#I spent like five days on this rendering is pain

[loucygoosey]

Finally watched soul eater they are my children

#soul eater #soul eater fanart #maka albarn #soul evans #soul eater evans #fanart #digital art #I spent like five days on this rendering is pain #had to change makas pose like three times #I am not the same girl I was before this painting #love it tho #also listen to the death note musical yall #that album saved my sanity making this #goosey’s doodles

[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

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enha smut

[bangficsx]

ENGORGED | JK X Y/N

warning : mentions of miscarriage, pregnancy, sickness, sexually explicit (pregnancy sex, vaginal sex, clit play, cream pie, oral sex, etc)

summary : reader reminisces relationship with jungkook from courtship until now to being a family. Eventual smut.

genre : domestic, fluff, smut

"Finally done!" You say after you complete writing the addresses on all the invitation cards. Jungkook slides down to the floor from the chair and lays like a dead body.

"We still haven't sent them out so I still have a choice to dump you" You joke rolling your panties down your legs making him sit up in an instant.

"I need my reward for bearing with you" You whisper gathering the cloth of your skirt around your waist and shifting to let your pelvis rest on the edge of the chair. He holds your thighs spreading them apart and slides his hand down your thigh painfully slow towards your crotch.

"I need to come Jungkook. Wedding stress is taking it's toll on me." You say holding his neck as he brings his mouth closer to your vagina. You wince as he licks your clit and circles it with the tip of his tongue. You were already wet but he made you ten times wetter instantly. He smirked pulling back for a moment to look at your face. He continued not wanting you to suffer but to get release quickly. He inserted his fingers and you knew it was going to be mind blowing. Your brains were bombed when he combined his fingers and tongue on your spots and you would come so hard that it would render you unable to think straight for an hour.

His fingers were buried inside you stroking your g-spot while his tongue stroked your clit up and down. Too much was happening for you to not crazy. Unknowingly your hands went to your breast and squeezed one of them. You moaned out loud without any restraints while it became painful as your orgasm drew closer. And with one final touch on your gspot you came your walls squeezing his fingers and he stroked for a little bit of that painful yet pleasurable overstimulation.

He got up smiling at you and you pulled him closer to kiss him. You put a kiss on his neck before pulling apart. You looked down at his crotch to see if he needed help. He followed your gaze on the flat fabric of his pants.

"Just stress , but I'm so excited for our honeymoon." He had said to you ensuring you didn't take the blame for him not getting aroused.

"I have stopped taking my pills" You had informed him wearing your underwear again. He nodded in agreement with sincerity in his eyes.

"We want a baby after marriage right? So of course you need to stop taking those pills" You both had planned it out discussing it properly that you weren't going to wait for long after marriage to start a family. You had spent five years together you wanted to live as a family more than anything and you both weren't getting any younger instead older day by day.

If you saved up you would be able to buy your own house in another five years until then you could just live at your rented apartment which was decent for a small family.

It was seven months after your marriage you entered the bathroom to stock your pads. Jungkook was there brushing his teeth. He spat the lather to talk to you and muttered "babe" with toothpaste still in his mouth.

"What is it?" You had tried to put it off since you were not feeling well due to your period.

"We know what's happening here" He said before rinsing his mouth.

"I know, guk... I'm not getting pregnant" he wiped his mouth looking at you stand with your head bowed staring the floor with your hands folded over your chest.

"We've a adequately active sex life. We're trying to make healthy choices. Why does it have to be difficult? We're not even that old" You had said tears welling up in your eyes. You'd envisioned getting pregnant in a couple of months after your wedding and having a baby with you before your first anniversary but now it seven months after and your period had arrived not even a day late. It was painful for you hoping to not get it every month but than that blood would pass out of you on the exact date when you're supposed to. It even made you frustrated this behind the scene work was unknown to the man.

He must have mentally hoped for you to tell him you were late but this physical anticipation wasn't something he had to go through. Each time you would pass by that empty room in your house and plan how you would decorate it. The color scheme, the furniture, the human being who would reside there. Meaningless existence but would provide all the meaning to your life.

"Let's not do this right now. Let's just carry on the way we've been for a little while, if it happens it happens." He said to you holding your face in his hands, his hold so desperate to give you comfort and safety, he pulled you into a hug his soul resonating the same emotions as you yet different.

"Jungkook there's something I need to talk about with you" you'd been keeping it from him for a long while but now that you'd finished you'd to inform him. It wasn't unfair to keep it from him all this time it was your sole decision something which wasn't his matter to deal with.

"I have something too, but you go first" he'd said, you were returning from the office where you both worked well, you no longer did.

"I.. I resigned from my job" you said as the car stood at the stoplight.

"Oh.. I didn't see that coming. Did something happen with someone? Why didn't you tell me?" His reaction exactly as you'd imagined.

"I'm rethinking my career path. As I've grown into an adult my values have changed so have my ambitions. I'm not passionate about this job anymore. I worked for money until now but now I want to do something that will satiate me as an individual. I want work to bring fulfillment. Sitting in front of a computer all day long isn't appealing to me anymore. I'm not implying I don't understand you continuing. I know your passion lies in this field but my interests have changed."

"Okay well I know you are always thorough with your decisions. You are a strong headed woman. I hope you'll be successful with whatever comes next."

"I don't know yet. I don't know what comes next" You told him and he respected it.

"You can tell me your thing now" You said as he drove into another stoplight. The traffic was terrible.

"It's not important. You must focus on yourself right now" he said without looking at you.

"Babe what is it? Don't bottle it up" You asked knowing it was something serious.

"I thought we could finally start to seriously think about starting our family now."

"That can come together with this." You blurted out to his immediate opposition.

"I want you to do what you're doing right now. A child can wait."

"Give me three months. I'll figure it out until then what I wanna do next. Until then we can start preparing for trying. I could get better physically and mentally."

"Okay." He had said touching your hand before driving away. Three years had passed and there wasn't a single moment when you regretted your decision of marrying this man.

"Jungkook can you come over? I'm at my gynaec's clinic" You called him the moment you got outside the doctor's cabin. You gave your blood and urine samples to run some tests.

"Are you okay? You didn't tell me you had to visit your doctor" He came worrying if everything was alright.

"It was quite impromptu, I just came to talk with her about how we are planning to start trying for a baby. And just little things came up here and there and she said to get some tests done. And you know what one of them is?" You asked him trying to conceal your smile pursing your lips. He furrowed his eyebrows not quite understanding.

"Is it something serious? Don't worry about it you're the strongest woman I've ever known" He starts speaking thinking of the worst possible situation.

"I just got a pregnancy test done but we're not yet sure about anything" You noticed each second of the change in his expressions how he stopped biting his lip to how they curved up into a smile and how his eyes started shining.

"It could be possible." He said resting his hands on your waist.

"I'm scared" You had said clutching his jacket pulling him closer standing in front of his car.

"Should I pray for it to not happen then?" He asked his arms wrapped around you and playful smile on his lips.

"Oh my god No!! Don't say or think such things. I want a baby more than anything. Please no..." You said hitting him on his chest.

"When do we get the results?"

"In an hour"

"Wanna get something to eat before we get any possibly life altering news?" He asked as you walked to the nearest cafe and ate a sandwich.

When you both were lost in your own little world where only you two existed and nothing else mattered, you got a call. "Doctor's office" You whispered picking it up.

"So everything's alright but they've mailed me the reports so we should check that" you walked back towards the car talking.

"That means you aren't..."

"No why would it mean that"

"Why would they say everything's alright?"

"It won't mean something's not right"

"It wouldn't mean nothing's there"

"They didn't say that"

"They didn't say there's something."

"Let's just check the email, okay? Calm down"

You opened your email and the one from the doctor was above all others. He held your other hand as you opened the file and scrolled down other test results thyroid, haemoglobin, sugar levels, blood pressure everything was alright then it was there pregnancy test and in black capital letters it said POSITIVE.

Your hand shook as you saw it, you locked the phone turning towards him. "It isn't false or anything right?" He asked, it was obvious emotions were exploding inside him. You frowned before smiling and kissing him.

"I love you so much and I'll love our baby" He had said gently touching your belly which was it's normal size at this point.

"I love you too. I didn't even realise our baby's been growing inside me for 7 weeks now."

"I missed that bit, sorry" Jungkook said, when your eyes had inched at each part of the screen his had focused on just that one highlighted word.

"It's okay" You replied your hand reaching where his left. Your life changed forever. This moment changed everything. You were going on a one-sided journey no return possible. You knew you weren't alone he would be there for all of it.

Now you stood in the kitchen of the house you bought together after you had successfully set up your small business. You served rice into three bowls a year from now you would be filling four. Your family was growing.

You watched Jungkook sitting on the couch with his mini version, your son, helping him write numbers. It had just been two weeks since Yul started school and he was getting into the routine so well.

"Thanks for helping out. He didn't cooperate with me." You tell him touching your bump and walking to the table.

Toddler steps make their way to the bathroom to wash hands where a foot stool is placed for him to easily reach the sink.

"I thought homework could be an activity we could do together. I don't get to spend much time with him anyways and after the baby comes that's gonna reduce"

"That's why it's better for me to look after his studies so that you can be with the baby"

"You could handle the baby for an hour or two. I'm gonna be there whole day" You answer him.

"You're worrying about it too much. Now just sit and eat in peace"

"I'm just scared what if I'm unable to divide my attentions equally to both children. How are we going to handle two of them?"

"We'll see how they'll naturally adapt to the conditions even the new baby" Jungkook smiles at you before sitting down after putting the plates on the table. He puts a peck on your cheek tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Did you eat that fruit salad I packed for you?"

"Yeah I devoured it." He smiled hearing those words from you.

Yul came and sat down between the two of you as you sat across from each other and the seat opposite him remained empty.

"Mama will little baby sit on that chair when he grows up?" He asks.

"Ofcourse"

"Oh wow.. our family will be complete" He giggled warming your heart.

"Yes baby our family will be complete" You look at Jungkook signalling 'where did he learnt that?'

"Two parents and two babies"

"Yes sweetheart"

"Mama you said you will get baby's picture today. I want to see"

"You want to? I'll show you after dinner." You tell him remembering that beautiful face you saw earlier in the morning.

"Mama.. daddy.."

"Yes"

"Why is baby growing inside you?"

"Look Yul there's a certain process of how beings come into existence. Like birds hatch from egg and plants grow from seeds just like that humans grow in their mama's tummy before coming outside to the world. Okay?" Jungkook explained and you mouth a thanks.

"Yeah but who put it inside her tummy"

"Well the father helps in that. You'll know about it all when you're a grown up."

"Okay" he says. You smile at him, this innocence is what makes you wanna do it all over again. This beautiful phase that leads after that hard time this is what it's worth for.

Yul doesn't knows he was going to become a brother when he was two years old. That pregnancy wasn't planned and you had to get an abortion done due to a lethal anomaly in the fetus. Those were the hardest times you had to face.

It left an emptiness inside you when all your visions of a family of four came shattering through. It left you with a longing to have another little one. Earlier you had decided upon having only one child but that changed.

Jungkook didn't say anything to you for the first three days after the abortion and when he did he cried "I wanted it so badly."

After the time of grief had passed you decided to start trying again. You did every possible thing to conceive.

When it finally happened you were so scared you didn't talk about it for a week, you both were in denial. You couldn't believe it. You would take a test each morning and leave it in the bathroom for Jungkook to see and he would quietly follow along. You couldn't delay the doctor visit further and spoke about it only when you saw the life inside you on the screen.

The heart that beated inside you, you couldn't contain it any longer and you both finally allowed yourself to be happy. You didn't tell Yul until you started showing, since he's a kid he would go around saying stuff.

Now that the feeling had sinked in that it was really happening. Everything was falling into it's place. You started preparing for birth and the life after with two kids. Pure domestic bliss was all that your life consisted of.

"He is cute" Yul said looking at the ultrasound report in his hand.

"I love you baby" He turned to kiss your belly and wrap his little arms around your bump.

"I love you so much Yul" You kiss his head doe eyes resembling your husband's shining at you.

"Can I watch TV Mama?" He asked cutely and you had to let him. You knew he would go to bed in time.

You walked to the kitchen where Jungkook did the dishes.

"Should I do the rest?"

"You should rest because you've done a lot today."

"Surprisingly I'm not feeling tired at all"

"The second one looks like me too. And it's a boy also" Jungkook teases you.

"Don't start with that. I'm basically a xerox machine more than a mother at this point" He giggles at your words.

"Should we have another one after this then so that you may get your copy too?"

"No way. Personality wise one of them will probably turn out like me so it's okay if they take your looks"

"Any chance you might wanna have sex tonight?" He asks whispering as you stand with one hand on your belly. Ever since you started growing you haven't been able to keep your hands off. Considering this is the last time you're doing this you wanna savor every moment of it.

"You sure you'll be able to do it. You were so apprehensive when I was pregnant with Yul"

"That was our first time. You have experience now, I have experience now. It isnt that weird to me now. Only if you're comfortable though"

"It doesn't seems like a bad idea."

"Let me put that brat to bed and then we can..." He smirks at you when you hit his shoulder "my son isn't a brat" You both laugh.

"Yul go brush your teeth it's time to sleep" He says walking towards your son and picking him up. He nuzzles his neck to make him laugh and then takes him to the bathroom.

"Daddy sing the song!" Yul shouts holding his toothbrush in his hand. Jungkook starts singing the rhyme to get him going.

"Brush them up and down and all around. To keep them neat and clean" He helps Yul to rinse his mouth and then wipes his mouth before walking with him to his room where you were already sitting on the bed.

"What are we going to read?" Yul asked jumping beside you on the bed.

"Friendly elephant" You start reading the story making all sorts of funny noises and doing all the voices while he starts getting sleepy. Jungkook prepares his school uniform and backpack before going inside your bedroom himself not before saying 'good night' to Yul.

You watch him drift into slumber after you've finished reading the story. You look at his peaceful face for a while before departing to your own bedroom where your husband awaits you.

"I'll go use the bathroom" You say grabbing his attention away from the phone.

When you come back he's sitting at the edge of the bed just in his boxers.

"I can't pull that off anymore" You say chuckling at the thought of you sitting in your lingerie on the bed. Something you used to do frequently before conceiving your second.

"Who says that?" He says when you know you'll have to remove your clothes because to him you're still the love of his life. He doesn't sees you the way you see yourself.

You sit beside him on the bed when he leans in for a kiss. You both had lost this sense of intimacy between you for the past few months. You didn't have sex after the first trimester with Yul and now you were walking on eggshells for the first three months so sex was out of the question. Now that it was all going smoothly you had to rethink.

"To me you're a goddess who's making all these miracles happen for me" He says sliding a hand on your stomach to your back. You kiss him again this time more passionately. You feel the hook of your bra coming undone and he breaks the kiss to remove it.

"I don't want you to feel pressurised or obligated to do this. If you don't want to..." He says but you interrupt him by shaking your head "I want to have sex. Just don't make it long because I can't really keep my body in one position for too long."

"Okay" He said nodding his head. He kissed you again but his hair blew on your face so he grabbed a hairtie to tie them into a manbun.

"How can I not want you when you look this hot" You say pulling him closer as he makes you lie down on the bed and hovers above you.

He smirks at you. "You're hard to resist baby" He says kissing your neck and going down towards your breast.

"Do your breasts feel sore?" He asks before doing anything.

"Don't squeeze them hard" You tell him and he puts his mouth on your mounds bigger than usual with the changes in your body. He makes sure to stay gentle yet it sends shivers down your body as his tongue moves around your nipples. He moves down skipping your swollen belly which is more rounder and bigger this time around just at 20 weeks.

"If it's even the slightest bit uncomfortable just push me away" He says standing up in front of you as you bend your legs beside you, your slightly swollen feet resting at the edge of the bed. You can't really pull them beside your chest which used to be a favorite position of yours with how deep he could go.

"I am more concerned about my comfort than you right now" You tell him that it's important to you also that you don't put yourself in a discomforting place.

"Okay" He says before pulling down his boxers while you pull your panties away too.

You spread your thighs awaiting him to enter you and when he does it he's very gentle, slow and careful. He stands in front of you not wanting to put weight upon you.

"I'm trying to not go too deep. Is this okay?" He asks averting your gaze from where you both were joined.

"Yes" You speak clearly. He holds your calf as he starts moving at a slow pace. The sight seems new after so many months of staying away. He hovers you above you knowing this isn't helping he needs to be closer to you. He looks down again and again between your bodies to ensure that he's not putting any weight over your belly.

"Jungkook... please..." You moan holding his tattooed arm and another hand resting on his face.

He starts moving at a faster pace but not too fast as you remember he'd gone, so rough, when you were trying to conceive. He builds a rhythm suitable to both of you. He kept himself in place not moving his hands from beside you fearing he would close the distance between your chests.

"Oh so good... damn..." You moan while he's still moving in and out. Your eyes closed with orgasm building up inside you. It's better than usual with your hormones and the good blood flow down there.

Your hand moves down removed from his arm to your clit and you rub yourself unable to control any longer. Within a minute your orgasms comes crashing through, your clit throbs under your finger your walls squeezing him as he stops his motions still inside you. He ends up coming too with the spasms of your muscles around him being stronger.

You look down when he pulls himself out with his cum spilling outside from your hole.

"I just couldn't pull out" He says his chest heaving with the chain dangling above your breasts. He stays playful and pushes some of the liquid inside again with his dick making you close your legs and laugh at his actions as usual.

You sit up as he walks to the bathroom as you stare at his naked ass.

"Should we go on a trip? We can't call it a babymoon anymore though since we are already a family."

"Yes let's do that" you say walking to the bathroom yourself.

"Where?" He asks.

"Somewhere close so that I don't have to sit on a flight for too long."

"I'll come up with something then." He smiles as you both stand naked in front of the sink and he puts a peck near your lips.

if you like reading this fic please leave some words of feedback

Another day with the Jeons

#bts #bts series #bts smut #bts stories #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jk smut #jk x reader

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 14: The Admirals

Hello everyone!! :) <3

Some notes on this chapter:

I am accepting as fact that Christopher Pike was disabled in a warp core accident and shooting the rest of that canon, the menagerie included, out the airlock. 

I’m using the actor for April from Strange New Worlds to describe April in this fic even though this is not an SNW fic. 

This chapter had me googling shit like “wheat bacteria. Wheat fungal infection. Causes of wheat fungal infection.” I was five citations deep into the National Library of Medicine. I learned what mycotoxicosis was. If the science is wrong, please forgive me. My mother (me) was an English major and my father (also me) did poorly in freshman chem in college. 

Ty ripley for fact-checking me. I got lied to by the hollywood reporter

Also posted on my AO3 here :)

Enjoy! Smooches ahead!!

☆☆☆

When Kirk awoke, mind rising from a deep, dreamless sleep as swiftly as a bubble through water, his face was pressed into something warm and firm, something that rose and fell rhythmically under his cheek. His hand rested over Spock’s stomach, the beat of his heart fluttering beneath his palm, and Spock’s hand rested on his hip, his arm curled around Kirk’s back, keeping him close.

Kirk relaxed against him, comfortable, warm, and safe. Even after reliving the worst period of his life, after the rollercoaster of a day that their honeymoon had been, no nightmare had disturbed him. So much had changed over just twenty-four hours: he had gone from mourning the loss of his friendships to showing his first officer (his husband, his mind reminded him) everything that he had promised never to share. 

And somewhere in between those two extremes, Spock had taken him out on the best date he’d ever had. The natural history museum, the Best of the Midwest, and Spock bussing his tray for him swam in his brain with the abandoned treehouse on Tarsus, the night they spent in the governor’s house, and Mr. Park’s boots emerging from behind his desk. But rather than Tarsus tainting his recollections of Starbase 27, the memory of their shared time leached away some of the pain of remembrance.

He had removed the boundary between them, and let Spock in. He had shown Spock what he had seen and done on Tarsus. Spock had held his hand, and held him close, and stayed the night. And through all that, their connection had not changed: not Spock’s surety, not their gentle banter and Spock’s quick wit, not how he looked for Spock first in any room he entered. For better and for worse did not come with caveats, he thought, and he opened his eyes.

He lifted his head to the semi-darkness, the red glare of his alarm clock, and Spock, already awake, turning his head to look down at him. His hair clung to the pillowcase as he moved. Kirk’s breath caught in his throat: the familiar angles of Spock’s face had been rendered unfamiliar by proximity, and all the more beautiful for it. Spock’s eyes shone liquid in the dim light, only the sharpest lines of him visible, the rest of him cast in shadow. The silence of the room was viscous in the air. 

Kirk knew that they weren’t done with Tarsus. But Tarsus could wait.

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and his voice was still rough with sleep. “Can I have a do-over?” He pushed himself up further onto his elbow. Spock blinked at him, his arm adjusting to Kirk’s movement without relinquishing his grip. There were only inches between their faces, but Spock did not shift away.

“Of what, captain?” Kirk could feel the rumble of Spock’s voice in his chest through their contact.

“Two mornings ago,” Kirk said. He swallowed. “When you said…” Ashamed, despite Spock’s assurances, of how he had behaved, he pressed his palm down where it rested on Spock’s ribs and hoped that he would understand. He heard Spock exhale through his nose. Spock’s eyes searched his face, and Kirk held his gaze. He would let Spock see him. He was done hiding. 

“I have learned this week that you like when I touch you,” Spock said, quiet in the still of the morning. His hand was a solid pressure against Kirk’s hip, fingers flexing as he spoke. “I have learned that I do too.” 

“I do like it,” Kirk said, almost in a whisper. “At first I was afraid that you would realize how much I liked it, and I would make you uncomfortable. But then…” He lifted his hand and ran one gentle fingertip down the column of Spock’s neck, the exposed line of his collarbone. He was a little shocked at his own daring, but Spock did not flinch away. 

“After I understood my… sentiment towards you, and we crossed more lines, I was afraid that, if you learned what I had been hiding, that you would think less of me. This starship runs as it does because of how we work together.” The words were spilling out of him now, and he needed Spock to understand. “I couldn’t risk losing your trust, if you thought that I was unfit to lead. And I wanted to spare you from seeing what I had seen, if you ever wanted to...” Kirk gestured next to his head, along his psi-points. Spock’s hand came up and circled Kirk’s wrist, pulling it back to rest on his chest. 

“Captain,” Spock said. “Jim. Knowing how your experiences affect you changes nothing about my opinions on your actions, or my trust in your leadership.” He half-raised one eyebrow as he considered Kirk’s hand in his grasp. “You may find that I understand better than most what it is to feel, and feel deeply, and yet still act as though nothing is felt at all.” Kirk closed his eyes, pressing his hand down against Spock’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his palm.

“I thought that I was protecting you,” Kirk admitted. “I thought that by keeping the truth from you, I could prevent you from being hurt by it.” He flipped his hand around in Spock’s grip to take his hand in his, and opened his eyes. “And instead I hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”

“As I had surmised, captain, and it is forgiven,” Spock said. “But for future reference, I would prefer the truth, no matter how painful, to a comfortable lie.”

“Duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and looked from their intertwined hands to Spock’s face. He couldn’t discern what Spock was thinking in the half-light; he could only admire the lines of his face, the deep color of his eyes and hair contrasted against Kirk’s pillow. 

When Spock spoke again, his voice was reserved. “Now that I know the truth, how would you like to proceed?” And there it was: his opening. Kirk shifted forward, putting more of his weight against Spock’s chest, bringing their faces closer together. Spock turned to look fully at him. 

“You want me to touch you?” Kirk pulled his hand out of Spock’s grasp to bring it up to his face, running his thumb reverently against Spock’s cheekbone, feeling the delicate architecture of his pointed ear under his fingers. Spock’s hand tightened over his waist, and he nodded. 

When he met Spock’s eyes, something warm and electric sparked between them. “I’ve been thinking about this for days,” Kirk breathed, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spock’s. No audience, no pressure of separation or performance, no secrets: the whole galaxy narrowed to him, and his first officer, and the years of history and trust between them. Their bodies pressed together from lips to chests to legs. Spock was deliciously warm. For a few seconds they lay unmoving, but Kirk remembered Spock’s hesitation during their first kiss, and he waited. 

Then Spock opened his mouth to Kirk, rolled towards him, and slid his hand beneath Kirk’s shirt. Kirk looped his arm over his shoulders and pulled Spock in closer, licking into his mouth. Spock’s hand roamed higher, pressing flat against his spine, fingertips digging into the muscle of his back. He pushed Kirk backwards as he braced himself on one arm, his tongue sliding into his mouth as his other hand came up to caress Kirk’s hair. He shivered as Spock’s thumb traced the curved edge of his ear. Kirk slid both hands under the hem of Spock’s sleep shirt, feeling the movement of his hips telegraphed through his spine, and the expanse of his back was warm. Kirk could feel the shifting of the muscles under his skin as he pressed Kirk down into the bed, and the weight of his thigh falling between Kirk’s lit a fire in his stomach. Kirk ground up against him and pulled Spock’s bottom lip between his teeth, and he heard Spock’s exhale catch in a groan in the back of his throat. God, he wanted to eat that sound. He wanted to hear it again immediately. He wanted to be the one to pull that noise out of Spock for the rest of both of their natural lives.

Next to the bed, his alarm clock blared. They both flinched. Kirk dropped his head down against the mattress, and Spock bowed his, pressing his forehead into Kirk’s shoulder with what might have been a sigh. Then he sat up, tapped the alarm off, and rolled back to face Kirk.

“Good morning,” Kirk said, and he grinned. Spock’s eyes softened. The shoulder of his shirt was slipping down, and his hair was mussed from its contact with the pillow and Kirk’s hands. He looked gentle, sleep-soft, lovely. 

“Good morning,” Spock said. He leaned back on one hand, looking down at Kirk where he still sprawled across the bed. “How are you?” 

“Better than last night, that’s certain,” Kirk said. He couldn’t get over the vision of Spock, sitting on his bed in his pajamas, lips gently swollen from kissing. His whole body buzzed. 

“I was concerned for you,” Spock said, and he studied Kirk. “And my concern remains. Captain, have you studied with any level of detail Starfleet’s official record of what occurred on Tarsus IV?” Well, he had hoped for more of a reprieve, but at least Spock let him sleep through the night and kiss him before he returned to the elephant in the room.

“No,” Kirk admitted. “I’ve avoided it entirely. My… Elise said it would only make things worse.”

“It remains highly redacted,” Spock said. “I was not able to use any of the privileged information in my regulation revision, as it would have nullified my efforts, but I had become curious. I acquired an unredacted version and read it.”

“Oh, you acquired one? Achieved that through entirely legal means too, I’m sure?” 

“It would have been illogical and unscientific to draw conclusions from incomplete information,” Spock said delicately. “But, regardless…” Then he hesitated, and Kirk pushed himself up. 

“I’m starting to think that my memories and the Starfleet record might have some inconsistencies,” Kirk said softly. 

“Inconsistencies is not the term I would use,” Spock said. His fingers clenched against the bed, crumpling the sheets, and he looked down.

“What would you call the difference, then?” Spock’s reticence was setting Kirk’s skin crawling. He crossed his legs so he could sit upright, and braced himself. 

“Treason,” Spock said softly. Kirk’s heart seized up. “You were the only witness to a crime against the Federation, but without the context necessary to understand it, and someone has exerted great effort to keep you from gaining that context.” 

“But there were other witnesses,” Kirk said. “There were five--- four other kids with me. At least one of them is in Starfleet now.” 

“I am not referring to the massacre, or the famine,” Spock said, and somehow his gaze grew heavier. “In your memories, you were alone when you saw the shuttle that took Kodos off of Tarsus IV.” 

“I was,” Kirk said. “I mean, he did terrible things, and he should have been brought to justice. But was all of this really just because I saw him escape?” There was something in Spock’s expression that made Kirk uneasy.

“Jim,” Spock said, and he wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist, and that more than anything solidified that something was wrong. “Kodos did not escape on his own. The individuals who took Kodos off-planet were not his guards.” 

“What do you mean?” Spock broke eye contact again, glancing briefly over his shoulder. Kirk’s palm grew cold and clammy. He felt his heartbeat tick up.

“I recognized their uniforms,” Spock said. “Kodos was extracted from Tarsus IV by operatives from Section 31.” 

White noise roared in Kirk’s ears. His vision blurred. “No,” he heard himself say, from very far away. Spock redoubled his grip on his wrist. It was his only anchor to the rest of the world. His awareness collapsed into a needle-thin tunnel, with only the vague bright dot of his quarters visible at the end of it. He thought Spock was saying something, but it was hard to hear him from all the way at the end of the tunnel and over the rushing in his ears. 

“Section 31 is a Starfleet office,” he said hollowly, when he could speak again. 

“Yes,” Spock said. 

“You’re saying that Starfleet pulled Kodos off Tarsus. And left us to die.” His preliminary shock was fading away. The crystal-clarity of the cold, unfeeling part of his brain slid down over him like a mask, and he let it take over with a vague sense of relief. 

“A branch of it, yes,” Spock said, and he watched Kirk closely. A detached part of Kirk wondered what Spock’s telepathy felt when he shut everything away like this.

“What else was missing or wrong from the report?” 

“The official cause for the crop failure and famine was a fungal infection--- Fusarium graminearum. But what you showed me did not look like Fusarium, and Fusarium typically grows in dampness and humidity, which is inconsistent with your memories of drought. That Kodos chose who would live and who would die in the massacre in the auditorium was known. But the causes of death for his chosen survivors were all listed as starvation or immolation, and some of the bodies that you saw in the town before the fire had not starved. And though it was not in the report, the medical treatment you experienced after your rescue did not follow standard protocol for starvation or malnutrition, nor the treatment for mycotoxicosis.”

“What do you mean?” Kirk extricated himself from Spock’s grip on his wrist, as gently as he could manage, and crossed to the closet. He needed something to do with himself; he could no longer sit still and absorb just how deeply things had been warped. He grabbed his trousers and tunic from the closet. 

“In your memories, you underwent dialysis as part of your treatment for an extensive duration,” Spock said, and he turned to watch Kirk. “Though it may have been necessary if you had ingested significant quantities of Fusarium and experienced alimentary toxic aleukia, neither the level of sustenance you were able to obtain on Tarsus nor the symptoms you demonstrated after rescue imply that this should have been the case.” 

“It sounds as though you have a hypothesis, Mr. Spock.” Kirk crossed back to the bathroom door, holding his uniform like a security blanket. 

“I do,” Spock allowed. “Is Doctor McCoy aware that you were on Tarsus IV?” 

“He is,” Kirk said. “Unfortunately. He has unredacted access to my medical records.” 

“Would you permit me to view them as well?” 

Kirk froze. “One second,” he said, and ducked into the bathroom as soon as the turbodoor slid open. It slid shut behind him, and he braced his hands on the counter. His medical records wouldn’t show Spock anything more graphic than he had already seen in Kirk’s memories. But his records included holos of himself immediately after, as well as the notes from both Dr. Johns and Elise about his behavior during recovery. He didn’t want Spock to have to see the evidence.

He bent down over the sink to wash his face, and the cold water helped to pull himself back into his body. Although his knee-jerk emotional response to Spock’s question had been a harsh and immediate ‘no,’ he could see the logic in the request. Because Spock had seen all his memories, he wouldn’t have to endure the panic and nausea that came with trying to actually talk about Tarsus. Though his relief at the idea made him feel somewhat like a coward, because Spock now knew as much as he did, Spock could be the one to answer Bones’s questions. Kirk pressed his hand to his chest and realized, as his numbness slowly melted away, that having a path forward--- seeking an answer to a question that wasn’t about his own misery--- gave him a momentum that kept him from drowning in panic. He wasn’t thrilled about the new information or about Spock seeing his records, but the anxiety was manageable. His head was above water. 

He pulled his uniform on, gave his hair a quick brush, and walked back into their quarters. Spock had also changed for the day in his absence, and stood at the bookshelves, adjusting something. When Kirk was halfway across the room, the object of Spock’s attention came into focus: he had unboxed the little crinoid machine and placed it delicately on an empty bit of shelf, next to a padd that Kirk thought he recognized as their wedding gift from Janice. Spock adjusted the tiny piece of machinery so gently in his large hands that Kirk’s heart skipped a beat, and seeing a gift he had given Spock next to their padd of holos made him feel distinctly domestic. It felt nice; a safe reprieve from the disturbing revelations of the morning.

“Are you moving in for good, Mr. Spock?” 

Spock spun, clasping his hands behind his back so quickly that the motion was a blur. He looked suddenly unsure of himself. “Captain, I---” 

“I think I would like it if you do,” Kirk said, and he came to stand next to the Vulcan, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “If that was something you wanted.” They both considered the undulation and writhing of the crinoid, the feathers flicking out into the air in a graceful, solitary dance.

“If you would have me, captain, I would like to stay.” 

“Good.” The answer settled his mind a little further. Kirk nodded decisively, and before he could lose his nerve, he said, “You can see my records, and then I need to hear your hypothesis.” Spock turned to look at him. “After we meet with the admirals. And I have a question for you first.” 

“Certainly, captain,” Spock said. 

“How did you recognize the uniforms?” 

Spock watched the movement of the crinoid for another few seconds before he said, “Have you ever heard the name Michael Burnham?” 

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “The mutineer? Of course. What the hell does she have to do with this?” 

“Did you know she was raised on Vulcan?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said slowly. “Did you… did you know her?” 

“She was my foster sister,” Spock said. Kirk’s mouth dropped open involuntarily.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not, captain,” Spock said. “I became unfortunately acquainted with Section 31 during one of her classified exploits.” 

Kirk gaped at him, mind reeling. He tried to reorient himself around this enormous piece of information. Spock had kept a Federation-sized secret from him for years, one that had Federation-wide repercussions, and likely had more, if he had been involved with any of Burnham’s other activities during her time on the Discovery. 

His first instinct was to be angry that Spock had kept this from him. But then something lighter, a little happier, a little truer, bubbled up from inside him. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was not the only person in the universe carrying ugly secrets. The reminder chipped away another piece of his mask, set him more firmly on his own two feet, in his body, on his ship. 

Spock watched him, shoulders pulled back tightly, hands clasped behind him. “Jim, I am sorry that I did not---” 

Kirk shoved him playfully sideways, and Spock, shocked, had the grace to pretend to be moved. “Don’t apologize. You keeping that secret makes us even. You were raised with Starfleet’s only mutineer?” 

“She was not a mutineer at the time,” Spock said, and the line of his shoulders loosened. “We ought to depart if we are to have breakfast before the start of alpha shift. The admirals will arrive in three point five hours.” 

“When it rains, it pours,” Kirk said, and smiled at the offended eyebrow raise that the expression earned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to see April have a meltdown in the ready room.”

“Do you intend to provoke him, captain?” They crossed to the door to the hallway, and as Kirk lifted his hand to open the door he suddenly remembered how he had felt yesterday morning, to enter the hallway and find no Spock waiting for him. It had only been twenty-four hours. Everything had changed. 

Instead of opening the door, he reached for Spock. He pulled him around in front of him, and pushed him backwards. His back hit the door with a gentle thud. 

“Maybe I do,” Kirk said, leaning forward into his space, and without hesitating Spock bent his head to meet him in a kiss. Spock’s arms came around him, pulling him tightly against him, as Kirk slid one hand behind his head to anchor them together. The feeling of Spock’s hair between his fingers, his hands against his back, his lips against his own--- he was never going to get used to it.

When they broke apart, Spock’s hair was in disarray, and Kirk smoothed it back down. “I do not recommend that we do that in front of the admiralty,” Spock said, but there was a flush high on his cheeks that betrayed his composure. 

“No?” Kirk made his voice as innocent as he could. “I thought that April could perhaps use a little more convincing.” 

“I am certain that the crew will vouch for the truth for us,” Spock said, before he gently smoothed the shoulders of Kirk’s tunic down. Kirk tapped the door pad and Spock stepped neatly backwards as the door opened. 

“I, for one, am curious to hear what they’ll share with April,” Kirk said. “I know about the hypotheses, and the betting pools, and the nurses’ log. Oh, and the Spock rule. But I bet there are others.”

“The human desire to turn everything into a competition or a gambling opportunity is fascinating, captain.” They walked down the hall, side by side, perfectly synchronized, and the cold that had seized him earlier released another piece of his heart. The back of Spock’s hand brushed his as they walked, and he leaned down to listen more closely when Kirk talked. Kirk let himself touch the small of Spock’s back for emphasis, and he couldn’t stop the comfortable warmth in his chest from shining out of his face. He grinned at his crew as they passed and saluted or smiled at him and Spock. When they saw him and Spock together, he knew they were just seeing an affectionate newlywed couple, fresh off of shore leave together. 

And wouldn’t you know it? For the first time since Kirk had proposed marriage, it was even true. 

☆☆☆

They entered the officers’ mess to find Bones and Uhura already eating breakfast. They both looked up as the doors slid open to admit them, and as they registered Kirk and Spock entering together, Kirk could see their pleased surprise. He lifted a hand in greeting, his own smile growing in response, before replicating breakfast and moving to join them. He had just sat down and set his plate on the table when he realized he’d forgotten coffee. “One second,” he said, and made to stand again, when a mug landed on the table in front of him, delivered by an elegant and long-fingered hand. 

He looked up as Spock sat next to him, setting his own plate and mug down. “Thank you,” he said, and Spock nodded before picking up his fork. Kirk looked across the table to see Uhura stifle a smile behind one hand and Bones roll his eyes before picking up a jam-soggy piece of toast. 

“How was your time on the starbase?” Uhura asked. 

“Wonderful,” Kirk said, at the same time that Spock said, “Adequate.” Bones snorted, but he had an evaluative look on his face, and his eyes were locked onto Kirk. With a slight wince, Kirk remembered the unfortunate context in which he had last seen him. He had the feeling he was going to owe Bones an emergency bottle of bourbon by the time the day was over.

“We saw a number of fascinating creatures that inhabit the planets of nearby systems,” Spock said, and Kirk dug into his breakfast as Uhura picked up the conversation. On his other side, he felt Bones nudge his calf with his shoe. Kirk looked at him. 

In the silent language of their long friendship, Bones asked with his eyebrows: You okay? 

A slight, begrudging frown and a short nod: Yes, actually. 

Narrowed eyes: Really? 

And then, before Kirk could stop himself, he glanced at Spock. Facing burning, he immediately forced his eyes back to the table. When he dared look back at Bones, he was trying and failing to suppress a told-you-so smile. 

“Cohabiting going well?” Bones asked innocently, and Kirk kicked him under the table.

☆☆☆

Kirk’s first full shift since the day of the wedding started off quietly. They orbited gently around Starbase 27, depositing old supplies that needed replacing and restocking on the things they wouldn’t be able to replicate as they headed deeper into unclaimed space. Only one requisition request took him by surprise: First Officer S’chn T’gai Spock requested additional unreplicated foodstuffs “to test the validity of the hypothesis of the potential forthcoming revision to Regulation 6245-B.” Warmth bloomed in his chest as he signed his approval and shipped it back to Janice for implementation. 

He looked around at his crew during one of the lulls: Chekov and Sulu arguing over the fastest way through a nearby asteroid belt that wouldn’t earn them an explosive decompression; Uhura sorting through messages, translating incoming intel and keeping an eye on local transmissions; Scotty and one of his engineers on their backs beneath a misbehaving console panel. Spock scanned through sensor readings, occasionally glancing out the viewscreen or back at Kirk, and his fingers twitched against his thighs in a way that Kirk recognized as boredom, though Spock would never admit to it. He stood up and stretched hugely before wandering up behind Spock, peering over his shoulder at the completely average readings. 

“Captain,” Spock said, and he sat back in his chair. His shoulder blades brushed Kirk’s stomach, and the back of his head leaned slightly against Kirk’s sternum. The position gave him deja vu to just a few days previously, when they had been in the same position, when Spock had been reading through the nurses’ report on their movements through Medbay.

Before Kirk allowed himself to think through whether or not it was wise, he rested his hands on Spock’s shoulders in front of him, his thumbs brushing the warm skin of his neck, just above the collar of his uniform. So quietly that Kirk almost missed it, Spock sighed through his nose, and he leaned further back against him, eyes closing in a slow blink. 

“Anything interesting going on out there?” 

“Clarify the parameters of ‘interesting,’ sir.” 

“I’ll take that as a no,” Kirk said, laughing, and he gave himself one more second to appreciate Spock leaning against him, the warmth under his hands, before he reminded himself that he was on duty and would have significant supervision for the next ten days. He was looking forward to having something to do, even if that something was ferrying around stuffy admirals like an oversized tourist ship. At least he would get to spend some time with Chris again. He owed the man at least one drink--- it had been his idea, after all, that had started everything.

An hour later, after Kirk had gotten to the bottom of his paperwork pile, his mind wandered to what Spock had told him that morning, worrying at the thought like he was pressing on a bruise. The unmarked black shuttle that haunted his dreams belonged to a branch of Starfleet. It was an esoteric, virtually invisible branch (one that was mostly mentioned as a scary story to threaten misbehaving ensigns with), but it was a subsection of the organization to which he had pledged his entire life. Why had Section 31 come to Tarsus, and only saved Kodos? 

They had seen him. He had killed one of them. One of them had seriously considered killing him in return. And yet they had disappeared with Kodos and left him alive on the cursed colony, assuming that he would starve to death; they must not have known that the Valiant was only a day behind. Lieutenant Commander Ashton Park’s message had been sent out on public relay for anyone to hear. Was there so little communication between Section 31 and the rest of Starfleet?

But that wasn’t the only unpleasant shock of the morning. Kirk had spent very little time reflecting on the months he spent in and out of hospitals; Dr. Johns had murmured soft words about his ‘ordeal’ and then explained virtually nothing about what was being done to him. But Spock thought that his treatment didn’t line up with what Starfleet said had happened. 

Kirk pulled out his padd and tried to force his hands to stop shaking. He had told Spock that he could see his records, and he would keep his word. Even if it physically hurt him to do it. He tapped on his message thread with Bones, and smiled wryly at their last, ironic exchange.

> TheRealMcCoy: have you talked to spock?

In a manner of speaking, he had. And bringing Spock into his confidences, against all of the instruction that Elise had drilled into him, had broken the pattern he had been stuck in and set him moving forward again. 

> JTK: hi 

> TheRealMcCoy: Hi yourself 

> JTK: I have a request

> TheRealMcCoy: What is it? 

> JTK: I need to see my medical records 

A pause.

> TheRealMcCoy: Are you sick? 

> JTK: No 

> JTK: I want Spock to see them

> TheRealMcCoy: See what, exactly?

> JTK: All of it

> TheRealMcCoy: Are you serious?

> JTK: As a heart attack

> TheRealMcCoy: Not funny 

Kirk could see Bones typing and then stopping, as if he were writing and rewriting his message. In the end, all he sent was: 

> TheRealMcCoy: Really?

> JTK: yes 

> TheRealMcCoy: That’s good

> TheRealMcCoy: That’s great

> TheRealMcCoy: Come by whenever

He couldn’t say he was looking forward to the conversation, or to showing Spock the awful holos of himself. But after years of Tarsus-related stagnation, having a question to answer and something to work towards felt good. It felt like healing. He glanced over at Spock, bending over his sensor, and could not stop himself from admiring the long lines of his body.

Scotty’s voice came over the comm. “Captain, stationmaster reports the admirals are ready to beam aboard.” 

“Thank you, Scotty,” Kirk said. “I’ll be down in just a moment. Kirk out.” He released the comm button and stood. “Spock, with me. Chris will want to see you first, and April too, probably. Sulu, you have the conn.” 

“Yes, captain,” Sulu said, standing to take his seat, and Kirk and Spock went down to the turbolift. “Transporter,” Spock said, and the doors closed between them and the bridge. 

They stood in silence for half a second before Kirk turned to Spock. He inhaled, but the daring glint in Spock’s eyes answered his question. He was across the turbolift and pressed against Spock in the space of a heartbeat. Even as his lips met Kirk’s, Spock twisted the handle that stopped the turbolift and wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him flush against him. Kirk brought his hands up to frame Spock’s face, feeling the silk of his hair and the points of his ears. Spock had lost his hesitation, and he licked possessively into Kirk’s mouth, and the warm wet heat of it drove him to distraction. He worried Spock’s lip between his teeth like he had before, and Spock’s response came from somewhere deep in his chest and went straight to Kirk’s groin. 

He summoned all of his willpower to pull his mouth from Spock’s before he lost all possibility of discretion. “We’ve got places to be,” he said, looking up at Spock. Spock’s gaze flicked down to his mouth before meeting his eyes, and he pressed his lips into a thin pink line before restarting the turbolift.

“Indeed,” Spock said, and Kirk grinned at the barely disguised disappointment in his tone as they descended further through the ship.

Scotty was waiting by the transporter console when they arrived, the flashing lights indicating that two were ready for transport. He was polite enough to ignore when they both straightened their tunics in guilty symmetry, smothering a knowing smirk.

“Energize when ready, Scotty,” Kirk said. 

“Energizing, captain.” 

Two golden pillars of light materialized on the transporter pad, shimmering and humming until they coalesced into two figures: Admiral April, tall and broad in his uniform, and Admiral Pike in his turbochair. Spock lifted the ta’al as Kirk strode forward to shake hands. April, unsmiling, shook his hand firmly, once, before stepping off the pad to approach Spock. Though Chris’s hands were encased in the body of the hoverchair, his upper torso was visible above the top, and his eyes twinkled merrily as Kirk squeezed his shoulder. 

“Admiral Pike,” Kirk said, and Chris’s voice--- familiar, realistic, just like he had remembered--- came from a speaker on the front of the chair. 

“You calling me admiral makes me feel like an old man,” he complained. 

Kirk grinned broadly. “You have your own voice again!” The last time he and Spock had seen Chris, he had still been in the early days of recovering from the accident, and his voice had still been the robotic standard of all vocal replacements. His skin had not yet healed then, either; now that it had scarred and settled, the ridged pattern of the radiation burns reminded Kirk of beaches and wind-blown sand dunes.

“It was a gift from Number One,” Chris said. “She and that scary lawyer friend of hers convinced the regulatory board to declassify my logs early so we could use them to train the voicebox. And she said talking so much would never be good for anything!” Kirk laughed, and Chris’s warm laughter came through the voicebox.

“Admiral Pike,” Spock said, stepping up to them, April trailing him with a deepening frown, eyes glancing between him and Kirk. 

“Not you too,” Chris said, and Spock raised his eyebrows at Kirk as if to say, What did you do? “It’s good to see you, Spock!” 

Spock walked next to Chris’s turbochair, his head bent down to listen, occasionally offering an observation that made Chris’s deep belly laugh ring out from his voicebox. With one tap to Spock’s shoulder as he passed, Kirk dropped back to walk next to April. The lights of the corridor glinted off the dark skin of his bald head, and the surety of his stride reminded Kirk that before the Enterprise had been his, or Pike’s, she had been April’s. 

“Your secret put me in a difficult position, Kirk,” April said. He rubbed one hand over his beard as he considered Kirk, and his dark eyes were shrewd. 

“I’m sorry, Admiral,” Kirk said, though he wasn’t. “We had decided long ago that discretion was the best option. We didn’t mean to cause any inconvenience.”

“He should be leading that science vessel and you know it.” So they were going to argue about where Spock should spend his career, not whether or not they were married. Kirk couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Maybe, but he didn’t want it. The crew of a ship takes their cues from their captain, and having a captain who doesn’t want to be there is a surefire way to ruin a mission.” 

They took the turbolift in pained silence, and as Chris and Spock led the way down the hallway April continued quietly to Kirk, “He would have gotten used to it. It would have been good for him. By the time he retires, he’ll have been a first officer for, what? Forty years? Sixty? And he could be so much more.” April’s tone, his insinuations, set Kirk’s teeth on edge, and anger spiked in his stomach. 

“With all due respect, Admiral, I care more about what he wants than what you think is good for him.” 

“Right,” April said. “Because you are his husband.” There it was. Ahead of them, Kirk saw Spock’s head turn slightly--- that Vulcan hearing didn’t miss anything. 

“I am,” Kirk said, and claiming that title aloud made something glow inside him, even as he noted April’s unreadable glance at him. “The ready room, gentlemen.” He tapped the door open and stood back to let the admirals enter before gesturing Spock in as well. Spock passed so closely by him that he could feel the heat of him, and Spock’s quick darting glance at him confirmed that he knew what he was doing. Kirk pressed his lips together to suppress a smile and shut the door behind them. When he looked up at the officers around his conference table, April’s acute focus was on Spock, and there was that same unreadable expression on his face. Kirk had expected frustration, or indignation at Spock’s decision; he had not expected this somber consideration.

“We await your orders, sir,” he said, to break the silence, and April cleared his throat. 

“We’ll need to stay in orbit around SB27 for three more days,” April said. “I need access to the high-speed relay to send a few reports. Then we’ll depart for Kindinos VI, because they’ve been radio-silent for a few weeks. I don’t think anything has gone wrong, necessarily, but the dilithium mine there is an important resource and I’d rather be safe than sorry. Then, assuming they’re fine and don’t need more assistance, we will drop in on any other colonies out that way that need a wellness check, and then rendezvous with the U.S.S. Maddox in twelve days.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kirk said, but the name of the ship they were meeting unsettled him. He knew he had heard of the ship before, but he couldn’t remember the context at the moment. Spock’s eyes met his, and he knew that Spock had recognized the name as well. 

Kirk pulled a datapadd off the charging port on the table and tapped it open, and started working through the logistics of April’s orders. For the better part of two hours they arranged travel, lodging, fueling, and the rendezvous, until Chris let out the sound of a huge fake yawn. Spock raised one eyebrow at him.

“As fun as this is, I would love to see how the rest of the ship has changed since my time, if you can be spared for a tour.” 

Kirk grinned and pushed his chair back. “Our day is yours, Admiral,” he said, and they departed to the dulcet tones of Chris grumbling about his promotion again. 

☆☆☆

Spock led them deeper into the ship and halted at a closed lab door.

“One of the scientists has been analyzing patterns of decay in shield panels at warp speed. Would you like to see her research?” 

“Hell yeah,” Pike said, and though his face did not move, curiosity shone in his eyes. Spock opened the lab door, revealing Dr. Khan and a bank of computers. She turned as the door opened, standing up out of her chair as she saw the guests. 

“Admiral April, Admiral Pike, this is Dr. Priyal Khan.”

“Admirals. Captain. Mr. Spock,” she said, looking at them in turn. “I was just applying historical data to the most recent iteration of my algorithm. Would you care to see?” April, whether out of politeness or to get away from Kirk to save his last nerve, stepped forward to listen. 

“How’s married life?” Chris asked quietly, and Kirk marveled at the control that the new voicebox allowed him.

“It’s good. It’s really good,” Kirk said. He crouched down next to Chris’s chair so he could lower his voice. “We owe you big-time.” 

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chris said, and his eyes flicked to Spock before meeting Kirk’s again. “But you should know that April is still hesitant about all this.” 

“I had noticed,” Spock said. “I do not think, however, that…” Then his head snapped towards April, where he stood talking to Dr. Khan. Chris and Kirk both turned to listen in as well. 

“We were aware, sir,” she said. She stuck one hand in the pocket of her lab coat and pushed her glasses up her nose with the others. “It was hard not to be. The captain started showing up down here about six weeks in, and then he never left.” 

April asked something so quietly that Kirk couldn’t hear it, but he heard Dr. Khan’s derisive snort. “No, sir. Quite the opposite. It was…” Then she stopped and turned abruptly to the eavesdroppers. “If I’m going to give an unbiased review of my supervisor, he and his hearing need to leave.” 

Spock straightened, affronted, as Kirk smothered a smile and turned for the door. 

“There’s no need for that,” April said, and he shook Dr. Khan’s hand. “I appreciate your candor.” 

“Anytime,” she said, and she turned her back on him to resume her work. Spock, hands behind his back, led them deeper into the labs, pointing out various changes and experiments to Chris. Kirk walked alongside Spock, watching him work, and seeing the furrows in April’s brow get deeper and deeper as he watched them in kind.

Spock led them through more of the labs, where April asked each of Spock’s scientists the same questions he had asked Dr. Khan. Had they been aware that the captain and the commander were in a relationship? Had that relationship caused any distraction or any other problems while Kirk had been in command? 

Kirk had learned, first from Uhura and then from the general response to the wedding, that a significant faction of the crew had believed that he and Spock were either already in a relationship or were going to be in one shortly. This knowledge did nothing to blunt the shock of hearing over and over again: 

“Yeah, we knew.” 

“It was the ship’s worst-kept secret.” 

“No captain spends that much time in the labs unless they’ve got a reason to be there. A good reason.” 

One biologist whispered “sorry!” in Spock’s direction before she said to April, “We all noticed when they started spending more time together because there was a shift in Mr. Spock’s management style.” Chris, who had started out laughing at each answer before he fell into a thoughtful silence, rotated his entire chair to stare Spock down after that one. 

And to the second question: 

“No.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Not at all.” 

“I think it was good for both of them. And good for us.”

From labs, to engineering, to Giotto’s office, to the bridge, the response was the same: the crew had known. It had made both of them better, and it made the crew better. As they walked through the ship, Spock brushed his fingers against Kirk’s wrist, placing his hand on his lower back as he passed, and Kirk took every opportunity he could to bump their shoulders together. When he had envisioned April’s arrival on their ship, he had thought that they would be performing as a couple. He had never thought that he would be reaching out to touch Spock because he wanted to. April watched them move around each other, and interrogated the crew, and with each testimony about their long-standing and poorly disguised relationship his expression passed from solemn to downright defeated.

As the ship’s clock counted down the minutes to the end of alpha shift, Kirk and Spock walked April and Pike to the guest quarters. 

“Thank you for the tour, captain. Commander. Good night,” April said abruptly. He glanced between Kirk and Spock, seemingly measuring the distance between them, before vanishing into one of the quarters. The door slid shut behind him, leaving the three other men in shocked silence. Kirk glanced down at Chris for an explanation, but Chris just lifted one shoulder stiffly in the universal gesture of “hell if I know.” Spock broke the tension.

“Captain, we are due in the gymnasium soon for another suus mahna lesson shortly. Admiral Pike, would you care to join us?” 

“If you call me admiral one more time, Spock, I’ll run you over with this chair. See if I won’t.” But he joined them in the turbolift and met them in the gym after they had changed, and they found Giotto and Spock’s little class of six waiting for them. Kirk sat on the bench on the outskirts of the room next to Chris while Spock warmed up the attendees and started drilling them. They must have been practicing with each other in between lessons, Kirk thought, because their movements were less jerky and unsure than they had been before. One and Two moved in eerie symmetry, Crovath and Laila following behind, but they progressed more quickly through the beginning moves and moved onto more advanced combinations shortly.

Kirk chatted quietly with Chris, getting updates on old shipmates, on Number One, and on Chris’s life since the accident, until Spock paused and turned, looking over his shoulder for Kirk. “I think this is my cue,” he said to Chris, and joined Spock on the mat. 

“I will demonstrate how you can use your opponent’s momentum against them, which is useful when you stand against one either larger or with a longer reach than you.” 

Kirk put his hands on his hips. “Neither of those things are true here,” he pointed out, and Spock sighed quietly through his nose. 

“Please participate regardless for the purpose of the demonstration, captain,” Spock said. 

“Yes, dear,” Kirk said, and the watching security officers grinned. Spock cocked his head, eyes alight, and he shifted forward into a waiting, predatory stance. Kirk shook his arms out, suddenly wishing he had warmed up instead of chatting with Chris. But it was too late for that now. He bounced a couple of times, Spock’s eyes tracking his movement, before swinging cautiously at Spock. 

Spock batted his hands away like he was offended by the effort, but something was different. Kirk lashed out again, aiming for his ribs, stepping forward with the motion, and Spock directed his arm off to the side, sending him wide, clearing room for Spock to step around him neatly. Kirk spun to protect his back, his skin tingling pleasantly. He dodged to the side to attack again, and time slowed as his mind woke up and got out of his way. 

When they had fought before, Spock had blocked him with the tightest economy of movement; he would tap Kirk’s limbs out of the way with short, sure bursts of contact from the blade of his hand or a closed fist. But now he blocked Kirk’s moves with an open palm. He wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist to redirect him, and dragged his fingertips along his forearm when he parried Kirk’s lazy opening swings. 

It was a soft, almost unnoticeable change, and distractingly erotic. Kirk stepped into Spock’s space, removing the advantage of his superior reach, but Spock circled him, the active heat of him radiating against Kirk’s back, and he fought a shiver. They circled each other, Spock pushing him to move faster, his hands warm against Kirk’s shoulder, elbow, wrist, hips as he forced Kirk off balance. The places where his palms had been felt warm long after the contact had ended. They traded blows. Kirk pushed Spock backwards, but Spock circled him again, forcing him into another tight spin. 

He twisted over his shoulder to keep his eyes on Spock, and Spock moved. He planted one foot behind Kirk, in the middle of his stance, pushed him neatly backwards with one long hand against his sternum, and sent him crashing to the floor.

Or, he would have crashed to the floor, if Spock hadn’t lunged over him and caught him with one arm behind his back, inches from the mat. The air wheezed from Kirk’s lungs as Spock straightened back upright, pulling Kirk up with him. 

“Thank you for your assistance,” Spock said, and bowed slightly to him. 

“Anytime,” Kirk wheezed, and clapped Spock on the shoulder. Winded, humbled, and buzzing from the overload of physical contact, he returned to his seat next to Chris as he lifted his water bottle to his mouth. Chris’s eyes remained fixed on Spock until he returned his attention to the security students, and then he rotated his chair to face Kirk directly.

“Jim,” Chris said quietly. “I didn’t know. When I suggested the regs, I didn’t…” He trailed off, uncertain. 

“There was nothing to know then,” Kirk murmured back. He watched the grace of Spock’s movements distractedly before meeting Chris’s eyes again. “But since then...”

“This morning, I thought: wow. These two are better actors than I ever could have guessed. But after the rest of today, the way he touches you--- I’ve known him a long time, Jim, and this is a side of him that I have never seen before.” 

Something pleased and possessive lit up in him. “It’s new,” he admitted. “We haven’t really talked about it yet. But I think we might owe you a very nice case of pretty much whatever you want.” 

“Ask Una what she wants,” Chris said. “Most things taste the same to me now.”

“Damn you,” groaned Kirk. “She always had more expensive opinions.” But he leaned his shoulder over to bump Chris’s, and they watched Spock work in companionable silence until he dismissed the students and Giotto with a bow and joined them.

“Hand to hand,” Chris said approvingly. “It’s a useful skill, and not one enough people have a mastery of. Your idea?” 

“Giotto’s, actually,” Kirk said, and they changed back into their uniforms and made their way to the guest quarters. 

“These bones need a rest, and I’ve got more work to do anyway,” Chris said, and the ridges of his scars shone beneath the hallway lights. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow. Try not to get into any more trouble, will you?” 

“I make no promises,” Kirk said, and with a fond scoff Chris vanished into his room. His departure left them alone in the hallway, facing each other, Spock’s hands clasped loosely behind his back. 

“I told Bones we would come by,” Kirk said.

“Then we should not keep the doctor waiting,” Spock said, and they turned for the turbolift. “Do you require dinner first?” Kirk shook his head. 

“After,” he said, and though they walked in silence through the quiet hallways, Spock brushed his hand gently with his.

☆☆☆

Sickbay was quiet and dim when they arrived, the lights lowered for the comfort of the patients that were there overnight. There were not many; with no recent dangerous away missions, most of Sickbay’s work was routine, scheduled health maintenance for the people who lived on the ship. Chapel sat at a computer, tapping her chin with one finger as she scanned something on the screen. She looked up at their entrance and smiled. 

“What can I do for you, sir? Mr. Spock?” 

“Just here to see Bones, Christine. At ease.” 

She nodded at Bones’s office door as they passed, and they lost her attention to her work soon after that. Kirk knocked once on the door, and from within the gruff Southern voice said, “Come on in.” 

Kirk opened the door and stepped through, Spock at his shoulder like a shadow. Bones sat at his desk, steaming mug of some tea at hand, illuminated by the dim light of the console. 

“Hey there, Bones,” Kirk said, and tried unsuccessfully to keep his brain from replaying their argument from the last time he had been in this room.

“Welcome back, Jimmy,” Bones said, and the tenor of his voice was gentle enough that Kirk knew that he had been forgiven. “I’m given to understand that you want to see your records.” 

Though his hands were still clasped behind his back, Spock’s shoulder pressed into Kirk’s from behind, solid, warm, and comforting. Kirk straightened his spine and nodded.

“I’ve been looking over them since we talked the other day,” Bones said, and he stood to come closer, sitting himself halfway onto his desk. “About security officers.” He glanced at Spock before looking back at Kirk, shrewd blue eyes measuring their proximity. “Can I speak freely, Jim?” 

“Please,” Kirk said. “He, ah. He knows everything.” 

“He does?” Bones raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, considering Spock with his head tilted. “Would you mind terribly elaborating on just what you mean by everything?” 

“I showed him,” Kirk said, and those eyes turned back to him. “Last night. After we got back from the starbase. I asked for his help with finding out more about that officer, and from there…” He blinked as his body recalled the panic, the nausea, the stoppage of his throat, and behind his back Spock’s hand came up to press comfortingly against his spine. He cleared his throat. “Talking about it doesn’t work for me, I’m afraid. So…” He looked at Spock, who looked steadily at Bones. 

“The captain allowed me to perform a mindmeld between us so that I might witness his experiences without his having to discuss them.” 

Bones looked between them, calculating, before he cleared his throat. “How do you feel, Jimmy?” 

“Better,” Kirk said immediately, surprised at his own sureness, and Bones nodded, and Kirk saw the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He gestured back to his console. 

“I read back through the reports of your treatment after the Valiant showed up,” Bones said. “There are about a million entries. The CMO from the Valiant had some interesting things to say, but after that? A whole lot of nothing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that the reports are bullshit--- your temperature, height and weight, blood panels, notes on your mood, but in every one it says that testing was performed and results analyzed. But the tests are never named, and the results never discussed.” Bones quirked his mouth to one side and tapped his shoe against his desk. “There’s also something a little odd. There’s a misspelling in every single entry after your Dr. Johns took over, and always the same five or six words. There was one in your blood tests too. I’ll be damned if I could find a pattern, but I was actually hoping that one of you boys could work some computer magic and make it spit out more information.” 

“Understanding software architecture is not magic, doctor---”

“You know damn well what I meant, what with being a computer yourself---”

Kirk grinned broadly as his two favorite people in the universe bitched at each other, and when Bones turned to him with a this is the man you married? face, he nodded. Bones stepped back to his console before turning to meet Spock’s eyes. When he spoke, it was for Spock only. 

“Jim wants you to see everything, so you’ll see everything. But I’ll tell you now, Spock, it’s heavy stuff.” Bones crossed his arms and stared Spock down, and his unsaid words hung between them: so if you can’t handle that, then get out now. 

Spock held Bones’s gaze unflinchingly as he said evenly, “I can assure you, doctor, that my strength is more than equal to its weight.” Spock’s statement hung in the air, the two men holding the other’s gaze, until Bones nodded decisively and stepped aside, allowing Spock entry. Spock pressed his hand once more against Kirk’s back before dropping it and following Bones to his computer.

Bones claimed his desk chair and Kirk and Spock hovered over his shoulders as he pulled up Kirk’s medical file.

“Kirk, James Tiberius,” Bones drawled. “Born on Earth, outrageously young to be a captain, aptitude test scores too high to be good for anyone. Yadda yadda yadda.” He scrolled down past Kirk’s current medical standing and, with only one second’s hesitation, clicked on something. A subfile opened, and the bolded heading at the top read “SURVIVOR RECORD, TARSUS IV - MINOR.” 

“Ready, Jim?” Bones’s voice was quiet. Kirk nodded, but turned around, crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of the desk. He knew that the first thing in the file would be the set of holos that the staff of the Valiant had taken. Some things didn’t need to be re-witnessed. He felt the comforting weight, muscle, fat, and bone of his healthy body under his hands and kept the console screen out of his field of vision. 

The console controller clicked gently as Bones scrolled. Spock leaned over his shoulder, one hand planted on Bones’s desk, the other on the back of Bones’s chair, peering intently at the screen. The blue-white light of the console washed out his features, leaving only his dark eyes. Spock absorbed the information in silence as Bones scrolled on, from the pictures of Jimmy’s emaciation to the results of the barrage of tests that the Valiant had done, to his return to Earth, and then to the period of time he spent under Dr. Johns’s care. 

“Enough,” Spock eventually said, his voice gravelly. He straightened, gaze fixed on the screen, before he broke away from it to look at Kirk. He clasped his hands together before immediately releasing them. He took two quick steps towards Kirk and compulsively ran his hand from Kirk’s neck, over his shoulder, and down his arm before he clasped his hands behind him. The path that his hand had taken burned pleasantly. “The records from Dr. Johns do not reflect the reality of Jim’s treatment. And while it seems as though the Valiant was treating the children--- or at least the captain--- for mycotoxicosis as well as the burns and starvation, I do not believe that the survivors were able to ingest enough of what killed the harvest to have suffered the effects of it.” 

“The official cause of the famine was Fusarium graminearum,” Bones said. “If ingested through consumption of post-corruption, pre-rot food, it could---” 

“Tarsus was in drought, doctor,” Spock said quietly, and Bones rocked back in his chair. “And there was no carrier stage in whatever killed the plants. It was rapid.” He paused, and cocked his head. “And blue. I also believe that you ought to know that Johns was not only testing Jim on a weekly basis, but sending him for dialysis.” 

“Hemodialysis? Weekly? For a teenager without any symptoms of kidney failure?” Bones looked at Kirk, eyebrows pulling together. “Jim, is that right?” Kirk nodded once. 

“And what exactly do you mean, that it was blue?” 

Spock glanced at Kirk, and Kirk nodded again. Spock said, “His school had been growing crops before the famine. He witnessed them as they decayed, and it was unlike any fungal infection I have ever seen. The resultant matter was a metallic blue.” 

Bones worried his lip between his teeth, frowning at the records on the screen. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay. So we know that the records have been falsified, and the psychologist was a security officer. Based on what Jim’s said, I would guess that her role was to keep him from sharing anything about Tarsus. But what in the devil does that mean?” 

Spock glanced at Kirk with a question on his face, and Kirk nodded again, closing his eyes. He heard Spock shift, and one long, familiar hand wrapped around his wrist, a loose cuff that anchored him more firmly into his skin. He opened his eyes and covered Spock’s hand with his own. 

“One more datum, doctor, that I believe is central to your question. Something that I was only able to learn because Jim showed me what he saw, rather than expressing it verbally. Jim was the only witness to Section 31’s extraction of Kodos from Tarsus.”

“You were the only witness to what.” Bones’s voice went flat. He stood up, his chair scraping back against the floor, hands flat on the desk. Kirk met his eyes, grinned crookedly, and shrugged. 

“Wrong place, wrong time,” he said wryly, and Bones’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know if I should be even more impressed that you survived or just angry that you had to survive this at all, Jim.” 

“I recommend both, doctor,” Spock said, and Kirk and Bones both turned to him in surprise. “Tomorrow, perhaps, after the Alpha shift, I would like to study Jim’s records more closely and cross-reference them both with his memories and Kevin Riley’s records, with his permission. The misspellings you mentioned may be a code, or a way to hide information.”

Bones looked to Kirk for his assent, and Kirk nodded. He said, “You said you had a hypothesis, Spock. Care to share it now?” 

Spock straightened, and with one more squeeze of Kirk’s wrist he released it to cross his arms across his chest. “My previous interactions with Section 31 have always been in relation to Starfleet research and development. While that is not all that they do, I believe it to be a significant aspect of their role.” He took a deep breath and glanced between Kirk and Bones. 

“I believe that there was some sort of biological experiment occurring on Tarsus IV. Based on your memories, I hypothesize that it escaped containment during development and contaminated the water supply, infecting both crops and settlers. Section 31 arrived after receiving Lieutenant Commander Parks’s message in order to protect the research investment and salvage any remaining data from the experiment. Finding Kodos alive was almost certainly an accident, but the knowledge he held made him a valuable resource. You and the other survivors required experimental medical care from doctors affiliated with Section 31 so that no one else learned of the true nature of the infection.” 

Spock’s voice was almost apologetic as he said, “Section 31 may have exerted such effort to keep you silent and isolated in order to hide the fact that it saved Kodos after the genocide, an action that would have opened them to investigation and prosecution if discovered. If you never identified the shuttle, and never told anyone that you had seen Kodos leave the planet, then they could allow you to live.”

“Holy shit,” Bones said, sinking down to sit on his desk. “Holy shit.”

Kirk bent over. He planted his hands on his thighs and hung his head. He stared at his black work boots and his uniform trousers and the familiar tiled floor of Medbay. So many details, so many secrets, and all of it hiding the truth. So many moving pieces, so much specialized knowledge, had to align for him to hold this information in his head, in his hands. Elise had weaponized his love for his crew, his sense of duty, against himself to cover up a Starfleet failure of the highest order. 

Kirk gave himself five breaths to pull himself together. On the first three, he felt nothing. On four, he connected his mind back to his body. On five, he stood up straight and planted his fists on his waist. His best friend paced across his office, arms crossed severely over his chest, blue eyes filled with worry. His husband, whose beautiful mind had picked through all the broken shards of information and given him the shape of the whole, stood across from him. And though he felt like he was full of wounds, he was still on his own two feet. 

“Jim?” Bones’s voice was gentle, and he realized they were both looking at him. His heart thundered in his chest, and it was a painful, welcome reminder that he was alive. 

“Do you want God’s honest truth, Bones?” 

“Sure, Jim,” Bones said cautiously.

“I’m almost glad.” Spock’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “After all this time, all these years…” Kirk inhaled again until his lungs stretched uncomfortably, and it was beautiful to him. “It feels better to know that it might mean something.” 

“How do you mean?” Bones watched him carefully.

“I do believe in luck,” Jimmy Kirk said. “I believe in miracles. And for years I’ve been unable to reconcile those beliefs with what happened on the colony. That I was there, and that it happened at all. I couldn’t rationalize it to myself. But now…” He paused, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He had seen and survived horrible things, and now he had the chance to make it matter. Despite everything, a smile grew across his face. “I saw what I saw. I survived what I survived. And now I have the chance to make sure Elise and Kodos, and all of Section 31 if I have to, are brought to justice. I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life. Because I’m still alive, I can do this for everyone who died on the colony. For the kids that I protected.” He swallowed thickly, his throat dry, and looked at his friends. “And for me.” 

Without hesitation Bones crossed back towards him in three huge steps, face hard, and threw his arms around Kirk. “Jesus, Jim,” he said. “You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that, right?” 

Kirk hugged him back. “Probably. But at least it won’t be today.” Bones released him and stepped back, turning back to his console to look at something on the screen. Spock reached across to him again, running his hand from Kirk’s neck down his arm and back up again, before coming to stand next to him. Their shoulders pressed together, and Kirk leaned against him. Spock adjusted himself, pulling Kirk to rest against his chest, his hand coming to circle Kirk’s waist and secure him against him.

Bones shut down his console and turned to Spock. “Tomorrow, when you go through the records, I’d like to be there. I need to know what they did.”

“Certainly, doctor. I propose that we---” 

The wall unit buzzed three times, and all three of them turned to look at it. It buzzed once more before an officer said, “Captain to the bridge. Captain Kirk to the bridge, please.” 

“What the hell?” Bones asked, turning to him. Kirk frowned and shrugged, but he brushed his tunic down and straightened himself up. 

“Thank you, Bones,” he said. “For everything.” Bones nodded at him. “Spock, with me.” 

☆☆☆

He and Spock arrived on the bridge to a hushed and nervous crew. The beta shift comms officer, one Lieutenant Ortiz, looked to Kirk as soon as he stepped out of the transporter. 

“We got an emergency message over subspace, captain. From outside of Federation space,” Ortiz said. 

“Put it on the main viewer, please,” he said, and Ortiz tapped her console. The viewscreen flashed. Then the video message opened. For a few seconds, there was only static, cresting and falling in volume like a wave. There was a shrill, piercing sound that might have been a scream, and the booming echo of an explosion. Then the picture resolved into something recognizable.

“Please,” a haggard face begged. Both his voice and the camera were shaking. “This is Overman Dima Marcus, of Kindinos IV. If there’s anyone out there---” There was another explosion, and the image juddered. “If anyone gets this message, please. Help us.” 

#spirk #spirk fan fiction #k/s #k/s fan fiction #fake married #regulatory relations #tos fan fiction #my writing

[pioneeroverc-my-5000th-sideblog]

FOUR MONTH ART IMPROVEMENT RATE COMPARISON - May 2023

art block: 2/19 (from 2/19)

personal: 19/19

study/figure drawing sessions: 12/129 days(from 32/105) check numbers on these

Same goals as yearly - absolutely not, I've really fallen off on these. Currently re-evaluating whether these are actually doable

Finish DAB Lesson 7 - no, but I did make good progress on it last month!

1 finished piece with 2pt+ perspective plotted background (or two sketched screenshot studies with same) - I assume this was supposed to be 'per month'… I did five things with actual perspective in the entire four month period but two of them were just sketches and most of them were very plain and undetailed. NO WONDER I'm not getting better at this lol

one screenshot study per month - can focus on any area (perspective, expressions, colours, composition, etc.) - I DIDN'T DO THIS AT ALL

In May, I will have even more mileage drawing hands interacting with things and have experimented with different ways of ideating on composition thumbnails - actually true!Definitely not anywhere near good at drawing hands yet but my 3D sense improving is helping me draw interactions. I tried a few ways of doing thumbnails but nothing has really stuck more than my painful 'just draw a bunch of stuff and try to fit it together afterwards' process. At least I tried

Studies done: FIGUARY, DAB stuff, breakdowns for some random objects I needed to draw, Proko ribcage and shoulder bones, lots of tracing (boot opening contours, heads to see how eyes fit in at 3/4 view, stylised hair/outfit trims to see how different artists do them), one fold study, some form intersections

Ups and downs here, with periods of Good Study interspersed with (more) periods of I Am Too Unmotivated To Do Anything. Whenever I am struggling to draw something, I end up just not drawing anything at all, even stuff that's unrelated and should be fun for me. This is something I really wish I could overcome because it ends up making me more stressed out overall when I have The Thing I've Been Putting Off and then all my other fun ideas AND STUDIES in the back of my head that also feel like they have deadlines on them. I'm still having trouble drawing stuff that isn't a character staring blankly off-screen with a solid colour background.

I started drawing a bunch of fake FEH alts during this period, and although I've really enjoyed designing them and getting to do more in-depth inking and rendering for once, I do feel like my time could be better spent drawing full pieces with backgrounds and, like, any thought for composition (since I'm hitting my skill ceiling with perspective and anatomy in particular for the alts - and the full pieces look 5000x more impressive). I still have a bunch of time-sensitive ideas for them, so I'm really not sure what to do here.

IMPROVEMENT METRICS

Anatomy/gesture: I am CERTAIN that my figure drawing improved because of Figuary but none of my actual finished stuff reflects that… I'm going to say same as last year just because I literally can't tell

Backgrounds/perspective: Much worse than last year lol

Composition/storytelling: Thinking about negative space more and still trying to add supporting elements. Worse than last year though

Colours/values: still having problems with stuff being too dark but also still working on it. Screencap studies could probably help this. Starting to get better at controlling saturation. Actually better than last year! Woo! Not a total failure!

Lighting/rendering: better than last year again, CAN I PLEASE TRADE THIS POWER FOR SOMETHING THAT'S ACTUALLY USEFUL??

PLAN OF ACTION FOR NEXT FOUR MONTHS:

Re-evaluate yearly goals

Finish DAB Lesson 7

one screenshot study per month, focussing on values first

two object studies per month

In September, I will have a better understanding of how the parts of the body fit together and be better at manipulating them, as simplified forms, in 3d space.

#art improvement #art progress #end of four months #this is really late in the month but i'm pretending it's still the first week of may

[villiansareneat]

Repentance

Mini-Fic, written back in 2021

Dabi / Touya centric fic

ca. 1200 words

The League of villains had fallen, and hero society had crumbled to ashes, trapped in a hurricane of fire their broken children made. But, after five years in Tartarus, the “how” didn’t matter to him anymore.

Five years, saying that was easy, it was quick as a match. But those five years were 1825 days that passed slowly, days of solitude that gave his past self more than enough time to catch up to him. 1825 that gave his therapist more than enough time to get him to reflect on his actions, to get him in touch with the emotions he had learnt to shut down. To get him back on his feet. It wasn't forced, there were no mind quirks involved, it wasn’t easy either. Touya Todoroki accepted the help because, with Enji’s reputation in shambles, with the commission undergoing reform and the world of heroes changed forever, he had no need for Dabi. The false heroes were falling, sliding in the blood it costed, he didn’t need that anymore.

It took 400 hundred days for Touya Todoroki to be allowed a letter. He wrote to Natsuo, he wrote to the brother he had once been close to, he didn’t ask for forgiveness, he didn’t think he deserved it. He wrote, and wrote, and explained himself without trying to justify himself, just as his therapist had taught him. He said “I’m sorry for the pain I brought you”, he didn’t say “forgive me”.

He wrote to Natsuo, but in that letter he also wrote to his sister and the little brother who was the other side of that broken coin, he wrote to the mother who had recently been let out of institutionalization now that it was clear she didn’t need it anymore, now that Enji Todoroki couldn’t keep using his influence to keep his secrets and misdeeds hidden in the dark.

He wrote to Natsuo expecting no answer, but his siblings had always been kinder than him, especially the white haired boy he had spent his childhood playing and crying with.

Natsuo wanted to be a doctor, Fuyumi wanted to be a teacher, because of course they would want to help people, to give others solace. Shoto had decided to keep studying in UA, to keep going on his hero career, but he had also told his siblings that maybe, one day, he would leave the fighting behind and focus on being a social worker. The fact that they were all so kind to a world that had done nothing for them almost pissed Touya off, and it took a few sessions to work through said issue.

At 500 days, he was allowed a phone call a month. That was much faster than the average Tartarus intern. Three years into his fifteen year sentence, Touya was allowed to talk to his siblings and mother through video.

Shoto was already an adult by then, and that made him truly realize how much time had passed. His mother looked older, but so much happier than the last time he had seen her. Half a year later, his family got permission to send him books, as long as the authorities approved of them. Shoto and him had the same taste in literature.

Five years into his sentence, Touya Todorki’s conduct was exemplary. Not a fight, not an issue. Recovery was slow and painful, it wasn’t linnear, but the therapists at Tartarus were more than happy with his advances. Now that Dabi was gone for good, Touya was allowed to get transferred to a different prison, to one that would allow him to see the sun, to one that would allow him visitors and trade education. He was deemed ready to start a more complete reinsertion program, he looked like the perfect candidate for it.

But paperwork was slow, and evaluations were thorough. So, after informing his family of the transfer possibility, he had to wait almost another year for it to happen.

Sunshine felt weird on his skin. Almost six years without using his quirk, almost six years of appropriate medical treatment had rendered the staples a thing of the past and the scarring much lighter. Touya would never have perfect skin and he didn’t care about it either, but getting rid of the chronic pain it had caused him was, without a doubt, a big factor in bettering his mental stability.

The day Touya Todoroki felt the wind again before getting on the transport, security had to be enhanced, and the same thing happened at his destination. The peace sunlight brought, made the shouting quieter. Not everyone was happy with Dabi leaving Tartarus, and he couldn’t expect a different thing, 30 broken families, 30 corpses in his path to changing the world, 30 groups of friends and relatives that deserved the chance to shout at him and let him realize the pain he had brought upon them in his attempt to stop the cause of his own. Sunlight made it quieter, but it didn’t shout them out.

“Tell them I’m sorry”, he told Natsuo and Shoto on their first visit. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but… Would you?”

“I’ll take care of it, Touya.”, Shoto promised.

It was hard to believe that the 22 year old in front of him was the same kid that had taken him down once. The kid who defeated Dabi and saved Touya.

He was proud of him, proud of how smart and strong he was, proud of how he had changed the world. How he had campaigned for second chances, for background checks on heroes, for all the things that were making the world a better place, a place where a new Endeavour would have it difficult to exist.

Second chances weren’t a thing on his first day in jail, and now he was 3401 days away from his own. Maybe 1576 if he kept his conduct good, if the world showed him a mercy he had not shown several years before.

Was that redemption? He didn’t know, he didn’t even like that word. He had repented, he had learnt, he had paid with time for the pain he had caused. He had acted as the perfect inmate, not in search of a better sentence, but for the privileges good conduct brought with it, for that last chance at reconciliation with the family he had filled with scars.

Touya Todoroki walked out of jail at the age of 37, twelve years after he had entered, because the world thought ten to be too little and fifteen too much after the man he had become. He participated in the rehabilitation of others, he never got in a fight after the first month in Tartarus. Touya’s fire had stopped burning with hate the moment news of Enji’s demise reached his ears, he had become an empty vessel for months, he had a difficult time on the first weeks of therapy until he started to truly cooperate, 400 days to send a letter, 4383 days to walk out of jail as a free man.

4383 to start a new life with the family that had taken him back.

#dabi #touya todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #d's writing

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 100!!!

The Doctor’s Daughter

This is a weird week because when I made the original schedule, I wasn’t supposed to watch ANY Supernatural this week because I wanted to take this week off of work. That did not happen. Thankfully, I somehow fell behind on both Supernatural AND Doctor Who, and the rest of the week will be spent catching up to where I SHOULD be for Doctor Who. So, that’s a mental load off for me til I’m caught back up on Monday.

Also?? At no point in the planning process did I ever think I’d actually make it to 100 days…

“The Doctor’s Daughter”

Plot Description: Caught in the middle of a war between the Humans and he Hath in the planet Messaline, the doctor finds himself once again a father

...i...Gendry?

This episode always makes me laugh just based on Georgia (Jenny) playing the titular Doctor's daughter while ACTUALLY being the 5th Doctor's daughter and then marrying the actor playing her father.

God...so I remember that this war is only like...a week or so old? maybe a couple months? Anyway, a short amount of time. But, like how did it start, and why can't I get two Avatar episodes out of my mind about it? (The Great Divide and The Cave of Two Lovers. The latter just because of the cave in and the party being split up and having to actually find their way back to each other SPECIFICALLY with two on one side and one on the other and the former having to do with a generations long fight that ultimately was over something very small, whether or not it's true)

Donna and Ten rightly insisting they're not a couple will always be the best running joke. This dude just threatened to kill Donna if the Doctor didn't do as he said but did so by calling her the Doctor's woman...and they couldn't care less about that. They just wanna make it known that they are not together.

Oh, Martha, this war is not your fault. I promise you.

OHHHHH and Donna not being at ALL helpful when Jenny's calling the Doctor a soldier and listing all the ways he's being one and in fact ENCOURAGING Jenny to keep going because she's rendered him speechless.

Honestly, if David Tennant looked at me like he looked at Georgia during the scene with the stethoscope, I'd probably wanna marry him too

Don't. Be. Fucking. Rude. Doctor.

Jenny being so excited that she didn't kill. That she had a choice and she took it :')

Donna calling out the Doctor for talking all the time but saying nothing yessssss goooooood

Good lord. Stop putting Martha in situationsssssss. She deserves to just live her life, dammit.

THE NUMBER OF TIMES DONNA'S TEMP WORK IS NOT JUST RELEVANT BUT IMPORTANT TO FIGURING OUT THE MYSTERY THEY'RE TRYING TO SOLVE. I FUCKING LOVE IT. And that realization is going to break me when we get to the end...when she's going on about how she's not important, how she's just a temp from Chiswick, but the Doctor calls her the most important woman in the world. And not that she's only important because she helps the Doctor solve puzzles and shit, but...she's just SO. CLEVER. AND AMAZING.

Look. I know he's supposed to be playing her "technically biological father even though the reproductive process was completely non-sexual," but the CHEMISTRYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. The way the look at each otherrrrrrrr. omg.

Where's that ancient tumblr post where the Doctor gives you a pep talk that has the "you're going to be great. you're going to be more than great. you're going to be amazing" audio when you really really just want it??

Mmmmmm his pain and rage in his "man who never would" speech...

(why did the app need an update with like...five minutes left in the episode??)

Every time, Jenny leaving in the shuttle gets me. It's the perfect ending of the episode for her

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

[inkykeiji]

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #eeeeee happy birthday baby boy ilysm #hehehehehe #ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

[shotorozu]

TITLE : hospital stay

PAIRING : bakugou katsuki x reader

SYNOPSIS : you’re in the hospital on your boyfriend’s birthday, and bakugou seems to have no issue with spending it in there.

WARNING(S) : MHA MANGA SPOILERS ‼️ (recent arc)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, a quirk similar to the avatar but that’s about it.

note(s) : so, it’s bakugou’s birthday. and i had this idea since march 20 😦 so i’ve been waiting for his birthday to come for literally a month but i didn’t want to post this way too early. alsooo i don’t know if this arc happened near spring but lets pretend it did for the sake of the story

When you woke up, the fluorescent lights were the first to hit your face

Following by the incoming beeping of a monitor, and the sudden throbbing of your head, the dryness of your throat evident.

Blinking slowly (or trying to, your other eye being a bit delayed.) you try recalling what just happened. You’re in a hospital, that’s one thing you know, but the specifics are still unknown to you.

Right. You remember now, you were fighting along side your classmates, and you managed to get blasted away when you thought that shielding Bakugou Katsuki would work. Yeah, you were sure that you were going to get an earful from him, if he—

You jolt when you notice said blond standing right next to your bed, vermillion eyes staring deep into your own, and somewhat— you could feel the weight and intensity in the stare

“S-since when did you get here?” You’re startled, and your voice is hoarse. Bakugou doesn’t formulate a response, and chooses to avoid the question as a whole.

“Finally you’re up.” He rolls his eyes. He looks much better than you remembered, despite having a few bandages on his forehead— he looked well. “It’s been 5 fucking days.”

“Five days?” You question out loud, your sense of time all disorganized. You clench your hand, just to see if your quirk was still working. Seeing air, fire, water, and just.. something, would relieve your worries— but a look from the blond shot you down quickly. You decided that it was wise if you didn’t try.

The blond seems to be done with the conversation, since he immediately walks out of the room. Actually, why was he here? You’d expect him to be laying down in bed, but despite being hit with that beam, he was walking around like everything was fine.

He comes back with a few other nurses, and they’re relieved to see that you’re awake— and even though they’ve bombarded you with questions with how you felt, you couldn’t brush off the feeling of a pair of ruby eyes on you.

Just, glaring. It’s nothing abnormal.

When the nurses finally leave you alone, giving you details of a few injuries— like your injured— well, burned eyelid that honestly stung (it came from the fire aspect of your quirk) you would’ve expected to be alone in your hospital room for the rest of your time there but Bakugou stayed.

“You’re going to tell me why you jumped in front of me?”

You were expecting to be questioned by him, after all— what you did didn’t exactly shield him, since he was also pierced. You didn’t expect the interrogation to be happening this soon

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to fucking know.” And he suddenly changes his mind, just like that.

You would’ve said impulse as an answer, but you doubt that he would’ve taken that seriously. And besides, you were kind of glad he changed midway that he didn’t want your answer. Your voice feels parched, despite chugging down a glass of water earlier.

“Did you check up on Deku?” You cringe when you hear cracks in your voice, and the dryness is unbearable to your throat, but he nods. “Idiot’s knocked out cold.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that you were one of the last few people that were still rendered unconscious.

“Your throat sounds like the sahara desert. Do me a favor and drink up.”

You blink owlishly at the glass of water that was set on the mini table, and when you drink up— it actually does something to relieve (temporarily) the dryness.

It was a consequence of your quirk after all, using your quirk too much would cause your body to feel sore, and everywhere to feel dry, and he knew that.

Bakugou was acting uncharacteristically, and you just don’t know why. Maybe it’s not so uncharacteristic of him, since he’s been less of an asshole as of recently, but you know that he would probably deviate from the question if you asked, so the both of you sat in silence.

—

It’s the next day, the same as yesterday— except it looked like dawn when you woke up. Bakugou also appeared at the side of your bed once again, almost as if he was there for quite some time.

“Nice to see you too,” You think to yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t actually say that out loud. You try to stand up straight, but Bakugou’s quick to push your back against the pillows.

“Don’t sit up, that’s idiotic.”

“Right, sorry. How did you get here? Isn’t it too early?” The parched throat came back. Though the ‘magical’ baku-water helped, it’s effects were only temporarily, sadly.

“You call 7am early?” Right, because for him— 7am isn’t that early, you even remember seeing him up at 6 sometimes.

“Actually, wait.” You blink, trying to recall what day it was, and what month it was. You recalled it being spring but.. was it March? or was it April already?

“What.. day is it today?”

It was almost like he was hesitant to say, “..April 20.”

“What the— April 20?” You’re appalled, because the last time you remembered, it wasn’t anywhere near April 20, but maybe it’s your 5 day unconsciousness to be blamed. “Isn’t it your birthday?”

“Shut up,” He mumbles, and he shifts around the room in search of something, but it’s too dim to be able to tell.

“Medicine. The nurses said you should take it now.”

You don’t reply.

“It’s for your Sahara desert throat. The other things are for your fucked up eye and injuries.”

That seems to be enough to convince you to take the medicine, and despite wanting to run away screaming from the bitterness, you take the medicine— not wanting to be met with any consequences

“Why are you spending your birthday here?”

“Do idiots like you ask that many questions?” He shoots back, and you’re unfazed by the fact that he just called you an idiot. You wouldn’t blame him.

“No but.. you seem fine.”

“A few days ago I was not, but now I am because I took medicine.” He walks over to untwist a few medicine caps, it appears to be for your eye.

“So, Does my eye look fine?” You bat your eyelashes just to mess with him, and he flicks your forehead with an ointment cap “No.”

“Sorry, sorry,” You laugh, choosing to completely ignore the sudden sharp pain when you laugh.

He bends down to reach eyelevel, “Can you see?”

“Sorta.” Your eye has this thin blur filter to it, that can’t be good— can it? Going blind in one eye, and having to wear an eye patch.

It was almost on cue, because Bakugou says “You’ll be rocking the pirate look if you don’t take your medicine,” Instead of handing the medicine for you to apply, he quickly applies a decent amount around your eyes— not giving you a warning whatsoever.

You wince slightly, but you’re glad it’s over. But why is he playing nurse with you? And why was he brushing off the fact that it’s literally his birthday.

—

Through out the entire day, Bakugou continued to act as if he had some responsibility over you. From helping you put on your medicine, to just monitoring you with eyes of a hawk. The fact that he chose to ignore all your protests was just a part of him.

His behavior was also very.. interesting. It would swing from being his usual self, to being this eerily quiet and calm Bakugou. You would’ve guessed that you were having a fever dream, if it weren’t for the fact that he wore his usual scowl on his face.

What remained consistent, despite it all— was that he stayed. He ate lunch in your room. He only left when the doctors and nurses asked him too, but that was only temporary. He stayed with you the entire day, even when the clock stroke 5pm.

But it’s quite literally his birthday? Why would he spend it in a hospital room with some extra? Or idiot? Let alone, why would he take care of said idiot/extra on his birthday? You don’t know because he refuses to tell you on why he spent it here.

“Did you at least get some cake or something?” You ask for the umpteenth time, Bakugou’s paced back and forth for some medicine bottles and bottles of water, and you could tell that he was scowling, despite the fact that he was facing the other direction, “Why the hell would I want cake? You’ve been asking weird shit all day.”

“Because it’s your birthday? Seriously— have you been brainwashed into thinking that it’s not your birthday?”

“What— fuck no. I haven’t been brainwashed.” He turns over to you, “I know today is my birthday.”

“Okay, so you know. Why aren’t you celebrating then? Did people forget? Or am I finally going insane?”

Bakugou chooses to stay silent. He stands up, and walks over to you— everytime he moves closer, you could feel your heart pound, luckily not at a dangerous rate.

“Birthday, birthday, birthday” He grumbles, quiet, but loud enough for you to hear. “That’s all you’ve been talking about. As if like you weren’t the one in the hospital bed as we speak.”

“Okay, is it wrong to remember your birthday?”

“Shut up, I didn’t say that.” He gets closer once again, almost to the point that your faces weren’t that far away.

“You’ve just been so concerned about my damn birthday, that you haven’t even taken a good look at yourself,” He gestures at you, by looking you up and down

You finally take observation of all of the gauzes, the IV tubes, and bandages, his words forcing you to look at what was reality.

“I don’t know why you did what you did, jumping in front of me like some kind of heroic bastard, it’s dumb. For all I know, I should be screaming at you, and wishing you the worst for that.” He clenches his fist when he recalls, the scene replaying in his head

“But what I am saying is that, you can give me a gift if you’re so fucking concerned about my birthday. It’s the least you can do.” His statement is solid enough for you to take him seriously. You wouldn’t have if he was scowling, but it’s quite.. different. An expression you’ve seen all day, but seeing it up close is a different story.

“And that would be..?” You gulp, anticipation bubbles

And just like that, he presses his lips against yours, the warmth of his lips sending shocks of warmth all around your body— the impact was abrupt, but the kiss as a whole was surprisingly gentle

Yet, it was also similar to his quirk, it sparked up spurs of need and sent goosebumps all over your body.

You place a hand on his shoulder, the tubes around your arms making it too difficult to wrap your arms around him as you deepened the kiss, Bakugou’s touch is cautious when he lays his hand on a spot that was the least affected, aware of your injuries. Pushing the small of your back with his hand quite gently, he kisses you like it’ll be the very last— even though you both know it won’t be.

When you both pull back, you’re taken aback— unable to think of coherent words, and a proper response.

But this damn bastard, he smirks at you knowing that he just sent shocks and explosions of intense feelings all around your body, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Wait, that’s unfair!”

“What?”

“I had no idea you even liked me!”

“For the fucking longest time I did, why the hell would I even be in some extras room, if I didn’t care about them?!” He tries not to yell too loudly but, the tone of his voice gets raised

You blink, “And you preferred playing nurse with your crush this entire time, instead of spending it properly like well.. everyone else?”

“Who the hell said— Fucking hell, do I have to kiss you again for you to understand?”

“Enlighten me,” Your mouth quirks up into a smile, which ultimately causes his cheeks to be set ablaze.

“Playing fucking nurse with you isn’t horrible. It’s one way to spend my birthday, even when you give me shit about it” His brows press together, trying to drown out his flustered expressions with a scowl, “There’ll be more birthdays to come, so why would I be ‘wasting’ it here? There, that’s it. You happy now?”

Silence.

“..More than happy. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your thing for playing nur—”

“Don’t you fucking finish that thought,” He says stern. “I’m going to get the nurses to check on you, and then— I’ll go home and come back again, tomorrow.”

He storms off, and when the blond is sure that he’s not in your line of vision anymore— he slumps against the wall

“Fucking hell, they’re driving me crazy.” He mumbles, recalling what he had pulled off earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #happy birthday bakugou ‼️ #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #tldr : bakugou spawns at y/ns bed at the start of every day and takes care of them #but ultimately kisses them when they kept asking about his birthday #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bnha fanfic #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff

[jaskiersvalley]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing and your stories, I'm so glad I found your blog, now I always have something new to read!! ❤️❤️❤️

I remember watching you blitz through the blog, leaving likes on a lot of the stories. It really made my day! Now, who knows how many months late, I bring you some silly Witchers and their mutagens.

Kaer Morhen’s Open Door Policy

When Jaskier was invited to Kaer Morhen, he’d thought the open door policy that Geralt mentioned meant that anyone was welcome to stay for the winter. It warmed his heart that the Wolves were so welcoming and generous with their winter lodgings. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was that said open door policy was a literal thing. He arrived in Kaer Morhen with Geralt, they were stomping snow off their boots when someone rounded the corner at some speed. Slowing down, the man made a beeline for them.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted before he was veritably bowled over in a hug. If Jaskier squinted, he could have sworn Geralt was given a long sniff and maybe even a lick, perhaps over the lips. But surely he must have seen wrong because Jaskier himself wasn’t given such a greeting.

Two more figures appeared and introductions were made to Eskel and Vesemir. It was quite nice really, even if a lonely winter with just the five of them. However, if gave Jaskier a chance to get used to the ways of the keep. Mostly, it was learning to leave doors open a crack and how to keep the hinges well oiled at all times. If he didn’t, it was guaranteed someone would turn up.

At first Jaskier had thought it was because he wasn’t trusted, not an accepted member of the pack. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window, especially when he was dragged into the cuddle piles in front of fires. Those were rather nice, if a little too warm and sweaty for his liking. Yet, every single time he forgot about keeping a door open, whenever it snicked shut behind him or clicked open as he stepped through, within ten seconds one of the other residents appeared. Usually it was Lambert, rounding the corner at quite a pace even as he tried to make it look like he hadn’t dropped everything and run. It was rather offensive in a way, at least that was what Jaskier thought until he was sat quietly in the library, Lambert browsing for something when his head snapped up all of a sudden and he was off at full pelt. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier saw him running. On more than one occasion Lambert almost bowled him over in corridors as he rushed towards whatever he had heard.

“Doors,” Geralt had explained quietly one night. “If we hear a door open or close, there’s this overwhelming urge to go see who it is, what had happened.”

Now that Jaskier knew, he paid more attention. Any door had Lambert running. Much more sedately, Eskel would usually follow, lumbering towards the source of the noise and trying desperately to look like he wasn’t doing exactly like Lambert. However, he had a weakness, as Jaskier discovered. The cupboard doors in the kitchen. If Jaskier, or anyone else for that matter, happened to go and look in one, Eskel was bound to bumble into the kitchen within a short space of time, looking bashfully hopeful. It was cute, Jaskier even started indulging and giving Eskel snacks because the way he softened and smiled at the offering was far too endearing.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Vesemir grumbled as he watched Jaskier hand Eskel half a slice of honey coated bread. Rather than argue, Jaskier gave Vesemir the other half, not commenting on how the old Wolf appeared for seemingly no reason in the kitchen. The treat certainly silenced him.

For a first winter, it was a good one. Jaskier was satisfied when he left that he was getting the hang of the odd open doors policy. It was the next winter that proved to test his patience. As well as the Wolves, there was a Cat there too. Haughty and aloof, Aiden spent most of his time perched up high somewhere. He slowly warmed up to Jaskier though, cautious at first. However, Aiden seemed to be rather fond of the open door policy, only ever opening or closing a door when he wanted attention. And that was rather frequently. More than once a day Lambert would go running because Aiden slammed a door somewhere, wanting to play.

It was all very well until Jaskier had to use the privy. That was one door that the Wolves learned not to run to. Even though Lambert still twitched, head swivelling it its direction before grumbling and returning to what he was doing. Jaskier was trying to just have a peaceful moment to relieve himself, a considerate two stalls down from an occupied booth when he heard someone else come in.

“Lamb?” Aiden’s voice drifted through the air, a little plaintive and lost.

“What?” Not all that unusual for Lambert to sound irritated.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up at the question. What could Lambert be doing in the privy other than the obvious one of four things?

“I’m taking a shit.” Well, that answered which of the four it was but Jaskier could heard the sounds of a body leaning heavily against the door.

“Oh.” Aiden sounded almost disappointed. “I thought I heard some rustling like a snack being opened.”

“I promise I’m not fucking eating while taking a shit. Who eats in here anyway?” Grumbling, Lambert scoffed. “Don’t tell me, I bet it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Geralt most certainly does not eat in the privy.”

The sound of a body moving and Jaskier knew Aiden was stood outside the door to his cubicle. “Jaskier. You’re in there.”

“No I’m not.”

For a moment there was confused silence before Lambert growled. “I swear Aiden, if you don’t leave us alone-” his threat was lost as Aiden moved back to Lambert’s door and there was an odd scratching sound. “No. Aiden. Don’t you dare. You can’t sit on my lap here! Not again. We almost broke it last time. Get out. Get out!”

The sound of a door being kicked shut and a huff from Aiden gave Jaskier a good idea of what had jut happened and he was scared to go out. However, not a minute later another voice joined the fray.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier buried his face in his hands in despair. So much for a peaceful piss.

The whole door thing was becoming quite ridiculous. Especially with Aiden slamming them to get Lambert’s attention. And then being offended whenever he encountered a closed door. Those were all gently knocked on and a head poked through if there was no answer. It meant nothing was private and Vesemir had to use a broom to get Aiden off the top of his wardrobe one evening when the Cat had gone missing all afternoon. He seemed to have no respect or care for anything, not when it came to prime napping spots.

It got to the stage that the common areas had their doors removed and Vesemir started hanging heavy furs in their place. Which did actually make the rooms warmer and there was no more needless running around. Though Eskel still bumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of a shared snack. Jaskier had rapidly cottoned on to the fact Vesemir fought such an urge in a novel and simple way. He was almost always either in the kitchen or within sight of it. So he could see if there was an opportunity for a snack without having to move. The old Wolf was clever, Jaskier had to give him that.

Some days, Jaskier did crave a bit of silence and solitude. Those were rare and far between days but they did happen. When they came, he took to wandering through the crumbling corridors of Kaer Morhen, trying to imagine what it had been like in its glory days. Quite amazing, he should think. So lost was he in his musings, Jaskier didn’t notice until too late that the floor wasn’t solid below his feet. It gave way and he fell with a yelp, landing awkwardly on his ankle. The pain was quite blinding, rendering him into a whimpering mess, throat tight and unable to call for help. Even when he managed to gather himself up, it didn’t seem to help. His voice just didn’t carry and the Wolves probably couldn’t hear him. It was cold, dark and Jaskier was in pain which made it difficult to think. There was a door not far from him and, in a moment of sheer desperation, he pulled himself towards it on shaking arms. Near enough, he reached for it and, with all his might, slammed it shut. It bounced open from the force and echoed through the room. Mustering up a little more energy, Jaskier shoved it again and the crack of door hitting frame made him wince. That would have to do. Jaskier managed to lie down, pillowing his head on his arms, shivering.

His hopes were answered when he heard the steady stomp of running feet skidding to a halt.

“The fuck?” There was the sound of a deep inhale as the area was scented. “Where you got to bard?”

“Down here,” Jaskier called back and squinted towards the hole he had fallen through. “My ankle.”

“Why would you do that? Wait. Never mind.” Lambert turned away and, a hand cupped against his cheek and lips he let out what could only be called a howl before his attention was back on Jaskier. “What did we tell you about wandering off?”

More feet, more people and Jaskier teared up in relief. He watched as Aiden hopped down the hole and took stock of the damage. A soft cry of pain left Jaskier as he was picked up and his ankle was jostled. In a few, seemingly easy, jumps, Aiden was passing Jaskier over to Geralt who cradled him against his chest. There was a still body-warm jacket draped over Jaskier and he burrowed into it, finding Eskel’s scent mixing with Geralt a comfort.

In the infirmary he was patched up, fussed over and, in the end, bundled into a pile in front of a fire where the others snuggled protectively up against him. By the next morning all the doors were back in place and Vesemir ground his teeth when Aiden slammed the kitchen one for Lambert’s attention.

#geraskier #lambden #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #aiden #eskel #vesemir #wolves of kaer morhen #tldr: witchers have traits of their schools

[imagineyourworld]

Misunderstanding

Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: After the war Echo runs into you and Rex, who he mistakes for your husband and the father of your children 

Warnings: Mention of death and war

Check out more of my work here

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The moment Echo saw you a thousand memories came rushing back: Your soft hands on his cheek. Your lips on his lips. Your lips on his skin. How your skin tasted under his lips. Your careless laughter as he carried you home after one too many drinks. That time you showed him how to brew the perfect cup of calming tea. The way you said his name and how your voice sounded when you told him you loved him. The happy smile when the two of you reunited after his supposed death. And the sad smile when you told him that you couldn’t go with him.  That had been almost three years ago now. At first both of you had made an effort to talk every day, then, as the war got busier, every other day until it was every week, once a month and then, a little more than two years ago, the two of you had said your last goodbyes.  But now here you were, looking not a day older, and even more beautiful, than the last time Echo had seen you.  He took a moment to just look at you. Your hair was a bit shorter, maybe a shade of two darker as well, and your style had changed. During your relationship he had mostly seen you in your scrubs at work or sweats at home, now you looked more comfortable in your clothes, more like yourself.  Too late, only after he had already called your name and you had turned around, did Echo notice that you were holding the hand of a little girl. Her curious eyes looked him up and down before turning to you. She said something Echo couldn’t hear, but he did see the smile that lit up your face as you walked closer, pulling the girl along with you.  “Echo, I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”, you asked.  You still said his name the same way, your smile was the same and your eyes lit up like they always did when you looked at him, but all Echo could focus on was the little girl, who was staring at him. Was she yours? The daughter you had with someone else? Someone who had replaced Echo in your heart? He should have known this would happen, it had to eventually, but that didn’t help the pain, not when Echo himself had thought of you ever day for the past three years, when he never stopped loving you.  “I... I decided that it might be time for me to settle, and since most of my brothers have made their lives here on Coruscant I thought I would do the same.”  Echo didn’t add that there had also been the small hope that you might still be living on Coruscant.  “So you’re gonna stay here? That’s amazing, we’ll have to catch up some time soon”, you said, the smile on your face growing with every word. Echo just nodded. What else was he supposed to say? Luckily he didn’t have to say anything else, because the girl took the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation.  “Who are you?”, she asked, her expression both curious and vary.  You looked down at her with a stern expression but fondness in your eyes.  “Leia, you could’ve asked a bit more nicely. But this is Echo”, you told her. Your eyes went away from the girl to focus on Echo. “He’s... and old... friend.”  Yes, the words stung, but Echo understood that it was probably the best way to introduce your daughter to your ex boyfriend.  “And Echo, this is Leia, sh-”, you started, but were soon interrupted by a small voice calling out the girl’s name.  Another child, a boy, appeared, with a big smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand.  “Guess what I have!”, he said with a grin, holding the bag out for the girl to peek into.  Echo was now looking at the boy. He didn’t seem to be older or younger than the girl, so maybe he wasn’t another child of yours but Leia’s friend. Though they did look somewhat alike.  “Luke, you can’t run off like that”, a familiar voice called from behind Echo.  He refused to turn around, as long as he didn’t see who was coming up behind him, who clearly belonged to you and the children, a childish part of himself told him that it wouldn’t be true. But your words confirmed his fear.  “Rex, it’s fine”, you laughed. “Luke’s safe, he was only ahead of you by like a meter.”  Echo now looked at his brother. He looked a bit older than the last time he saw him, probably due to their rapid aging, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed at all, still caring and commanding and loving. Echo closed his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at you and Rex and your children, because from the way the four of you interacted he could tell that you belonged together.  Of course he had known that you would move on, though a small irrational part of him had hoped that you might wait for him to come back to you someday. But why did you have to move on with his brother? And not just any brother, one he had always been close to. And how could Rex do this, he knew more than anyone, other than Fives at least, how much Echo had always loved you.  Of course Echo knew that he should be happy for you, and part of him was, but seeing you and your family, seeing your happy smiles and the love in your eyes, just killed him.  “Echo, vod, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”, Rex asked as he put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately.  Before Echo could answer you interrupted him with an apologetic smile. “Rex, we have to meet Padmé in 10 minutes, we better hurry. But Echo, how about you come by our apartment around 7 this evening and we’ll catch up?” 

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Echo had debated whether to actually go and see you, but in the end he decided that he might regret it more if he backed out. Plus Hunter had basically pushed him out the door and left him no other choice.  So here he was, in front of your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the one you had lived in during the war.  His fist had barely touched the door when you already pulled it open and ushered Echo inside.  For a moment the two of you just stood in the hallway, looking at each other and not saying anything.  “Rex just went to buy a bottle of wine, he should be back shortly”, you said as you lead Echo further into the apartment.  He soon found himself in a larger room, which served as both living room and dining room, with the kitchen attached and only separated by a kitchen island. As he looked around he recognized most of the furniture from your old apartment, the one he had spent countless hours in, as well as photographs both old and new with many familiar faces in them. A couple were just you and Rex, but most of them had General Skywalker, Commander Tano, General Kenobi or Senator Amidala in them, along with many of his brothers. He also spotted his favourite picture, the one had had carried a copy of wherever he went, of him kissing your cheek while Fives enveloped the two of you in a hug. He was surprised to see it hanging in your living room. But what surprised him even more was how clean everything was. You had always been a tidy person, but he had suspected that children would still leave the place a bit messy. Speaking of...  “Are Luke and Leia going to join us?”, he asked.  A surprised look crossed your face before you shook your head.  “They’re with Padmé and Anakin.”  Echo nodded. Maybe it was for the best not to have the children around, the dinner would be awkward and they might only make it worse.  “How nice of the General and Senator Amidala to babysit.”  You stopped pouring water in your glass and looked at Echo in surprise.  “They’re not babysitting, the twins are their kids. Rex and I were the ones who were babysitting this morning.”  It was safe to say that Echo had not been expecting this revelation. He had been so sure that you and Rex were the parents. But his little moment of relief was cut short when he realized that this didn’t change anything. You and Rex were still a couple, you still lived together and had a life together, a life Echo had no place in.  “Are you planning on having kids then?” The question was out before Echo could stop himself. This was none of his business, it might even be better if he didn’t know. But he just had to know, having children was the one thing about your future the two of you had never talked about, had never dared to even think about in the middle of a war, but that hadn’t stopped Echo from hoping to one day raise a family with you, and he had to know if his brother was now living that unspoken dream.  “I’m not opposed to the idea, but who would I have a child with? I’m not really fond of the idea of doing this on my own”, you admitted with a nervous laugh.  Echo tore his eyes away from the plate he had been fixating on to look at you. Try as he might, he couldn’t read your expression.  “With Rex, of course. He’s your”, he started before stopping for a moment to scan your fingers for a ring, when he didn’t find one he continued. “Boyfriend. Rex is your boyfriend.”  Saying the words out loud hurt, more than Echo would ever want to admit, but it was your laughter that actually broke his hear, and your words that mended it again.  “Rex is not my boyfriend, he’s my friend. Probably my best friend and maybe more like a brother, but most certainly not my boyfriend.”  After everything he had been through there wasn’t much that could render Echo speechless, but this confession could. It took him a moment, and a thorough scan of your serious expression, for him to formulate his next sentence.  “But the two of you live together”, he finally said.  For a moment you didn’t say anything. Then you took his hand, your skin still as soft and warm as he remembered, and led him over to your couch. Softly you pulled on his arm to get him to sit next to you, closer than he would have sat while still thinking that you were in love with his brother, but not as close as he really wanted.  “Rex and I are friends, nothing more. We live together because no matter how much some politicians try, clones still have little rights and it was easier for him to move in with me than to get his own place. But Echo, I never, ever, though about Rex in any romantic way, nor he about me. I... There has only ever been one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, one person I wanted to marry and have children with and grown old with, and that person is you. Echo, it’s always been you and it always will be. I loved you ever since you carried Fives into the medbay with his broken leg and I never stopped, not when I though you were dead, not when you went away with the Bad Batch. And seeing you again only showed me how much I missed you, how much I don’t want to let you go again. But of course I understand that you’ve probably moved on.”  There were a million things Echo might have said, but for now he decided to forgo any explanations. Instead he put one of his hands on your waist and the other behind your head. Slowly he leaned closer, giving you every chance to pull way, but instead you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss.  “I love you. Always have, always will”, he whispered against your lips before you reconnected in another kiss.  The two of you were so busy with kisses and declarations of love that you didn’t notice the door opening and closing and Rex telling you that he’d spend the night at Cody’s to give the two of you a bit of privacy.  But you didn’t notice and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were together again, you still loved each other and the galaxy was at peace, giving you time to rebuild your relationship and relishing in your love. 

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This is short and unoriginal and corny, but after today’s episode I just had to write something about Echo and the idea of him misunderstanding your relationship with one of his brothers just popped into my head, and due to Echo’s obvious love for and trust in Rex in this episode it just had to be him 

#echo x reader #echo imagine #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo imagine #echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo imagine

[adorethedistance]

9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought. 

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

#Julie and the phantoms #Julie and the phantoms fanfiction #Julie and the phantoms fanfic #Julie and the phantoms fic #Julie and the phantoms writing #Julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the phantoms oneshot #Julie and the phantoms one shot #Julie and the phantoms smut #Julie and the phantoms angst #Julie and the phantoms fluff #Julie and the phantoms x reader #Julie and the phantoms x y/n #Jatp #Luke Patterson #Luke Patterson fanfiction #Luke Patterson fanfic #Luke Patterson fic #Luke Patterson writing #Luke Patterson imagine #Luke Patterson oneshot #Luke Patterson one shot #Luke Patterson smut #Luke Patterson fluff #Luke Patterson angst #Luke Patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n

[tloujm]

Part XXVII: Captive

Author’s Notes: N/A

Genre: Angst

Summary: Joel and the rest of his patrol group find themselves in danger. You become emotional after receiving some startling results.

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Joel leaned forward against the counter as he wrote his entry into the log book. There wasn’t much to say. The little log cabin that acted as their first checkpoint was clear of any danger and showed no signs of tampering since the last entry. He closed the book and looked back at his two patrol partners. Marcus and Glen were resting in their respective spots. Joel figured it was time for him to do the same when he saw a shadow pass in front of one of the living room windows. His brows furrowed as his focus heightened. It could have been a number of things that he saw. Glen noticed his hardened demeanor and asked what was wrong. All Joel did in response was put one finger over his lips and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the handle of his pistol.

One of the floorboards that made up the porch creaked. The sound went away just as quickly as it appeared as if a competent being had known they made a mistake and removed their foot from it. It was at this point, Joel knew it wasn’t just some lost deer roaming around the premises. The other men followed suit and aimed their guns at the entry points. The air was very still save from the dust particles that floated in ray of sunlight across the living room. It was also eerily quiet. The three of them exchanged quick glances. Joel was about to walk up to the door when it swung open from the outside. A small group of men rushed in and immediately opened fire. 

Joel ducked and crawled over to the kitchen. He flipped the table over to use it as a shield. His thoughts immediately settled on the safety of his partners before he peeked his head out to see where everyone was. Marcus was hiding behind the couch. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he stuck his hand out to shoot blindly at the attackers. Joel popped up from behind the table to shoot them. A bullet hit one of the men’s shoulder while another managed to hit another in the cheek, rendering him useless. He ducked back behind his makeshift shield a split second before a bullet could graze him. 

The attackers were currently distracted by Marcus shooting at them again. Joel took this opportunity to crawl away and find another place for cover to catch them at a different angle. As soon as he peeked his head around the other side of the table, he saw a pool of fresh blood. His eyes followed it to the source to reveal Glen laying on the floor. His eyes stared blankly out at the wall in front of where his body laid. Joel quickly took cover behind the table again and gathered himself for a second before making a run for it. 

With a rush of adrenaline, Joel shot at the attackers which inadvertently covered Marcus as he ran to another place of cover. He managed to wound them, but not kill any. They took cover behind the same couch Marcus used. During the few moments of stalemate, he noticed that only two took cover and if he killed one early, then that left one more…Joel’s vision suddenly went black a split second after a sharp pain shot through his head.

A pounding ache tormented Joel’s entire head. His vision first came back blurry then all at once clear. He pushed himself up from the cold cement floor into a sitting position. He noticed that it was significantly colder than before as he instinctively shivered. Large hunks of meat hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. His legs almost felt foreign under his weight as he got up. The sound of metal hitting something hard echoed into the room he was in. Following the source of the sound, he accidentally bumped into one of the hunks. As it swayed back and forth on the hook, Joel noticed features familiar to him. His eyes darted from the hair around the belly button to the nipples at the top. They widened in realization that the hunks of meat were human torsos and that the men who attacked him were cannibals. 

A loud chop brought his attention back, leading him to cautiously follow the sound again. Quietly, he picked up a lead pipe off of a shelf on his way. He came to a halt at the doorway. A strange man’s back was to Joel as he hovered over a naked body on the table. One of the legs was already detached and pushed aside, almost falling off the table. The cannibal lifted his hand with the cleaver to do the same with the other leg when Joel ran up to him and pressed the pipe against his throat from behind. He gagged as the knife fell out of his hand. Joel applied more pressure against his windpipe as he brought his arms into his chest. His eyes flashed over to the bloody body on the table. If it wasn’t for the cannibal leaving the head on, he wouldn't have recognized him as his patrol partner, Marcus. Just like Glen, his eyes looked blankly on. They focused on a spot beyond Joel. 

He released the pipe from its position against his throat and let him drop to the floor. Rage overtook him as he instead swung the pipe against his head. He kept at it until he was sure that he was dead. Even then, he wanted to add a couple more swings, but he knew that he wasn’t the only one he’d have to fight to get out of there. It wasn’t worth getting caught or spending extra energy on if he stayed to beat his head into a pulp. Hesitantly, he approached the dismembered body on the table and closed his partner’s eyelids before moving on to the next room. 

******

Your foot tapped against the floor almost uncontrollably as you waited. You let your head fall into your hands as to avoid staring down at the stick on the counter. The sound of the door swinging open caused you to pop your head up to find Ellie on the other side of the bathroom. 

“Uh, sorry. I forgot to knock.” She said in a low tone. It looked like she needed to pee, so you swiftly ushered her in and closed the door behind you. As the door clicked, you forgot to take the stick with you. Pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door, you listened as she flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet. Surely she saw it just sitting there. You only stopped when she opened the door again. She stood there in front of you silently for a few moments. “Is that yours?” Her head nodded in the direction of the counter. 

“Mmhmm.” You hummed and nodded. “Is it ready?”

Ellie turned and hovered over the stick. “Does two lines mean it’s ready?”

“Oh my God.” You whispered. “Fuck.” You began repeating the expletive before sitting back down on the edge of the tub. 

You grabbed the stick to double check for yourself and there it was, two very distinct lines. If one line was faded, you would try to convince the nurse to administer you another test, but this seemed pretty definitive. You didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted this, but you still couldn’t help the nerves that flared up across your body. Guilt began to rise as you regretted not waiting for Joel to do this with. He would know how to feel. You continued to sit there, imagining him sitting on the edge of the tub with you. He’d take the test from your hands and double check the instructions from the box before smiling. You would imagine him engulfing you in a hug, tucking his head in your neck and mumbling some words of joy that you couldn’t quite discern. 

Though the daydream offered a sense of comfort, you were snapped out of it when a real pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle. You looked down and saw Ellie sitting next to you on the edge of the tub. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Her presence, while an accidental invasion of privacy, was welcomed. You repositioned yourself in her arms to hug her back. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to curse in front of you.” You whispered into her hair.

“I’ve heard worse.” She replied with a playful tone in her voice.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Mmhmm.” She hummed lightly.

“That this stays between us.” You wipe a tear away. “I have to talk to Joel and then the doctor.”

“Who am I going to tell?” She said, referencing the fact that you’d never seen her converse with anyone else since she first spoke in front of you and Joel. 

*******

“Hey, Tommy, give me a hand with this.” A resident of Jackson yelled out. Your head whipped around in his direction. You’d been looking for Tommy all day. The resident was sitting down near the stables trying to get a horseshoe off a huff. Tommy stepped out of the shelter and came into your view.

“Tommy, hey! I hope you’re not busy now. I’ve been looking for you actually.” You said when you got closer to them.

He bent down to get a closer look at the huff. “I always have time for you; you’re family. Now what’s wrong?”

“Well, Joel and ‘em aren’t back yet from their patrol. They were scheduled to be back two days ago. I know sometimes things happen that delay their travels---”

“Exactly.” He finally pulled the horseshoe off and tossed it into the dirt. “Any number of things could have happened out there that caused them to veer off plan. Those three are some of our most experienced patrolmen. We both know firsthand what Joel is capable of.” He noticed that his words were not easing the worry written across your face. “Did you know that I spent five extra days out on one of my patrols. It was the toughest route I ever did, but every decision we made as a group was for the betterment of our survival even if it meant staying out there a little longer. Five days really isn’t normal though. I’ll tell you what, I’ll get on the walkie and ask our scavenging group to see if they see any signs of them heading back. They should still be close enough to catch Jackson’s frequency. Their route is right next to Joel’s; it should be no problem for them.”

“And what if they don’t see any signs?”

“You know what our emergency policy is. We send out a search and rescue crew if the original group is not back within six days.”

“Does that not seem like it’s too long to you?” You asked.

“Like I said, especially on longer routes, they can be delayed for a number of reasons. I know it's not what you want to hear, but we’ve wasted resources and lost lives in the past to premature rescue missions.”

“Tommy, that’s your brother! Wouldn’t you want him to go out looking for you if you were out there possibly in trouble?” You said frustratingly.

“I know he would go out and look for me when it was time. Everybody who is cleared to patrol knows what the emergency rescue policy is. They were trained for situations like this just as you were. I’m sorry.” Tommy placed a hand on your shoulder as he tried to find compliance in your eyes. “I left my radio in the stable. I’ll go and try to contact the scavenging group now. Hopefully they are still in range.” You nodded before he walked off.

#TLOU #TLOUII #TLOU2 #thelastofus #joel miller #joel x reader #the last of us joel #tlou joel #tlou joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel x fem!reader #Joel Miller x Fem!Reader #joel miller x you

[dickspeightjrs]

New Year’s Eve (au / 1.6k words / parent!destiel)

ao3 link

Ten years ago, Dean would never have dreamed of being at home on New Year’s Eve. But now? He couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

Taking in the sight in front of him, he wouldn’t change a thing.

The TV was playing quietly with the sounds of the DVD menu repeating itself. He could feel the warm weight of a small body relaxed against him.

Looking down he could see the blond wisps of hair on his daughter’s head. The three-year-old had been determined to stay awake until midnight like everyone else but it seemed she’d been defeated by the sleep monster (which surprised absolutely no one).

Dean reached out a careful hand, making sure not to jostle Emma in her slumber, to grab her Frozen blanket from her lap and wrap it around her shoulders.

Another hand reached across to help secure the wrapping. Dean allowed the comforting hand to brush against his and looked up to meet his husband’s eye.

“So much for her wanting to stay awake like a big girl.” Blue eyes lit up with a chuckle.

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Guess she must have crashed out after the second load of candy and Tangled.”

“Though, to be fair,” Castiel said, eying the clock on the wall above the fireplace, “it’s only fifteen minutes until midnight, so she was close.”

“Hm,” Dean agreed. “She’ll have to try for a new record next year.”

Castiel chuckled, a small smile gracing his features. Dean let himself get lost in it for a moment.

He wasn’t usually one to be overly sentimental (he left that to his brother Sammy) but looking at his husband in the dim light of their living room, Dean couldn’t help but be grateful to whoever looked down on them that he got another year with the man.

Dean hadn’t been joking when he thought about how he used to spend his New Years Eve. The Dean before he met Cas was one that he now couldn’t believe ever existed.

His childhood wasn’t the happiest, which resulted in Dean searching for that happiness in other places. As a teenager, and into his twenties, Dean found himself stumbling in and out of bars with an endless stream of black eyes and bed partners.

But then he’d met Cas – who had just graduated from college – and everything changed.

“What are you thinking about?” Castiel asked, softly, bringing Dean back to the moment.

“Just how much I love you.” Dean hummed.

Castiel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mr Sentimental, I think it’s time for bed for you too.”

Dean was ready with a retort about how being a little romantic wasn’t because he was tired, but a yawn fought its way up through his throat instead, rendering his point useless.

Castiel levelled Dean with an arched eyebrow, which Dean knew all too well meant I told you so.

“Okay, fine,” Dean relented. “Let’s head to bed. You tidy up the movie snacks in here and I’ll take Em upstairs. Meet you up there in five?”

His husband nodded in agreement and placed a soft kiss on their daughter’s head as Dean scooped her carefully into his arms – keeping the blanket cocoon firmly in place around her.

Walking through the house to the bottom of the stairs, Dean holds Emma firmly but lovingly in his arms.

She was another addition to his life that he’d never seen coming.

After raising his brother, Dean had sworn off having children of his own. Not that it was Sam’s fault, that kid turned out great, but Dean had had parenthood forced upon him once. There was no way he was going to voluntarily choose it again.

Even his developing relationship with Castiel wasn’t going to change it.

That was until Dean had attended a particularly bad call at work.

He had followed his secret dream of becoming a firefighter once Castiel had managed to needle it out of him (perceptive bastard). To start with, most calls had been pretty average with the occasional major job thrown in.

But this call had been the worst Dean had ever attended.

Some guys had hijacked a lorry and taken it for a joyride, only stopping when they eventually collided with an on-coming car in the other lane.

The sole survivor of the entire wreck was a little baby girl, trapped but ultimately unhurt in the backseat of the car.

It had been Dean’s job to monitor her as the others worked to cut open the car to get to her safely.

In those moments, Dean fell in love with the little girl. Despite the environment surrounding her, she didn’t cry. Instead, she spent the whole time with her tiny fist grasped around Dean’s finger and staring up at him with the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen – ones that reminded him of Castiel.

Eventually, after safely retrieving her from the wreckage, Dean held her close as he allowed the paramedics check her over. Dean had let out a sigh of relief when they said it didn’t seem that she’d sustained any injuries, but they’d decided to take her to the hospital for a full check up anyway.

Staying with her in the ambulance, Dean kept his firm hold on her as she finally cried from sheer exhaustion. He rocked her gently from side-to-side, cautious that she still hadn’t been given the all-clear.

She soon settled and the paramedic, Jody, who Dean had worked with on a few occasions, made a quip about him being the baby whisperer. Dean just chuckled and looked down at the now sleeping baby and felt himself reconsider his stance on having children of his own.

Upon reaching the hospital, Dean was met by a police officer and some lady who worked for children’s services.

It turned out that the little girl’s parents didn’t have any relatives that were capable of taking her into their care. She was going to be fostered with the intention of being adopted.

Dean’s heart broke for her. He knew what it was like to have a disrupted childhood and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

He reluctantly handed her over to the children’s services lady, his finger feeling cold without the warm, tiny touch of the baby’s hand wrapped around it.

That night, Dean recounted the events of the day to Castiel as they lay in bed together. Into the curve of Castiel’s neck, he whispered the thoughts that had been plaguing him since he’d left the hospital. The admittedly absurd idea, hope, that Dean could keep her himself. Dean couldn’t even look his new husband in the eye, knowing how stupid the idea was.

But, as always, Castiel had been the voice of logic and reason and he’d replied in an equally soft whisper that it wasn’t stupid or absurd and you never know if you don’t try.

And so, it began. The long, almost painful, process of bringing her home with them. It had taken a little while for anyone to actually them seriously but soon they knew that Dean would give anything to give the little girl, whose name turned out to be Emma – the most beautiful name Dean was sure he’d ever heard, the childhood and life she deserved. The one that he never got to have.

It was almost Emma’s first birthday by the time Dean carried her into their home for the first time as their daughter. Castiel immediately framing the adoption certificate and displaying it proudly on the mantel.

Fireworks brought Dean out of his wistful musings. Emma stirred a little in his arms and he realised what the fireworks meant; it was midnight! The new year had begun.

Realising there was something he forgot to do, Dean cradled Emma tightly to his chest and turned on his heel to dash away from the stairs and instead towards the kitchen.

Castiel looked up from the dishes he was putting away with a face filled with confusion.

“Dean? Is everything ok-“ Castiel was cut off by Dean’s lips on his.

“I almost missed our New Years’ kiss.” Dean explained as he pulled away.

Castiel let out a breath of laughter. “We’ve been together for six years; I think it’s okay not to have a New Years’ kiss every year.” He said, moving into Dean’s space, encasing Emma between them.

“Nope! Not happening. Sorry, Cas. You’re stuck with giving me a New Years’ kiss every year for the rest of our lives.” Dean laughed, leaning in to give his husband an over-exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

The movement jostled their sleeping daughter and she blinked awake, rubbing at her eyes. She made a disgruntled noise at being woken up from her otherwise perfect sleep.

“Oh, hello there, sleepyhead!” Castiel grinned down at her.

Emma frowned in response. “I didn’t fall asleep! I stayed awake the whole time!”

Dean chuckled, bouncing his pouting daughter in his arms, “Sure kiddo, whatever you say,” he grinned. “But awake or not, you’re definitely going to sleep now. Say goodnight to Daddy.”

“Night, night, Daddy,” Emma yawned as she waved at Castiel.

“Goodnight, Sweet Pea,” Castiel replied, leaning over to give her a kiss on the head again.

Before Castiel could get too far away, Dean swooped in to place another kiss on his lips.

“I’ll meet you in bed.” Dean winked over Emma’s head.

Castiel shook his head affectionately in response.

They both knew that in all reality they’d be asleep before their heads hit the pillow. Leaving the new year to creep in while they are curled up together.

And Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

A/N: My first fic posted in nearly two months! Hope you enjoyed :)

Please REBLOG if you liked it.

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TAGS: @manicpixiedreamcas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @dreamnovak @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @heller-jensen @chill-legilimens @ccstiel @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @breathingdestiel @simplymisha

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#destiel #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #destielfanficnet #myfic #fluff #1k #au #parent!dean #parent!cas #minor:emma #married!destiel #established relationship

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #domestic hotchniss #happy hotchners #pointless plotless fluff

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Do you any suggestion for Super Sentai?plz

*cracks knuckles*

Well first off, if anyone wanting to get into Super Sentai watched Power Rangers growing up, I’d check out the series whatever season you watched was adapted from to see how things went there in comparison to how they were in the United States. So if you grew up with the original Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, watch Kyoryu Sentai Zyuranger. If you don’t know what the Sentai the season you grew up with is called, I’d check out RangerWiki, which provides a lot of information on both franchises.

I’d also recommend checking out a few episodes of the very first Super Sentai entry, Himitsu Sentai Gorenger. Not all 84 episodes, mind you, but I’d just watch a few to see where Super Sentai got its roots from, because the team football attack gets referenced a lot further down the line. Yes, you read that correctly.

But for individual seasons for beginners, it’s harder for me to answer. Super Sentai has varied aesthetically and tonally across its 45 year run. Some shows are dark and gritty, while others are light-hearted and goofy. Some shows have a vehicle motif, while others use animals for a motif. So the seasons I’m going to talk about will cover all kinds of tones and themes across the years. I also haven’t seen every single entry, so these are the ones I’ve seen that I recommend for beginners.

Denshi Sentai Denziman (1980-1981, 51 Episodes)

Centuries ago, the evil Vader Clan conquered and decimated the Denzi Civilization. In the modern day, the talking dog IC awoke from his slumber when the Vader Clan began their invasion of Earth. So IC recruits five people to become the Denzimen to defend their planet and stop the Vader Clan once and for all.

The first three seasons of Super Sentai were very experimental, but Denziman was where Toei started to get an identity for Sentai down. Not only would the black visors and sculpted mouthpieces become a staple for Sentai’s (and by extension, Power Rangers) suit designs, but this was also the first season to really start a few Sentai traditions. It was the first season to have female villains, the first to use a transformation device for the heroes, the first time the monsters grew to fight the team’s giant robot.

The Denzimen, while not really going through any character development, are still very likable characters, especially Denzi Blue/Daigoro (played by legendary tokusatsu actor Kenji Ohba). The villains are also a lot of fun, a real improvement from the first three villain groups, who were all basically Earth-based terrorist organizations and/or death cults. The Vader Clan is full of villains who are just as entertaining to watch as the heroes, especially Queen Hedrian, played by the late Machiko Soga, who would later go on to play Witch Bandora, the character Rita Repulsa is adapted from in Power Rangers. There’s not that much of an ongoing for most of the series, and it can get pretty goofy at times, but it’s still a really good show.

Choushinsei Flashman (1986-1987, 50 Episodes). 

Five infants are abducted by the Reconstructive Experiment Empire Mess to use as test subjects for experimentation, but are saved by benevolent aliens from the Flash Solar System. They all spend the next twenty years in the system developing their combat skills and special powers until they decide to head back to Earth to fight Mess themselves as the Flashmen, despite the warnings of their alien caretakers.

The 1980s are usually referred to by fans as Super Sentai’s golden age, with a string of great seasons thanks to famed writer Hirohisa Soda. Flashman is no exception. While Denziman tended to have more stand-alone episodes, Flashman is more story-driven. Later on, there’s a really dark plot twist that I don’t want to give away. Admittedly, some of the special effects can be dated to showcase the Flashmen’s powers in addition to stock footage being reused a lot, but the action and camerawork are still fast-paced and rarely do the fight scenes get boring.

The villains are the kind you love to hate, and their actors all give great performances, especially the late Unsho Ishizuka (the Japanese voice of Professor Oak) as Great Emperor La Deus. This is easily one of the darker Super Sentai entries, but if you don’t mind that, I highly recommend it.

Choujuu Sentai Liveman (1988-1989 49 Episodes). 

At an academy for the finest minds in the world, three of the students feel their talents are being wasted on designing a satellite to conduct scientific research. They soon join up with Great Professor Bias, leader of the Armed Brain Army Volt, who takes them all under his wing as his students and generals. Before they leave, they kill two students, leaving their three friends traumatized. Two years later, Volt begins its plan to conquer Earth, but the three friends of the two victims developed their own technology to fight them as the Livemen in the two years since they last saw their former classmates. Bias’ students have developed their own abilities through mutating their bodies, starting a conflict between some of the most intelligent youths in the world while figuring out what Bias’ evil plan is...

Some Sentai fans consider this to be even darker than Flashman at times due to the themes discussed. Unlike earlier seasons, the heroes have a more personal connection to the villains, and act as foils to them in terms of morality. The show also has some surprisingly deep themes at times, deconstructing the harsh standards the Japanese have for education and the effects they can have on people. Seriously, the main villain, Great Professor Bias, sets up a competition for his generals as a way to advance his plans, treating it like a high academic honor. 

This series also has some amazing special effects for the time. This was the first Sentai series to have an animal motif, so they go all out by using one of the most complicated models for his giant robotic lion, a stunning innovation for special effects. It was also the first series to introduce the gimmick of combining two robots, which is a genius marketing tactic when you think about it, motivating kids to buy both robots to combine them. Even putting those technical aspects aside, this is still one of the most iconic Super Sentai seasons, and a must-watch for beginners.

Choujin Sentai Jetman (1991-1992, 51 Episodes)

An elite soldier is chosen for a top-secret military project meant to turn him into the leader of a team of supersoldiers called the Jetmen. After he gets his powers, the satellite base is attacked by the Dimensional War Party Vyram. Not only are the four remaining “Birdonic Waves” meant to empower the rest of the Jetmen scattered across Earth, powering four civilians instead, but the soldier’s fiance is killed in the process. So he has to recruit the rest of the Jetmen and form a competent team to stop the Vyram from conquering their dimension.

A lot of Precure fans view Heartcatch as the best series in the entire franchise, and many Sentai fans view Jetman the same way. It was a huge success in ratings and toy sales, which actually helped to save Super Sentai from cancellation after the disastrous sales and ratings of the previous series, Chikyuu Sentai Fiveman. It also had some elements that made it stand out from earlier Sentai seasons. While I’ve talked about how Marinette was forced to become Guardian against her will while the show doesn’t acknowledge it, this show actually does point out that almost the entire team is a group of civilians with no combat experience. Earlier episodes are not only spent assembling the team, but also training them to better fight the Vyram and pilot their giant robot.

The series introduced a love triangle for three of the Jetmen, and while controversial among fans, was very popular with Japanese mothers, who were rumored to find Gai/Black Condor very attractive and begged Toei to not kill him off. The love triangle, while arguably one of the weakest parts of this show (but still better written than the Love Square), was part of the main theme of the team being more conflicted, showing they weren’t all best friends all the time.

This extended to the Vyram, who also tended to fight with each other over their plans to conquer the Earth. Sure, there was the occasional villain in earlier seasons who tried to overthrow the big bad, but this was the first time we had a whole group of villains trying to one-up each other. The best way to describe the Vyram is if the cast of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia were supervillains who were still competent at their jobs.

The series is also incredibly dark, and is often seen as the darkest Sentai has ever gotten. There’s a lot more violence and blood than usual, and a lot more onscreen deaths that aren’t just limited to the villains. Humans are actively killed or hurt in the crossfire, and it shows just how painful this war is. And because of all of that and many other reasons, this is seen as the peak of Super Sentai. If you have to watch a single Sentai series, watch Jetman.

Ninja Sentai Kakuranger (1994-1995, 53 Episodes)

During Japan’s Sengoku Era, a team of five ninja sealed away the leader of an army of Youkai, rendering their kind powerless. In the present day, one of the few surviving Youkai tricks two bikers, who are actually descendants of two of the ninja in the past, into undoing the seal and giving all of the Youkai their powers back. Another descendant of the ninja recruits them into taking on the legacy of their ancestors to fight the Youkai, becoming the Kakurangers.

The 1990s were when Super Sentai was starting to delve more into fantasy elements rather than just science-fiction, and also started to take on a more light-hearted tone. Kakuranger is no exception. It’s a lot more goofy than the other entries, even using comic book-style graphics during its fight scenes. There’s also a narrator who appears to explain the history of the Youkai of the week, a detail I really like. While this show is still unashamedly goofy, it still gets more serious in the second half, but never loses its comedic moments entirely.

Like with Jetman, Kakuranger shows the reality of drafting two civilians to fight a war against the supernatural, with only one of the first three Kakurangers knowing how to fight. That Kakuranger in question, Tsuruhime/Ninja White, is easily one of the best Sentai heroines of all time. Not only was the first female and non-Red to lead a Sentai team, but she was only fifteen years old while the other Kakurangers were in their twenties. Marinette could learn a lot from her, and no, that’s not an insult. Tsuruhime is a complete badass, and a team-up with Ladybug would be the coolest thing ever.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, watch Kakuranger.

Kyukyu Sentai GoGoV (1999-2000, 50 Episodes)

The demonic children of the Grand Witch Grandiene begin causing natural disasters to bring destruction to Earth in order to revive their mother. In response, five rescue workers who also happen to be siblings are recruited by their estranged father to become a team dedicated to saving lives from the Psyma Family’s actions.

Did anyone ever watch Rescue Heroes as a kid? Imagine that show, but with the intensity turned up to eleven. This show is epic, with amazing action and some of the coolest giant robots in Sentai history. One of their robots is a giant train armed to the teeth with guns. Even putting aside the action, this show does a great job at highlighting all the dedication rescue workers have to their jobs by showing a lot of rescue scenes in addition to having GoGoV fight the Psyma. It even teaches the audience about firefighters from Japan’s Edo Period. There’s really not a lot of shows that explain what rescue workers were like in the past, which shows just how invested this show is in teaching people about rescue workers.

While this wasn’t the first Sentai series to feature a team of siblings (the first being the aforementioned Fiveman), I think it managed to capture the dynamic best. Family is a key theme of the series, with the healthy relationship between GoGoV contrasting with the more toxic environment the Psyma Family has.

This is easily one of the most action-packed Sentai series ever made. It is literally Fire Force twenty years before that anime premiered, and it is AWESOME.

Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger (2004-2005, 50 Episodes)

In the not-too-distant future (Next Sunday, A.D.), the universe has come together to the point where Earth has made contact with several intelligent alien civilizations. However, intergalactic arms dealer Agent Abrella starts to help out the extraterrestrial criminals on Earth, called Alienizers, by providing technology and giant robots to them because he enjoys profiting from crime, and dreams of a world without the police. In response the organization Special Police Dekaranger, or S.P.D., brings together a team of officers to apprehend the Alienizers.

You want to see space cops doing space cop stuff? Then this is the show for you. Admittedly, this isn’t the most story-driven show, but is instead carried by its characters, who go through a lot of development. The Dekarangers have one of the best team dynamics in Sentai history. All of them are very likable characters, and it’s a lot of fun to see them interact. But the best character in the show goes to the Dekarangers’ boss, Doggie Kruger/Dekamaster, a dog alien who becomes a Dekaranger himself, labeling himself The Watchdog of Hell. That has to be the coolest title any superhero has ever had. Dekamaster is another one of the greatest Super Sentai characters ever, taking down a hundred goons in his first battle by himself.

I haven’t even gotten to Agent Abrella, one of the coolest Sentai villains of all time. He’s obsessed with profit and chaos, and he’s easily one of the most sadistic main villains compared to his predecessors. He isn’t some evil emperor who wants to rule the world. He just wants to raise hell and make a quick buck from it. He’s also voiced by Ryusei Nakao, the Japanese voice of Frieza from Dragon Ball Z. That’s another appeal of Sentai, the voice talent. A lot of big-name voice actors have voiced characters, like Mao Ichimichi and Kotono Mitsuishi. Hell, the currently ongoing Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger has Yuki Kaji of Attack on Titan fame voicing one of the main characters.

Dekaranger is easily one of the most popular Sentai seasons out there, as it has a lot of additional material. Not only did the Dekarangers get a theatrically released film like many other seasons before it, they teamed up with two separate Sentai teams, some of them cameoed in the anniversary series Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger, they got a reunion movie ten years after its finale, four of the Dekarangers guest starred in another Sentai series two years after that, Uchu Sentai Kyuranger, which served as a prologue to a team-up with another Toei hero, Uchuu Kenji Gavan, and then that led into the Dekarangers cameoing in another Kyuranger movie meant to be an epilogue to that series.

Yeah, this is why I haven’t talked about the Sentai movies in this post. You don’t have to watch any of these unless you really enjoy Dekaranger, which you should at least check out. It’s slow at times, but it’s still a lot of fun.

Engine Sentai Go-Onger (2008-2009, 50 Episodes)

The Banki Clan Gaiark have traveled from their home dimension of Machine World and chosen Earth as their new home, but they have to pollute the planet to serve as an ideal living space for their kind. In response, sentient animal-themed vehicles called the Engines choose five humans to partner up with, the five humans in question becoming the Go-Ongers.

Unlike most of the shows I talked about, Go-Onger is incredibly goofy, and I love it. The characters are all incredibly likable, both the Go-Ongers and the Engines. While Sentai had touched upon the idea of treating the mecha as sentient beings, this was one of the earliest series to actually have their partners talk, leading to some interesting character dynamics. The villains are also really fun to watch. While they’re about as competent as Team Rocket at times, there are moments where you actually feel bad for them, especially towards the end of the series.

It’s also really funny. Granted, comedy is subjective, so you may not find the same things as funny, but there are a lot of funny moments in this show, all helped by the actors giving amazing performances. Go-Onger can get extremely wacky at times, like in Episode 31. I’m not going to say what happens, you should watch it for yourself.

What makes the humor really work unlike the last attempt at a comedy-focused Sentai, Carranger, it didn’t really feel mean-spirited by portraying the heroes as idiots by claiming to be “parodying” Sentai. Yes, the Go-Ongers can be dumb at times, but they still take their jobs seriously when they’re not goofing around. There’s not really much I can say about Go-Onger other than it being a bunch of dumb fun. If you’re in the mood to start off with something more light-hearted, I’d check it out.

Samurai Sentai Shinkenger (2009-2010, 49 Episodes)

For centuries, generations of samurai have waged a war against a race of demons from the underworld called the Gedoshu. After their leader was temporarily sealed away for several years, the Gedoshu begin another invasion of the surface while trying to flood the Sanzu River, which grows through human misery. In response, the current generation of samurai, the Shiba Clan, assemble to fight the Gedoshu as the Shinkengers.

This was actually one of the first Sentai seasons I ever watched, as my first Power Rangers season was Samurai. And yeah, while Samurai is a really bad adaptation, I’m here to judge Shinkenger on its own. Admittedly, there are a lot of qualities that can be chalked up to cultural differences, like the whole honor code samurai have and certain plotlines you’d see in a jidaigeki film. The Shinkengers themselves are all very likable characters, and you can really relate to their struggles of being forced into this war (again, handled a lot better than what’s going on with Marinette). All of them have different responses to their situation. Some of them dedicate themselves to wholeheartedly following their lord (Takeru/Shinken Red) or being more vocal in their hatred of their duties.

The villains are also really interesting. Sure, the big bad is pretty boring, but the side villains are just so twisted they really steal the show. Takeru/ShinkenRed gets a rival who serves as a perfect foil to him, representing the idea of why one fights. Even the concept of the Gedoushu is pretty terrifying. Demons from another world hellbent on causing misery to flood our world with their water, which I must point out, is deadly to humans. They’re not my favorite villain group, but they’re a close second.

There’s also some clever plot twists that happen late into the series that I don’t want to give away. Sure, you might have a hard time getting used to the Japanese culture at first, but Shinkenger is still a great series.

Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger (2011-2012, 51 Episodes)

The Zangyack Empire invades Earth and because of their army reaching across the universe, they become the greatest threat the planet has ever had. In response, the previous thirty-four Sentai teams unite to fight them. They succeed, but the attack they used to wipe out the battle fleet stripped them of their powers. A few years later, a group of space pirates come to Earth in search of “The Greatest Treasure in the Universe”. While the pirates couldn’t care less about stopping the Zangyack, they still have to deal with them while searching for the treasure, which is somehow connected to the previous thirty-four Sentai teams. Also, the pirates form their own Sentai team, the thirty-fifth Sentai team in particular, the Gokaigers, who have the ability to TRANSFORM INTO ANY OF THE PREVIOUS SENTAI TEAMS.

For Super Sentai’s 35th anniversary, Toei wanted to go big this time. While the previous two anniversary seasons only had movies that paid tribute to Sentai as a whole, this was the first season where the anniversary aspect was in the premise alone. 

The interesting thing is that the series was changed last-minute, and it was totally for the better. See, in March of 2011, Japan’s Tohoku Region was devastated by an earthquake registering at a 9.1 on the Richter scale. To this day, it was the largest earthquake ever recorded in Japan’s history, and that’s not even getting into the tsunami it caused the same day. What does this have to do with Gokaiger? In response to the tragedy, several tokusatsu stars including Super Sentai alumni took to social media to encourage kids to stay positive, and even asked some of Gokaiger’s showrunners if they could reprise their roles in an episode. Originally, there were going to be some cameos from past Sentai heroes, but it would only be limited to the ones whose powers would upgrade the Gokaigers’ giant robot. After this, there were a lot more cameos from Sentai alumni in the latter half of the series. Out of Gokaiger’s 51 episodes, 24 of them were tributes to past seasons. And that’s not even getting into all of the cameos in the movies too.

This was another one of the first Sentai seasons I ever saw, and it really helped me get into the franchise as a whole. It manages to explain things to people who haven’t seen certain seasons, while paying tributes to said seasons and making clever homages older fans will understand. Admittedly, the show does spoil the endings of the older seasons like Liveman and Jetman, so keep that in mind before starting this one.

Even outside of the tributes, the Gokaigers are some of the most memorable characters Super Sentai’s had in recent years. While they aren’t exactly evil, they start off not really interested in protecting Earth and care more about getting the Greatest Treasure in the Universe. The only reason they fight the Zangyack in the first episode was because their lunch was interrupted. A team of anti-heroes in Super Sentai hasn’t really been done before. Even then, there’s an interesting dynamic where some of the Gokaigers have more of a moral conscience than the others. And as the series goes on, they start to care more about protecting the Earth, even if they don’t admit it.

It’s just a really good show, and even if it isn’t your first, I’d check it out.

Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger (2013-2014, 48 Episodes)

When the alien entity known as Deboss invades Earth during the prehistoric era, another bird-like alien named Torin empowers several dinosaurs into the mighty Zyudenryu to fight off the invading force. After a brutal final battle, Deboss was sealed away, but his army of followers was still growing. In response, Torin started to recruit several humans throughout time into the modern day to become the Kyoryugers.

While Gokaiger was the first Sentai I ever watched, Kyoryuger was the first Sentai I watched every week as it aired, so it has a special place in my heart despite its middling reputation. Yeah, Kyoryuger has been criticized for starting the trend of Red Senshi stealing all the screentime, and while that can easily be applied to later entries like Shuriken Sentai Ninninger and Kishiryu Sentai Ryusoulger (the latter basically made Red and Gold the only ones to pilot the giant robots while the others watched), I don’t think it's as bad as everyone says it is.

There is just an amazing cast of characters here. It’s the first Sentai to be composed of ten rangers (while Dekaranger also had ten, three of them were just one-offs), and it does a really good job at balancing them all out. Yes, Daigo/Kyoryu Red does get a handful of power-ups and can be the focus at times, but the other characters all have their own distinct personalities and are just a blast to watch. I’d honestly recommend watching a few episodes of this show to get an idea on how to do an ensemble cast. If I end up doing the whole “tokusatsu has better toy tie-ins than Miraculous” thing, expect me to talk about how Kyoryuger introduces its new characters and giant robots.

And then there’s the soundtrack. Oh my God, the soundtrack. Sentai tends to have banger songs for their seasons, and Kyoryuger is no exception. “Vamola! Kyoryuger”, “Solid Bullet”, “Kyoryu Gold! Iza!”, “Yuuki Bakuretsu”, “Chou Shinka! Kyoryu Beat”, “Houkou! Bragigas”, and “Senkou no Brave”. So many of these songs are incredibly catchy, and I haven’t listed all of them. The show has a bit of a music motif, so it makes sense for there to be a lot of insert songs.

The one major flaw I have to point out is that you kind of have to watch the theatrical movie (which is only slightly longer than an average episode), in order to understand some of the plotpoints for the season’s endgame, but other than that, it’s still a really good season to start off on.

Mashin Sentai Kiramager (2020-2021, 45 Episodes)

The Dark Empire Yodonheim attacks the planet Crystalia, with the king’s brother betraying him and siding with the enemy. The kingdom’s princess is sent to Earth to recruit five warriors to fight the Empire. The chosen five all possess “Kiramental”, a way of weaponizing their imagination, which they use to defend the Earth’s radiance.

Precure fans might remember this being the season where Cure Star met the Red to promote the latter’s season (actually referring to Cure Star as his sempai), and I can kind of see why. A lot of fans have jokingly compared this season to Precure because of the gemstone motif and focus on creativity, with Juru/Kiramai Red acting like a Pink Cure according to some of the comments I’ve seen in Sentai discussion forums.

This is the most recent season to finish as of this post, and it’s already gotten a lot of praise in terms of writing, characters, story, and managing all of these during the COVID-19 Pandemic and having to adapt to losing five episodes in the process. The characters are very likable, the Red is one of the better ones in recent years with him being more timid compared to the more hotheaded ones, and the villains are also amazing, and some of the best in recent years. Episodes can range from funny to tragic to just plain awesome in terms of writing, with seemingly innocent filler episodes being the source of major bombshells and plot twists. 

Honestly, there’s not much I can really say about this show other than check it out for yourself.

But these are just my recommendations. If you do some research and see a season you like, I’d go for it. If anyone else wants me to do these for Kamen Rider and Ultraman, I’d be happy to.

Sorry this took so long.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #not miraculous ladybug #super sentai