hard as her slickness spread across his length. With another quick adjustment of his hand, he buried himself inside of her.

She cried out and collapsed to her elbows on the soft fur blanket, but Fenris pleadingly stroked the length of her back. “Rise up, Hawke,” he rasped. “I want you near.”

She gasped a few desperate breaths, then pushed herself partially upright again, and Fenris wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his forehead to her back and slowly pumped himself into her heated depths, and Hawke tightly clasped his bescarved wrist. Soon they were moving together in a slow and rolling grind, and Fenris blissfully closed his eyes.

He breathed against her back, taking in her scents of sweat and sandalwood and salty sea air from the sodden Crestwood coast. The fire was a soothing warmth against the right side of his body and a flickering orange haze against his closed eyelids. He listened to Hawke’s voice, the helpless little sounds that left her lips with each slow pumping of his hips, and with every careful draw and thrust, he savoured the feel of her, the warmth and the tightness and the completion of their joining as she met him thrust for thrust.

He inhaled deeply and pressed his teeth against her skin, and she gasped. “Fenris,” she whimpered.

He lifted his lips from her back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” she said hastily. She tapped at his wrist and tugged his hand. “I just – I want – I want to turn around. I… can we–”

“Yes,” he panted. He pumped into her once more, dragging a gasp of pleasure from her throat, then pulled himself free and allowed her to slide away until she was facing him. He eagerly crawled toward her, and she pulled him close with a firm hand around his neck, and then he was pressing inside of her and groaning against her throat as she gasped in ecstasy.

He stretched her hands above her head and thrust into her in a steady rhythm, and the moan that left her lips was more rapturous than before. She pressed her chest toward him, and his gaze dropped to her breasts.

Without releasing her hands, he lowered his head and nuzzled her breast, then took the ripeness of her nipple in his mouth. Hawke cried out in rapture, and Fenris suckled her for a moment longer before lifting his mouth from her breast and thrusting into her hard.

“Fuck!” she cried. Her fingers tightened between his own. “Fuck, Fenris, yes–”

He slammed into her once more, then ground himself slowly inside of her, and she writhed shamelessly beneath him and spread her legs wider. “Oh please,” she begged, “please, please, I want you…”

“Yes,” he gasped, and he gave her another hard pump of his hips. Soon they were fucking hard and slow, and he was grinding hard into her heat with every forceful thrust. He could feel the building of his own climax as her warmth and her enraptured voice drew him inexorably closer to the edge, and he pressed his gasping mouth against her neck and squeezed his eyes shut.

The pleasure rose slowly as he circled his hips against the threshold of her heat, then surged forward as he fucked her hard, and with a few more long, forceful thrusts, the peak crashed over him with a blaze of buzzing and breathless heat.

His guttural cry bled from his throat into Hawke’s fragrant skin, and he pressed his teeth into her neck once more, making her gasp with pleasure. Once the scintillating shivers of his climax had subsided, Fenris released her hands.

She instantly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and slid her fingers through his hair. Fenris shuffled slightly lower between her legs, then relaxed completely into the pliant heat of her naked body.

He pressed his cheek to her sternum. Her chest was rising and falling beneath his ear, and he could hear the busy beating of her heart. He gazed lazily at the flickering of the fire and revelled in this moment of total boneless relaxation.

He eventually closed his eyes, and the softly crackling flames continued to dance behind his eyelids as he sank into the warmth of Hawke’s skin. Some time later, right as Fenris thought he might doze off, Hawke spoke in a quiet tone.

“So… getting married,” she said quietly. “How do we want to go about this? Will we be having a wedding?”

He slowly opened his eyes. Her tone was wry, and Fenris knew that was she expecting his response to be a resounding ‘no’. In all fairness, that was absolutely what he wanted to say; he wanted nothing to do with the sorts of huge formal multi-day events that he’d seen in Tevinter, and he absolutely didn’t want their marriage to become some kind of political power play.

But Fenris couldn’t make that decision alone. Hawke was far more sociable than he, and he wasn’t the only one whose opinion counted here. “Do you want a wedding?” he murmured.

Her fingers briefly went still in his hair, then resumed their gentle combing. “Well, it depends,” she said slowly. “Weddings can be fun, depending on who throws them. I haven’t been to a fun wedding in… oh, years, probably.” She gently pinched the pointed tip of his ear. “You, on the other hand, have never been a fan of the big fancy fêtes.”

“I am not, no,” he agreed. Then he sighed. “Josephine suggested making it… a political move,” he said grudgingly. “Inviting powerful nobles from across Thedas–”

“No,” Hawke said, to Fenris’s great relief. “No fucking way. That would be terrible. I would embarrass the Inquisition by getting in an argument with someone important, and you would just… you would hate it. No, we’re not doing that. Not a chance.”

He relaxed and closed his eyes once more. “Good,” he murmured. “No wedding, then.”

Her combing fingers went still for a moment. “Well,” she said carefully, “it doesn’t need to be a political thing. But a party might still be fun…”

He opened his eyes, then lifted himself onto his elbows. “How many people are you thinking?” he asked. “I… Hawke, I really don’t want an enormous formal affair–”

“No, of course not,” she said reassuringly. “Just the Inquisition.”

He recoiled slightly, then narrowed his eyes. “Wha–? You mean the entire Inquisition, or just Cassandra and Blackwall and the others…?” He trailed off at her apologetic half-smile.

He wrinkled his nose and pushed himself upright, and Hawke sat up with him and stroked his back. “It might be a good idea,” she reasoned. “It’ll make everyone happy. There’s nothing like a party with a bunch of fancy food and drinks to get everyone’s morale up.”

Fenris scowled. Josephine had made a similar point. “But this is not just some common party,” he complained. “It’s our wedding. I do not want to be put on display for everyone to stare and gawk. They do that enough already. And–”

She stroked his cheek with her knuckles. “Fenris,” she said gently.

He shook his head and pulled her hand away from his cheek. “I might be the cursed leader of the Inquisition, but I am no pet to be posed and postured for their entertainment,” he snapped.

“I know,” Hawke said quietly. “And it won’t be like that. It’ll be informal. We’ll have it at the Herald’s Rest.”

Fenris’s scowl lessened slightly. “At the tavern? You… you can do that?” The only weddings he’d ever witnessed were extremely formal Tevinter affairs involving multiple days of ceremonies and so-called celebrations, all garnished with a truly astounding amount of posturing, usually for a couple who didn’t even wish to be wed.

“Of course we can,” Hawke scoffed. “It’s our wedding. We can do whatever we want.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows and thought this over quietly for a moment. Then he turned to face her. “I want the vows to be private,” he said. “No witnesses. Or… or only one or two. Varric and Carver, perhaps.”

A slow smile was growing across her face. “All right,” she said. “What else?”

He tilted his head pensively, then looked at her once more. “You will be barefoot. No heels. I know you hate them.”

Her smile widened, and she slid closer to him and draped her arms around his neck. “I like this wedding already,” she murmured. “What else? Will we exchange rings, or is that too much of a human thing?”

He shrugged cluelessly. “I… hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “I have never worn a ring.” He glanced at his hands, bare as they were but for her red scarf and the lyrium tattoos that would forever line his skin.

He looked at Hawke once more. “What do you think?”

She shrugged happily. “It’s up to you. I’m fine either way,” she said. “You could try buying a cheap ring from Bonnie Sims and wearing it for a week to see if you like it.”

Fenris nodded slowly. “A fine idea. I will do that when we return to Skyhold.”

“Should we invite anyone from outside of the Inquisition?” Hawke said. “Aveline and Donnic, for example?”

“Oh, of course,” Fenris said immediately. Hawke’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm now, and Fenris had to admit that this sort of party planning wasn’t completely awful. “We should invite Isabela too, if we can get a letter to her.” He shot her a tentative glance. “What about… er. What about Sebastian?”

Hawke’s face fell slightly, and Fenris hastily backtracked. “If you would prefer not to invite him, it’s not necessary…”

She waved her hand dismissively. “No no, we can – you can invite him. He probably won’t come because he hates me now, but you can try.” Then it was her turn to give Fenris a cautious look. “What about Merrill? I don’t know if she would reply to a letter from me even if it got to her, but…”

She trailed off sadly, and Fenris dropped his eyes to his hands once more. He really didn’t want to invite Merrill; he and that blasted blood mage would never see eye to eye, and things between them had ended so terribly that Fenris had genuinely feared that Hawke would leave him in the days following Merrill’s departure. But if Hawke was all right with him inviting Sebastian…

He nibbled the inside of his cheek, then nodded. “All right. Invite Merrill if you must.” He gave Hawke a forbidding look. “But do not even consider trying to find Anders–”

She surged toward him and kissed him, cutting off his warnings, and Fenris scrambled for balance as she straddled him once more. She cradled his face and enthusiastically kissed his cheek and his ear, and he wrapped one arm around her waist.

“What is this for?” he asked.

“I love you,” she blurted. “And we’re getting married.”

Her grin was broad and her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and Fenris smiled at her exuberance. “What happened to your claims that it is too late because it’s been so many years?” he drawled.

“I was bluffing,” she announced. “I really want to marry you. A lot. Maybe we should elope right now.”

He raised one eyebrow. “A tempting notion,” he said, then pretended to look around the Rusted Horn. “Is there a Chantry sister nearby who can officiate, or…?”

Hawke laughed brightly and stroked his neck. When he turned to face her again, her smile was tender. “I’m tied to you too, you know,” she whispered. “From the second you pulled your gross bloody fist out of that hunter’s chest, I was all yours.”

He chuckled and ran his palm along her naked back. “That will always strike me as odd, and possibly alarming, but… I’ll accept it.”

“I mean it, Fenris,” she insisted. He met her eyes again, and they were serious and soft.

Her fingers toyed with the hair at his nape. “I’m yours, forever and a day,” she told him. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

He studied the naked affection in her face, then pulled her closer and pressed his forehead to hers. “Never,” he whispered.

She smiled and stroked his earlobe, and he lifted his chin to find her lips. The evening gradually deepened into night, and Fenris and Hawke moved together in a languorous tangle of limbs and lazy, breathless love. And bearing witness to it all was the fire: the benevolently flickering warmth of the fire in the hearth.  

[dancingbpierces]

IILife’s A BetIIPurray

Tagged:Brittany Pierce and Chris Murray 

Featuring: Antonio and Ari Murray

When:Saturday afternoon

Where:Purray’s household

Details: Brittany and Chris have their wrestling match… Who will win?

Brittany: was getting dressed for her and Chris little match that they had agreed on. At first when she and Chris were talking about who could take who. It was all for teasing and for fun, then it turned serious when Chris laughed at her. Deep down she knew she would probably lose this. But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Besides she had a secret weapon that she was going to use and his name was Antonio. She pulled down the hem of her tank top, putting her hair up and a ponytail. Antonio bust into the room, wrapping his arms around her leg “Bee Bee!” He squeaked. Brittany moved so she could pick him up, placing him on her hip “Tonyyyyy” she giggled giving him big kisses. “Okay kiddo.. Aunt Bee Bee needs your help” she said going over to sit on the bed, putting him in his lap. “You know.. me and your daddy are in a bet.. and the best is.. who can take who…and aunt Bee Bee needs to win.. Can you help me do that?” She asked, trying not to laugh at his thinking expression. Antonio bit his bottom lip “I fight daddy?” He asked. Brittany snickered “No I fight daddy.. you just help me when I ask for you to help. I’ll blow you kisses. And that means you jump in.. okay?” She whispered. “Besides your sister likes to take his side a lot. So I need you on my team” she sighed. Antonio thought about it for a second “Okay! I help Bee..” he cheered. Brittany giggled, leaning over to kiss his cheek “yayyyyy! But shhhh can’t let daddy know okay.. ” she said getting up with Antonio in her arms, heading toward the living room, sitting Antonio on the couch.

Chris: felt like Rocky. He’d spent the day working out abd getting ready for his big fight with Brittany. He even had Ari lend a hand. “Daddy,” she asked, sticking more chewing gum into her mouth. “Isn’t fighting wrong?” Chris blew a bubble with his gum and did a few jumping jacks. “Hm? Yeah sure its bad. But this is just wrestling. And mommy is going to lose so it’s fine,” he said, watching her chew more gum. “Hey stop eating all my gum.”

Brittany: noticed that Chris and Arianna wasn’t in the room yet and decided to go away and make more room for them. “So Tony who you think is gonna win? Me or Daddy?” She asked as she pushed the love seat over, making a lot of space for them. Antonio scratched his head, thinking about who looked the toughest “ummm daddy?”. Brittany playfully scoffed, acting as if she was hurt “Tony! You’re suppose to be on my team” she said earning a pouty face from him. “awww it’s okay… You know I still love you” she said walking over to kneel in front of him. “Hey why don’t you go and get them. Tell Daddy I’m ready to kick his butt now.."she said kissing his cheek. Antonio giggled as he hopped off the couch running toward the room his dad was in "Daddy! Bee Bee ready to get your butt!” He shouted. 

Chris: helped Ari off the bed and turned around as Antonio came running into the room. “Get my butt?” he chuckled, picking up his youngest and carrying him into the living room. “What is she teaching you?” He placed Antonio down and cracked his neck. “You ready to lose Pierce?" 

Brittany: did her stretches as she was getting ready to go for a run. She raised up to see Chris and the kids to enter the room "I think the question is are YOU ready to lose?” She chuckled with a shrug “and I have to warn you I watched Karate kid last night. So.. I’m ready” she warned him with a straight face. “Tony remember what we talked about okay?” She winked, giggling when he winked back. 

Chris: smirked at Brittany. “Oh baby. Wax off and wax on is not about to save you,” he smiled. He glanced between Brittany and Tony and shook her head. “Hey none of that. You cant use my kid for whatever you have planned. Its illegal." 

Brittany: playfully rolled her eyes "oh yeah? Well we see about that buddy” she said trying to sound so tough. She looked at her boyfriend innocently, shrugging her shoulders “oh please! Don’t act like your not gonna use our daughter against me” she scoffed “and besides every time it’s you against me she always takes your side. So it’s only fair if I make sure Antonio is on mine” she stated. “And anyway if your sooooo sure your gonna win. You shouldn’t be worrying about what I have planned” she said patting his chest, a little hard. “And just so you know I have some really good ideas on what I want you to do, Mr. Murray” she said with a wink, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

Chris: gasped dramatically. “She’s my coach thank you very much,” he pointed at Brittany. “You are trying to use my son against me and it’s unsportsmanlike behavior Pierce.” He glanced down as she patted his chest, causing him to take a step back. “Okay that’s it,” he said before lunging and grabbing Brittany by the waist to lift her off the ground. Brittany joined the chat 5 days ago Brittany joined the chat 5 days ago Brittany: laughed sarcastically “Yeah she’s your help you cheat coach” she said with a shrugged “And it’s fine. Just don’t cry when you lose” she said trying her best not to laugh “awwww so you ARE scared you’re gonna lose.” She sighed with a smile on her face. So far she was winning the talking the most crap and she was really enjoying it. She got ready to speak only to let out a squeal when’s Chris grabbed her “Hey this isn’t fair” she whined, kicking her feet in the hair. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he was to strong “damn him” she thought to herself. She was able to reach over to tickle his ticklish spot, in hopes he would let her go. 

Chris: shook his head. “Not everyone needs to cheat to win like you Bee,” he smirked. “Notice how youre talking shi– stuff, more than anything. Keep it up. It’ll be even better when I beat you.” He had her right where he wanted her. Honestly he just planned on holding her until she gave in but then she tickled him and he hit the floor in a fit it laughter. “Not fair!” He laughed. “Ref! Where’s the referee.” He sat up seeing Ari and Antonio trying to blow bubbles with their gum, completely ignoring them. “Fine. Its up to me.” He managed to keep from peeing himself and moved Brittany away from his ticklish spot before pinning her to the ground. “Give in Pierce and then after we put kids to bed we can really have it out,” he winked successively before kissing her lips quickly before the kids could see. 

Brittany: scoffed “Hey I never cheated in anything in my whole life..” she said hating the smirk he was throwing at her “Well it’s easy to talk crap when know your gonna win! Right Tony?” She asked turning to see the kids. She couldn’t help but laugh because they could really care less about what the silly things the grown ups were doing. She squealed as he dropped to the floor. “Hey! Whatever works babe” she giggled. She knew once he found his composure he was going to get her back, so she rolled over so she could crawl away from him. But she was to slow. She felt him roll her over to her back, pinning her to the ground “I don’t like you right now” she pouted, pretending like she was mad at him. She bit her bottom lip, feeling her face grow warm from his words. This was so like him she thought. “You’re such a bully” she whispered, returning the quick kiss. She tried to move her hands, but he wouldn’t let her go “you know if I could move my hands you would be in so much trouble Mr.” She said breathlessly, looking over toward the kids “Tony I could really use your help her” she sighed. Antonio looked over at his dad and Brittany and shrugged “Maybe later Bee Bee.. I wanna play with Ari” he mumbled with a mouth full of gum. Brittany groaned “Ari.. remember when I said women have to stick together?” She pointed out. 

Chris: rose an eyebrow and scoffed. “I’m the bully when for the last week all you’ve said to me is that you’re gonna beat me? I haven’t said one thing to you even though I knew I would win. Why? Because I’m not a sore winner,” he said, not letting hefenmi He didn’t plan on it until she gave in. He glanced over at the kids, seeing how preoccupied they were. Ari shook her head at her mother. “Daddy said you would try to use fem- femim-” she struggled with the word. “Feminism,” Chris helped earning a nod from Ari. “Yeah that. He said you’d use that to try to get me to help you but it was just a um… Daddy what did you say?” Chris looked down at his girlfriend with a smirk. “I said you’d try to use feminism to get her to help you but that it wouldn’t work because real feminism doesn’t call for women helping other women do something as morally repugnant as cheating,” he smiled. Ari stuck more gum in her mouth. “Yup. Sorry mommy. I’m a fenmimist.” Chris chuckled. “One day she’ll get it… Okay Bee you surrender yet?" 

Brittany: tucked her lips in trying not to laugh at Chris “All I did was doing was sending you a little warning Murray! And don’t act like you have done the same. You may have not said anything but you doing all your extra jumping jacks, explains a lot” she pointed out trying to get out of his grasp put failed again “ugh you know it’s against the rules to pin someone down!” She pouted. Brittany frowned when her daughter refuse to help her, don’t get her wrong she wasn’t shocked that Chris warned Ari about what she would do. But she was hoping her daughter would help her out. She locked eyes with Chris who was giving her a smirk “I don’t like you very much right now” she chuckled at her daughter’s words “It’s okay. Mommy still loves you.. but your dad on the other hand” she said squinting her eyes at him.She knew that she lost this one, but she wasn’t going to go down just yet, but she had to at least try again. Brittany looked down to see her knees were at the angle of where is dick was. She smiled up to him “nope! But you will” she said attempting to aim in between the legs, only to hear Antonio gasp”Bad Bee! Time out! ” he pointed at her.

Chris: shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, still not letting her up. “On but you love it when I pin you down.” He was just about to say more when Tony screeched and called time out. “Wha–” he glanced down between his legs and gasped. “Bee! You would go as far as injure the master?” He was so hurt that he sat up, letting go of her arms and shielding his crotch.

Brittany: squinted her eyes at him “Don’t act so innocent mister” she said once again trying to fight his grasp but he wouldn’t budge. She felt her cheeks grow warm at his comment and tried hard not to blush from the thought “I-I.. well” she huffed getting flabbergasted. She was about to kick him but stopped at Antonio’s yelling at her. “I wasn’t go-” she sighed starting to feel bad. Antonio pointed at Brittany “Not nice. Bee” he said going back to play with his gum with his sister. Brittany sat up “ugh he gives me the same look you do when your mad at me” she said looking over to Chris who was guarding his manhood. “I’m sorry. I just got caught up with the bet. I really wanted to beat you” she confessed “can you forgive me?” She asked scooting closer to him. 

Chris: scooted away from Brittany and frowned. “Is beating me worth me not having a functioning dick?” he whisper yelled. Honestly he was laughing on the inside because he knew how competitive Brittany was, he just didn’t think it would go this far. “Because if so then we would both be disappointed… Why did you wanna beat me do bad? What is it you wanted me to do because I honestly would do whatever you asked. Baby you know I’m whipped." 

 Brittany: frowned when he moved away from her. She honestly wasn’t trying to hurt him, she just got into competitive mode and wasn’t thinking “Baby, I’m really am sorry” she whispered softly, glancing over at the kids, looking back at him. She sighed softly looking down at her hands “Honestly? Because a lot of people don’t see me has “Tough” or someone that can handle herself. I mean every time I leave dad’s house he always asking me if I have my pepper spray or have Caleb follow me home when he knows you won’t be here” she shrugged “so I figure if I could beat you. The strongest guy I know. Maybe people would stop trying me as this delicate flower that can handle her own. I mean I told dad about our bet and he was so sure you were going to win because I couldn’t heart a fly. And it bugged me” She said looking back up at him “I’m really sorry I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I would never purposely hurt you. I just got in my own head and I got really competitive”. 

Chris: frowned as Brittany explained why she was so competitive when it came to their bet. "Hey… Look I’ll admit, your dad coddles you a lot but he does it because he cares about you. He just wants you safe. And no one thinks you’re some dainty flower who can’t take care of herself. You’re strong Bee. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much. Don’t ever doubt that okay? Don’t ever doubt your strength. Just because I’m physically stronger doesn’t mean anything." 

Brittany: hated that what was suppose to be fun failed all because she got in her own head. She sighed as she listen to Chris words. The thought of her dad always babying her or making feel like she was six instead of twenty six really annoyed her “I get that. I do.” She said looking over at Ari “I mean I’m always worried that something is going to happen to Ari if you and I aren’t around. But I know our daughter. I know she is tough and she is strong. I try to give her a little space and not hover as if she isn’t capable of handling herself. I just don’t want to be treated like I need protection all the time or I can’t handle things because sooner or later Ari isn’t gonna want to look up to me. I mean look at Antonio. When he looks at you or Even with San he sees that he has strong parents and that if he is with you or with San he is going to be protected and that he doesn’t have to worry about anything.” She said honestly. She smiled sadly when Chris reminded her that he knows how strong she is “I know and I love you for not treating me as if I can’t protect myself. Again I’m sorry about earlier.” She whispered. 

Chris: stood up and frowned at how serious Brittany was being. He knew she didn’t wanted to be treated like she was this fragile person but he had no idea it was affecting how she viewed herself as a parent. "Kids go play in your rooms,” he said, hearing Ari groan before both children’s feet pitter against the floor as they ran to their rooms. Chris waited until they were gone before crawling over to Brittany and pulling her into his lap. “Baby. Ari knows that you can protect her. She knows that when she gets hurt, youre the one to come to because Daddy hates blood,” he chuckled. “She knows that when she has a good dream, youre the one she comes to and talks about it. And as much as Tony looks to me for protection, who does he call for when he has a bad dream? You can’t doubt yourself. And I think you should talk to your dad about how he treats you. You’re an adult. Its time he start treating you as such.” A thought crossed his mind and he pulled Brittany into his lap so that she could straddle him as he laid on the floor. “Hold my arms down,” He said, guiding her hands to his wrists. He stared up at her and smirked. “Use your legs to hold mine down.” He waited until she did as he asked and tried to get up but found he couldn’t. “See your strong,” he struggled to say. He honestly couldn’t get up and it was his own fault. “Today was leg day and I’m still sore… You win. You win the bet. And now I have to do whatever it is you want. And please say its sexual because you holding me down like this is getting me hard,” he laughed 

Brittany: felt her tears forming but held them at bay. The last thing she wanted to do was cry, glancing up to see the kids leave. She sighed, playing with her fingers as Chris pulled her into his lap. This had been something that had been bugging her for a while and she was trying to deal with it in her own way. Don’t get her wrong she knew she could talk to Chris about this or anything else, he is her best friend. But she just thought this would go away. But from what has happened early that wasn’t the case. She chuckled sadly when Chris reminded her how Ari always ran to her when things involving blood. Chris was one of the toughest guys she knew. But it made her laughed to know that at the sight of blood he would run away screaming. Hearing Chris words, she smiled even more. She knew that she was lucky to have him there for her, to remind her no matter what she was strong and Ari and Tonio would always look up to her. She nodded her head at his suggestion about talking to her dad. She always hated having serious conversations with him because mindlessly he always made her feel bad “okay… I’ll talk to him.. He isn’t going to like it but.. I’ll do it” she smiled. She was about to tell him thank you and kiss him. But before she could he was moving them so he could lay on the floor having her straddle him. She moved to where she could hold down both of his wrist, using her legs to hold down his legs. She giggled softly as he tried to get out of grasp, “Thanks for the reminder Murray” she smirked. Brittany bit her bottom lip not sure how to feel about the fact that he allowed her to win. But she did know that she had the best boyfriend in the world. She chuckled at his comment looking up as if she was thinking about what she wanted to do she leaned down to kiss his lips slowly “Actually it does involve something sexual and for being such an amazing boyfriend.. I think I allow you to tell me what you want” she whispered seductively “I do mean anything.” She said softly, she could feel his hard on. But she didn’t want him to notice she could. She shifted in his lap a bit with a grin on her face “BBBBut you’re gonna have to wait for it” she sing “the kids are still up” she pointed out hearing the kids laughter in the rooms. 

Chris: returned the kiss before smirking up at his girlfriend and licking his lips. “Oh no no no, you won fair and square. I couldn’t get up if I wanted to. I’m all yours doing whatever you want. Name a time and place.” He winced when she moved in his lap, his dick twitching. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he said glancing down the hall. “Fine. But as soon as we put them to bed…" 

Brittany: giggled when he assured her that she won “okay fine but I promise it will be something that we both can enjoy” she promised. She could feel more of him when she moved, and she knew if she didn’t stop they might end up doing something anyways.“Trust me I can finish it baby. Just don’t want to scare the kids” she chuckled, nodding her head “I will make it worth the worth the wait okay?!” she said giving him a kiss before releasing him. “I need to go cook dinner and you should probably go check on the kids since they have a mouthful gum and is probably sticking it under the bed or something …” she she giggled at the thought as she got up from the floor, heading toward the kitchen.