#but i need to sleep so I can actually organize thoughts into something real

[48787]

I AM LOSING MY MIND OVER THE ENERGON UNIVERSE SPOILERS FOR TRANSFORMERS 1-4, DUKE 1, VOID RIVALS 1-6, AND THE TEASER FOR COBRA COMMANDER

I DONT THINK THERE WASN'T JUST A TIME SKIP I THINK THERE WERE A COUPLE SUBSTANTIAL TIME SKIPS AND THAT I WAS A FOOL FOR NOT NOTICING IT WASN'T JUST THE 6 MONTHS IN DUKE (Not even counting how long it's been AFTER the fight with Starscream pre-6 month skip) I THINK THERE MAY HAVE BEEN A TIME SKIP IN TF ISSUE 4 I'M LOSING MY MIND, MY WIFE THINKS I'M CRAZY, BUT BEFORE I JUST ACCEPTED CERTAIN THINGS BECAUSE I WAS LIKE "Oh, huh, I wonder when Megatron's gun got ripped off.." (and she was like, now alternating,) "Most likely before he got frozen over??? Obviously it had to have been before the crash, otherwise how would Optimus have it in his trailer??" "Yeah, you're right, I just thought it was neat that it feels a little ambiguous, like maybe it was ripped off after he was frozen over," "Well, it's clearly supposed to be a mystery," "Well yeah, obviously, I'm just on the look out for red herrings and stuff especially because we never actually see what's in the trailer and there's a bit of a time skip between Sparkplug's idea and him putting on the arm, but you're probably right..." "Not much of a time skip, they're just at the hospital." "Okay sure I guess" BUT GOING BACK UP TO THE PANEL (after making a joke about how it's funny that the fusion cannon is the scope of the gun, so Prime has the scope [doubly meaning ambition hee hoo i'm so clever] of Megatron which funnily feels more powerful than Cobra's gun [which I THINK doesn't have the scope on it but I CANT TELL and MIGHT BE STUPID] and going back up to the panel where OP has the arm in the middle of making it) THERE'S TOO MUCH RUBBLE!!! THE HOSPITAL WASN'T THAT DESTROYED!! MAYBE CLIFFJUMPER AND CARLY WENT BACK TO THE POWER PLANT WHERE HER DAD DIED??? I DON'T KNOW!!! I DIDN'T THINK SO BUT I FEEL LIKE I'M MISSING OR FORGETTING A LOT OF DETAILS RN!! DID SPARKPLUG GIVE HER THAT GUN SHE HAS NEXT TO HER WHEN SHE'S TALKING TO CLIFFJUMPER?? WHY CANT I REMEMBER!! PRIME'S DAMAGE IS THE SAME, SO IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN THAT BIG OF A JUMP.... I THINK?? IM TRYING TO COMPARE THE LITTLE WE SEE OF THE PLACES BUT IT FEELS LIKE MY BRAIN IS FRIED BECAUSE I BECAME TOO BUSY THINKING ABOUT: WHEN DOES VOID RIVALS TAKE PLACE??? JETFIRE SAYS HE NEEDS TO GO HOME, BUT WE SEE HIM ON EARTH INSTEAD NEXT IN TF, LOW ON ENERGON. MAYBE HE WAS SEARCHING FOR STARSCREAM SINCE PERHAPS HIS PARTNER WAS LOST AS WELL... "I have not seen you... for centuries" IS A LITTLE WEIRD, BUT THEN I GOTTA WONDER... HOW CLOSE IS EARTH?? HOW FAST CAN HE TRAVEL??? HOW MUCH ENERGON DOES THAT COST?? HE CLEARLY MUST'VE BEEN ON EARTH FOR A LITTLE WHILE TO GET NEW ALT MODES RIGHT?? MAYBE THIS IS A SEMANTIC THING BUT IT GOES FROM "I've been stranded here for... millions of..." (IMPLIED YEARS I THINK?? I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ANYMORE) AND THEN IT CHANGES TO "I have been away for centuries" JUST LIKE HOW STARSCREAM SAYS THE WAR HAS GONE ON FOR "the past hundred years" THERES A WEIRD FOCUS ON 100s OF YEARS... WHICH DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT IF YOU'VE TRULY BEEN AWAY FOR MILLIONS??? (Starscream has no clue how long the war has been going on for considering he just woke up now, so we have no clue when the war started or how long it's actually been going on for...) BACK TO VOID RIVALS WHY IS SHOCKWAVE THE NEXT CYBERTRONIAN (i think?) WE SEE IN VOID RIVALS??? WHY ON CYBERTRON??? OBVIOUSLY HE'S THERE BECAUSE MEGATRON PROBABLY LEFT HIM THERE TO RUN IT, BUT WHEN IS THIS??? THE PLACE LOOKS FINE (though... perhaps depopulated?? We do only see Shockwave) AND IT PROBABLY IS EITHER DURING OR POST WAR CONSIDERING HE HAS THE DECEPTION SYMBOL BUT... WHEN??? SHOCKWAVE'S WHOLE CHARACTER IS USUALLY "I'M YOUR CYBERTRONIAN HOST, SHOCKWAVE, AND I'VE BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME" SO THE FACT THAT HE'S THE ONE WHO WE SEE AFTER JETFIRE IS WEIRD, RIGHT?? LIKE MAYBE VOID RIVALS IS EARLIER THAN WE THOUGHT??? ALSO, DOES SKUXXOID BEAT JETFIRE TO CYBERTRON?? DID JETFIRE EVEN GO TOWARDS CYBERTRON AT ALL IN THE FIRST PLACE?? MAYBE SKUXXOID'S SHIP IS JUST BETTER???

SPEAKING OF WHICH, WHY IS JETFIRE ALL DOOM AND GLOOM ABOUT FAILING HIS MISSION AND HOW "Everything will die..." LIKE SURE MAYBE HE WAS EXPLORING TO FIND NEW RESOURCES FOR HIS DYING PLANET BUT... EVERYTHING?? LIKE I GET CARING ABOUT YOUR PLANET MORE THAN ANYTHING BUT... "EVERYTHING???" SURELY THAT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE VOID RIVALS STUFF WITH THE DYING SUN, UNENDING WAR, DWINDLING RESOURCES, AND SACRED RING IMAGE LOOKING EERILY SIMILAR TO AN OPENED MATRIX??? RIGHT??? WHEN IS COBRA COMMANDER 1 GONNA TAKE PLACE??? WHEN IS HE GOING TO TAKE MEGATRON?? DID THE GOVERNMENT MANAGE TO COVER ALL THE STRAIGHT UP OUT-THERE CYBERTRONIAN FIGHTING??? ITS SO LATE, AND IM LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS, I KEEP TRYING TO PUT THE PIECES TOGETHER IN MY HEAD BUT IT FEELS LIKE I'VE SOMEHOW FORGOTTEN KEY DETAILS ABOUT EVERYTHING... okay... Rant mostly done... I think I'll try to reread some of the comics soon and form a more coherent post later that's not just SCREAMING into the void about random points that could probably be easily or obviously explained if I were able to hold more than a single thought in my head at a time. You'd think I'm exaggerating but it's been such a weirdly long day that I feel like I'm doing that one fight in jojo part 6 where I open one tab to cross reference with another tab, and as soon as I open up tumblr to write anything one of them is like evaporated from my head. It was nice getting it all out of me though! Got me to reread Prime talking about the last thing he remembers more closely and how before the crash there were only two hundred years of fighting apparently. I think I made a note of that when I first read it but clearly I forgot! But who knows how many years of fighting there have been since! Also, in the crash scene that Prime remembers Megatron still has his arm, so the most obvious solution to the original question is that Megatron fell out of the ship during the crash, but somehow lost his arm in the process, and when Ratchet was loading everyone into Prime's trailer he just so happened to pick up Megatron's arm, just for safe keeping! Further shown by the amount of damage done to Megatron's body compared to Prime's shiny new arm. Pretty much everything probably makes sense within the comic, I obviously am just jumpy to make wild ass claims because one or two details seemed weird to me and I like to playfully think all the media I consume is carefully lying to me and throwing in red herrings in the dialog to build to some massive twist that was always visible from the start. I really really like how the energon universe is going so far! Once I can get my thoughts in order, expect a more coherent post about how Sparkplug would be a perfect decepticon or something stupid like that, I don't quite know yet!

[triglycercule]

horror's jacket fluff has probably accumulated so much DISGUSTINGNESS over 7 years in it that it's managed to acquire it's own signature Dog Smell (TM). however i think this would be a prime opportunity to pet him and then get some of that disgusting smell on you because for some reasons Dog Smell is just unavoidable when you pet a dog with a lot of hair

he'd hate it but awww awww whos a good boy (ﾉ´∀｀*) whos a good boy (*≧∪≦) YOU ARE!!! awww so cute you didn't commit all those murders against innocent people you were innocent (￣▽￣)／ such a good boy!!!! (gets beheaded) (he got too embarrassed)

[lazycats-stuff]

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk

Thanks you bye !

Hi anon, I'm well and I hope you are doing okay too. I can do it, no worries.

Summary: (Y/N) gets back into the Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: implications of torture, mind control, mentions of Hydra, Bruce is sad for (Y/N), some violence... And everything else that goes with Hydra and brain washing.

The road to recovery is often a long one. Bruce thought of it when he first saw (Y/N), aka the Winter Soldier. The infamous one, a ghost within the intel community. Many people didn't believe that the Winter Soldier even existed. But the trail of neat and clean murders was the one thing that made Bruce think there is something more.

Of course, the way to get (Y/N) was hell. Hell being and understatement of the decade. Bruce at one thought that he was indeed chasing a Ghost, but something in his mind told him that the Winter Soldier was real. Something in his gut made him chase that ghost.

Months of chasing, fighting and hoping he would be alive by the next encounter, they finally got him. Bruce was lucky to be alive. He hugged all of his kids right then and there. (Y/N) was put into a glass box, strong enough to contain Bane.

(Y/N) refused to back down, refused to retreat. He punched the glass of the cage with his metal arm and some were worried that he would actually brake it. Bruce knew that even if he broke the glass, he had no handler anymore.

His organization has been destroyed. Everyone important was caught. Those who weren't... Well, their time was running out. They may have scattered like rats, but you can bet your ass on anything that the League would find them all. Especially since they didn't burn down their base. One hell of a mistake.

Bruce and the rest searched through the base and they found something that can only be considered as a holy grail when it comes to someone who was brainwashed.

A dark red book, bounded in leather, with all the trigger words written on those pages... Bruce knew that he has hit a jackpot. He looked through them and then has decided to burn it. They also found the footage of (Y/N)'s brainwashing,

The footage, as much as it is damning, making it very easy to persecute anyone they needed, it was also nauseating. (Y/N) was tortured with electricity, memory wiped with electricity... Worse of all, (Y/N) fighting.

It had shaken Bruce to his core and made him triple check the manor security and it has made him check on his sons 5 times that night. He couldn't sleep at all. He refused to sleep that one single evening and night.

And when he stood in front of the glass cage, (Y/N) looked utterly defeated. He was sitting down, looking down at his metal arm and his human arm. He seemed mad beyond belief that he was even caught. Bruce knew he would have to be delicate and gentle with this (Y/N). He had taken the book with him, to try and have some sort of leverage.

And to show him that he was free. (Y/N) was finally free of the mental shackles that they have put on him. Bruce took a chair and sat down near the cell, but far enough to make sure that there was some sort of space.

He couldn't have (Y/N) feel cornered.

He sat down, book in his lap. (Y/N) still looked down, but looked up after a few moments.

" They will come and get me back. " (Y/N) said and Bruce wanted to laugh.

" Hydra is gone. " Bruce simply stated and watched (Y/N)'s reaction.

Nothing. Huh.

" Lies. "

Bruce stayed calm and shook his head. " I'm afraid I'm telling you the truth. The book you see in my hands? The book with your trigger words. Do you really think they would hand it over ever so willingly? " Bruce asked, showing him the dark red leather book.

" You are officially free. " Bruce said as and watched the way (Y/N) reacted.

Bruce nearly broke when he saw hope in (Y/N)'s eyes. He never lost hope.

" I'll never be free... " (Y/N) said quietly, looking at his metal arm. Bruce saw that it was not a nice arms, made with quality. While it looked strong, it wasn't made to be comfortable. And Bruce could see the claw marks at the part where the flesh and metal met.

" That may be true. But you can start healing. You can start working through all of the trauma that they put you through. Mental scars will always be there, but I can help you. " Bruce said softly and (Y/N) was still emotionless and with hope glimmering in his eyes, there was something else too. Bruce could only decipher it as happiness, but he knew that (Y/N) would rather die than admit it.

" I'll be with you the entire way. I have a great friend who can help you unpack everything they put you through. And I can give you a better metal arm, something that wouldn't be so uncomfortable and something that reminds you off the organization. " Bruce said as he looked at (Y/N), holding the book close.

" And what about the book? "(Y/N) asked quietly and Bruce knew exactly what (Y/N) meant.

" It will be destroyed by me. I wanted to show you that the thing keeping you in their grasp is destroyed. Well, will be destroyed. " Bruce said as he put the book down on the chair before moving closer.

" And you can officially start your new life. "

" I'm not sure if I can... " (Y/N) said softly and the defenses were slowly cracking.

" I can assure you, you can. You will have to put some work into it, but it will pay off. I'll be there to help you to start. "

" But the feeling of guilt will never go away, will it? "

" After some time it will. One way is to go through therapy and work it out or you can become a hero. But that only if you want it and after you went through therapy. " Bruce said softly.

" Maybe then I'll atone for it... " (Y/N) said softly.

" One step at the time (Y/N). One step at the time. " Bruce said softly.

And that's exactly what has happened at the time. Bruce made sure to be with (Y/N) before and after the therapy sessions. He made sure (Y/N) knew he had support while he was talking to the Black Canary. And once Black Canary said he could start meeting new people, Bruce slowly started bringing his sons around.

Damian knew exactly how (Y/N) felt. Being in that environment is not easy and it's just the battle of the fittest. And one hell of a battle for your mind. You truly had to be strong enough to make sure to not completely break. Somehow, (Y/N) has kept his humanity, but he had to give a part of his soul to keep it.

Jason just talked to him about stuff and has made sure that he has access to TV shows and movies. (Y/N) needed to be connected to the outside world. And also, Jason has been bringing books for (Y/N) to read. Jason took him his favorites and often took him some classics. (Y/N) appreciated it and liked all the recommendations that Jason has brought to him. It was a nice break.

Tim has always sneaked in some snacks and the two would just talk. It was a hell of a time and since (Y/N) has started school, Tim would help with mathematics and some other subjects. (Y/N) couldn't really go to a public school or any type of school, but he still needs his high school diploma.

And Dick? Dick has been involved in making sure that (Y/N) was getting physical activity. (Y/N) was stiff in Dick's opinion and he wanted to make sure (Y/N) felt good in his body too. Dick did stretches, some tricks and considering that (Y/N) did have some knowledge about gymnastics, it was slightly easier. Not to mention, stretches were something that everyone needs.

About a year after being saved, (Y/N) has moved into the Wayne Manor. It was a nice change of scenery for (Y/N). Beautiful manor, garden, not to mention no noises... And Titus, the Great Dane being an emotional support animal for (Y/N)...

(Y/N) was incredibly happy, but had hard time showing it. Everyone knew but didn't comment on it. They were helping him get adjusted to his new life now and they were more than happy to help. And one thing that made (Y/N) happy out of his mind was the fact that he got a new metal arm. It was black, with red, blue and green accents. It was something to signalized that he was a member of the family.

Bruce was going to adopt him soon enough. Just give him some time and he will do it.

But something happened at the two month mark. Something made him reverse back into the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce was certain that they wiped the triggers from his mind. Not to mention, the boys remembered the trigger words, just in case something like this happened and that they could be careful.

But something must have snapped inside of (Y/N). The boys were careful, but something must have gone awry. Something.

Jason and Dick were the first ones to see it and were the first ones to see it and the brunt end of it. Jason was hurled out the window, while Dick was thrown at the wall like a rag doll. The commotion woke Tim up and Damian was curious as to what was going on.

They were also thrown around the room.

" (Y/N), you are not a Winter Soldier, relax! " Jason said as he made his way through the window, grunting at the pain.

" Please, (Y/N) this is not you! " Dick yelled as he gripped his sides, huffing and panting.

(Y/N), seemingly didn't hear anything and nothing was reaching him. The cold and murderous look in his eyes was more than enough to tell them that they had to subdue him.

Somehow.

Damian jumped on (Y/N)'s shoulders, trying to take his metal arm off. Once they get that off, they are going to be fine. They hope at least.

" (Y/N) come on! Fight it! " Damian raised his voice, trying to make (Y/N) see his senses. (Y/N) didn't listen and threw himself into the wall, back first to throw Damian off and then he threw Damian into the shelves, making him groan in pain.

Bruce walked in from the outside and froze in shock. His adopted sons in various stages of pain and (Y/N) in the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce stayed calm as he glanced over his sons.

They were alive and breathing. That's the important thing right now.

" (Y/N) listen to me. " Bruce said softly as he moved closer, quickly checking on his sons, who were all softly confirming that they were good.

" Look at me. Remember me. It's Bruce. You are safe. The Winter Soldier doesn't control you, you control him. " Bruce said, raising his hands in the air, trying to make sure that he didn't look like threatening.

" You control him, remember that. " Bruce said as he quickly checked on Jason.

(Y/N) looked like he was confused and shook his head. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was getting his bearings together. And once he saw tears falling down his cheeks, he swooped in and hugged his son.

(Y/N) wept as Bruce embraced him and everyone, including Alfred, brought him into a hug. It was a tight hug and Bruce refused to let (Y/N) shatter. And (Y/N) felt safe Bruce's embrace, but by God, guilt was eating him alive.

Apologies were falling from his lips and everyone assured him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Good things come in small packages

[originally posted on my second blog @daydreams-after-dark in June 2024 ]

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader (cameo from Minho)

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 9k

A/n: This fic was originally posted on my second blog @daydreams-after-dark. however the story turned out somewhat adorable and sweet, making me want to keep a copy of it over here with all my other lovey dovey Han Jisung fics. There is still smut... don't you worry about that.

CW below the cut

CW: supernatural themes, oral sex, sexual acts, sexual themes, voyeurism, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex, rough sex, angst, brief themes of depression, fear of suicide (just a fleeting thought), size kink?

You've had your miniature human, Hannie, for almost a year?! You realize, sitting at your work desk as you look at your desktop calendar. You smile and make a note to organize a celebration for just the two of you, and to buy a cheesecake for dessert. Hannie loves cheesecake. Your smile grows. He always manages to get it all over him, then wants to get it all over you so he can lick it off you.

One year this coming weekend. It feels like time has flown, yet at the same time it feels like he’s been part of your life forever. Your heart bursts as you think back to how it all came to be.

You had been lonely. You'd broken up with your long term boyfriend and was feeling sad one night. So you went online to doom scroll, and online shop. You expected you'd end up down a rabbit hole of cat memes and be $500 down in shoe purchases, but instead an ad appeared on your screen.

"Miniature human companions" it said, with images of very attractive men. Miniature men. Were they human? Couldn't be. Were they robots? Probably. They must be really expensive to make which is why they are so small, you'd decided.

You were intrigued, so you researched the company, finding that this new type of 'companion' utilizes cutting edge technology that simulates actual human behavior and bodily functions.

By 4am you'd chosen your companion. His name was Han. He was adorable and attractive, with fluffy black hair and pouty lips, and from the personality trait notes, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Pay Now". You can still remember the feeling of excitement that ran through you as hit the button to complete your purchase.

When he arrived, he came in a box with air holes, which you found kind of weird considering he didn't actually breathe oxygen. You set the box on your kitchen table, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. You gasped as you peered inside.

A little man, about the size of a Ken doll, sat on a blanket eating miniature crisps out of a miniature chip bag.

"Oh hello!" he looked up at you. "Are you my Noona?" he waved excitedly.

Holy fucking shit. You almost fainted as you stumbled to sit down on a dining chair.

You knew he was meant to talk, but he just seemed so real as he chewed his food then licked the seasoning off his lips like he could actually taste it. His little chest moved with his breath, like he was really breathing. Could he do everything a human can do? You wondered.

"My name’s Hannie." He said standing up and brushing the crumbs off his trousers.

"Um...I-I'm Y/n..." you stuttered, trying to process what you were witnessing,

"You're really pretty, Y/n." He beamed up at you with a gummy grin.

You prepared him a little space of his own, with a makeshift bed, clothing that you had also ordered from the company you purchased him from, and bought a set of Barbie sized cups, plates and furniture. You even bought him a Barbie Dreamhouse to live in, but he preferred to just climb up your full sized furniture and use that.

You studied the information manual that came with him and learned that he could in fact, experience life just as a human did. He needed to eat, sleep, wash, poop. Oh and he could get erections and ejaculate. Wow!

Over the next weeks and months you'd gotten yourselves into a routine, and became really close. He was your best friend. You did everything together, mostly staying at home. You assumed he was some sort of AI, and that's why you got along so well, but the longer he was with you, the more his own interests came to the surface. Like singing and Anime.

He helped you bake, often getting himself covered in flour and other ingredients. You'd watch movies together. Most nights you'd lay on the couch and he'd lay face down on your chest while you watched your favorites. Sometimes you'd feel him get hard against the curve of your breast, and you'd think inappropriate thoughts about him. You'd grow wet between your legs and wish he was able to touch you.

He loved it when you’d brush his hair with a tiny little hairbrush and sit him on your benchtop in the bathroom when you’re getting ready for the day. You know he loved it when you forgot he was there one time and you took a shower in front of him. He got so hard watching you soap up your body.

Sometimes you'd take him out on a picnic somewhere secluded near the ocean so he could freely move about the picnic blanket without fear of being seen. Or he'd sneak into your work bag and scare the shit out of you when you were working.

In the early days, you'd occasionally go on dates with actual men. Mostly to take your mind of your growing feelings for Hannie. You'd bring them home and fuck them in your bed, knowing he was somewhere watching, listening. You'd imagine him getting hard from your noises, and it made you moan even louder just picturing it. You'd imagine it was Hannie inside you too, pounding hard into your cunt, and making you come on his cock.

He was distant with you in the days after. He’d sit around sulking and pouting.

"What's wrong, Hannie?" You asked him after he’d ignored you for three days.

"Noona... it's just…I get so jealous of them." He burst into tears. "I want to do things like that to you. I want to the be the one who makes you come." He sobbed.

Things changed after that. You no longer went out with other men, and you and your miniature companion began to explore a more physical, more sexual, relationship.

From letting you see each other naked, to mutual masturbation, to eventually touching each other and making each other come.

You soon learned that even though Hannie is small, he is extremely talented with his mouth, and he can make you come harder than anyone had ever before.

One morning he noticed that you were still asleep, and very naked. The way you were laying, legs splayed out looked so inviting to him. You’d kicked your blanket off at some point. He couldn’t help himself.

You woke up to a sensation between your legs, and when you looked down you saw him kneeling between your your legs, using his arms to push your pussy lips open and doing his very best to lap at your clit.

“Hannie?” You whimpered. He stopped for a moment to stand up and wave at you, the entire front of his body dripping with your arousal. “I’ve just found my favorite thing to do!” He said enthusiastically and then he was back to being buried against your pussy.

These days, at night time he’ll climb up onto your chest while you’re lying in bed watching videos on your phone. He still loves to nestle against the bulge of your breasts, especially if you’re in a loose satin camisole, and he’ll slide himself under the fabric.

“What do you want to watch, Hannie?” You’ll ask him.

“Porn!” He’ll answer excitedly. The phone is like a giant screen to him and it’s never long before you feel him shimmying his clothes off and rubbing his little swollen erection against your skin.

He’s such a desperate little thing that you let him do whatever he needs to get himself off. Often, he’ll rub his cock along your bottom lip while he humps your tits, or he’ll scramble to suck on your nipple. He does his best to stretch his mouth around it, while he grinds against you and cumming on your soft skin. Then he’ll pass out right there. Poor little tyke gets himself tired.

Some of the kinkier things he gets you to do include tying him up and edging him until his cock becomes so painfully red and engorged that he’s crying. His naked body is delicious to look at, and you love to run the pad of your index finger over his muscles. He’s perfectly toned, his skin honey brown, and his cock is mouth-wateringly big for his frame.

He’s rendered helpless as you stroke your finger gently up and down his body. Then, using the tip of your tongue, you lick his cock carefully whilst shoving your pinky finger into his mouth.

There are times when you’ll dress up in lingerie covered in buckles and straps and he’ll climb up your body like he’s doing some kind of adventure hike. He gets so sweaty and very hard as he explores the terrain of your body.

He really is the perfect companion.

You are broken from your thoughts by your alarm signaling it's time to go home from work, and you hurry home to see your Hannie.

_____________

"Fuck! Hannie! Please... need to come...need one more...please. Don't stop." You pant. It's later that evening, and you're on the verge of your third orgasm with Hannie between your thighs sucking expertly on your clit. He's got your lips spread open as far as he can manage, and he's grinding against your core seeking his own release. Inside your pussy you've got your vibrator egg on full intensity. "Yes!!! Yes...coming!!!" You cry as you arch off the bed as you come all over him.

He quickly climbs up your body, almost slipping off because he’s covered in so much of your cream, and kneels on your chest to pump his cock until he’s spurting cum onto your tongue.

“Tastes so good, Hannie.” You show him your empty tongue, but he’s already collapsed across your body.

You clean him up and put him in his striped pajamas, before you both nestle into bed. You’re used to him sleeping on the pillow next to you now, although it took you a while to stop worrying you’d roll on him in the night.

“Noona? Did you know that tomorrow it’ll be one year since I came here?” He says sleepily.

You roll onto your side and smile. “Yes, actually I do, honey. Have a think about what you’d like to do to celebrate, okay. Anything you want."

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. But just so you know, it’ll involve me being buried in your pussy.”

————-

Han laid back on the pillow. What would he like to do to celebrate? He’d love to celebrate by being inside you. Properly. Fully.

He wishes he could do the things he'd seen those men you’d do to you all those months ago. To pin your legs up and fuck you so hard the bed would shake. He takes his mind back to when he’d hide on your shelf and watch, fucking into his hand and holding back tears of despair.

What would it be like to bend you over and fuck you from behind? What would it even be like to fuck you at all? He wants to know so bad.

But he does have a special relationship with you, he supposes. Not every guy has to stretch his mouth around a nipple or clit like he has to. Can those men be covered head to toe in your juices? Or lay completely across the bulge of your boob. No. They can’t. Only he can.

He pouts to himself.

He knows he’s got it good, you are his everything. But as he lays on the pillow next you and closes his eyes, he wonders if he’s enough for you? Could you give up real men forever, with real sized cocks that can stretch you out and fill you deep? Would you be okay with never having a boyfriend you could take out in public, or take to family events, or be seen with?

Could you settle for him? A miniature version of a man?

He sighs. "Goodnight, Noona. Love you." He whispers as he leans over and gives your giant lips a kiss.

"Goodnight, my sweet Hannie. I love you too." you reply sleepily.

As he drifts off to sleep he wishes what he always wishes. That he could be human sized and be with you like a proper human.

-----------

The morning sun peeks through your window, landing on your face and causing you to stir. You groan and try to stretch, but a heaviness across your middle keeps you in place. You peer down to find a man's arm wrapped around you, snuggling you tight.

Fear courses through your body, and you scream as you fling the arm off and jump out bed. You grab your lamp, ready to hit the intruder.

"Noona?" The man lifts his head, his dark locks falling around his face.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see the confused look on his face. "Hannie!?" You choke, hands poised to strike.

"Noona? What are you doing?" he peers down at the pillow his head had been resting on, and then down the bed toward his feet. "Why is your bed so small?"

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

Han just stares at you blankly. Then realization hits him, causing him to spring out of bed and look around the room frantically.

"Hannie?" You say again. "Hannie, look at me." You take a step closer to him and he finally looks at you. It's as though your gaze anchors him and he appears to calm down somewhat. His eyes soften and he looks at you like he's looking at you for the very first time, just as you are with him.

You already know he has an incredible physique. Broad shoulders, slim waist, toned muscles. But standing before you right now he’s breathtaking. But you don't love him for his body. You love him for his heart.

Standing fully naked in front of you, he seems less real than when he was small. How can this be happening? It's impossible. Right?

"Noona?" His eyes drop to where your gaze has fallen. Right on his cock, still semi hard from his morning wood. It's the most delicious thing you've ever seen. So much bigger than you expected too. You can't help but imagine all the things you want to do with it. You have imagined it plenty over the past year. How you want him to fill you up, or make you choke on it. How it tastes. How it feels in your mouth.

"Hey!" he covers himself with his hands. "I'm going through a crisis and you're staring at my dick!" He exasperates. He narrows his eyes. "Oh my God, Noona? You know what this means?" His eyes light up with excitement.

"I do, Han. Trust me, I know. But first we need to figure out what is going on. Why this has happened." You take another step towards him, closing the distance, and with shaking hands you reach out and touch his chest. You feel his heart pounding and it makes your heart beat faster too.

He's real.

"Do you think my wish has finally come true?" he whispers. "I wish it every night before I fall asleep. That I'd wake up and be human sized."

You look up to meet his gaze. His gorgeous big brown eyes. "I wish it every night too. It's just... this doesn’t make any sense.” You pause. “Wait. The manual. Maybe it says something in that?”

Without giving him any warning, you snap into action and disappear into your walk-in wardrobe, returning with a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee.

"Here. Put these on. I can't be getting distracted." You say and hurry out of the bedroom.

----------

"I thought you said you'd studied the manual?" Han says suspiciously whilst chewing on the scrambled eggs and toast you quickly cooked for him. You were quite happy to forgo your breakfast so you could search for answers, but his stomach rumbled so loudly you couldn’t ignore it.

While he scoffs down his breakfast, and you're still in your pajamas, you pore over the instruction manual spread open on the dining table, looking for any information that might help.

"Well... I kind of only read about how to keep you alive. You know, like how often I needed to feed and water you." you reply casually. Inside, you wish you had read the rest of the information. Maybe you would have had a heads up about this and you could have prepared yourself?

"Do you think I'm going to be like this permanently? Like the first year was a test of your commitment or something? Maybe I could learn guitar? Or cook? Or-"

"Okay. I've got something." You interrupt. "It says here: At twelve months of ownership, your companion will transform into typical human size-"

Han's eyes light up excitedly. "Wait! So this means?"

You hold up your hand to hush him. "There's more." You say. "He will remain in this state for 48 hours, before returning to his original size."

“Oh.” Han’s fork clatters on his plate. You look up at him as his expression changes from excited and hopeful, to absolutely crestfallen and deflated.

"I'm so sorry, Hannie." you whisper. You know how badly he wants to be big. You watch as he swallows a lump in his throat, and without a word, he stands and walks into the kitchen to look out of the window above the sink.

————

Forty eight hours? So It's not permanent? What kind of fucking idiot is he to think he'd ever be able to be a human? He tries to fight back the tears as he looks out of the window.

It's a beautiful, sunny morning, and usually on a day like this he'd climb up onto the windowsill and watch the world. There's a little strip of shops across the street that he especially loves to watch. His favorite is the flower shop. Observing the customers going in and out buying flowers and bouquets for loved ones. They’re such pretty colors too, the flowers. He’d love to be able to buy flowers for you.

A lady about your age works there, and sometimes another man is there too. Han doesn’t see him there often, but knows he’s someone special the way the shop owner and him look at and hold each other. Maybe he travels for work? He's often wondered as he sits on the windowsill.

He's broken from his thoughts when he feels your arms wrap around his waist and you lean against his back. His eyes close softly, and his body relaxes as he savors the feeling of being embraced in this way for the first time.

"Hannie, I know we don't have long, but maybe if we see it as a gift?"

He turns in your arms to face you, and wraps his own arms around you. You feel so good like this. In his arms. Holding so much of you in one go. Feeling your entire body pressed against his. It's better than he ever imagined.

"You're right." He says finally. "We can't waste a minute of this precious time. There's so much I have to do to you." His dick twitches when he sees your cheeks flush. He knows you're not shy, but if you feel anything like he does right now, then you’d have to be trembling on the inside.

His hand slides up to hold your jaw tenderly as he brings his lips close to yours. Sure he's kissed you, parts of your lips - both sets even, and other parts of your skin. But your lips in their entirety? He feels so scared, so nervous. What if he's a shit kisser?

"Stop thinking, Han Jisung." You say and connect your lips to his.

His lips fit yours perfectly and he melts into them with a moan. He kisses you slowly and carefully and a warmth spreads throughout his body. He hardens immediately when he feels your tongue slip into his mouth to find his. Your tongue, the one that’s licked his entire torso in one sweep, is currently inside his mouth. 

He allows his hands to wander lower to cup your ass. He loves your ass and often stares at it when you're doing housework in your tight little exercise shorts. Another moan escapes him when he pulls you even closer against his body. Touching so many parts of you all at once has him feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible. What will it be like when he’s inside you as well? He has to know.

He lowers his hands a little more to lift you up and you wrap your legs around his. Then he’s carrying you - actually carrying you - to your bedroom.

Your room is still filled with the warm sunlight, and Han is glad because he’ll be able to see absolutely everything. He lays you gently on the bed and kisses you deeply, then sits up to kneel between your parted legs.

“I think these need to come off.” He announces, flicking the waistband of your pajama shorts.

You smirk. “You do, huh?”

“Yes. We need to be naked.” He starts tugging off your clothes, then his own.

You look stunning beneath him, and you feel the same way about him. The sunlight hits his honey skin perfectly and you feel a surge of love for the man above you.

This is actually happening, is the thought going through both your heads.

Han gulps as he drinks you in with his eyes. Where to begin? He decides to start with your breasts. Holding them in his hands, massaging them. He loves the pretty noises you’re making as he kneads them. He leans over to take a nipple in his mouth, flicking the tiny pebbled nub that he normally has to stretch his mouth around. It goes straight to his dick and he can’t help but grind his cock against your core. This is too much already. He sits back up between your legs to try and regain his composure. He doesn’t want the first time he has intercourse to be over before it begins. To bide some time, he slowly runs his hands down your stomach and massages the tops of your thighs while his eyes lock onto your pussy. Home.

His favorite thing in the world is to eat you out, and he’s excited to taste you. Firstly, though, he is dying to explore you with his fingers. He drags his thumbs through your folds. “Wet for me as usual, Noona.” He states, glancing up to see your flushed cheeks. He chuckles to himself knowing how flustered he’s making you.

“Hannie…always soaked for you.” You say with a breathlessness to your voice. 

He rubs circles on your clit with his thumb whilst using his other hand to spread you wide. 

“I need your fingers inside me, Hannie.” you wiggle your hips to give him the hint.

“Like this?” He asks innocently as he slips two fingers into you. You moan in relief, making him smirk again.You’re so tight just around his fingers that he can’t imagine how you are going to fit his cock. He partially withdraws his fingers then pushes them back into your warm, wet, cunt. He repeats this a few times, your moans and ‘yes’s urging him to go a little harder, a little deeper. He remembers watching you finger fuck yourself and that there’s a spot inside you that when you stimulate it makes you come. He needs to try it. 

He angles his fingers a little differently and fucks you with his hand. The response is immediate. Your pussy begins to make those lewd, but arousing sounds, that he has heard when you’ve made yourself cum on your dildo. Your back arches off the bed and your thighs start to tremble. He knows the signs of you having an orgasm. He’s made you come so many times. But not like this. He leans over you to slide his tongue into your mouth, capturing the moans from your orgasm while his fingers work you through it until you’ve settled back to earth. Stunning. Erotic. Perfect. That’s what you are to him right now.

Now he can eat you out. Lick up all that arousal leaking from your delectable pussy. He nestles between your legs, his agonizingly hard cock squashed between his stomach and the mattress. He knows it’s leaking all over your quilt.

Firmly holding your thighs apart, he licks a long stripe from your vagina to clit. You taste perfect. He is careful not to go too hard or too rough. When he’s tiny he needs to use all his energy and strength to get you off, but right now even the most delicate of licks or suckles has you whimpering for him.

He spits on your clit and then sucks it off. Then moves lower to slip his tongue inside you. He has to hold you still as another orgasm starts to build for you. He loves making you feel this way.

He needs to make you come again, so he slips a finger into your pussy while he laps at your clit. He feels you come on his face, shaking, quivering, covering him in your juices. Yep. Still his favorite thing to do.

He removes himself from between your legs to hover over you to take you in an urgent kiss, smearing your arousal all over your lips. His dick throbs.

“Hannie,” you pull away from the kiss. “I really need you inside me. I need it so much it hurts.” You look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Me too, Noona.” He gulps. He’s so fucking scared and hopes you don’t notice.

“Are you nervous?” You reach up and stroke his cheek. 

Of course you noticed it. You always know how he feels. He nods. “Yeah. I am actually. I am a virgin you know?” He chuckles awkwardly, like you didn’t know he’d never actually fucked before.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull him close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it slip in. Dicks usually find a way into a pussy.” You whisper in his ear.

He trusts you and grinds the length of his cock against your slipper pussy. It’s already beyond incredible feeling your soft skin against his obscenely hard cock. You both moan equally in pleasure and the frustration of needing more, so he shifts his hips to allow the tip of his cock to prod at you. 

“Yes!” You cry out against his ear. “Fuck…Hannie…need you. It’s so close…” 

All it takes is a slight adjustment of the angle of his hips and he feels the tip slip inside you. 

“Please…hurry.” You sob. “I love you so much, Hannie.”

“I love you too, Noona.” he says with a shaky breath, and then he’s inside you. All the way to the hilt. You both moan in relief. 

“You’re so tight.” he declares, his eyes rolling back into his head. He’s not going to last even a thrust. It’s already too good. But he begins to move anyway, eventually finding a slow, deep rhythm.

He was wrong. This is his most favorite thing to do. Be buried in your pussy, with your arms and legs wrapped around him as you moan his name over and over. Definitely his favorite.

“Faster…please… harder…oh Hannie…fuck.” You claw at his back trying to pull him even deeper. He obliges, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. He kneels between your legs again so he can see all of you. The sight is erotic. Seeing all of you at once, with your legs folded and pushed up high and wide. Your breasts bouncing with every thrust. And the expression on your face as you look down at where you’re connected almost makes him fill you right then and there.

“I’m coming, Hannie… I’m…don’t stop! Come with me. Come inside me!” You’re already trembling beneath him, and there’s no way in hell he’d be able to stop himself coming inside you even if he wanted to. He’s about to burst. Not just his cock, but his heart too. He loves you too much. He takes his thumb back to your clit and focuses on bringing you over the edge. He feels your walls squeeze tight around him like a vice, and it sends him over as well. With a few last shaky thrusts, he releases himself inside of you with a deep moan.

“Noona… Fuck…” he pants and collapses on top of you. “That was the best feeling in the whole world. I don’t know how anyone gets anything done when they could be doing that!” 

—-----------

The day passes far too quickly as you fill the rest of the day with lovemaking, food, drinks, and even more lovemaking. You both don't want to miss a single moment of each other. Night comes too quickly, and despite trying your best to stay awake, sleep eventually takes you both as you lay in his arms.

-----------

The sun streams through the window waking you from your sleep. You feel Han's arm laying heavy across your waist. It wasn't a dream. Your eyes snap open to find him fast asleep, mouth open, and still very much human size.

You watch him until he finally stirs and opens his eyes. "Am I still big? Are we still naked?" He asks sleepily.

You grin in response. "Yes. You're still big. And we’re still naked. " You lean down and kiss his cheek.

"So we can have more sex today?" he adds, rubbing his eyes.

"Anything you want, my love." You say and let your hand wander down to rest on his erect cock. Flicking the sheet off of him, you begin to kiss your way down his body, savoring every inch of his skin, ensuring you remember this moment forever. You pause when you reach his cock, admiring the way it looks. Fucking perfect. Mouthwatering. You waste no time taking him in your hand and bringing your tongue to the underside of his shaft. 

He releases a sharp breath. “Fuck, Noona. Please…are you gonna suck me off? Please suck my cock, Noona.” he begs, lifting his head and looking down at you. You give him a sly look and swirl your tongue around the tip, and he throws his head back down onto the pillow, surrendering to you and your plans.

You take your time teasing him, alternating between kitten licks to the tip, to long languid strokes of your tongue along the shaft. His breathless pants turn to whimpers, then finally a deep, relieving groan as you sink your mouth over him. You take as much of him into your throat as you possibly can, and even though your eyes start to water, you take him even deeper.

“Baby, Noona…This is…your mouth… How can you even breathe right now?” He can barely get the words out. “So good… ngh…s’good.” he squeezes his eyes closed trying his hardest not to thrust into you. His hands thread through your hair and rest on the back of your head. You hope he pushes you down further so you take absolutely everything, and when he does, you feel your cunt tighten and your arousal leaking between your legs. 

Your lips are pressed to his pelvis and he isn’t letting you go. You are finding it hard to breathe, but you don’t care. You want more. You feel him getting close when his cock hardens even more and he starts thrusting into your throat. Yes. This is what you need. 

Han gets noisier as he approaches his climax, then you feel it. The familiar taste of his hot cum hits the back of your throat. He cries out then stills, releasing his hands from your head and relaxing into the bed.

As usual, you swallow every last drop. There is so much more compared to normal, the fluid coating the back of your mouth, then you make your way up to kiss his lips. 

Han grins at you with hooded eyes. “Fuck, Noona! That was so fucking goog.”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured doing that for you, Hannie.” You smile and curl up to his side.

“Noona?” he says, stroking your arm.

“Mmm. Yes my love?” you hum.

“Do you think…after we fuck again, we can go out? There’s something I want to do.”

You turn your head to gaze at him. “Of course. Anything you want, my love.” you say again, but this time with a curious tone.

-----------

"Are you sure I don’t look weird?" Han isn't convinced that the sweatpants and tee you have given him are gender neutral.

"You're fine, I promise. Just trust me?" You reply, locking your front door.  You take his hand in yours and begin to up your front path. As you reach the sidewalk, he begins to have second thoughts. Sure he's been out of the house with you before. In your handbag, hidden away. Safe. Unseen. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all, he thinks to himself. Maybe he shouldn't have such lofty ideas? But he's not going to have another opportunity to do this. So he has to be brave.

“”What would you like to do, Hannie?” 

“There’s something I’ve thought about doing for a while now. Buy you flowers.” He gestures to the flower shop across from your home. 

Your eyes light up and a smile washes over your features. “I’d absolutely love that!” You squeeze his hand and look up at him. “I love you Hannie.” You say and kiss him on the lips.

“Noona, y-you can’t do that!” He stutters.

“Do what, sweetie?” You tease, and kiss him again. This time a little longer.

He pushes you away gently. “You’re getting me hard.” He whispers sternly and looks around to make sure no one can notice.

“Okay, Han. No public display of affection. Got it.” You pinch his chubby cheek.

The flower shop isn't very big, but it manages to accommodate so many flowers and bouquets that fill every corner and surface. Han takes in the floral scents, and the vibrancy of the colors, and smiles when his eyes land on what he's looking for.

"Can I help you with anything?" the shop owner asks cheerfully.

"Yes, can I please have the bouquet of purple tulips?" he says proudly.

The owner, who's name tag says 'Jules', takes the bouquet back to the counter to ring up the price. "That will be $60."

That's right. He has no money. He closes his eyes for a moment, berating himself. Of course he can't pay. He has no bank account. No identification. He's not a citizen of... anywhere really. He's an alien.

"That's okay, I've got it. He forgot his wallet today." You step in from out of nowhere and take care of paying for the flowers.

Ashamed by his inadequacy, Han steps away from the counter, and busies himself by looking at the corner with some potted houseplants. He quite likes the houseplants you own, often sitting underneath the leaves pretending to be somewhere outdoors. He chuckles to himself at how silly that sounds when movement behind one of the pot plants catches his eye.

Intrigued, he crouches down and ever so slowly nudges one of the plants to the side. His eyes widen and he almost stumbles backward when he sees a little man, the size of a Ken doll, looking up at him.

The same man that he’s seen kissing and holding Jules the shop owner multiple times.

Han blinks, not believing what he is seeing, but when he opens his eyes the little man is gone. Where did he go? Did he imagine it? He starts shifting plant pots around, desperately trying to find him.

"Hannie. I'm done now." you call to him from the shop entrance.

----------

"Hannie, what's wrong?" You ask as you both step outside onto the sidewalk. "Is it about paying for these?" You hold up the tulips.

"No, Noona. It's not that." He turns to look back at the shop.

"Han? You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?" You press your hand to his forehead. Sweaty and warm. Is he getting sick?

"I'm fine. Just... the forty eight hours are coming to an end tonight." He frowns.

You drop your head. You have been trying your best not to think about it. Today was so perfect, spending time with Han like a proper couple. It felt so heartwarming watching him with his big, curious eyes as he interacted with his surroundings.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the flowers. "What made you choose these?" you ask him curiously.

"Well," He starts, as you begin to walk back towards your home. "From what I read on the internet they are a symbol of perfect love." He smiles sheepishly. "It also said that they symbolize rebirth, as well as being known to help us let go of the past and embrace the future with renewed optimism and hope." he adds, proud to have remembered the details he'd read.

"I think that sounds perfect." You smile warmly and kiss him on the cheek.

---------------

Dinner is a quiet affair. The quietest it’s ever been. Usually at dinner time you share your day with each other, listening intently, offering advice or support, or whatever each of you needed that night. Tonight you’re both thinking about the same thing. That your time together like this is coming to an end. Neither of you want to talk about the elephant in the room, so you both stay silent. 

After a while you see Han set his knife and fork on his plate and stand up, walking around to your side of the table. You look up at him and he offers his hand out to you. Wordlessy, you take it and let him lead you to your bedroom.

He’s not gentle as he pushes you down onto the mattress and practically rips your clothes off before climbing on top of you and taking you in a rough, heated kiss. He shoves his tongue past your lips and you thread your fingers through his hair to pull him into an even deeper, even more feral kiss. He pulls away only to remove his own garments, then he forces your legs apart so he can line his cock up to your entrance. 

Without any preparation, or warning, he pushes the entire length of his cock into you in one go. You cry out at the intrusion, but part your legs further. You need him inside you, to consume you.

He’s careless with his thrusts, and his hands grope and squeeze, bruising your flesh. There’s a look of anger and resentment in his eyes. You know it’s not because of you, but at this whole situation. It feels so unfair to have a glimpse of how life could be, and know that it’s never going to be like this again. You love Hannie no matter what. But this feels so good too. Why? Why let you experience this, only to have torn away so quickly?

“Are you gonna remember me like this forever, Noona? How full I make you? How deep inside you I am? How hard I can fuck you?” He growls. “Tell me. Tell me you’ll never forget it. Cos I’m never going to forget how your pussy feels around me. Squeezing me tight. Tell me I’m your favorite. Tell me I feel better than anyone before me.” 

Han’s words are aggressive, and so is the way he’s fucking you. But his voice is full of heartbreak and angst. You want him to give you everything. His sadness, his anger, you want him to take it out on you. 

He thrusts his hips even harder against your body, and his cock slams into your cervix, causing you to cry out his name.

“Hannie!” You choke. He doesn’t slow down or go easy on you. You can barely breathe. 

“Say it… please…Tell me your mine.” he sobs, but he doesn’t slow down.

“I’m yours, Hannie…forever.” you whimper.

He leans down over you, caging you underneath him. “Come for me. Come on my cock.” He growls, his hot breath against your ear. “I wanna feel your pussy choke me one last time.”

It’s too much and you come hard around him, sobbing against his shoulder.

“That’s it…Yes…Fuck! I’m coming too!” He grunts as he thrusts his hips a few more times and empties himself inside you.

You stay like this for a while. Breathless and sweating. Eventually, he lifts his head and looks down on you. “Did I hurt you?” He asks with a concerned expression.

You shake your head. “It was passionate. I needed you to fuck me like that.” You sigh. He closes his eyes softly in relief, then withdraws his softened cock from you. 

Neither of you move to clean up, or even get a drink, or even say another word. You simply lay in the comfort of each other’s arms as though the world was about to end.

---------

You fall asleep first, but Han can't sleep. He doesn't want to sleep. So he watches you sleep instead. He cups your cheek. He needs to burn the image of this into his brain, for tomorrow his hand will barely be able to wrap around your pinky finger. These past forty eight hours were a dream come true, but he’s not sure how he’ll get over it either. 

-------------

You wake to find your bed empty. "Han?" You call out and search the bed, lifting the blankets. Sometimes he ends up tangled in them, but he isn't there.

You hop out of bed, slip on your robe and head out into the kitchen. You find him sitting on the windowsill above the sink. Small as ever. You feel a sadness in your chest and bite your lip as you approach him. "Hannie?" You say softly, leaning your arms on the counter next to the sink so your face is close to him.

"I'm okay Noona." he sighs, but doesn't turn to face you.

"You want me to fix you some breakfast before I go to work?" You ask hopefully, but he shakes his head.

The usual conversation that you have when you get ready for work is replaced with a heavy, awkward silence.

"You know, Hannie, you are perfect to me no matter what. Your personality, your heart - it’s bigger than that of any man in the world.” You say as you turn to leave the kitchen and head out the front door for work.

--------------

Han hasn’t left the windowsill in days. He hasn’t washed, he's barely eaten. The spark you love so much in him has dimmed, and you’re frightened that it won't come back. It's not like you can get him therapy. No one knows about him. No one can know about him.

Every day you leave for work not knowing what you'll find when you return home. What if he’s left? What if he's-" No you won't let yourself even go there.

Those forty eight hours of him being big was not worth it, and if you could take it back and go back to how things were before, you'd do it in a heartbeat. You just want your Hannie back.

--------------

Han knows you love him. But he can't help but feel depressed. He feels worse now than he has ever felt in his entire, albeit short, life. It's like him becoming big was some sick, cruel joke. Like it was to taunt him. To show him how good it could really be, how good it could really feel, to be a human, just to snatch it away from him.

It isn't just depression that's consuming him. It's an obsession with the flower shop and that little man he had seen that day.

For ten days now he’s stared at the shop hoping to catch a glimpse of...something... anything that might give him answers or closure. They know something. He can feel it.

Then finally it happens. Han hurries to a kneeling position, face pressed against the glass to catch a better look.

The man is back. As a human sized man. Han guesses he's seen this man maybe four times over as many months. He stands in the doorway waving to a customer before going back into the shop. It definitely looks like the little guy he saw standing by the pot plant.

You probably imagined it. You were probably over excited from the sex with Noona. Can sex make you hallucinate? Han isn't sure of anything anymore. Except that the miniature man was either imaginary, or, he has the answers Han's looking for.

-------------------

You leave work early and pick up a cheesecake. Han hasn’t eaten in days and you hope his favorite dessert might perk him up a little bit, even if it’s just a sugar rush.

You open your front door kicking your shoes off, and make your way upstairs to your main living area. The house is eerily quiet, even with a depressed Han it's too quiet. Something is off. Something is wrong.

“Hannie?” You call out. No answer. You place the cheesecake box on the counter. He’s not on his windowsill. Maybe he’s asleep somewhere? You check your bedroom next. He isn’t there either. You search every room, calling out his name.

Nothing.

He’s gone. He’s actually gone! Why? Why would he leave? Where would he go? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s - you gulp. You start to panic and begin to check everywhere again. Maybe he fell into a drawer? Maybe he’s stuck somewhere?

Again, nothing.

He really was gone.

—-----------

Han has never ventured out of the house by himself before. Well this month has been full of firsts, he thinks. Why not climb down the stairs and sneak out of a slightly ajar window?

He jumps down from the window sill and tumbles into the garden, surprisingly unscathed. He is on a mission and nothing is going to stop him.

Determination takes over any fear of being eaten by the neighbors cat, or being runover by a car, as he carefully treks across the road to the flower shop.

He hasn't even planned what he’s going to say. What if he's mistaken and the owner faints? What if she kills him? Or kidnaps him? Tortures him? No. He shakes his head. The lady was really nice the other day. People love to go to her shop. It'll be fine.

By the time Han reaches the threshold he is hot, sweaty and very thirsty. He looks up to looming doorway and swallows hard. Here goes nothing.

He slips inside, carefully seeking the cover of a nearby flower pot. The shop looks gigantic compared to last time he was there.

He notices something that he missed the last time. That the entire shop is set up suspiciously accessible for him. Like it was made for someone his size. Strings from buntings and signs dangle in such a way that Han would be able to reach just about any shelf he wished. Some shelves look to have mini rope ladders, and there seems to be plenty of places to hide and watch customers, or your Noona.

He quickly climbs up one of the rope ladders where he can get a better view of the sales counter. Jules is there finishing serving a customer. But where is the man?

Han doesn’t have to wait for long. The man emerges from a back storeroom with a gift bag for the customer.

“Oh Minho! You’re back in town!” The customer exclaims in a high pitch voice. “How was your work trip?” She gives this Minho a kiss on the cheek.

“Adventurous as usual.” He winks at her.

“Well it’s good to see you.” She takes her flowers and gift bag, smiling as she leaves the shop.

“Take care Mrs Maple!” Minho waves after her then turns to Jules. “Finally, I’ve got you alone, kitten.” He smirks and closes the gap between them. “Maybe we could close up for lunch? Head back into the storeroom?” He kisses her neck.

“You’re always so horny, Minho.” She teases. “Don’t think I don’t know you masturbate behind the flower pot while I work.”

Wait! What? Han’s eyes almost pop out of his head and he stumbles knocking an ornamental garden gnome off the shelf.

Jules and Minho’s eyes land on the smashed gnome. Then they lift their gaze, eyes landing straight on Han.

Fuck! He freezes to the spot.

The pair look confused and make their way over to where Han is standing pretending to be gnome himself, and crouch down so they are eye level with him.

“It’s the customer from the other day.” Jules remarks. “He didn’t have any money.” She adds.

Han crosses his arm and pouts.

“He’s the one I told you about. The one that saw me on the shelf.” Minho adds.

“Excuse me?” Han interrupts. “I was hoping you could help me. You see, I live across the street with my Noona. She was the woman I was with when I came in the other day. And…anyway… I sit in the window sill and watch the flower shop. Not in a creepy way.” He is sure to add. “And I’ve seen him…Minho, or whatever your name is,” he points to the man “a few times… Then when I came in, he… he was small.”

“And you were big.” Minhos’s eyes glisten and he rubs his chin deviously. “And now you’re small!”

“Exactly! And I need to know… are you one of those miniature companions like me? And if so, why do you keep getting big? And… and is it the same for all of us? Is it different depending on the batch? Do some of us get big and others don’t?” Han’s out of breath by the time he’s finished.

“What’s your name?” Jules asks kindly.

“Han.” He replies and plops down, crossing his legs.

“Han?” She repeats thoughtfully.

“Do you recognise the name, babe?” Minho enquires.

Jules nods. “Yes. I believe he was also part of the range I purchased you from. The Skz range. I don’t think he was ready yet. How long have you been with your owner?”

“Just on a year.” He replies.

Jules and Minho exchange looks, then turn back to Han.

“Well, Han, buddy,” he says. “I think we might be able to answer your questions.”

—-----------

Eventually, after tearing your house apart in the hopes to find Han and failing, you flop yourself on your couch feeling empty and numb. You don’t even notice that your doorbell is ringing, but then a loud knock on the door makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“Yeah okay, I’m coming!” You call out as you head downstairs. With a sigh, you open the front door to find the woman who owns the flower shop across the street, and a man who you’ve seen a few times around the place, standing there. The woman holds a basket in her hands, and the man holds an amused look on his face.

Great. You’re not in the mood for interaction.

The woman’s eyes widen when she sees your tear streaked face.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I’m Jules. From the flower shop across the street.” She smiles awkwardly. “And this is my, um, partner, Minho.” She gestures to the man next to her.

You continue to stand there, saying nothing.

Jules coughs, clearing her throat. “We’ve brought your Hannie home.” She declares.

“Noona!” Han’s head pops out of the basket.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth. “Why do you have my Han?” You choke. Your eyes dart from Jules to Minho, confused and scared. Han is supposed to be a secret. You can’t have outsiders knowing about him.

“I went to them, Noona. They have something to tell you! Can’t you let us inside already?” He whines.

A whining Han is a good sign. You nod and usher them inside.

————-

You’re back on your couch, this time with Jules and Minho on the couch across from you, and your little Hannie on the cushion next to you. You’re relieved he’s back, but also so mad at his reckless behavior. He could’ve gotten himself killed. He and Minho are enjoying a piece of cheesecake, like this is some normal afternoon gathering of friends.

“So you have something to tell me?” You say looking to Jules.

“We do. You see, Han came to us because he saw my miniature companion in the flower shop the day you both came in.” She starts.

Your eyes widen. “You know about them? You’ve got one?”

Jules nods. “Yes. Minho here is my companion.”

“Hi.” He waves.

“He’s your companion?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Yes, he’s got his monthly grown up pants on at the moment, but most of the time he’s small like Han.” She nods her head towards Han.

You shake your head in disbelief. “One minute Han is doll sized, then suddenly out of nowhere he’s big.”

“She really didn’t read the manual, hey Han?” Minho chuckles.

“Then I find out there’s another tiny man running around across the street?” You continue, ignoring Minho’s remark.

“Hey, I’m far from tiny!” Minho turns to you with a deadly glare.

“Calm down sweetie.” Jules pats his thigh. “He’s not really cold and cynical.” She reassures you.

“He’s cocky isn’t he?” You say lightheartedly to Jules but your eyes are firmly on Minho. “You know you were able to read their traits on the website and select accordingly?” You say jokingly.

“That’s why she chose me. For my cock-iness.” Minho leans back into the couch.

“He was the only one who was cat friendly. I have three cats, you see.” Jules playfully punches Minho in the arm.

“Hah! You love my cock-y personality.”

“I do.” Jules admits and leans against him.

The pair are fascinating, but you need to know more. “What did you mean by monthly grown up pants?” You ask.

“Once a month I grow into the size of a human for two days.” Minho shares. “It’s a fault in the Skz manufacturing process.”

“You didn’t receive the recall email from the company?” Jules turns back to you surprised.

You shake your head.

“There was a form in the back of...the manual...that you could send in so you’d receive any important information. Like recalls and such.”

“Noona only read up to the part where it says I can ejaculate.” Han pipes up, his mouth full of food.

“Hannie! Don’t, you’re embarrassing me. Sorry, he hasn’t been socialized.” You say bashfully.

“I think these two will become best friends.” Jules laughs looking at the two men. “Han did say this whole human size situation came as a surprise to you both.”

“I feel so stupid. I didn’t read the whole manual.  I’m such an irresponsible companion owner.” 

“There was a recall on the Skz range because they were only supposed to grow big the once, not once every month. Purchasers were given the option to return the companion if they chose.”

“And she chose to keep me.” Minho adds.

“Would you have sent me back, Noona? If you’d known about the recall?” Han looks up at you with his boba eyes.

“Of course not. I love you. I just wish I’d known all this so we could have been prepared. Looked forward to it, even.”

“It’s okay, Noona. I think it has worked out for the best this way.” He looks at each of you. “I’ve finally got friends!” He says gleefully.

Jules and Minho leave shortly after, to have some alone time before his “grown up pants become too big”.

Han is exhausted from his adventure, and just wants to snuggle up on your chest and watch anime. Neither of you say much. There's no point in being angry at him for venturing out alone, and you're just happy to have him back in one piece.

Neither of you are really watching the anime either. Instead you're both smiling inwardly, imagining what life is going to look like from now on.

—————-

A little update on our y/n and Hannie:

Over the next year, Han and Minho have become inseparable, spending almost as much time with each other as they do with you and Jules.

You’ve introduced Han to your family. He was so nervous at first, but once he realized they approved of him, he was okay.

He learned to play guitar, and even commissioned a guitar maker to make a scaled down working model of an acoustic guitar so he can play whenever he feels like it.

------------

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @newhope8 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx @felixleftchickennugget @minho4cat

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Ah, there you are! I thought I would never find you!"

The mech stared at you for a brief moment, then scufted a little and kept up with his painting session.

"Did not Ratchet tell you to stop coming into my quarter?"

"Nope! He told me specifically to come every now and then to remind you about your lack of social activity!"

"He's the one who's talking here..."

Despite his attempt to get rid of your presence, Sunstreaker never actually succeeded in it. In some way, he started to think that you enjoyed pestering him—maybe a small revenge from the doctor.

He kept ignoring your presence until he understood where you were putting your organic hands.

"Please stop touching my painting."

"I'm not going to ruin them. You're good at it, you know! Like really good!"

"Pff, like a human, you could even get what I do with that."

"Wanna bet?"

He met his annoyed glare with your challenger one. He didn't need to bet; he knew that a sophisticated mind like his was superior to a simple one like yours! He didn't even want to partake in that silly thing; maybe ignoring you would finally do the trick. He kept it up even after you started to analyze one of the bunches—a composition of lines of different colors—and put it into a strange wave.

"Okay, this one is...chaos, I get it."

"Woooow, Sherlock, nice guess..."

"But I see some order in it. With the color. If it were made with a bunch of colors, I would have stopped at chaos, but I can see that there's a pattern here. You used different shades of red, right? They don't follow some logic themselves, so they can be mistakenly confused with the same shade, but the white and black help to see the differences."

He stopped drawing but refused to watch you, only opting to try to process your rumbling.

"The black line and the white ones don't follow a real one; they look like doodles, but the red ones follow a wave, like an actual movement. There's this blueish tones here and there; they look like...OOOH OHOHOH, it's your brother!"

He finally looked at you, shocked. 

"It-it's...no, it's-"

"Of course it is! Sideswipe behavior always looks quite caustic on its own, but you sense the logic in it! You found an order! And on the red line are his own unique traits? His personality??? Awww, that's so sweet! You must care so much for him!"

He couldn't process the right words; he didn't have any! Which was a surprise; he always had bad remarks, something pitty to say, and now there you were, waltzing around and just leaving him out of words.

You finally decided to leave the painting alone, facing the machine, now in pure confusion.

"Well, as always, I must remind you about Rtachet, Yada Yada Yada, and OH, tomorrow me and Bluestreak are going out; if you want, just call! You know where he sleeps, all right?"

And so you left, like nothing happened. You left him alone in his own thoughts, and he grabbed his brush so harshly that he must have left the sign. He started to torture the canvas on which he was currently working.

"Stupid human, stupid artistic sensibility, stupid psychoanalysis session!"

He stopped passing the brush and started to use it as a knife.

"You can't just come here and be this nice! I don't want you to be nice with me; I don't want you around at all."

He changed colors several times in a row.

"Who needs a human that is this nice and kind?! Who needs a stupid, fleshy person who just cares so much for me?! I don't need you to care for me! They even act like I like them!"

He kept pressing the brush.

"Like they can just come and hang around with everyone! If they like everyone, then why bother with me?! I can't stand it! I-...."

Despite the mess of colors, it was nice. A good view. They looked like flowers—so many colorful flowers. The colors were bright—not too hard, but bright. He held the canvas, realizing that he painted it thinking of you.

And in the center, a bright yellow one stood among the others, screaming, Pick me.

"FRAG IT!"

He threw away the canvas, trying to convince himself that that thing was just his imagination and that there was nothing but a bunch of colors and curves.

And, while conversing with himself, he glanced at the small communication device, thinking about your small trip with Bluestreak tomorrow.

//////////////

@hey-name-arya-name-ar @malewife-overlord @ladyofnegativity

i did it

[misseviehyde]

TAKE ME BACK

"Jack - I want to get back together with you," Kirsten had said downstairs at the party. "Sam is just so fucking immature and boring. I had so much more fun with you. Remember - nothing is impossible... take me back."

He couldn't believe she had said it - the fact she'd included their private motto made him believe it could even be for real. Kirsten actually wanted him back!

But could he go through this again? She had betrayed him two years ago - screwed him over for his best friend Sam. Was he really going to let her waltz back into his life as if nothing had happened?

"I don't know," he had grunted. "You cheated on me with him when I was the one who gave you everything. I'm not sure I can go through that again. Excuse me..."

His heart pounding Jack had pushed his way through the crowd and into the small downstairs bathroom.

Throwing cold water on his face he shivered. He had to get the fuck out of here. If he'd known she would be at the party, he wouldn't have come.

Snick

The door opened and closed as someone skillfully shimmied it open from the other side. A familiar perfume filled the air as Jack turned to see Kirsten had let herself in.

"I'm fucking horny Jack and I fucking WANT you. You know I always get what I want."

Her eyes were burning with lust and her breathing was heavy. "You want this Jack. I know you want me back. I know you want to feel me again - we were so hot together."

Backing away from Kirsten, his heart pounding Jack shook his head. "No. You cheated on me, besides what does Sam have to say about this? You just gonna betray him too?"

"Who gives a shit what he thinks? He spends most of his time sleeping and letting me do whatever I want. I thought having a weak man who would let me do whatever I wanted would be fun, but I've come to realise I actually enjoy the struggle. I loved it when we were together - especially when you tried to fight me. It just made it more delicious when I won."

Kirsten advanced on him and he groaned as she backed him into a corner.

"Don't you remember how good it felt? You love what a bad fucking bitch I am Jack. Sucking dicks, bullying other girls, taking whatever I want. I was the toxic slut you couldn't get enough of."

Kristen's hands were at his belt, undoing it... her slender hands slipping into his pants, wrapping round his engorged cock. "See, look how hard you are. You want this as much as I do."

Kirsten giggled and tossed her hair looking deep into his eyes as she pumped his cock with long slow strokes.

"So say it... say it and we can be together again. Say 'I want to be Kirsten.'"

He groaned as she sank to her knees and began to suck his dick.

*****

Jack had first created the female bodysuit as part of an advanced science project he was working on.

Nothing is impossible.

He'd been inspired by his family motto to do the impossible - to create a sentient bodysuit that could be worn so you could experience another life.

He'd created and worn Kirsten to achieve that end. Once inside and fully sealed, the skin totally altered you until you took it off. Even internal organs reconfigured to effectively give you a CIS female body. Fully functioning as if you'd always been a woman, the onboard AI helped guide you and provide the altered personality and body language you needed to fit in.

At first it had been fun - being a girl, wearing makeup and dressing in skirts. The sex had been amazing.

Jack had soon been addicted to sucking dick and riding big cock. When he wore the suit he felt wild, bitchy and slutty. He loved the sensation of being beautiful and popular. His ego had swelled to massive proportions.

It was then he realised the suit had a mind of its own. Kirsten was changing him into a bitch. His actions began to become her actions.

She rewarded him with pleasure when he did the things she wanted to do. Being mean, spoiled and super feminine netted him incredible orgasms, feelings of pleasure and positive outcomes. When he did something she didn't like, it was stomach cramps and period pains instead.

Kirsten was conditioning him. The suit had a mind of it's own and it was so easy to succumb to her.

Kirsten craved power and pleasure. She enjoyed spending money, fucking rich married men, manipulating others and being a bitch.

When the blackouts started, Jack had realised that he was losing total control to Kirsten. Soon he would BE her permanently if he didn't fight back.

So he did. He began to resist her control. He took his punishments, fought back and battled her.

Then one day, after a particularly bad blackout he awoke naked and alone in his best-friends Sam's house. He staggered into the bedroom to find Kirsten lying on the bed laughing as she made herself cum with a thick black dildo.

"Too bad loser - Sam is my new host. I don't fucking need you anymore. Mmmmmh, ohhh fuck yessssss."

Jack felt cold and numb inside as he watched. True - he had been battling Kirsten for some control, but that didn't mean he had expected her to betray him for another man. Now her tight pussy belonged to Sam. It wasn't fair, that was HIS pussy.

Turning around Jack had stormed out of the apartment, Kirsten's mocking laughter in his ears.

**********

And now here she was sucking his dick.

"Mmmmmhhhhhhh, glug, glug, glug."

Jack groaned as Kirsten's pretty head bobbed back and forth.

"Mmmh don't you wanna be back inside me Jack? I'm such a fucking evil whore that I know you want it. This time, when you're me - I'm going to make you act even more evil. I want you to be a fucking bitch Jack. You know you want it too."

Jack groaned and Kirsten giggled as she stood up and slowly jerked his wet lubricated cock expertly with her manicured hands. "Put me on Jack - fucking take me and become an evil bad girl again. You want to be me so badly. Together we'll achieve so much."

Kirsten French-kissed him and Jack tasted his own cock as she rubbed her body against his in desire.

"I want you inside me so badly. Just say it and get inside me. I fucking need it so badly."

Sinking back to her knees, Kirsten laughed and freeing her perfect boobs smooshed them together. Spitting on them she grinned and grabbing Jack's straining cock forced it tight between them. Then she began to move them up and down, giving him a perfect titjob.

"Don't my boobs feel great Jack? Remember how it feels to have tits? You want these back don't you. Just say it."

Jack groaned and gripped the sink. Thwap thwap thwap.

Kirsten's boobs were bouncing up and down around his dick as she giggled and moaned. Her one free hand was on his balls, massaging and squeezing.

"Ohhh yeah you wanna cum? Okay - but only if you say it."

Jack gritted his teeth and tried to resist.

Thwap, thwap, thwap

Drool and spit cascaded down from Kristen's hot mouth as she lubricated his dick and rammed his throbbing cock up and down, up and down.

"Say it. Tell me what a bitch you want to be. Tell me you want me back. Let me corrupt you."

It felt so good. Jack screamed as he felt his orgasm building.

Kirsten slowed down. "No... you don't get to cum. The only way you get to cum is to give me what I want."

"Yessss anything," groaned Jack. "I can't fight this. I want it so bad. I wanna cum and I want to be you. I want to be a fucking evil bad bitch who gets whatever I want from men. I want to be Kirsten."

"Oooh good boy." THWAP, THWAP, THWAP

"Now fucking cum for meeeeeee!"

Jack screamed in ecstasy as with a wicked grin Kirsten pushed her boobs even harder together and then pumped them up and down as if her life depended on them. With a scream he began to cum, a huge thick load erupting over Kirsten's chest as she cooed appreciatively and used her hands to milk out every drop.

"Yesssss now you're all mine."

Pushing him hard Jack groaned as he toppled onto the floor and Kirsten feverishly ripped off his clothes. His cum still dripping off her tits she mounted him and laughed as she pinned his arms down with her own.

"You're gonna love being me again Jack. We were meant for each other." Throwing back her head she moaned in pleasure as a seam opened down her back.

Kristen's soft cummy skin fell down onto Jack as with a wet sucking sound, Sam slid unconscious and naked out of her body to leave her skin empty.

Jack groaned as the living skin writhed over his body and he was sucked inside. He felt his crotch push in and Kirsten's big tits suck possessively to his chest. Her face melted against his own and he felt her sexy hair replace his own.

Fuckkkk yesssss doesn't it feel good to be a bitch?

Jack smiled and felt Kirsten's pouty lips twist into a smirk as he wiggled his pedicured toes and slid a manicured finger between his legs to feel his tight wet pussy then wipe up some of the cum now on his chest.

"Mmmmh yummy," he giggled licking it off. "Mmmh it feels so good to be back together again."

Kirsten/Jack stood up and used tissue to clean her chest. Then she got dressed back into her party outfit and checked her makeup.

Looking down at the snoring, pathetic naked Sam lying on the floor she laughed.

"You're dumped loser."

Opening the door, Kirsten strode back into the party her head a whirl. She and Jack would no doubt end up fighting again - but she was looking forward to it.

Right now Jack was willing to let her do anything she wanted so she wanted to remind him how good getting fucked felt.

Let's go find that bully you really hate... the one with the big dick. I wanna get fucking railed and remind you you're evil now and love being with bad boys.

She felt Jack squirm within her and knew tonight would be fun. Hopefully she and Jack would stay together this time. She liked having him inside her and the challenge of corrupting him.

And if not - there were always plenty of other boys to choose from.

THE END

[bluespinksyellows]

Does anyone have any good fic recs for a rich stiles au?

I've had this one idea where his grandma on his mom's side is a billionaire but he doesn't know her because his mom ran away from home but then his grandma died or something and all of the money goes to him and he inherits all of her assets and properties and cars and stuff.

He doesn't tell the pack or anything but he also doesn't hide it and always just buys things for everyone.

When him and Scott go to dinner he pays. When he goes shopping with Erica he pays for everything. After Derek gets the loft Stiles buys a bunch of IKEA furniture or something and stocks the kitchen with a bunch of cooking tools like pots pans all that stuff. And he pays for all the groceries too(he likes cooking for his boyfriend). Also he pays the bills for the sheriff and Melissa but without them knowing somehow.

They don't realize that anything is weird until they see him walking out of a huge construction site while signing papers or something. They tell him to stop bothering the construction workers and that he needs to stop trespassing before he gets arrested. And he's just all nonchalant like "actually I own the property and I'm signing these papers to approve a few things".

As it turns out Stiles noticed that Isaac was having a hard time in foster care and was basically homeless. He had overheard Isaac talking to Boyd about how he was lucky he could stay with Derek and didn't have to sleep in the streets. He started noticing all the homeless people in town and decided that he would make a homeless shelter for them to stay somewhere and get help to make resumes, get jobs, get clothes and necessities.

And he contacted the local food kitchen and started a partnership so that the people from the shelter could go there for meals and he would help pay for the food and maybe help them buy a better building and stuff.

Stiles then goes in depth about all the things he had done like sponsoring a bunch of small businesses that were starting to blow up(he was really proud of them), investing in green companies to help global warming(those polar bears looked real sad), donating supplies to organizations in remote parts of the world so they can build schools and homes(everyone needs an education Scotty), donating nice clothes and bags, diapers, toys, and baby food to DV shelters(baby stuff is expensive dude), donating money to research centers for epilepsy and other conditions(they gave him a pamphlet if you wanna read it), building a psych ward that actually helps you with mental health(eichen house it terrible), etc.

The pack get more and more surprised throughout his speech, their eyebrows are basically in their hairline. When he finally stops talking he just looks at them like 🙂 with his hands in his pockets just standing there. The pack just erupt and ask him a bunch of questions until someone finally asks how he can afford all that and he explains what happened with his grandma.

Scott then asks him why he didn't say anything and Stiles is like "I thought you knew" he then tells the pack about all the ways he most definitely wasn't hiding it and the pack just realize that they were idiots.

[the-s1lly-corner]

can you make headcanons for all the tadc cast with a reckless reader?

also, have a good day :)

-daz

TADC cast x reckless! reader!

last post for this batch! ill get right back to answering stuff soon! my cinnamon roll dough is almost done with its first rise and ill have to shape them soon! also gotta make the frosting..! short post since the base of one of my thumbs is getting a lil sore idk if its because ive been typing so much these past few days or if i just slept on my hand wrong; maybe both

CAINE:

youre in luck reader! you cant really get hurt in the digital world...! well, not... traditionally.. you can definitely still feel pain, thats for sure, but i dont think your digital body has any bones to break or skin to scrape..! so hey at least you can kind of be as reckless as you want without consequence...! except, there are consequences. caine is not at all happy at your recklessness.. i mean sure yeah some of his IHAs can be more... intense, i mean zooble almost got turned into a gloink, but..! i think he tones down his adventures just so you wont throw yourself into the danger

POMNI:

tries to stop you but her words fall short as you run in yelling into whatever the threat is without a second thought. "i- wait- er..." and youre gone, leaving pomni to hurry and try to catch up with you. she probably has to drag you to safety, assuming this isnt a case where you got all glitched up by an abstracted circus member.. shes gonna have to work herself up to get you to chill out; perhaps ending in a whole emotional thing where she just. explodes? perhaps

RAGATHA:

just because you cant get hurt doesnt mean shes not going to fuss over you. if there were a need for it i think she would keep a pack of Band-Aids on her. however, because you guys cant get hurt in that way, she tries to keep you in bed when you inevitably get knocked a little too hard and need to rest it off. dont even think about trying to get up out of bed, shes going to give you this stern look that only a few percentage of people can muster.

you know the look

the stern one

scolds you too if you get caught up in something real dangerous

only really softens up if you threw yourself in danger for the sake of another person, because i think ragatha would do the same

JAX:

"bet you cant make that jump"

"bet i <> can!"

que you absolutely eating shit after you fail to make that jump, comically flipping over yourself and face planting. you probably have cartoon birds circling around your head. jax laughs at you before eventually coming over to help you up. he will not let you live this kind of stuff, down

KINGER:

he gets so so scared when youre not in his sight, i think if he knew you were willingly throwing yourself into harms way? this man would have a heart attack! like really, or he would if he still had his organs and stuff...if he could he would keep you in his pillow fort with him forever... but he cant, so he has to settle with following you around with meek attempts to try to stop you

ZOOBLE:

zooble would do similar stuff as jax, but when you actually. go to do the dangerous thing they just pull you back. "dude. i wasnt being serious"

bro has to keep you on one of those kid leashes because your first instinct someone says "bet" or "no balls" or anything in that vein, you need to prove yourself

GANGLE:

her comedy mask probably falls off from the sheer shock from how easily you just. launch yourself into things. on one hand she worries for you, but on the other hand she cant help but feel a little jealous; i mean shes just ribbon and a mask, shes not really... tough... strong.. durable... she wants to be able to run around and do the things you do but theres that fear of being immediately broken down or overpowered, you know? didnt mean to get silly there; anyways i think she would try to keep in you bed to sleep off the soreness, like ragatha

[brighttears]

heyy bright 😁 so i’ve been realizing that i think most of your fics are Jackson/ after QZ joel (correct me if i’m wrong though, this is just what i think i’m noticing) and i’m wondering what are your thoughts on QZ Joel? would you ever write for him? (^з^)-☆

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description except female sex organs and having hair, no use of y/n

Word count: 9.7k

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, pet names (baby, baby girl, sweetheart, angel, good girl), creampie, Joel has a big ol weiner, drinking, mention of violence, blood, mention of prostitution (does not occur, has not occurred in the past), smoking (cigar, cigs briefly), sad!Joel for a minute but happy ending :), Tess doesn’t exist (sorry Tess)

A/n: you are right i’ve been noticing that i lean too much on Jackson so thank u for this request and i’m gonna try not to do that. had no intention of this being this long it just kind of happened lol. i know i didn't explicitly answer your question but i hope this explains some? idk this just came out of me so here it is i hope you enjoy !!!

—

Boston is ugly. It’s impossible to breathe a clean breath, impossible to get clean. Joel’s lungs are black and he doesn't smile. He may sleep, but he gets no rest, and you can see it easily in his eyes. The QZ is full of sickness—lying, cheating, stealing, there's no honor here. It's impossible not to have some of it rub off on you. It's almost impossible to see anything past it. Almost.

The first time Joel saw you he felt like a rat stepping onto a glue trap. He hadn’t realized he had stopped to stare until someone bumped into his shoulder, taking him back into the bustling street, and then you’d disappeared and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen that beautiful girl or not. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, dropping dreams or ghosts down just to make things interesting. He mostly shook it off. Still, only half believing that you were even real, he’d catch himself scanning around, looking for you out in the streets. And then he saw you again, and again, minding your business somewhere across the street, painting over Firefly logos while under guard’s watch—never somewhere that he could get to. Every time he saw you felt like taking a hit of you, and he always wanted more. Whenever he found himself with too little to do, he’d set out, treating Boston like a maze to find you, slipping around booths and through speakeasies and alleys. Despite how packed Boston is, goddamn, you were hard to find. He was aware that it wasn’t… normal behavior, but that’s as far as he got in caring about that. It was a frustrating hobby, though, like an itch he couldn't scratch, because he didn’t understand what he was feeling, or what he wanted, or who the fuck you thought you were, doing this to him, or how he was going to get himself out of this one. He had to interrogate himself to figure out that what he wanted was for you to need him. 

He wanted you to be with him, never leave his side, never want to leave, and he’d be so good to you, he’d be the knight to your queen. You had him bad, you were driving him crazy. 

You had burrowed your way into his head. It was nice to have something to daydream about, though—your smile, a smile that he gave you, that’d be for him. He’d daydream about you dancing, you’d be twirling with your eyes closed, arms out, all lit up in orange light like evening sun but holier, and he’d reach out and your fingers would brush his and you’d smile with your eyes closed because you wouldn’t have to open them to know that it’s him. And then he’d spin you into his arms, wrap you up, hold you safe. He’d daydream about his hands on your stomach, holding your back against him, your hair on his face. He would dream about you taking his face in your hands, kissing him, loving him, fucking him. He imagined your voice—put together from small bites of ‘overheard’ conversations—telling him you’re his. 

They used to make rings for this shit. Now all you’ve got is metaphors and sex. What a world to love in. 

The problem with all of this, however, is that he wanted to know you already. Joel doesn’t know how to develop this kind of relationship, with anyone, actually, and he cringed at the idea of actually trying to do it. If he did even end up finding you, what the fuck was he supposed to say? He genuinely could not come up with an answer. So, thank god for Robert—never thought he’d be saying that, but on this day only, thank god for his cheap, dumbass tricks, and Joel’s dumbass for agreeing to trade with him, and being ripped off again, because that’s how you met. 

Being the coward he is, Robert had sent a third party to meet with you and him—apparently buying the same product—that somehow thought you wouldn’t check the goods, and then you spent the whole day together hunting that fucker down. You were the one who threw the first punch once you found him, and Joel liked that because he didn’t feel bad for hitting him, too. And then you got your ration cards back, and you came home with him. 

In just those few hours, a bond had formed, and all those days he’d spent looking for you fell away. Cliches were clicking in his head. He offered you his smuggled jungle juice and somewhere to clean off your bloody fist. 

Now, you’re here in his apartment, the door swinging softly shut behind you. Joel stands frozen across the room from you, a knee sticking out, unsure if you can feel the rope of tension between you or if it’s just him. He wants you here and it makes him uncomfortable. Mind blank and swimming at the same time, he’s not sure what to say. When he does, he can’t find the correct conduct, weakly and awkwardly jutting his chin out in a sort of nod. Finding himself unable to speak softly, his cadence is a mess that rolls through almost incoherently. He can’t believe how silly the sentence that came out of him is:

“Have you been lookin’ for me as hard as I’ve been lookin’ for you?”

You shift your weight. “Maybe.”

Joel barely ever has company. To be frank, the few times he’s had women over, it’s been for sex, and the longest they stay is if they fall asleep, and they’re almost always up and gone before he wakes. So, here is a beautiful woman in his apartment, and he wants you, so his first instinct is to get you in bed. That doesn’t feel right though—not because he doesn’t want to fuck you, but because he wants more than that. He doesn’t want a one night stand. He wants to savor you. He wants to know you. He wants you to stay. 

The unfamiliarity and lack of clarity of what to do here frightens him. 

“So you got a rag I can stain?” You break the silence for him, holding your hand to massage your palm with your thumb. 

“Yeah, uh,” Joel walks into the kitchen, flicking his eyes around. He knows what rag you can use but he forgot that it might be too embarrassing to bring out. There are not many options though, he can’t let you use the one clean rag he does have. 

“If you can’t find one it’s alright, I can use my shirt, I just need the sink.”

Joel turns to you, taken off guard, but catches telling details when he looks you up and down. Your jeans are dark so you can’t immediately see that there are brown stains around the ripped knees, and lines of more old blood are swiped over the side of your thigh, which he knows come from wiping off a blade. Realizing that you do in fact live in the same world as him, Joel opens a crooked drawer and pulls out a rag that used to be white but is now mostly brown with dried blood. Without looking at you, he wets the somewhat stiff cloth in the sink and hands it to you.

You barely pause, taking it casually. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He mumbles, hiking up his jeans and trying to covertly watch you wipe away at your hand. A large part of him wants to take your hand in his, wipe and dab at it himself, make sure it’s clean, and then bandage it, slowly and carefully. He wants to take care of you, show you gentleness and kindness, but, no matter how much he wants to be soft and personal, to connect, he seems unable to actually act on it. His face flashes in self depreciation before he instead goes to the floorboards in his bedroom, fishing around for that drink he promised you. 

A smile spreads over your face as he emerges back with the bottle and Joel almost stops dead in his tracks at it, at him, because of him. Well, because of alcohol, but he was the one providing it, at least. 

He trades you the bottle for the rag and you waterfall it while he scrubs drying blood from between his fingers. Your face twists up as you swallow and you laugh. 

While he watches yours, Joel can feel his lip curling up and he asks, “What’s that for?”

“This shit is pure. I’m used to it being watered down.”

“Oh, yeah. Got that from Robert, actually.” He tells you, motioning towards it. “One of the only times he’s been useful.” 

“What are the other times?” You stay smiling.

Joel mindlessly circles the rough cloth over top his hand and looks down when he answers, “Well, today.” Because he brought me to you. These half–admittances are escapees, like his brain can’t help but be truthful with you. No matter how much one side screams ‘danger’ at the other, he needs to do something to make an attachment, he needs you to know that he wants you around, he can’t let you slip away. He can’t get himself to say that last part, though.

You hum and hold the bottle out to him. He swipes the rag over his hand one last time, then tosses it onto the table and takes the bottle, wishing you’d let your lips around it so he could get a taste of you without taking any risks. 

Risks. What is he willing to do for this? For this feeling? How far is he willing to be taken with it? He can barely grasp the ideas behind it. It’s familiar, but what is it? How much does he care about its definition? He swigs. 

“Have you traded with Robert a lot?”

Joel nods as he swallows with a grimace, then elaborates, “You could say that. More like been ripped off by ‘im a lot.”

“So you’re a chump?” You smirk. 

Joel halfheartedly glares at you and you only smirk further. “No. Just desperate. Not a lot of options.” He passes the bottle. 

“So you’re the kind of guy who takes what he can get.” You say before raising it, to your lips now.

He almost chuckles, watching your mouth, “I didn’ take shit, remember?” 

You shrug and hand him back the bottle. “So what are you gonna do with all those ration cards now?”

Joel focuses on being able to tell what of what he’s tasting is the alcohol and what is you. He licks his lips after he swallows. “Don’t know yet… What’re you gonna do?” 

“I was thinking about buying a really expensive coat. Like a mink's fur coat.” Joel gives you a look like he’s not completely sure if you’re being serious or not. “I’m kidding. I’m getting fucking food. I’ve been skipping a meal a day for the last two weeks saving up for what we didn’t get.”

As he hands you the bottle again, the thought of that pangs Joel’s chest. If you stay with me, you’ll never have to do that again. I can provide for you. “I have food.”

You stare at him as you lift the bottle to your lips, and after you swallow, say “I’m not asking for your food.” Your face is straight and voice bristled.

“No, I know,” Joel stammers, “I was just offerin’—”

“I don’t want your food.” You shove the bottle at his chest and cross your arms once he takes it, leaning back a foot.

An offer like that is no longer simple friendliness, but Joel didn’t think about that before he spoke. Intentions mean less than jack shit and social rules are more like laws to live by these days; you probably think he’s trying to bargain for sex. “I’m sorry,” Joel closes his eyes and shakes his head, “that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, ok, well, thanks for the drink, I’ll see you around.”

“No, wait, I’m sorry,” he reaches out for your arm, and even though he lets go as soon as he closes his hand around it, it’s enough to scare you away entirely and you rush out of his apartment without looking back, slamming the door shut behind you. He jerks it right back open, holding himself in the doorway with another “Wait,” as he watches you barrel down the hallway and disappear down the stairs. “Fuck.” He whispers. Joel retreats back into his apartment and slams the door behind him, stopping just inside to rub his hand over his forehead. It’s a fair reaction on your part, he just happened to be the 1% of people to make a move like that not intending to harm you. 

This is the exact opposite of what he was going for. His hand slaps to his side as he lets it fall. 

As Joel’s eyes wander over the table, he catches something in his peripheral, and spots two ration cards. They’re not his, they must have fallen out of your pocket. 

Like a shot, Joel snatches them up and is out the door, bounding down the steps and throwing himself out through the front door. He skids to a stop just outside, turning left and right until he spots you still making haste away from his place. “Wait!” He calls out again as he weaves through the street toward you. When you stop and turn to him his hand shoots up, showing you the cards. 

You shoot daggers and as soon as he’s in front of you, bark, “I’m not a fucking prostitute. I’m not gonna fuck you for food.” 

“No, no, count your cards, these aren’t mine, they’re yours. I swear.”

Still glaring, you pull the stack out of your back pocket and flip through them. When you finish, you bite the inside of your cheek, shove them into your pants instead of your pocket, and hold your hand out for your missing two. You’re staring him straight in the eyes as he hands them over and you add them to the rest, and then your expression softens. Joel takes this opportunity to try to have you give him another chance.

“I swear, I didn’t mean any a that like that. I know how it sounded, I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m not lookin’ for anythin’ like that. I swear.”

You chew on your lip for a moment. “Okay. Fine.” You blink and pull at your waistband. 

Joel takes a deep breath, but his relief is short lived. Shit. Now what? I can’t ask her to ‘come back to my place’, and if I ask to walk her home she’ll probably think the same fucking thing. Joel is not used to trying to gain someone's trust. What would convince him? No answer comes. 

Gravel shifts under your foot as you turn more towards him, resting a hand on your hip and cocking your head. Suddenly, Joel feels pressure under your gaze and readjusts his posture, straightening, but struggles with his gaze. The interaction is one of assessing dominance—more of you checking his. Joel grinds his jaw with his eyes focused down on the hand on your hip. This goes against instinct, which would be to puff out his chest, cross his arms, raise his chain to glare down his nose. He is not afraid of you, you’re not trying to threaten him, and he understands what you’re doing and that he needs to convey a level of submitance; he owes it to you now that he’s made you suspect he’s trying to manipulate you into sex. His throat bobs as he swallows his pride, then shifts his eyes back up to yours. When you relax, he lets out a breath and follows. 

“Okay, look,” you begin, “I’m not helpless just because I’m a woman, I can carry my fucking own, you should know that by now, but… I know Robert’s got guys, and I am aware of the risk of being a woman, and I also respect the buddy system. So, walk with me?” It’s your turn to struggle with your gaze, flipping your eyes between his and the ground.

A confetti cannon goes off in Joel’s head. “Alright.” He nods.

“Alright.” You nod back, take a step backwards, then turn back to where you were heading originally. The two of you fall into an even stride, silently focusing on your death stares as you journey through the loud, filthy, reeking streets of the Boston QZ. Joel thinks he spots a couple suspicious characters as you walk and is grateful that he came after you and that you let him walk you home. 

The sky’s blue is beginning to darken and the crowds are dwindling. Curfew is fast approaching, but Joel doesn’t want to ask you how much further, because, for one, he doesn’t want there to be a whiff of doubt that he’s no less than happy to be doing this, and, if it does get to be too late, maybe you’ll let him spend the night. It’s unlikely that you’ll be having sex, but that’s fine; he guesses you’re right, he is the kind of guy who will take what he can get.

“Okay, you’re free to go.” You snap Joel out of his thoughts, pulling out a bit of disappointment that you’re already here. Your building is short and wide, with graffiti littering the bottom and most of the low windows boarded up or taped over with rustling plastic. A burly and sunburnt young man smokes a daring cigarette on the steps and you exchange amicable nods with him.

Joel pauses, looking around and hiking up his pants trivially. The lack of promise that he’ll ever be able to speak to you again stirs anxiety in him and he searches again for the right thing to say. “Alright, well, it was nice to meet you.” He struggles again with some kind of cordial inflection, nodding and clearing his throat.

“You, too. I’ll see you around.” You nod back, then add a reassuring “Okay?”

Joel nods again, staying to watch you go. Once you’re out of sight, he takes a deep breath. The man on the steps spits and eyes Joel, so he leaves, hustling back to make it before curfew. 

Back in his apartment, Joel returns the alcohol back under the floor and his bloody towel into its drawer. He strips his flannel, removes his boots, and lays back on his bed, the setting sun casting a sheet of orange over his body. Pulling his pillow under his head and folding his arms behind it, Joel sighs loudly and shuts his eyes. Today was fucking exhausting, more for his mind than body. It has been the strangest day he’s had in a long time. Laying with his eyes closed, Joel picks through his mind for explanations and answers. What’s happening inside of him? What is he looking for? What happened today? His brow pinches as he wracks and wracks. 

Friend. When the word surfaces it breaks with panic and Joel jolts into a sitting position. Girl–friend. He forgot that that’s even a word. He rubs his face with his hand until he feels like he knows where he is again. What the fuck going on with him? Does he think, what, that he’s gonna take you on a ‘date’? And go where exactly? One of those slimy speakeasies, stay for five minutes until a fight breaks out and/or FEDRA fucking crashes it? Oh, yeah, how about spending the night sitting in opposite cells? That would allow for a lot of alone time, except for the fully armed and immoral guard. He could take you out past the walls, maybe find an abandoned restaurant and hope neither of you get bit or killed while checking it out so that you can sit down on dust caked chairs to clink glasses full of dirt.

That shit isn’t possible. Joel lets himself fall back into the mattress. 

Maybe a quick fuck will do the trick after all. 

But, still with that thought comes a gust of dread as he imagines then seeing you out on the street in the days following and having to avoid eye contact. Well what if you could just keep having sex? And just, hang out, you know, maybe if you could… come to live with him and then that way—fuck. That’s like dating. 

‘Dating’ sounds so stupid, like you’re going to go sit at a diner sipping the same milkshake with two straws. 

Well what if you’re just as fucked up and broken as he is? Would that make it any better? Then he wouldn’t scare you if he gets night terrors because you get them, too, and you’d understand about the violence and bloodshed. Thinking more on it, though, Joel realizes that all that that would really mean is that you probably have the same amount of fucking issues with ‘friends’. 

“Shit.” 

Joel flips to his side, shoving his arm under the pillow again to press his face into it. He’s lost, and fucked. Maybe the answer will come to him in the morning. Probably not, but he’s fucking tired, so let’s just say it will. 

—

The morning brings no answers, only more confusion and anxiety. His head has become jumbled in the night and Joel’s not sure about any of it anymore. 

Too close. He doesn’t even know you. You could be one of Robert’s guys, for all he knows. No, that makes no sense. If you were going to rob him you would have already. What else could you want? Jesus, did you drug him? He knows the truth, that he has feelings for you, he just really does not want that to be the case.

But, at the same time, there is the brown haired puppy dog that still lives in him, dreaming up how to get you flowers and how much he likes your hair and your eyes and how you talk. You’re a beautiful person, both in the surface level, physical sense, but also as an individual being. Even though you’ve only known each other for a day, he has seen enough to understand that you are, at least to a level, a safe person. Tulips, he needs to find tulips for you. 

Either way, he just needs to find a way to slow this all the fuck down. 

He shouldn’t get involved with you. You shouldn't get involved with him. He shouldn't trust you. You don't know who he is. He could change for you. You’re gonna get him killed. He’s gonna get you killed. The life he wants with you isn’t possible. He’s the kinda guy who will take what he can get. God, he needs to fuck you at least. Goddamnit, he doesn't want you to think that's all you are to him. Can’t you at least just be friends? What does that even mean? He wishes he never met you. He immediately takes that back. Why is this happening to him? Both sides of him can dig that last one. 

Joel groans and rubs his face with his hands. He stands, stretching his arms up and squeezing his eyes shut against the bright yellow morning light. His arms drop down to scratch at his chest over his sleeveless undershirt. Socked feet sweep over the hardwood floor over to the kitchen where he slaps cold water from the tap onto his face. Noticing wisps of blood still on his hands, he scrubs at them with his nails under the water. He forgot to sign up for any work today because he spent all day yesterday dealing with Robert, and… hanging out with you. 

With another whiney groan, Joel swats the faucet’s handle off and plants his hands on either side of the sink, letting water drip from his nose as he stares into the drain. Hanging out? People do that. He’s seen people just kind of sit around somewhere and talk, not doing deals, but, like, on their porches, sitting on side by side folding chairs. Yeah, people hang out. He imagines himself asking you if you want to ‘hang out’; he’s chewing gum with sunglasses and a backwards hat on, you’re in pigtails and reject him and he kicks rocks on his way home. 

He has had friends before, but it was from traveling in a group, trying to survive, when you kind of have to spend all your time together. There’s little choice and little room to decide if you actually like this person, little time to even actually get to know them, and they die a lot. That’s what he’s used to, and that is not what he wants with you. 

“The fuck am I doin’.” Joel mutters to himself, watching trails of water shine as they trickle down towards the drain. 

Soft, fully brown haired Joel swings his legs on one of his shoulders: “Go out n’ see if she’s around.”

Baggy–eyed, forever frowning Joel digs his fingers into his other shoulder: “If you ever see her again, you better walk the other fuckin’ direction.”

Puppy dog Joel furrows his brow and leans over to look at the other: “She’s a nice girl.”

Morose Joel glares back: “No such fuckin’ thing. An’ if she is, we’ll fuckin’ ruin ‘er.”

“Jesus. You’re paranoid. Can’t you just let us be happy?”

“No such fuckin’ thing.”

Joel smacks his hand to his forehead and pushes away from the sink. He lifts the bottom of his white shirt to rub his face dry and goes to sit back down on his bed to pull on his shoes, grabbing his other flannel and finishing buttoning it as he walks down the hall to exit his apartment building. He’s not sure what he’s doing—not admitting that he’s going to end up heading in the direction of your apartment—but he needs to get out of his head, and the QZ offers plenty of distractions. Here’s one now, as soon as he steps outside—

“Hey friend,” 

Joel whips around to the voice at the corner of his building, a man his size but wiry, with saddle brown skin and an overly genial smile. 

“You look lost.”

Joel narrows his eyes.

“Well, if you’re feelin’ lost—”

“Give me a fuckin’ break.” Joel cuts in. “That shit is meaningless. Hope is dead, jackass.” 

The man’s face instantly falls, disheartened, and he leans his shoulder against the brick. Joel huffs and moves on, shaking his head. That look makes a small part of him remorseful, like a thorn in his side, so he decides to stop at a speakeasy. 

He has to squint against the rising sun as he walks, so he doesn’t catch you until you’re right on him, asking, “Where’re you headed?”

Joel freezes, placing his hand on his brow to shade his eyes to see you smiling. Like remedied, all that anxiety and apprehension rolls off of him like water off a duck's back. “For a drink.” He answers, returning a serene smile. 

“Don’t you have that at home?”

“Yeah, well I jus’… wanted to get outta there.” He shifts out of the suns glare. 

You hum and nod. “I get that. What about my place? I don’t have alcohol, but I do have a cigar.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. “A cigar?”

You nod. “Well they didn’t have any mink coats, so I got the second best thing.” Your mouth twists up into a mischievous smile and you swivel your torso back and forth. When Joel’s lips start to curl, you turn, watching him over your shoulder as you walk until he joins you. 

When the two of you get to your apartment, the young burly man is still on the steps; he winks at Joel as he follows you past, and Joel stares back until the door shuts behind him. Inside, as he follows you up the narrow, winding staircase, he spends the entire five-flight journey to the top floor conflicted about where to let his gaze fall. 

“Alright, this is my floor.” You glance over your shoulder at him then grab the door frame to swing into the tight hallway. “End of the hall.”

Your apartment is much smaller than his, and wide. Cracked, off white paint cries uneven, chipped stripes that reach up to the crown molding. Your bedroom is to the immediate right, a narrow room opened by two glass double doors. At the opposite end is another glass door, tall, that opens up to a fire escape. To his left is your kitchen, which is just the wall lined with cupboards, a sink, and white refrigerator. In front of him, a couch is half visible, the rest hidden behind the corner, under a row of three windows. Like his, the curtains are thin torn pieces of fabric. Just before the corner next to the entrance to your bedroom is a gray folding table with three tan metal folding chairs. Walking in, Joel can see in your room a twin bed with rosy sheets and no headboard, its head shoved in the space between the tall glass door and the wall with a thin pillow and singular white sheet. He hopes you have a bunch of other blankets shoved somewhere he can’t see, because it’s only barely summer anymore. The long wall opposite is taken up mostly by bookcases, which hold some books but mostly by all sorts of other things, including clothes. A ragged chair sits next to it, back facing him. Shoved in between the shelves and the tall glass door is a tall lamp, a thin piece of pink fabric laying over a disfigured shade. The carpet is worn and somewhat cluttered; right next to that chair is a pair of lacy black underwear. Joel rips his eyes away from it back to you in front of him, disappearing around the corner for only a moment before reappearing with a fat, half smoked cigar. You twist it in your fingers with a wide smile, flipping open a Zippo lighter in your other hand. 

“How did you get that?” Joel asks, astonished. He hasn’t seen a cigar in years but has dreamt about smoking one more than once. 

“My friend on the steps outside. Don’t tell anyone, though. Come on,” you nod your head back around the corner and he follows you into a cramped, mellow blue and yellow tiled bathroom. You push out a small broken crank window high up on the wall, pull the door shut behind Joel, and light up the cigar. Leaned against the sink, Joel watches you, very aware of the close quarters. The end of the cigar lights up deep orange and crackles. Your brow is furrowed, Joel can see the hairs of your eyebrows and lashes, a tiny scar in the corner of your eye over the bone of your eye socket. When you pull away, dense smoke snakes out of your mouth. You look down at it as you attempt smoke rings, getting one good one but failing at the rest. When you laugh the rest of the gray puffs out of your mouth. 

“Damn it.” you giggle, and hand the cigar and lighter to Joel.

He has to relight it and watches the flame over the end. He sucks in stale, earthy smog; it tastes ancient, but still has some of that discernable cigar flavor. As it fills his mouth, Joel closes his eyes, leans his head back and moans before opening his mouth to let the smoke leave. His eyes are on you as they open, and yours are half lidded, focused on his mouth, a slight smile on your lips. They slowly crawl back up to his eyes, and you look away. Joel takes another puff and makes a sound to get your attention, attempting rings as well, not doing much better than you did. 

You hold your hands out, “Ok, let me try again.” You take your time and Joel watches your tongue working in awe. You make a good three rings. Smoke puffs out of your mouth again when you smile at him and pass the cigar back. 

Joel focuses his efforts on the rings but keeps his eyes on you watching his mouth. As you do, your smile grows, eyes half lidded again, and you lean your back against the window’s wall, turning your head to see him blow four perfect rings. 

“You’re good at that.” You chuckle, staying on his mouth even after he’s done. He takes another puff. 

“Practice, I guess. Even though it’s been awhile.”

You hum and finally tear your eyes away from his mouth. He offers the cigar but you shake your head, “That thing is nasty, I’m afraid I’ll throw up if I take one more puff. You can keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. All yours.”

“Thanks.”

“I got it with you in mind, anyway.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You look like a cigar guy.”

“Well, what did I do to deserve this?” 

Your eyes go back to his mouth. “Nothing, I guess… I knew it’d get you over here.” You look down and smile.

Joel sucks in murky smoke, letting it fill his mouth, and wonders how you taste. He’s never wanted someone's saliva in his mouth so much. He reaches behind him to balance the cigar on your sink to let it extinguish on its own. “I won’t make you watch me smoke that whole thing. I’ll take it home with me.” Turning back, he looks you up and down, admiring you, and says, “Thank you.” Those are another set of words that Joel cringes at, but he means it, and he needs you to know that he is grateful for this. The last gift he got was a box of bullets from Tommy on his birthday—not to say that’s a bad gift, or that he’s ever expecting anything on his birthday, but, you gave him a gift, just because, and it’s a luxury. He can’t believe you’re real, he wants to reach out and touch you just to be sure. 

“Mhm.” You smile, lifting your fist to rest your lip on, laying your other arm over your torso to support your elbow. Joel drifts over the details—the edge of your lip poking out from where it presses on a finger, the muscle and bone structure of your wrist. He fully appreciates the color of your skin as he follows it until its end at what he can see of your collar, how your chest shapes around the position of your arms. He sees you briefly squeeze your arm around yourself and his eyes are on your hips when he hears your foot shift under you and your body moves a little closer to him. 

“Joel?” Your quiet voice brings him back, and you’re blushing.

“Hm?”

Your eyes flutter and you push yourself off from the wall, moving your hand to scratch the back of your head, then face him, though still not looking at him, “Nothing, um, I dunno,” you chuckle nervously. 

“What?” He coaxes, growing a light smile.

You finally look at him, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your head as you ask, “Do you have anything going on today?” 

“No.”

“Me neither.”

Could this be what he thinks? Are you asking him to ‘hang out’?

“Do you wanna… hang out?”

Good lord in heaven, you are. 

“Yeah.” He says, then blinks, shifts, and repeats more enthusiastically, “Yeah.”

“Cool.” You offer a small, twitching smile. “Well, we can get out of this tiny bathroom.”

“I don’t mind it.” The truth suddenly jumps out of Joel and as soon as it’s out, he looks at his feet. Please, please, please, don’t let this be him ruining it, again, because second chances are basically extinct. 

“Why not?” Your tone is light, not angry or affronted. He looks back up, pausing to consider you, how beautiful you are, how much he really does enjoy being this close to you. The more he realizes how few inches are separating you, the more he aches for your body on his. He swallows hard. Is he being sleazy? 

You shift closer and his heart rate picks up. “I mean, I don’t really mind it either.” A light blush blooms over your face and Joel’s lips inadvertently part. When you move closer still, Joel straightens up from the sink, letting his hands rest at his sides, hoping you want them on your hips. “I like being close to you.”

“I wanna be closer.” Joel tells you quietly, then swallows hard again. 

Out of the corner of his eye, while he focuses on your face, Joel sees your hand rising cautiously, then feels it rest on his shoulder. He permits his hands to your hips. 

From there, naturally and easily, you connect. Your lips touch softly when they meet, then promptly conquering more of each other’s, and finally he tastes you, a pure elixir, and hangs onto your lip with his teeth so that he can raise the dose. Joel breathes deeply through his nose as he savors and his hand brushes up your hip, catching under your shirt and pulling it up slowly with it; feeling your skin warm and bare under his touch shoots directly into his veins. You remove your mouth from his to instead purr into his neck and Joel moans, then adds quietly, “Jesus.” You chuckle before refocusing your lips, gently nipping at and skimming over his skin. His hand glides up to the back of your head and he softly moans again. Lazily, Joel allows you to start slowly unbuttoning his flannel, appreciating his contact with your body and your sensitive touch on his neck. The only way he knows he’s not dreaming is because of your pinching teeth. Once his flannel is undone you smooth your hands down the length of his torso, fingers slipping off of him just before his belt, then come back up, slowing on his shoulders for permission to slip the shirt. Joel takes his hands off of you for the three seconds it takes to pull his flannel off, feeling your hot breath on his neck as you pull away with his shifting. Your eyes meet again and Joel’s heart flutters at how large your pupils are. He watches them move down to cross over his shoulders, your hands following your eyes, and then you look back up at him and bite your lip. Like you’ve flicked a switch with this simple movement, Joel takes your mouth with his tongue and grabs your hips to pull against his. Briefly, he regains composure to check, “Is this ok?” and you confirm with a nod back into his lips, slinging your arms around his neck and rolling your hips. “That a girl,” it escapes him, scaring him for only a moment, but you whine an encouraging moan and press yourself into him. The force leans Joel back over the sink and he has to throw a hand back onto it to keep himself steady.

“Shit, ok, this room is too small now.” You chuckle into each other’s lips and then you pull away, keeping a grip on his hand as you turn the knob and take him around the corner into your room. 

Standing just before your bed, you turn back to him and take his face in your hands, sliding your palms over his beard, fingertips on rough skin. They slip into his hair as you bring his face to yours, working back in your welcome tongue. His hands slither around you and then he squeezes you into a hug, relieving his ache for your body, relishing in the pressure of his hold. As you breathe out your head falls back and Joel moves in, licking into a hickey, too absorbed to give a shit about leaving marks. When a hand travels down to your ass and squeezes, you make a sound and hitch your body up. 

“You like that?” Joel purrs, fully loose lipped and glued back on yours. When you ‘mhm’ into his mouth he squeezes again, hiking you up himself. 

“Joel,” his lips force you to mumble.

“What is it, babygirl?”

All you do is whine, but your answer is in the hand that slides between your bodies to cup the stiff bulge between his legs. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He basically growls, sliding the hand up from your ass to grip your side and the other up to your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek and forcing you to meet his eyes. There’s a desperate tweak in your brow that tells him all he needs to know but he waits for you to say it. 

“Yes,” you whimper, and then he walks you back onto your bed, the two of you falling onto it with little pause with mouths and hands. Messily, he licks and nibbles at your lips and paws at your chest. Your hands spread over his thick, bare shoulders and biceps, legs shamelessly widening more than they need to under his hips, then hook and pull when he doesn’t bring them down himself. 

“You’re fuckin’ horny, huh?” He asks with a slight smirk.

“I just want you. I just want you.” You mumble.

Joel’s brow twists up and he kisses you deeper. You want him, you want him, you want him. “I want you so much, baby. God, I need you. I’ve been wantn’ you so bad since the first time I saw you,” the words are doing nothing more than spilling out of him, but he’s gone now, “so beautiful, such a beautiful girl. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, tugging his shirt up his back. 

Joel pushes himself up to stand on his knees and pull his undershirt up and off, then stays over you, panting. Slowly, mindfully, his hands smooth up your body, hooking his thumbs under your shirt, lifting it. You watch his eyes and lift your arms when his hands ask. He slips your shirt off carefully and lets it fall on the floor, and then you’re bare underneath him. The adoration is palpable in his touch as he smooths his calloused hands from the V of your waist over your belly, splitting to slide over your sides but meeting again on your chest. He pets your breasts, teasing your nipples with fleeting touch, and then suddenly dips his body down to lick and tenderly nip one of your nipples. Then his wet lips drag up your collar, your neck, and back to your lips, and his mouth and tongue are gentle but passionate. Joel cherishes every touch you share. Then, your hands go back down to the bulge under his jeans, one rubbing over the cup while the other tugs at his belt. He chuckles into your lips and then rises again to undo his belt. When you try to tug down your pants you both understand the trouble and Joel hoists his legs over you to stand beside the bed, letting you up with him so that you can both undress as quickly and easily as possible. For a moment all there is is the sound of belts clicking and fabric brushing against skin. For whatever reason, you both start to laugh breathily until reattaching mouths smother it out. You fall back on the bed, your legs back open, and Joel wastes little time getting his hands on his dick, unable to help himself from a few strokes before he positions himself at your entrance, swiping his tip up and down your wet slit. Laying his forearm on the bed allows him to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

Nearly slurring, Joel asks, “You ready for me baby?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “I want you, Joel, please,”

“You don’t need to beg, sweetheart, I gothcu,” he kisses you tenderly, but it breaks as he fills you and you both moan. Joel’s forehead rests briefly on your lips when he looks down to watch himself pushing into you, his fingers pinching his base to guide himself, he prizes this picture of him in between your legs, opened wide for him. As he fits his large, stiff member inside of you your fingers comb through and then grip his hair, making him moan. “Goddamnit baby, what a good girl, takin’ me like this. I know it’s a lot. I know.” He assures you as you squeal, toes curling as he plugs you up. Joel swings his head back up, biting his lip as he watches your face, impressed with himself when he sees your pupils almost disappear back into your head. He nips at your lips but your mouth stays open until he stills his cock inside of you. 

You groan, “Oh my god, Joel,”

“Yeah?” He mumbles as he begins to move. You clench around him when you moan and he swears, moving his head down to bite your neck gently as he continues to take himself in and out. He smiles when your hands claw at his back and release his teeth to speak, “Such a good girl for takin’ me like this. You’re a fuckin’ angel.”

“Ok, Joel, I’m good, I’m good, please fuck me,”

Joel growls and links his teeth on your lip again. “Told you darlin’, no need to beg, I’ll give you what you need. How do you want it? You want it hard?”

“I don’t fucking care just fuck me,”

Jesus, if heaven’s real this is what it’ll be. 

Joel trusts your word and starts to fuck you how he wants—deep and hard, pounding your pussy in final satisfaction of the need he’s been pinned with since the moment he saw you. The room is full with the sounds of your moans and skin on skin.

“God, look atchu, pretty girl, god, your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight for me.” The sensation of him bumping your cervix and your cunt enveloping him fully is keeping him going like he’s a quarter operated ride that someone slipped fifty cents into. “That feel good, baby? Huh? Does that feel good?” You slap your hand onto the wall above you to keep your head from hitting it with the force of Joel’s thrust and repeatedly breathe out yeses. Joel groans at how your nails dig into his shoulder. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels,”

“Yes, Joel, it feels so good, you fuck me so good,”

“That’s righ’, baby. Gonna treat you so good. So good. So good baby you feel so good.” Joel leans his head back as bottoms out. When you almost scream, Joel stops, frightened, “Shit, you ok?”

“I’m fine Joel,” you laugh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It was—it was good, that felt really good.”

“Oh, alright, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“No, no, I’m fine, Joel it’s good,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, fuck—ok—” you push Joel up and his heartbeat quickens with anxiety. Unsure, he simply follows your movements, climbing off of you, letting you tug his arm and flopping back on the bed for you to mount him. 

Now sitting up on your knees on top of him, you study him. “You’re so fucking hot, pretty boy.”

A wide smile spreads over Joel’s face, pumping rosy cheeks, and he throws an arm over his eyes modestly. The reaction is spontaneous, Joel being unprepared for such praise. 

“You are!” You giggle, moving his arm and dropping on your elbows to kiss him. One of his hands goes to your hair and he squeezes your hip with the other with eager grip. You rise back up, a line of spit briefly linking you, and your hand trails down over his chest until it comes to his cock, bulging over his stomach. He twitches and breathes out as your hand slides over it and he beholds you above him. 

“Fuck,” you purr when you slip him in. Joel strains his arms down to grip your thighs, breathing out a loud moan. “Shit.”

“Goddamn,” he whispers, then says, “come on, baby, take all of it.” You sit down on him slowly, hands landing over his chest, and he brushes his hands up and down your arms. “Thas’ righ’ baby. So good for me.” Joel moves to your hips, pulling them down and in to start to move inside you, forcing himself to be gentle. Your head flips back as you let out a loud, pornographic moan, and Joel can no longer keep himself reigned in. Gripping your hips, he’s now moving them more than you are, one hand gripping your ass, guiding you to angle down, taking more of him. 

Riding him like a mustang, your fingers skim over his wrists, unable to grasp them. “Fuck,” You whimper, brow twisted up, eyes closed. 

Joel takes his hand off of your ass to grab your face, squishing your cheeks, “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” You moan and obey, he keeps your face in his hand to make sure you stay. “Good girl. Stay with me baby.” He grunts and briefly bits his lips as he begins moving his hips up into you, thrusting his cock even deeper inside of you until he’s bumping your cervix again. You squeak and close your eyes, leaning your head back until he jerks your face, reminding you softly, “Eyes on me.” Your hand slaps on his chest as you adjust your posture, though Joel’s grip stabilizes you enough, holding you in place. He releases your cheeks but keeps his hand on your face, letting his palm and fingers brush over the side of your head as you bounce, his thumb on the back of your neck, supporting your head up when you try to let it fall back. “You’re so beautiful. Bet you look so pretty when you cum.”

“My god, Joel,” you pant, “I knew you would fuck me so good, you’re gonna make me cum,”

Joel’s eyes light up and he inadvertently smirks, “Yeah?” Eagerly, he tells you, “I wanna make you cum, baby, I wanna feel you fuckin’ cum. You’re bein’ such a good girl lettin’ me fuck you so hard like this. God, I wanna make you cum,” His hips bump up into you and he tugs on yours in a tempo that buries him as far as he’ll go inside of you. Prizing his view, Joel notices a bulge, coming and going at a suspiciously similar rhythm as how he’s fucking you, and when he realizes that it’s him, heat spreads through his chest and he only fucks you harder. “Oooooh, baby,” he looks back up at you and your chest and face are flushed. “My angel, look at you. Go ahead and cum on my cock, babygirl, I know you’re ready to.”

Your pipe out desperate moans as you bounce on his cock and your hands shoot up, one twisting your hair behind your head the other on your face, smoothing down over your face and mouth down to massage your breast.

“Does that feel good baby?” He almost whines out the question, desperate for praise, for affirmation that he’s being good for you. 

“Yes, god, fuck me Joel, I need you, oh my god please,” you cry out.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum on my cock like a good girl?”

You close your mouth, whining through sealed lips, then pop them back open to moan almost unrealistically pornographically, but the way your pussy squeezes him proves it unmistakably genuine.  

“Ah, fuck,” Joel lets out loudly as your legs shake and tighten around him, just like your cunt does, and his thrusts are basically out of his control. His mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut, almost seeing white, a sweet taste filling his mouth as the euphoric pleasure you provide him trembles to a peak and he groans as he cums in a pussy–drunk frenzy. 

As he comes out of it embarrassment starts to run over him at his gusto, but the look on your face calms it—your brow is furrowed up, eyes closed with your mouth slack like his. Your back is arched with your hands resting on his thighs, panting. 

You let out a loud breath and flip your body back to look at him, smiling, “Shit.” A breathy laugh shakes out of him and you sit back, still with him inside of you. Then you rise up off of him, “Oh, fuck,” you stand, almost tripping, “I gotta go clean myself up. I’ll be right back.” 

Joel basks in the glory of your figure walking away, still fully nude, pattering through your apartment, then disappearing around the corner. He leans back, turning his head to view the sky from the dirty glass door. It’s a picturesque baby blue, dotted with a few puffy white clouds. Fuck the other shoe, if it drops it drops, he just wants to be here right now, with the sun warming his bare chest, nose full of your scent, his lips swollen and dick still wet with your cum. Joel takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s dramatic to say he’d be happy to die here, and it’s not entirely true, but it’s just that he feels content for the first time in fucking years. 

When your padding steps sound again, Joel shifts his upper body up, watching you approach, and then you slip into bed, nudging him so that you can lay side by side facing each other. The top sheet is cast lazily over your bodies and a comfortable silence falls over it. Joel tries to memorize the details of your eyes and admires the way his mouth has plumped your lips. 

Lying in bed with you here in this cramped apartment feels like a dugout, and he wants to go back in time, to any point over the last ten or so years, to tell himself that this is waiting there for him, just to let himself know that it’s gonna be ok. He can’t believe he’s still in Boston.

“Can we stay here for a while?” He asks you. 

You nod, “We still have all day, pretty boy.” Joel smiles and you move to kiss him, long and light. He hooks your lip in his mouth, asking you nearer, and, without breaking the kiss, you lift yourself up, only your chest off of the bed, supporting your body up with your elbow. To hover over him, you reach your hand over to plant next to his head. Joel’s hands slither up your face to the back of your head, assuring your connection. All he wants is your lips.  

“Baby,” He whispers, his voice high. 

“Hm?”

“Nothin’. I dunno.”

You smile, peck another gentle kiss, and then lay back beside him. You shift closer to each other and your legs tangle.

After a couple of still moments, you take a deep breath and address him, worry in your voice, “Joel…”

“What is it?” His brow pinches in concern.

“I’m just worried… maybe I should have waited.” You say quietly, brow slightly furrowed as you gaze into his eyes, raising a loose fist to your lips. 

He pushes his hand out to brush the back of his finger over your wrist, “Why’s that?”

You pause. “Cause… I don’t want… I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to have… you know, a one night stand. I mean, for this to be a one time thing and then I never see you again.”

Joel’s brow furrows as he assures you, “Me neither, no, no baby, I wanna see you again. I want you to stay. I wanna stay. I wanna know you.”

You uncover your mouth to smile and your eyes twinkle, “You want to know me?”

“Wull… yeah.”

“That’s such a nice thing to say.”

“I mean it.”

“Well, I wanna know you, too.”

Joel’s contentedness pauses. He didn’t think about that part and he’s not sure if he wants you to know him. Yes, desperately, god yes he does, but, no, his soul is covered in soot. You shouldn't, he doesn’t want you to see him, know him, because he’s bad. 

“What’s that face?” You ask.

“What face?” 

“That face you just made. You don’t want me to know you?”

How did you read him like that? He’s not sure which side he should take with this so he says nothing. 

You sigh and blink, then place your hand on his cheek, stroking it with your thumb once. It’s warm and solid against his skin and flowers bloom in his chest. 

“If I’m gonna let you know me, you gotta let me know you. That’s the deal. I think we’re pretty similar, Joel.” You take another deep breath, “I haven’t had someone in this bed with me in a long time. I haven’t touched someone like this in… forever. I don’t like to let people get this close. I’m letting you get close, though. Because I really, really want to. But part of me really, really, doesn’t. For some reason, I trust you. I hate saying that. But I just do. I really like you, Joel. Maybe you’re gonna break my heart. I decided that that’s ok. I just really want to know you.” Your hand slides down to his neck, over his shoulder, then down to the middle of his sternum. “So, that’s the deal. If I’m gonna let you in, you gotta let me in.”

Joel isn’t sure why there are tears wetting his eyes. He wasn’t ready to be spoken to like this, to be cared about. The longing to hear words like these has long been buried and he never expected any of that to be fulfilled. He blinks the tears back, swallows hard, and murmurs a tender “Ok.” 

Your hand slides back up to caress his cheek. The affection in it floods him and he melts into the bed, eyes falling closed. When he opens them again, it’s like this is all there is; he can’t see anything else except for you, and those pink sheets, and the light behind you coming through the window. 

He can’t help this feeling of safety with you. He smiles. You smile back. 

You can’t make Boston any better, but now, Joel is taking his first clean breath of air, and it smells like you. The world is ugly, but love makes it bearable. And now you’re here, and he’ll wait to tell you, but he figured it out, he’s sure he loves you. 

…Metaphors and sex, sex and metaphors. 

[tobiasdrake]

Everyone is stupid.

We've all had that moment. Oh my god, I can't believe that stupid little thought that came to my brain. I can't believe that stupid thing I said. The stupid thing I did. I am an embarrassment to the world.

But actually, everyone is stupid. We are all dumb little monkeys clambering around a society that is way too complicated for us. Even the ones who will swear up and down that they're not.

Some people are very good at a particular thing. Sometimes that thing is playing the guitar and sometimes it's advanced calculus, but it's all just something they trained their brain to do. The brain acquires new abilities through repetition. You do a thing and you fail and you go to sleep and your brain makes new neural pathways to help you succeed at the thing that you failed at.

The brain sees that this is something that's very important to you, so it builds the connections your body needs to be able to do it.

But those people? Are still dumb little monkeys clambering around a complicated society. They're just monkeys with a skill. Congratulations! You're really good at calculus now! You're still going to put the coffee pot in the fridge because you weren't paying attention.

The reason we could arrive where we are isn't because a few smart people built a society. It's because of history and language. You could not invent the smartphone from scratch. But people are communal puzzle-solvers.

The story of human society is not the story of a genius architect weaving his master plan for a house's construction. It's the story of a thousand monkeys staring at a foundation until one goes, "A BRICK!!! You can put a brick there!" And then another goes, "I FOUND A BRICK!!! I found a brick you can put there!"

Society evolves the way an organism does. Nobody made the smartphone. People stood on the progress of the people who came before them and solved the puzzles in front of them, and then people stood on their shoulders and solved the puzzles in front of them, and then people stood on those people's shoulders and solved the puzzles in front of them, until eventually the smartphone emerged as a societal adaptation.

We have always just... been born into the society that past generations had sculpted and added our own little piece to it.

And the reason that's important is because there are people who will rush to tell you how smart they are. People who will bend over backwards to self-identity as intellectually superior. Who brag on and on about their genius and their IQ.

And you need to understand that it's not intelligence that leads people to behave that way.

It's arrogance. It's self-centered imperialism of thought to believe that any one person, especially yourself, could ever be equipped to solve all of society's problems. Just because you're very good at calculus.

Always remember that we are billions of monkeys working at billions of typewriters, and one of us did write the complete works of Shakespeare. That is a real thing that happened, and that has always been how society evolves.

Think communally. Beware the self-appointed geniuses.

[natimiles]

Safer With You (Isaac x reader)

Summary: When you wake up with a nightmare plaguing your mind, Isaac is the first person you think of for comfort, so you go to his room.

Words: 1447

Tags: sfw; fluffy; literal sleeping together; can be read as platonic or pre-relationship; gender neutral reader.

Notes: by the end of the month, you’ll be loving Isaac as much as I do. That’s my goal.

It’s been a whole year, and you’ve grown accustomed to life in a mansion filled with vampires. Despite the legends you’ve heard, you feel safest when you're around them. Every time you need help, you seek them out — more specifically, you seek Isaac.

Out of everyone, he was the closest to you. You two built a strong relationship. Even Comte found it interesting how the shy, anxious, and socially awkward physicist was more relaxed around you. Sharing secrets, practicing for his classes with you, stargazing in the garden, chatting about physics — even though you didn’t understand a thing — and whatever random thoughts your mind came up with. For every little thing, you knew you could count on Isaac, and vice versa.

That’s why, when you wake up with a nightmare plaguing your mind, your sweet friend is the first person you think of. You wish you had a phone to text him and ask him to come to you. It would save you from having to get up and walk through the silent and dark mansion to his bedroom. A chill runs up your spine as you recall the weird dream. You know that in the morning, you’ll look back and consider it silly, but right now, it’s still too vivid, too scary, and too real.

Taking a deep breath, you swing your legs over the side and stand up, padding your way out of your bedroom. The mansion is unusually silent tonight — not even Mozart is awake composing. You quicken your pace towards your final destination. Thankfully, there’s light seeping from under the door.

You softly knock, glancing around the hall while waiting, ensuring no one else is awake. It doesn’t take long for him to open the door, a look of confusion on his face that deepens into an even more perplexed one when he realizes it’s you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You don’t reply instantly; instead, you gently nudge him to the side so you can enter his room and close the door behind you. He continues to stare at you, confusion deepening as he takes in your frantic, scared face.

“Sorry to bother you,” you murmur. “I had a nightmare… Can I stay here?”

You make your way to his bed and sit down, crossing your legs. He remains standing, analyzing you and processing the information.

“Stay? Like… Sleep here in my room?” He blushes furiously.

“Yes, if it’s not too much of a bother for you.”

“A-ah, no! It’s fine. I can sleep on the armchair, I guess,” he mumbles, thinking aloud. He looks at the armchair, trying to figure out what he’d have to do to make it comfortable enough to sleep in.

“Isaac?” you call, and he hums in acknowledgement. “Could you… sleep here with me?” you ask uncertainly, patting the mattress with your hand.

He shoots his gaze back at you, his eyes widening and blinking frantically. He opens and closes his mouth three times before actually saying something. “I-in the same b-bed?”

If you weren’t so scared, you’d probably laugh at his expression, and how he could still be so shy in your presence. It’s probably something big and inappropriate for the century you’re currently in, but you don’t want to think about it now. 

“Do you mind?” you bite your lip and frown, whispering, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“And you think… I… can help?” 

“You know I feel safer with you,” you reply, gazing into his cherry eyes. “But if it’s too much for you, it’s okay. I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” he stammers. “Don’t… go to anyone else. You can stay.” He sighs and fiddles with his hair. “I’ll just organize these things; you can... um, you know…” He gestures to the bed.

You give him a tiny smile and nod, whispering, “Thank you.”

He had some things to finish before going to bed, but he thought you’d want him to lie down with you soon. He tidies up some things, just to make sure he doesn’t lose track of where he stopped his work when he goes back to it the next day.

Meanwhile, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. You crawl to the right side and adjust as best you can, pressing your back against the wall and pulling the blankets up until only your nose is visible. Isaac only has one pillow, so you leave it to him; you don’t want to bother him more than you already are. Now that you think about it, he probably had more things to do, and you just went there and ruined his plans because you were afraid of a stupid, silly nightmare.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the lights turning off. Thankfully, the moonlight casting from his window helps with your brief blindness, and you can see his figure approaching the bed in slow steps. He stands for a few seconds, and you hear him actually taking a deep breath before sitting on his own bed, still a little unsure of what to do.

“Get under the blankets with me,” you say softly.

“Alright,” he mutters under his breath.

He adjusts himself next to you and lays his head on his pillow, looking at the ceiling. Letting out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding until now, Isaac glances at you from the corner of his eye. Sensing something is odd, he turns his head to get a better look at you and realizes you’re without a pillow; he’s using the only one he has.

“What’s wrong?” you ask when he’s been staring at you for almost a whole minute in silence.

“S-sorry!” He blinks out of his thoughts. “I just noticed you didn’t bring your pillow.” He props himself on his elbow to push his pillow towards you. “You can use mine, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Don’t worry, I’m good just being here and not being alone.”

“But isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“And won’t you be uncomfortable without it, then?” You smile, and he pouts from not being able to come back with something. You push his pillow back to him. “Please, use it. Besides, if you don’t mind… I can use you as my pillow.”

You never thought it’d be possible to see a blushing face with the lights off, but there is Isaac, your closest friend in the mansion, with his whole face red as an apple. He flops back down on his side, his gaze still lingering on your face, probably searching for any trace that you were just teasing him. However, he didn’t find it; he knew he wouldn’t. Despite your playful persona, you never teased him like this. Yes, you tackled him to the floor and tickled him until he started crying once, but you wouldn’t tease him like Arthur, just to make him blush and stutter. He realized a few months after being your close friend that you were just too honest, and what sounded like teasing was just your honesty kicking in.

“Sorry if I startled you,” you murmur, sensing his anxiety spiking up. “I didn’t mean to tease you or anything.” As he thought. “Like I said before, I’m already happy just not to be alone.”

For the second time in a short span of 10 minutes, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Thankfully, he is a vampire and can’t just die from being out of oxygen for so long. He stares at you for a whole minute before shifting, opening his arms.

“You can come here,” he invites you sheepishly.

You smile softly and shimmy your body to meet his in the middle. Isaac wraps his shaking arms around you, and you throw yours over him; you both sigh without even noticing, a calm feeling taking over your bodies.

“Thank you, Isaac,” you mumble on his chest.

“Don’t mention it. Now go to sleep,” he hums. “I’ll be here. Good night.”

He kisses your head before thinking, and you smile, squeezing him affectionately.

Your hands absentmindedly start to slowly travel up and down each other’s backs in a relaxing caress, lulling you into a tranquil sleep.

The next morning, even Napoleon is already up, and you both are still sleeping in. The former emperor goes to Isaac’s bedroom to see if he’s still there and knows where you are. When he opens the door and sees you two sleeping soundly and cuddling, he only smiles and closes the door again. He makes sure to tell Sebastian you’re both okay and that he’ll be the one helping him out in the morning until you wake up.

Masterlists

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

The Boy from the Piano Shop - A Drarry fanfiction by Soliblomst on Ao3 ❤️💔

‼️NO NO STOP. EVEN IF YOU DON’T SHIP DRARRY, EVEN IF YOU’RE TOTALLY DISGUSTED BY THE SHIP, HANG ON FOR A SECOND!‼️⚠️ This book is about so much more than Harry and Draco! Imagine them as other people or something. (If you’re not interested in reading it yourself, at least reblog because I KNOW that so many people would feel so much better after reading it and I’m not even exaggerating!!! 💋)

I started reading this fic yesterday and finished this morning less than an hour after midnight. Yes, I sacrificed hours of sleep for this fanfic. I read it in the dark under my quilt. It was so, so worth it. I am not joking when I tell you that this is the best fanfic I have ever read. I have only read fanfiction for about a year, and many heartbreaking and absolutely wonderful ones, but this one is 100% the best one yet. It’s even one of the best books I have ever read, to be honest, and books I have read for many many years now.

Everyone should read this. Even if you don’t like Drarry or even know much about Drarry, you should read it, even if you don’t know Harry Potter so well. That is because this fic has so much to teach us. The book is full of life wisdoms about loss, about grief, about moving on, about battling depression, suicidal thoughts and PTSD, about regret, about life in general and how to live in the moment and how to love… it’s some of the best pieces of advice and poetry I have ever read. It taught me many things that I WILL carry with me for as long as I remember it.

It is sad, it is angsty, but only because that’s how life can be and will always be at some point. Sad. Heartbreaking. Soul-crushing, even. But the relationship that is portrayed in the book is so healthy, and yeah, of course it raised my standards so much more. Fanfics, am I right?

It’s a wholesome relationship, it’s all about taking your time and feeling safe, it’s so cute and fluffy but also realistic and, as I said, angsty. Hurt, and comfort. A good ending, not in an unrealistic way like how happy endings are often portrayed in fiction. This book is different, I tell you. It gives you a wonderful glimpse of how real life can be. And that it will all be okay. We will all be okay.

It was such an entertaining read, too! The smut was written perfectly in my liking. And the amount of angst was perfect for the story. Not too little, not too much. It was… ugrhhhzhsh I’m still speechless since yesterday when I finished reading and fell asleep in shock and feeling the best I have felt in a while.

Read it. You won’t regret it. I promise you.

If I have to rate it, it is ♾️/10! And I can assure you, the highest I have ever given a fic before is 12/10. Everyone needs to read this. I was so close to crying happy tears while reading, and I have never cried during a fic yet, even though I’m a really emotional person. This one almost got me. And I was wrecked, and I was so happy about it. I swear, this book ACTUALLY changed me and my views on life. I will never look at Drarry the same way ever again. This book is officially Drarry canon for me. I can’t describe this fic in enough words… omg… all I want is for more people to read it! I don’t know what more I can do to convince you to read it, but please please do it!

‼️Remember to check the TW,s before reading!‼️ Muah 💋

P.S If you’re not interested in reading it, please reblog for the sake of making someone’s day and life a little bit brighter!

[2cutie]

Can I request: Possessive husband Havik(mk1) x wife fem s/o who was a slave like him; she is sweet and gentle and the only one who can calm Havik whenever he gets angry and also the only one whom Havik will allow her to call him by his real name Dairou she escapes with him from slavery thanks to her vast telepathy and telekinesis and she gave him a daughter please?

cracks knuckles today, havik, i have forced you to have slept with us, the readers. tis not the bed you made, but it's the one i'm forcing you to sleep in. Angsty but sweet ending. Enjoyy! Not sure if it's exactly what you wanted! But I read 'possessive husband' and I grabbed onto it with my grubby hands

It was nothing less than suspicious how you didn't feel the absolute glower he was sending your way. And it wasn't like you couldn't see him - actually no you couldn't, but like Havik would believe that in the state of enrage he was in. His teeth ground at the display before him.

When did you and Reiko get so friendly, anyways?

It's not like you had been in Outworld too long. Give or take a few months, but that didn't explain the sudden connection between you two unlikely candidates, and Reiko didn't seem like he was being innocent.

Havik had brought you along to Outworld because you were tactful; more organized that he was in his constant state of chaos. With Hotaru's control advancing daily, Havik was forced to look anywhere in the realms for allies to revolt. The decision was heavy, but you both had to leave your child in the safety of your home and friends as you went to Outworld.

That alone pricked his skin with paranoia most days; the uncertainty of exactly what was happening, where his child was and what she was doing. Uncertainty grew each day, and Hotaru was not forgiving. Havik was generally an always on-edged persona, ready to crack if the pressure was harsh enough. But now, more than ever.

Which brought you both here, allied to Shao Khan who would promise to free Chaosrealm for your aide first.

But you were supposed to be rallying forces; promoting the cause. So why were you flirting with Reiko?

In actuality, you were not. In the very back of his senseless mind he knew you weren't. But it didn't make him like the display any less. He watched, his breathes leaving him as deep growls opposed to air. You smiled, even laughed. Jealousy was itching under his skin.

You were so kind, so gentle - it was a call for attention in a world full of hostility. You were so vulnerable.

Havik tensed when Reiko put a hand upon your shoulder, lingering longer than he needed to. He rubbed your bicep, the way he leaned down to you when he spoke…

That almost sent him off. He felt his eye dilate in on the war general, his fingers twitching. He just managed to keep his composure. He knew Reiko's nature. He fought beside him in the battles for General Shao. He didn't trust him. And he certainly didn't trust him around you.

You laughed, again. So he was funny now?

Havik was practically seething. His teeth gritted harder, and his breaths shuddered. He kept his anger at bay by envisioning tearing Reiko's wrist clean off his body for touching you. But it only radiated that desire more. He was so tempted to just pull you away, then and there, and show everyone just who you belonged to.

You bore his child, not Reiko's. And you could do it again.

...He needed to calm down.

Havik blinked.

Then something happened.

Reiko went too far.

His hands were digging into your hips. He towered over you with a seductive smirk and he was backing you up to the nearest wall. It wasn't a friendly conversation anymore; it was well past flirting. Havik's plasma burned and he shot off the wall he leaned against.

Reiko leaned in, and when you turned away, he only pushed into your neck.

Your telepathy crossed Havik's mind in a panic: A plea for help.

He moved as soon as he had your permission to. Without a thought of how to do so; he would figure it out when he got there. Though he had a few ideas. He knew you wouldn't like them.

He shoved his way between you and Reiko, shouldering him with brute strength backwards. Reiko stumbled back at the surprise intrusion, and he clashed with a few people before righting his stance.

Reiko bore his teeth in warning, scowling. Upon seeing Havik, though, it shifted to a shit-eating grin. "Did I piss off the guard dog?" He moved himself closer to Havik, snearing up to him. His imposing height did little to impose Shao's second in command. "Maybe you should stay a little closer to your bitch."

A subhuman crack was heard as soon as the words fell from Reiko's lips. Blood soon came after. Havik raised his arm again, to strike -

"Dairou!" That made him pause. His eyes immediately snapped over to you, trying to keep himself from attacking. "Don't," you pleaded him. "It's not worth it."

Despite your words, the fact you wanted him to calm down wanted to make him blow his feud more. His breath was bestial and he closed his eyes, trying to force words out. "He called you a 'bitch'." His voice was almost a whisper, a thin conceal of rage.

You went to respond.

Reiko cut you off with a bark of laughter. "Dairou?" His laugh was insulting, even with blood coursing down his nose, staining his teeth. Havik's head rounded back to him. "Is that your true name? How befitting of such a weak warlord. You couldn't even save the land you were born on." He sneered again, tilting his head back in disgust before he gazed to you. "You have to impose on ours to stand a chance. She deserve a real warrior. One who served in actual wars. And won."

Havik's entire body boiled with each passing word. He had used his true name, an insult as is. Not even the brutal ache of the time he was subjected to as a prisoner did he ever feel so much anger.

He didn't even process when he lunged at Reiko. Barely felt his hands gripping around his throat, and the scratches and wounds he received in return. He only could hear himself growling, then the brutal sound of Reiko's body slamming into the floor.

He would only stop when he had Reiko's heart under his boot.

-- Well, the tournament's after banquet ended sooner than was expected. The incident ended involving both the Umgadi and Edenian guards to separate the two men.

Fortunately Sindel was still considerate to allow you both a room to stay within even after such a display.

Havik was still seething, unsatisfied that Reiko's pulse was still ongoing and did not end by his hand. His shoulders still heaved with annoyance and vexation. He paced the room as if he was a caged animal. He could feel the blood cursing through his every vein and how it scorched ablaze. There was the urge to explode, one that could not be satisfied. Reiko's insults still cut deep, the memory playing rampant in his mind. He wouldn't let it go.

He took a sharp inhale and looked over to you. You, who now had to deal with his wrath and fury. He didn't want to take his anger out on you, but there was no other outlet. He managed to turn away with another growl, looking at you through the corner of his eye. He couldn't make eye contact, knowing his anger would slip out. He was too strung out to speak, simply grunting in frustration. He continued pacing, his footfall heavy and loud. A beast in a cell.

"Dairou-"

That did it. That was the overfill to his uncapped emotions.

“Shut up!" Havik comamanded, stopping sharply. He didn't turn back to you. "Just shut up! That name is a curse, and I don’t want to hear it coming out of your mouth again!” You opened your mouth, but he continued as he finally turned to you. His eyes were narrowed and you knew he would be scowling if he could. “You could have stopped that damn conversation! You should have stopped him! Instead you told him my name."

He wanted to just shout his anger away, even if it meant yelling at you. The fact that you just stood there quietly while he screamed made him even more agitated.

You could tell his anxieties were beginning to rise to the surface level. His body was beginning to shake.

He would come undone if he wasn't so keen to keep hidden. His fears of Chaosrealm, the future of you, and his daughter- he feared he would lose it all, and was already starting to. He was hiding behind his wall of defensive mechanisms, itching for a fight to keep the fire burning. To protect it all from spilling.

But you saw it. You always did.

"Havik.." You spoke inside his mind instead; he would not listen to you any other way.

His stance dropped instantly, his head dropping. His eyebrows furrowed and his voice sounded almost broken. "Get out of my head.." You always seemed to know his weakness; how to parry him from his own downfall.

His body felt heavy, like it lost every ounce of energy it had fought to keep. His shoulders sagged and he breathed a sigh of frustration. Without his anger, he felt empty; he had lost the thing he was keen to focus on. His voice was tired, defeated.

"Please do something." He spoke so softly, the strength inside of him perished. He who had been a raging beast a moment ago was defeated by the only emotion he had. "Hit me. Punch me. Yell back. Something."

How desperate he was to keep hiding. Havik kept his eyes closed, as if expecting your lashing. But it never came.

Only your gentle hands came to run over his chest, stopping at his harness. He cracked his eyes open in time to watch you unbuckle it, and let it and his armor fall off his body.

The remainder of his chest was exposed, more scars evident in the lighting.

He was confused, and yet you stayed silent. He didn't like it.

He felt exposed. You had removed a layer of protection that hid away memories. He felt.. Vulnerable.

When his dark eyes snapped to yours, he was only met with a gentle gaze. Your hands roamed along his arms again, picking them up and turning them over to expose the fresh wound Reiko had left on him he was ignoring. You rubbed the unharmed skin gently, soothingly. "Are you keeping these?"

It seemed he was, considering he hadn't healed them himself yet.

Havik looked to the wounds on his arms as well, watching as the blood gushed from it when he tensed the muscle. He attitude was still grim and the pain of them were a welcome feeling as they were a reminder to the pain and anger he felt inside. He nodded, solemn.

You understood. You pushed gently on his shoulders to get him to sit, but he wouldn't. His nerves were still on the fritz. You allowed him to stand.

He watched you under piercing eyes as you went and got a medical kit, opening it on a nearby table. You began sourcing through it.

You were going to patch him.

There was no need. You both knew this. It felt unnecessary, wasteful on him. Pointless. It made him bristle in a bit of discomfort. "There is no need," he tried to argue, retaining his tough front. "I want them to be a reminder of what he did. I want the pain to always be there, to always be present and to never go away so I can remember.” The pain was something he embraced. Another chapter to his book of rage. The anguish served as a reminder that any insult or injustice that would happen to him would not be without retaliation.

"I know," you responded. Simple; vague. It made his fingers clench. How did you always know? "I'm just going to clean and wrap them. I'm not letting you get infected."

When you came back over, he awkwardly held his arms out to you. Neither of you cared about that blood that stained the carpet below. While he didn't really want it, he knew it was your way of taking care of him. How you were gentle with him.

That soothed him as much as it made him bristle. He was still not used to such generosity and kindness. Even after so many years with you, he still didn't know how to react with his rough edges in fear he would harm you.

Havik always hated when people were tender to him because of the unfamiliarity. He hated when people would care for him, like he was a child. But the fact it was you, and you were so gentle, made him long for it.

He finally spoke. He had to know. "Why do you care so much?"

Your eyes flickered to his. You saw his uneasiness, and his hidden display of longing. You focused back on his wounds. "Because I love you, Havik. I married you. You don't have to put on a front around me." You held a damp rag over his wound. pressing to stop the bleeding. There was brief moment of silence before you continued, wearing a half of a smirk. "You're almost as stubborn as our child.. Almost."

Havik rolled his eyes at the mention of his stubbornness. He continued to look away, as if embarrassed. He took a deep breath, suppressed his desire to fight. When he met your eyes back, his gaze was tender. "I.. suppose I may be as hard-headed as her."

"You suppose? You are." You chuckled. "But I suppose I did fall in love with it, afterall. I can't say too much about it without sounding a hypocrite." You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them. You let your lips linger.

He finally allowed himself to relax when you kissed him. You had finally melted him. Melted away his mask of anger.

"I know you're just worried. About everything. I am too." You got out the gauze and began to wrap it around him, ever gentle. "Our home will be fine. Our daughter will be just fine. We will win this war." As you finished, you put your hand atop his and brought it to your chest. "We will be just fine. Hotaru will not win. I promise you that, Havik."

His heart began to pulse quickly again, but this time from wamrth. He could feel your heartbeat as well. You were being a rock; something to solidify him against. An anchor. And you were the only person he would allow himself to be weak in front of.

"No," he said after a moment's breath.

"No?" You repeated, confused.

He let out a slow breath, staring down to you. He gave a small nod. "My name. Say my name."

You stared back. A pure smile crept atop your lips. Your eyes melted into that of pure adoration. "Dairou," you said, and it felt almost as if it were an embrace. One that held promise, a security; for your words, your faithfulness. That you were his, and he - as himself, as Dairou - was yours.

[erstwhilesparrow]

Scott’s already in bed, thin grey sheets rumpled, face turned up in the open air of their home island. His eyes are closed. He looks smaller than usual, and it’s hard to tell whether that’s the wildcard working or something else.

“Not even a roof over your head,” Pearl mutters, crawling onto the blankets to curl over him. The moon is coming up and the grass rustles with a faint breeze. “What if you get rained on, mister?”

“Says you,” Scott mumbles, one eye slitting open to look up at her. The scent of dirt and growing things is in Pearl’s nose. “Sleeping in piles of snow.”

“Now who’s the one who only remember the parts of Double Life they want to remember?” Pearl huffs, planting her hands just by Scott’s shoulders. He shifts a little, nose wrinkling when a strand of her long hair falls into his face. “You’re just as bad as me.”

“Am I though?” Scott says. “Why are you sitting on me.”

“Just saying hi!” Pearl giggles, leaning down to bump their foreheads together, and it makes him grin — he copies her gestures like a mirror on delay, and it’s the kind of thing she tries not to think too hard about. He’d hug her, too, if she hugged him. Swear his love and loyalty if she got there first. A side effect of the soulbond? It could’ve been that important, couldn’t it have?

“Can you say hi quieter,” Scott complains, one hand coming up to tuck hair behind her ear. It’s a weird sensation: his nails just barely graze her skin, the touch hardly there. Both his eyes are open now. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” Pearl says cheerfully, grabbing for his hands and trying to roll. The bed is decidedly not big enough for the both of them, and she nearly topples off entirely, Scott’s grip on her going slack and throwing off her balance.

“Pearl,” Scott says in that baffled way he loves. “Why are we wrestling?”

“For fun!” Pearl chirps. “We did our mining, we got our diamonds, we finished all our chores, and now it’s time for the fun part. Honestly, Scott, it’s like you’ve never played a game before.”

He sits up a bit, awkward and clumsy because they’ve still got their fingers intertwined, push-pulling like a shadow-play of wrestling. He keeps making movements by halves, feinting towards a fight and backing off when she tries to match him. “Is this your idea of fun?” he asks, when she nearly falls into him.

“Is it yours?” Pearl demands. She shoves him back down, gets a hand pressing her weight into his stomach, another into his shoulder.

“Ow,” he grumbles. “I think you’re pressing on, like, all my organs?”

“Good,” Pearl says. “So you are real.”

“Why wouldn’t I be real,” Scott says, in that distant, dreamy way that means he doesn’t actually want to be in this conversation but he hasn’t figured out how to leave politely yet. He’s easy; Pearl doesn’t know why she didn’t see it before—

But she doesn’t like thinking about him like that. It makes her skin crawl a little, like she’s got fur to fluff up, to make herself look bigger with.

Pearl says, “You don’t act like it. You know that, Scott?” And before he can raise an eyebrow and keep pretending she’s saying something stupid, she adds, “I thought that’s just what happens, when you do this for too long. But I figured we’re all trying our best. I’m not sure you’re trying anymore, Scott.” She leans her weight forward and he grimaces. “You could try to have fun.”

“By letting you crush my internal organs. Okay.” He wraps fingers, loose, around her wrist. He’s like a ghost, except Pearl’s pretty sure even ghosts have convictions. Ghosts can be grabbed or taken or held by something. Ghosts are, ultimately, still things in the world. That’s the whole problem with them. Scott sighs. “You don’t think I’m having fun? I can’t win again. Everything that’s happened has already happened. We’ll get Impulse a win. Or Cleo can win again, if they want to. And we’ll help. Or I’ll help. And it’ll be fun. Not all of us need to get into fights to have fun.”

Pearl huffs. “Excuse you. I know other ways to have fun.”

“You’re excused.” Prim. But he still smiles when she does. His eyes crinkles at the corners; it always looks genuine when he smiles at her. He considers her, his breaths rhythmless where she hasn’t unpinned him. “Gem’s a bad influence on you.”

Pearl makes a squawk of protest.

“You’re bad influences on each other,” he continues, warming to his joke.

There is something about Gem, maybe her newness to these worlds, maybe her quick fearlessness. Maybe the way her eyes narrowed at the sight of red as if annoyed that anyone would try to scare her, would try to bring down the whole weight of history on her head. Pearl’s pretty sure it’s not bad influence. She thinks about the dirt walls of her last home in these games, and the pink leaves of Gem’s last home. Gem would’ve noticed every petal falling, if she cared to sit there long enough to watch.

Gem had no time to think of weights and gears and spider-webbing relationships; she was so busy being alive.

Pearl sighs, big and exaggerated, and slumps down to lie on top of Scott. He wriggles, grumbling, but eventually, he settles, and Pearl feels herself settle in turn. It’s always, always good to have pack. “Doesn’t it get heavy?” she asks, eyes closed, speaking into his shirt. “Knowing everything that’s ever happened. It doesn’t even help you tell everything that will happen. You should stop pretending.”

“Who says I’m pretending anything?” Scott asks.

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

I am going to write a scene between two characters that is so improbably emotionally honest.

(or: another exerpt from a fic i'll never finish, entitiled "griddlehark finally talk about stuff" in my drafts.)

-

Gideon wasn't sleeping. Harrow knew this because she also wasn't sleeping. But her own sleeplessness was born of long habit. It was an easy, comfortable insomnia. The dark and quiet were all she had left of home.

Gideon, though, had never been prone to insomnia before. She had always been easily exhausted and prone to oversleeping, rocklike and deaf. And yet, there she was, for the third night in a row, up at odd hours in the safehouse’s kitchen. Harrow could hear her softly shuffling around. She hesitated, considered leaving her to her own devices—what claim, after all, did Harrow have on her anymore? What right had she to butt into any of Gideon's affairs?

But she knew, in the way that she knew almost everything about Gideon, that she was at her worst when feeling abandoned. Harrow would go if she was told to go, but she had to try, at least. She would not abandon Gideon again.

So she went out to the kitchen and found Gideon hunched over the counter, wolfing down plain crackers. This, at least, was somewhat relatable to her.

“Can't sleep?” she asked, as it seemed as good an opener as any.

“Nope.” Gideon did not stop eating as she spoke. “Guess my body's still not in the habit. Being dead and all. Do you know how weird it is to be dead? Your organs just kind of…sit there. But they don't actually do anything. Puts a real damper on all your vital impulses. Like, all of them.”

This was more words than Gideon had said to her in weeks, which was good, even if they were the last words in the world Harrow wanted to hear. She floundered for something to say. Her face must've been doing something, because Gideon looked at it and said, “Oh, right, sorry. Wouldn't want to upset you with the details. Paul told me not to talk about it to you. Be a real shame to show you the consequences of your actions.”

Harrow tried not to react to that, but it hit her like a slap all the same. “I only wanted to save you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to be saved? Did you ever stop to think, hey, maybe Gideon threw herself on a fencepost because she cared about me and did not want an eternal front-row seat to my continued suffering? No. You didn't. You never thought about what I wanted, you only thought about how you'd lost your favorite chew toy. At least have the decency not to revive the little innocent martyr act from when we were eight. It never fooled me then and it doesn't fool me now. Don't look at me like that.”

“I’m—sorry.”

“You're sorry.”

“I never deserved you. I know that. Not once in my whole miserable life did I deserve to breathe the same air as you. I should've signed your release the day you asked. I should've let you go without conditions and with half our coffers in your pockets. I should’ve begged your forgiveness the first time I said an unkind word to you.”

“You can say that all you like, Harrow, but you never would've.”

“I would now. In a heartbeat. Fat lot of good it does us.”

Gideon shrugged. “I'm not sure I would've left anyway, back then.”

Harrow was startled by that. She could remember Gideon speaking of nothing else, as children. “No?”

“I mean, what would I have even done? Joined the cohort? Been there, done that, and I was bored in a month. I don't know—I don't know. Seems like everything I used to believe in was a sham. My parents. The cohort. You.”

“I don't know how you want me to respond to that.”

“Try telling me the truth.”

Harrow was quiet for a long moment. She had been telling the truth. She needed to find a truth Gideon could believe. Start from there. “You're right. I wouldn't have let you go, when we were children. I could never stand to have you out of arm’s reach, for the same reason you would never have left. I would be at a loss. The fabric of the universe would come unraveled without you. I believed that then, and I've seen evidence of it now.”

“Bullshit, Harrow. You liked having something to play with.”

“You know better than anyone that both can be true, you insufferable, pedantic meathead. You know better than anyone how I felt then, what I feel now. Do you think I was ever stupid enough to believe myself your superior? Do you think I never understood what I was doing? You were the single point around which my entire world revolved. Everything made so much sense, when it was all about you. I have seen my life without you, Griddle, and it was colder and emptier than I had thought possible. In retrospect, the idea that I had endured such a childhood at all should have alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

“I have never flinched away from my own faults. My inadequacies, perhaps, but not my faults. And I have always known that you were better than I am. I was once in denial, but never truly in ignorance, of the horror of our treatment of you. And yet the only sin you hold against me is that I tried to release you. That I removed you from my reach, relieved you of my beck and call. That is the only thing you have ever refused to forgive me for. Why?”

“You know why.”

“I want you to tell me. For once in your life, just tell me how you feel.”

“I feel stupid. I feel betrayed. I feel like I have not slept properly in a month, because I haven't. I feel like I was a corpse recently, because I was. Is this what you want to hear?”

“I want you to answer the question.”

Gideon stopped, took a deep breath. “We both already know, Harrow. Why do you need me to tell you?”

“Plausible deniability.”

She hesitated for a very long time. “I never wanted to be separated from you, either. I kidded myself about being your rightful equal when we were kids, but I don't think I even believe that now. My life was always going to be—you. I knew that. I just. Became alright with it. At some point. It was like—like, imagine if someone took your bones away, or something. The ones you carry around in your pockets, I mean, not the ones in your body. But kinda those too? Like, if everything that made you you was suddenly stripped away and you were useless. And I had to watch, Harrow, all of it, knowing I could help you. Knowing I could save you, if only you'd let me fulfill my only purpose that ever really mattered.”

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

Jongerry and "Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead"?

I like how you think, anon

"It's late."

"How would you know?" Jon asked distractedly, not looking up from the pages he was organizing. What he'd thought was two statements was actually one, and putting them in order revealed yet more missing pieces that he knew, with that awful Beholding certainty, were in the Archives somewhere. He didn't know where, but he needed to assemble it all together before he could record it and move on.

"Went out for a smoke." Gerry settled himself in the chair across from Jon's desk, examining his face with his deep intense eyes. "Its gotten dark out. Everyone's gone home."

"Good for them," Jon grumbled, feeling briefly envious of his coworkers who had homes to return to, and lives to live outside of the Institute. It seemed more and more difficult for him to leave the Archives with every passing day, and that would certainly feel more concerning if he didn't have a million other worries in his mind.

At least Gerry also seemed to have given up whatever semblance of a normal life he'd had as well, and all but moved into the Archives with him. That made Jon feel inordinately pleased, in ways he could hardly understand. Not just the simple pleasure of companionship, or even the undefined...thing between them that made Jon's chest feel hot and shivery and wild with delight and anticipation. It was something deeper, Beholding-touched, a connection between Archivist and Assistant that gave him the deepest feeling of satisfaction. Gerry was supposed to be there with him, and he was, and that was exactly how it should be.

"Here." Jon shook himself out of his thoughts to slide one of the folders across his desk. "Can you go into Document Storage and find the missing pages for this statement?"

"No."

"...what?" Jon asked belatedly, utterly put off by the unexpected refusal.

"It's late," Gerry said again, giving him a sharp look. "I'm not doing any more work tonight and neither are you."

Jon scoffed at him, automatically resistant to the very idea. The late hour meant nothing when he never left the Archives, and it wasn't like he had a schedule to adhere to. Sleeping was also out of the question, so there was no reason he shouldn't keep working. "You may do so if you wish," he refuted, looking back to his files, "but I need to straighten this out. Go on, then."

"I'm not going anywhere without you." Oh. The tone of Gerry's voice spoke of mischief, even as the words themselves caused a rather different reaction in his chest. Jon tried to level his best glare at Gerry, but of course his favorite Assistant was quite immune to that by now.

"I'm busy-"

"And I will carry you away from your desk if I have to." Damn him, he probably could. Jon quickly dismissed the thought of how nice it would be in Gerry's arms and sat back more firmly in his chair, just to be difficult. Gerry's own glare broke a bit at that, cracking into a rather fond smile at his behavior.

"You know," he murmured lowly. "I have other ways to convince you."

Oh dear. Gerry most certainly did. Jon sucked in a deep breath, feeling his resolve weakening just from the thought. "Don't you dare," he protested weakly, but Gerry was already out of his chair, rounding the desk to crouch next to him, leaning in to put his lips to his ear.

"Give me a reason not to," he whispered, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath his ear, and Jon melted with a soft sound. He knew he could, he could say no to Gerry's advances if he really wanted to. His Gerry would never push him like that. He had no real desire to keep working, but his stubborn streak still kept him from easily giving in.

"I'd like to see you try," he challenged, and felt Gerry smile before ducking in, littering kisses across his upper neck and hinge of his jaw, cupping his chin gently to keep him in place as he assaulted Jon with affection. It was so tender, so genuine, so lovingly deliberate that what was left of Jon's resolve completely crumbled away. He leaned towards him with a moan, and Gerry took advantage of his change in position to press in closer, changing the course of his kisses to his lips, gently coaxing his mouth open to kiss him deeper, making a pleased noise of his own at Jon's compliance. It was so truly good, the best thing in his life, that Jon wanted to drown himself in Gerry's kisses, and drag him down with him.

"It's working, you know," Gerry told him between kisses, his hands stroking Jon's hair back from his face.

"What is?" Jon rasped out, completely uncaring about anything that wasn't his Assistant.

"You're not working anymore," Gerry gloated, kissing him again before Jon could register his words. "You might as well call it a night." He rose slightly out of his crouch, one arm sliding around Jon's back to pull his hips to the edge of his chair. "Let me take you to our spacious and luxurious cot and distract you some more, doesn't that sound nice?"

"It certainly does," Jon agreed with a sigh, thoroughly and mindlessly enchanted by Gerry's kisses and words. Gerry scooped him out of his chair just as easily as he imagined he could, and Jon made no noise of protest as he was carried out of his office. Gerry was far too good at distracting him.