#this is too many humps to get over so realistically it's not going to happen

[aeide-thea]

me, full of ongoing scrupulosity abt microplastics and also a vague sense that it would be good for me to take another crack at incorporating running into my life for 'holy shit i desperately need endorphins' reasons, scouring the shorts market for anything natural-fiber but also functionally/aesthetically fit for purpose and coming up almost* entirely blank: what if i bought another one of the merino-tencel tanks whose fabric i'm in love with (or‚ you know‚ sourced similar fabric somewhere that wasn't already a different garment‚ but like‚ that would involve learning things about 'where to get specialty fabric' in addition to the 'how to sew it' part) and turned it into running shorts? surely it couldn't be that hard??

⸻ * in fairness, icebreaker does make some that tbh are probably ideal except for cost but like. do i want to go running in basketball shorts? not really. and the tiny (women's) version only comes in black which is so dreary. i keep hoping they'll come out with some other colors but so far no dice! also an extremely crunchy-granola company makes some weird little gym shorts in a hemp knit which. i'm sorry, i grew up in manhattan and i'm dubious! they might be great but! 🧐

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part two)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter two: do you feel it, too?

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: you fight hard to keep old habits at bay. joel falls into his head first.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> semi-public dry humping, kissing, mentions/fantasies of p in v sex, possessive thoughts, no one is drunk but everyone blames the wine, joel miller loves his kid!

word count: 5.3k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: i'm in shambles over the response to the first chapter, this series is my baby and it means so much that you guys liked it. thank you a million times for reading!

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“The wait begins as soon as I wake up. There is never any “after”. Life stops from the moment he rings the doorbell and enters.”

Annie Ernaux - Getting Lost

───────

Joel hasn’t touched the plastic tube since he brought it home last week. 

It’s become something he has to hide from, a nagging thought that pulls at his pant-leg like a child, clawing for his attention—open me, open me. Over and over he hears it, while in the office or cooking dinner or folding the wash, a whisper that begs him to reach in and claim his prize. When he’s really tired, brain damp from the days he has to work, the voice pours into something smoother, and suddenly it's that pretty girl—the one who’d made the thing—asking for the same; to be peeled back and stretched wide for him, cunt and heart and all. 

He finds himself losing a lot of very real time in the fantasy, chunks of his life spooned out to make room. 

The compulsion isn’t unfamiliar; it’s one that Joel thinks has something to do with his protective nature—or maybe that he’s seen enough living through the filters of hurt and mistrust—that makes him cling to the things he finds precious.

It traces back as far as the girls in grade school, when they would bring him little home-made valentines and wave him kisses first stamped onto open palms. He grew enamored with them, picking them flowers and scribbling symbols of promise in their note-books—the very beginnings of his acts of service. His heart would swell with it, a cartoonish thing, growing and pumping until he could keel over to one side from the size. He chased it in those early years, back somewhere between the brothering and fathering, moving through many someones he could fawn over, easing his need to possess. 

He can feel the need rising now, for the first time in too long, his body hurtling itself towards the ledge of something scarier, and he welcomes it. His hands itch for it, for the kind of love with teeth, that bites and tears into the edges of a substance much meatier, providing a place for the points to pierce and hold. He won’t call it what it really is, prefering to stomp out the whisper that warns him of its arrival—obsession. He likes to use less severe terms: thoughtful, involved, fascinated.

Knowing better in his age, he tries at least to be realistic during waking hours, and around Ellie, reminding himself that he has a hard time stepping down when he builds his hope high enough. He moves instead to just dreaming about you—in little tidbits and at guest-star capacity—to tide himself over until the week rolls back around.

Now, on a new Monday, he lets his daughter head off to class before he allows himself the privilege of unwrapping his reward.

He fishes around in the back of the hallway closet where he hid the case, retreating to his room to finally have his time alone with the creature he’d made of the object, letting it free from its cage.

He pops off the cardboard top of the roll, pulling the drawing out with the very tips of his fingers to not smudge something on accident. The sound of it sliding out sets his skin alight—this gift is one he asked for, but it feels like it was given to him all the same. Sharing a piece of you with him so freely, he feels special. 

He’s gotten used to seeing himself around the house, Ellie’s ever-growing library of renditions of him are fixed to the fridge by mis-matched magnets and framed in little glass panels in her room. It leans on the side of betrayal to have someone else’s version of him up, but he just wants to see it—if it’s as intense as he remembers it. As different.

His knuckle follows the curl of the paper to flatten the image, tacking it up to the wall with painter’s tape to avoid damaging the surface, like his daughter taught him. Joel sits on the corner of his bed and feels a hot wave of emotion fill his chest. 

He looks hopeful. It’s a garment he’s never seen himself wear. He’s soft and shy and child-like, face penciled in with detail that reads like a well-worn novel, bending and twisting to the curve of his expression. It’s a finely crafted summary. It’s guide-lines. It’s instructions, the very important parts of him spelled out in bold, black charcoal, with the gray shades of his complexion filling in the gaps. 

Was he that easy to pick apart? 

He’d seen some of the other drawings, the way everyone else had chosen to capture solely his pose, perfectly articulating the crook of his elbow or the network of muscle under the skin of his calf. 

But you’d chosen to show him. 

Something about it looks so familiar, enough to bring forward a memory of the conversation that had him feeling the briefest pass of deja vu—of you glancing down at the ground, quieted maybe by his proximity or his compliments; bashful. 

He walks out into the living room where Ellie keeps her sketchbook, the one with all the references. He thumbs through it—she’s given him permission to see this one—and flips to the page he remembers watching her use last week. And when he sees it, he feels like he’s going to faint. 

It was you. 

That was your face his daughter had been so beautifully replicating. Upon examining the fragmented portrait, he sees a striking resemblance to the one you’d made of him. They’re the same. Not the likeness, of course, but the visage. You knew what he felt like—had felt it yourself.

He already knew you, before you’d even spoken a word to each other. He admits that Ellie was only capable of piecing together so much of you, and even with the extra bits he’d caught in your brief meeting, he feels like he’s missing out. He wants to see the whole picture. You, in totality. 

When he arrives at the school building, he’s overtaken with a wash of what he thinks might be stage-fright. It makes him feel sick, stomach rolling with an embarrassment that scorches like youth—fight low and flight high—and his body starts to feel sore with the effort it takes to keep himself from fidgeting. 

Ellie’s teacher meets him in the hallway and passes him his slip, and he hums his way down to the bathroom to undress, admittedly working up the courage to confront you. 

As he enters the classroom, his excitement bottoms out. You’re not there. He keeps sweeping the room with his eyes, hoping you somehow had been hidden amongst the other bodies. He tries to sell himself the idea that you’re just in the bathroom, or on a break or late, but the wooden bench you’d sat in last week is obviously untouched. 

He clambers onto the stool, trying to replicate his pose from the previous lesson, much more uncomfortable now that he has nothing to distract him. The two hours are painful, and he finds himself counting seconds to fill the minutes in increments of ten until he can leave. 

His back hurts when he stands. 

On his way out, the blonde woman hands him a little flier, two pieces of neon copy paper glued together to make a double-sided image, advertising the group show this coming Friday. Ellie has already reminded him more times than he can count, but he takes it from the woman with the best smile he can muster, slipping out the door in a stride he’s hoping doesn’t come across as wounded. 

───────

The on-campus gallery is what someone a lot kinder than Joel would call cozy—a tight, short chamber with no windows and a single entrance, like a trap. 

He’s too keyed-up to be kind. He feels like nitpicking.

The metal door at the head must have been an afterthought, kicking back into the frame loudly every time someone walks through, nothing implemented to catch it. A continuous beam of fluorescent lighting wraps around the room in an all-encompassing spotlight, cooking the smell of fresh paint off the wall. It reminds him of picture day, or apartment hunting or something else equally unpleasant. 

He was always going to come to this, because he can’t imagine a version of himself who wouldn’t support his daughter, but he’s not happy about it, and he’s starting to feel dizzy from the too-fast swirl of anxiety in his stomach. 

Ellie had removed herself from his side the moment they made it into the building in search of her friends, with just a squeeze of his forearm and an ‘I’ll introduce you later’ left in her wake. He’s clung tightly to the wall ever since, making his way around the room to look at all the drawings, again and again and again until he feels like he’s on a track. 

Discomfort is a factor, but most of his indignation has to do with not seeing you in class—pointed at himself for the absurdity of his expectations—the voice in his head taking a bitter turn. Were you avoiding him? Would you not attend this, either? Did he do something wrong? His mind rambles on as he fiddles with his imitation cocktail glass, the shiny slip of plastic sticking to his fingers. There’s still a generous portion of what has to be five-dollar wine pooled at the bottom, bitter and opaque enough to stain. The woman who poured it for him did so nearly to the top, maybe sympathetically, disregarding that there was money obviously trying to be saved—deeming his cause a worthy one. He doesn’t even want it, really, nauseous at the idea of actually finishing it, but not having something in his hand was winding him even tighter. So he nurses it—even as it goes warm between his grasp, more unappetizing now than it had been twenty minutes ago—sip after sip to try and appear engaged. 

Eventually Joel grows tired of waiting, for Ellie to come back or for you to come at all or for this night to just be over, and picks a drawing to pause in front of. It’s a portrait of someone he’ll never meet, another graceful stranger coming together in an amalgamation of grays. He can hear people walking behind him, talking quietly and occasionally stopping to look over his shoulder at it in passing. 

“Hm. Quite the fan of my work, are you?” He almost ignores the comment, thinking it's for someone else, as it usually is, until there’s a figure taking up too much of his periphery. 

He’s a little dazed when he looks over, the hot, sour wine settled now in the pit of his belly, buzzing with a flare of something not-missed. He’s prepared to see more than one person beside him, perhaps a couple that had been talking near him rather than to him, but when he swivels his neck, it’s you. You’re just as pretty as he remembers, the face that he looks for in his sleep, but this time you’re not as shy, staring at him straight on—maybe similarly loosened by the pale yellow liquid in your own cup. 

Heat gathers at the rim of his jaw—his neck is red by now, he’s sure of it. Already exposed and driven by the faint whisper in his mind, he opens his mouth to speak without thinking, “You weren’t there this week.” 

You make quick quotes with just your pointers half-heartedly, “‘Sick,'” and breathe a laugh, “Had a few academic duties to fulfill. Gotta keep the scholarship intact.” 

There’s a thick moment of silence, but he can’t look away, eyes weighty and cheeks stinging. It’s awkward but he finds comfort in it, embracing the adjustment like it's a step towards better connection. 

Someone brushes his arm as they walk by and Joel uses it to his advantage, “Do you want to step outside? It’s a little hot in here.” 

There’s a flash of something like surprise across your eyes, but you shrug, “Sure.”

He crowds behind you as you walk step-in-step out the unarmed emergency exit, just to feel the closeness of your body, much better than the distance he’d felt in your absence on Monday. 

The night is worse than cold but it feels good against the heat in Joel’s chest. He can smell your perfume wafting back as he follows your movements, and it makes him pant. He’s ill, has to be—that or the wine was stronger than he thought, because the weird tie he feels is one he can’t explain as being healthy or normal or not fucking scary. But when you turn on your heel to face him, taking a seat on a hip-high planter in a secluded outer corner of the building, it feels right. Natural. 

He shuffles so that he’s far enough for you to be safe from his touch, and he shoves a hand in his pocket for good measure, “Thank you again for the drawing. It’s really beautiful.”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you for saying that.”

He wants to say something more, like you’ve captured me in a way that makes me hopeful about myself, but settles instead for, “My daughter liked it a lot, too.” It’s a bold-faced lie, but he thinks that keeping your gift a secret would look less appealing. 

“Is she here?”

“Somewhere, yeah. Ran off the second we got in. I’m not a comfort anymore, I guess.”

“Is she yours? Comfort, I mean.” You pick at the crown of the cup, rolling it gently in your hands like its real glass, and you both watch the fuzzy pattern of light that catches on its uniform surface. Joel wonders if you have a comfort of your own—if you need one.

“Is it bad if I say yes? It feels cheesy but the kid is my rock. Dunno what I’m gonna do when she grows up.” He shoves at the concrete under the toe of his boot. It didn’t taste as bad coming out as he thought it might. He hasn’t said that out loud to anyone other than himself, but you look at him like you know exactly what he means. The delicate beginnings of a smile crest on your face, cheek pinched, void of all the uncomfortable sympathy he's gotten from Tommy and Maria at the few things he made the mistake of revealing. He can’t find it in himself to stop now with your gesture, feeling relief in having a place to voice his heartbreak, “Honestly I’m scared, but not just for me, y’know? I worry about what she’s gonna find in the world. I just want to keep her safe.” 

“She knows it, I’m sure. I know what it feels like to have no one to root for you—I would’ve killed for that. The only thing you can do for her is be there when she comes home,” You’re looking down again, and he doesn’t like whatever’s made you want to pull back from him—be shy, “Spend time with other people you care about and that care about her. Make that network for her to lean on.”

“All I got is my brother. His wife too, sometimes. My nephews. A few years ago it was just me and him. Ellie—that’s her name. She, uh, isn’t ‘mine’,” he makes the bunny-eared quotes with the hand holding his drink, “Not by blood, anyway. But she popped up out of nowhere and I don’t know how to go back to being on my own.” 

“It’d be good to have a network of your own, too—if you’re up to it. It’s hard to do, trust me, but I don’t think I could do a lot without my friends.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore. I can’t conjure up much of anything worth listening to these days. Forgot how.” 

“Don’t do that. You have a lot to say—you’re plenty. Just start with one person. There’s always time to make more.” He knows you’re talking to him, but it feels like you’re also talking to that little boy inside of him, small and unloved and still bleeding.

“Do you need any more? Friends.”

You look up from your lap, pushing a piece of your hair back from your face like you need to get a better look, searching for a way you could be misinterpreting him, “I might have room. You have a recommendation for me?”

He reaches out, grabbing the empty cup from your grasp, stacking it with his own and depositing them by your side. He doesn’t miss the way you watch him, how you widen the spread of your legs on instinct, enough to suggest his entrance. He wades out on one leg to bring himself in, testing the water.

Your lips are parted, and when he looks into the opening between them he imagines he’s seeing to the center of you, and everything else keys out. Cars pass by on the strip of street behind him, driven by ghosts, providing nothing but a low song for your bodies to dance to together, his chest swaying closer to yours with every breath. You move with him, and it feels rehearsed, like all of the steps you've taken to get to this moment were purposeful, done in perfectly orchestrated succession for the hundredth time. 

“Do you feel that, too?” He asks, wanting to know if he’s reading too much into it, feeling that sweet edge of thoughtful-involved-fascinated scrape his skin like a sharp knife, “Do you? Like you know me?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, and it’s all the permission he’s ever needed. 

He leans in, lips skating yours, the warm cave of your mouth begging to be explored. He tries so hard to take his time, soft brushes tethering you to each other with the weight of everything he’ hasn’t had the time to say. His whole body is pins and needles—a fierce heat that floats so high it feels like ice. You sigh into him, the start of a moan, and his composure snaps. Service, he reminds himself, act on it—it feels almost divine when he thinks about all the ways he could pledge his loyalty, ready to bend at your altar every day of his life if it meant you’d sing for him again.

Joel brings a hand to the side of your neck, thumb digging into the pulse point at the corner of your jaw to bring you forward, licking into your mouth in search of more noise. He groans when you relax into his hold, so pretty and willing, and works you until you’re just as fervent, daring to suck his bottom lip between your teeth—going for blood. 

The voice in his head is yours again—open me, eat me, unhinge your jaw and swallow. 

He slots his other hand around the bone of your hip, pulling you nearer to the ledge of the planter, pressing his cock into your inner thigh as it swells to life. You gather his shirt in your hand, a tight fist, shifting yourself against him so you can grind into it instead. No one else exists, no one else could ever exist in this moment, or any moment you attend, for the rest of forever. He wants to fuck you, to see how far the attachment could go, how far he could reach down before he finds a warm, bed-shaped slot for him to rest in. He wants to live inside the body of someone who sees him so clearly. He wants to know every thought in your head before it comes to fruition. 

The wine tastes better coming from off your tongue, and he’s gleaning the flavor from every corner of your mouth like he can achieve a second-hand high. His full weight is rocking into you with enough force now that he has to plant a heel in the ground to keep you both from tumbling. He risks a thumb in your waistband in the flurry, tugging at it in the hope of another invitation. 

Before you have a chance to decide, the loud press of the swing-door at the front of the building opens, and Joel staggers back, remembering where he is and why. 

You look winded to say the least, hair bent from the imprint of his hand, mouth in a perpetual ‘o’, and he’s scared to see the state of his own face, not to mention the visible strain of his cock in his pants. He kicks an ankle out to try to adjust, heaving through an open maw at the thought that you might be affected in that way as well, picturing the slick wet in between your legs—a beautiful sheen from just his mouth on the top half of your body. 

You shimmy off the edge, straightening your shirt and he immediately steps back in for more, draping the full breadth of his hand against your collarbone, curling the tips around the top of your shoulder.

“Joel. I— I need to go inside.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” 

You lay a hand over his with a squeeze and he retracts it, “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting… I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

He can feel his breath restricting, heart plummeting down so far it feels like it’s landed in the ball of his foot; the second time this week you’ve pulled away. He thinks back to the face you made at him in the gallery, back before he fucked this up. Maybe you never meant for this to happen at all.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice strained, “I just need a little time. Just some time, I’m sorry.”

“No, no I understand. Don’t be sorry. Will you take my number? Just in case?” He wants to make sure you’re okay after this, if you want that, and selfishly he wants to give you a way to have him, knowing this might be the last time he runs into you. He’s too afraid to leave it up to chance.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” You pass him your phone with shaky fingers. 

“Only if you want to, honey,” He’s disheartened by the whole thing, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he’s careful to double-check, even if it’s a blow to his hope, “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I’m just—the wine, sorry. I think it was bad.” You huff out a strained laugh, “I want it. Your number, I mean. Promise.” You practically shove the thing at him and he takes it this time, entering the contact with as little squinting as possible to save himself from any further humiliation. 

───────

You all but run into the bathroom in the back of the building, needing a moment alone to consider what the fuck it is that’s going on right now—what’s been going on since he walked into your class two weeks ago and overstayed his welcome. 

You stumble in, bracing yourself against the porcelain basin, switching on the faucet to drown out some of the pounding in your head. You’d been lying when you said the wine was catching up to you—very much sober—but now, in this suffocating, gray room, you feel like it must have at least accelerated the churning in your gut. 

You let water gather in your hands, bending to dip your face in the too-cold pool between them. 

Every day has been mostly encouraging if not indifferent but this feels like the start of a bad dream you won’t be able to wake up from, dragging you right back to that dark box you’d been existing in. He came in from nowhere, kicking down your reserve, for what? For a fuck? To enjoy you in passing? Or worse, to stay? You’re unsure which would be harder to receive.

And it’s unfair—for him to show up right at the point of being fully on your own, as soon as you’ve chosen to avoid getting caught up in that part of your life. You’re past the point of surrendering your time—know better than to want to be bogged down by a crush or the preconceived idea of the perfect stranger. 

You don’t know him, and you don’t need to. 

But you want him so bad it hurts; so bad you had to fake a cold to skip class because you couldn't face the idea of seeing him for the last time. You debated skipping the grade for the exhibition too, but you used any excuse to convince yourself he might not show. You weren’t sure who his daughter was, or how enthusiastic she was about the program, so you figured it was a fair shot. You outwardly willed him not to come, at yourself in the mirror and in the shower and out loud the car, all while secretly praying he’d be in attendance, right up to the moment you saw him.

When you stand up, staring at your rigid body in the plastic mirror above the sink, you’re pained at the sight. You look tired, shoulders tense and eyes bleary. Stray beads of the cool water stick to your skin, refusing to dry in the lingering humidity, balling up together to drip into the open lip of your shirt. You can barely feel it falling over your chest before being soaked up by the material. You feel outside yourself.

Someone starts to knock at the door, a quick and invasive interruption to the moment of absolute panic you’d been enjoying. You managed to twist the lock shut on the door at least, so you click your heel against the tile in a wordless someone’s in here, but the knocking persists. 

“Occupied.” You try, wet hands slipping against the edge of the sink. This shit isn’t normal. None of that even comes close to normal. 

Still, the heavy thrum against the hollow metal continues, and you take a deep breath before practically ripping it out from the socket of its frame. When you have it open, Ian’s posed between the V of the slot, face bewildered. 

“Really, truly, I love you, but what the fuck was that?” 

───────

Four days from the start of spring break, you’re out at some stranger’s place off Maple, invited by both Ian and your roommate—making it a little harder to get out of—in a joint, well-intentioned attempt to make you leave the safety of your room. A party will be nice, they’d explained, nothing serious, and a week off’s supposed to be fun, right? 

The house is pretty, but whoever owns it has demanded everyone remain out on the cobblestone patio, uneven flooring making for a jagged line of bodies packed too tight to fit. 

A fire burns in the middle of the yard, billowing out puffs of smoke you know will linger in your clothes for at least two washes. You swipe at some soot that's gathered in the bowl of your jacket sleeve absentmindedly. There’s no music tonight, maybe because there’s real school tomorrow—the elementary school down the street not quite on the same schedule—and you start to think going out on weeknights is quickly becoming more your speed. There's just the soft blanket of everyone murmuring, trying to stay warm in the chill of the wind. 

Ian’s prepping some guy across the fire to meet you; you can tell by the look on his face, like he’s planning something elaborate. You smile at him, at least amused by his effort to help you forget the weekend. He’s right, it is spring break, and Joel is nothing but a consequence of your stress-induced impulsivity. 

Still, despite your efforts, you’re thinking about him again, even if to punish him. You can still feel the line of his cock against your thigh, pressed hot and heavy into your body like an offering. You rub your thighs together, cursing him for giving you enough material to fantasize about for weeks—your punishment in return.

Ian crosses the circle with your new prospect, and you tilt your cup in mock cheers. Behind him he mouths hot and nice, tell me what you think. You nod, and the guy steps forward to block the flame. He’s handsome, airbrushed face and sweet cologne and long, thin fingers, nothing like how someone else’s had felt at the junction of your hips. 

You swallow, hard.

You honestly don’t hear a word that comes out of his mouth from the second it opens, not even to catch his name. Instead, you think about how nice it’d be if you could pay attention, how much easier it would be to fuck someone you thought was nice and safe and not at the forefront of every free moment you’d been afforded in the last two-and-a-half weeks. About what a relief it would be for him to mount and rut into you without consequence—no emotional burden, just boring and lukewarm like the last bite of something you can’t find a place to throw away. It’s always been easier when you didn’t want more. Yet now you want every night, hold out a hand in your dreams and let him into the part of you that has already carved out a hole in his shape. 

This guy couldn’t pull your mind off of Joel even if he was fucking you. 

When he offers to grab you a drink, you agree and then head into the house, like you’re not supposed to, as soon as his back is turned. There’s a few locked doors, and then one at the end of a hallway that opens up into a bathroom. You slip in, not bothering to switch on the light in an attempt to hide out from being found.

Here you are searching for reason in a dirty mirror above another sink, with nothing but the weak glow of a plug-in air freshener to guide you, too soon after the last time. 

You’re angry, suddenly, at how far he’s burrowed himself into your head, with so little to go on. He’s doing nothing but showing you yourself, a tired tactic to get you to fall in love with him while you do all the work. He was just pretending, right? He couldn’t actually want to love you. You groan, when the fuck was love even part of this equation?

You dig your phone out of your purse. The lock screen is bright—bold lettering reminding you it’s nearly midnight—but you click into your contacts anyway, because it’s not like you’re going to call him or anything. His page is still open, the Texas area code populating under Joel - Ellie’s dad—typed out with caps and all like that’s his only meaningful identifier. You scroll to see where he’d punched in ‘just in case‘ in the notes section of his info-card, and that decimates the cliff of restraint you'd barely managed, sinking in on itself under you.  

Your hands are wet with unease, held hostage by the way he’d read your thoughts out loud. You did feel it too, that searing weight of knowing—of being acquainted with him despite only meeting once before. He had to have been honest in at least that confession. You ask yourself for permission—‘was he going through this as well? what exactly was he feeling? would he explain if you asked?’—until it turns into selling yourself justification—‘you could just fuck him, right? that’s all this has to be, right?’.

Yes, you decide. Just another test of will—you can do it. You can pass. 

Your finger hovers over the number, closing the screen and opening it again and again and again until you just bite the bullet and fucking press it, the screen going black as you shove it against the side of your ear, covered again in darkness. 

He picks up within two rings. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi. Joel,” You offer him your name like a secret, “It’s me. Did I wake you up?”

“No, sweetheart. Are you okay?” 

“Can I come see you?”

[kaelatargaryen]

I have to agree with the other anons about the screenshots, I do believe they are real and the fact that Ange is not admitting to that fact makes me feel I can’t forgive her or trust her. If she was honest and said they were real, I think I could have moved past this, but it’s just the same old scenario as always including threatening to leave when she is held accountable for something she has done. The sense of superiority over other writers and dropping big words in casual conversation (in what I think is a power move to remind people she is a professional and “above” casual writers here) is too realistic and I don’t think Fae or Bel are capable of imitating her that well. The awful things she has said about writers comes from a place of jealousy, whether it’s from the amount of notes they have gotten that she felt entitled to or the world building she can’t match herself. Every. Single. One of the writers she has spoken down to are extremely talented and they need to know that’s why they have been targeted, not because there is any truth to what she has said about their work.

Answering both of these and letting it be 🤍

I can’t say I disagree as I’ve basically already said the same thing — I’m pretty sure it was mentioned in another ask or I saw someone reblog it but yes, I heard she’s made several different apologetic posts. I’m not surprised and we all knew it was coming.

I think the first ask is pretty important and I hope Ange works on it, whether she’s realized it up to this point or not… subconscious jealousy can still play a role in our behaviors. And this doesn’t have to be just talent but the way an author makes friends so easily or is able to riff with someone like they’ve known each other for ever, or any number of things. And it doesn’t matter how many people flock to comfort her when this stuff happens, it’s still bad for her as a person to live with these emotions and feelings. Not being able to deal with them, name them or get over them is what leads to lashing out and mistreating those around us, oftentimes those we care about most just because of proximity then you have situations that end up like this one.

I said it before but whether she said it or it was one of the doctored fics, all that shit was wrong and no one should believe it or let it paint their experience here 🩷

I don’t care if Ange changes except for the fact that I’m so over seeing all this, however… this last lil rumble was pretty intense and involved alot of people. Sometimes that’s enough to scare the shit out of people we didn’t think could change and makes them change. That could be what happens here with everyone involved, the backlash was so nasty that it could their fandom rock bottom. There’s very few offenses that can’t be learned from or amended, if she wants to change, she’s allowed to try. Thats her right, just like it’s the right of others to choose whether or not they believe her and if they want to be someone who gives her a chance. We already weren’t friends by her choice so I’m not losing anything by washing my hands of her and ignoring her from here on out and I’m also not going to hold it against mutuals and friends who aren’t willing to throw a friendship away without giving her a chance to make up for this.

I can’t ask anyone else to move on if I’m not doing it too so this’ll be last piece of mind on all this, if you’re someone who is still so affected that you need to chat and vent about it so it doesn’t feel like it’s eating you up, my chat is open to you. You can make a burner if that makes you more comfortable for all I care but this whole situation has had its moment in the spotlight and now it’s time to deal with our feelings in private so everyone can move at their own pace and not feel pressured or uncomfortable by seeing it still be discussed and not being in the same mindset as others

I love you all and happy hump day!!!! Tomorrow is my Friday and I’m so excited for this week to be over and have the weekend to RELAX

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Hello, this is what happens when two people who can't shut the fuck up scream at each other about fictional boyfriends. if you're one of my random followers and you actually wanna read this, please enjoy the memery. as for Star, hello <333

Star: I’m reading this on AO3 – mostly for comfort, tumblr’s post view is weird on the computer – but I just have to say that I LOVE the cover you make for the fanfics !!! theyre so fucking cute and aesthetically pleasing ! The ring is just absolutely gorgeous 🥺 and genuinely suits Gar so much 🥺

Sunny: Omg thank you <3 I actually work really hard on the covers - maybe I should start putting them on AO3 because I know you can ?? but I usually forget to do it because I think you have to insert them before you copy/paste the text. And like okay - this sounds so weird, but I sometimes get NERVOUS about posting on AO3?? Like the format for posting on there is intimidating, and I’m like “ugh, I’m gonna forget a tag, I’m gonna accidentally mark something wrong, the copy/paste isn’t gonna work” and I fret SO HARD for the ten minutes when I am trying to make my AO3 post - as opposed to when I am posting on tumblr. On tumblr, I’m like “this is my house, fuckers, HERE’S YOUR PORN” 

Star: “You felt lucky that Doctor Caulder had taken you in” cracks knuckles where is that piece of shit? “At the time, Doctor Caulder was a savior to you” I really do hope his dead, I can’t remember the actual show but I think so (?)

Sunny: I am SO GLAD you finally share my beef with Doctor Caulder omg. I hate him so fucking much. (It will get even worse when you watch Season 4.) And for reference, he’s not dead in the show. Idk what happened to his character in Doom Patrol (which I have been wanting to watch so badly because of Titans, but I haven’t gotten over the autistic brain hump lmao) but when we leave his character in Titans, Rachel broke his back and left him partially paralyzed, but Cliff said that his back was broken ‘again’ so it’s heavily implied that his serum/advanced medical ways can solve that kind of paralyzed state (because inferring - it had happened to him before and he made himself able to walk again with the serum). So there are no consequences for his actions, no death. He gets the notoriety and advanced medical science that he wants by taking advantage of people who are very vulnerable and in need with no where else to turn 

Star: “You had no other options, after all” This makes me so angry, specially cause its just fucking reality, I think I could write an entire essay on how fucked the US healthcare system is And not to say here things are perfect but WE DO HAVE A UNIVERSAL FREE HEALTH CARE!!! IT'S NOT PERFECT BUT IT'S THERE !! PEOPLE DON'T HAVE TO PAY FOR SHIT THEY NEED TO SURVIVE (i don't know much about Canada, which is where I think you’re from, based on context clues, but I'm pretty sure there is a free health care system there too, right?)

Sunny: I am so deeply resisting the urge to go on a long rant about Canadian health care lmao. I am Canadian and because of my chronic illness, I have a very unique perspective on our particular universal health care. Most people just say that our health care is BETTER because it’s free - but it’s really not. There are so many issues - apathetic, undertrained doctors, certain medications and procedures not being covered, people with chronic ‘non-emergent’ conditions being pushed back and minimized because our problems are multi-systematic and not easy to solve. Like so much that I CANNOT explain or encapsulate in one short section of this post. But this fic takes place in America, so the whole ‘medical debt’ thing is a very obvious plot point to use (and a very realistic one), and their health care is probably overall worse than Canada. 

Star: “That’s a really pretty name. It matches you” I love that Gar is actually a really good flirt, but he’s also his own worst enemy and will second guess himself at every opportunity

Sunny: Gar is that meme ‘You look pretty!’ ‘what did you say?’ ‘I said you look shitty, goodnight!’ - he will flirt with someone, and the second they show any kind of interest back, he gets nervous and immediately backs down from it 

Star: “because Gar spoke about it with so much enthusiasm” okay but I can't help picturing Gar and I infodumping about different horror movies to Rachel and Jason cause they know so little about it (Jason’s reasoning is obvious → but i personally headcanon Rachel’s adoptive mom didn't really let her watch anything that seemed too scary or dark, incase it triggered something in her or her powers) 

Sunny: Gar is the infodumping KING. I can imagine him just rambling on and on, and he would get Jason to watch his favorite 00s horror movies by telling him there’s topless scenes lmao (yes, that’s my JayGar shipper coming out)

Star: “Do you need a kiss from a handsome prince to get it back?” THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT !!!

Sunny: this was such a last minute addition but I recently saw the new little mermaid movie and I was like I HAVE TO ADD THIS

Star: “the mounting medical debt became too stressful for your parents so they abandoned you and disappeared with no way for creditors to track them down” WOOOOW TWO CHALLENGERS APPROACH !!! I hope. they're. dead : )

Sunny: tbh in my imagination, they’re not dead. But I wanted to do something other than the typical ‘my parents died and left me alone in the world’ backstory. Because something like ‘my parents abandoned me on purpose and left me alone in the world’ can be more painful and it can show the importance of a new found family 

Star: “cringed slightly when you heard what sounded like the cracking of bones” … why would you make me think about the implications?

Sunny: I said this because this is what the show makes his transformation sound like, but in all honesty, I really don’t think that his transformation hurts him! I think that it’s something that feels natural for his body and it doesn’t hurt him 

Star: “this was the first time that Gar had ever gone against the man on anything” GO STINK, FUCK IT UP ! GO STINK, FUCK IT UP !!

Sunny: I wanted it to be a realistic characterization so that when the show catches up with him and he brings Rachel home - which is very much against the rules, and he tries to attack the Chief because Rachel is scared and wants to stop the process of her ‘test’, it is very realistic. Also: FUCK DOCTOR CAULDER GAR SHOULD BITE HIM

Star: “Gar put a hand on your lower back” am I touched starved, or is this the single most intimate, heart warming casual touch ever ??? “he leaned down and laid a gentle, timid kiss on your forehead” second most heart warming casual touch ever

Sunny: I just kept IMAGINING how comforting Gar would be when you’re not feeling well like omg 

Star: “Gar snuck out to town and picked up a book on ASL” AAAAAAAAAAAAA YES HE WOULD, IMMEDIATELY !!!! “he signed the words ‘good morning’ to you”

Sunny: I am obsessed with the idea that he would work so hard to communicate on someone else’s level - he would want to understand the person he loves because he would love the feeling of being understood (knowing and being known is one of his love languages) 

Star: “He set it up as a game” Yeah yeah, yoU KNOW WHAT WAS ALSO A GAME SET UP BY A CREEPY OLD MAN ??? it's Saw, I’m talking about the Saw movies (i’ve never seen them tho, but I think it was an old man right?)

Sunny: Idk if you have seen any of it on my blog, but I am obsessed with the Saw movies. And I think that old man (John Kramer) is infinitely better than Caulder lmao 

Star: “fired up his X-Box so he could teach you how to play Cuphead” I don't think I have the emotional maturity to play a game like this SKSKKS thing would either get ugly fast OR i’d just cry outta frustrating and give up on it forever (I'm also NOT GOOD AT VIDEO GAMES !! SADLY ;-; I KNOW)

Sunny: it’s a good thing that Cuphead is a co-op game and Gar would be really encouraging about it and he would teach you all the tricks to do well at it so you can beat the enemies together <3 

Star: “If I’ve never seen the movie before, I should get a new question!” I’m willing to side with him on this one, especially if US history is one of the categories KSKSKS cause I'm gonna need that excuse for my turns “Trivia is a test of memory” HE’S GOT A POINT !!!

Sunny: hOW DID I KNOW YOU WERE GONNA SIDE WITH JASON HERE

Star: “Have you ever accidentally seen something you regret?” feels like a trick question KSKSKS “ her eyebrows knitted tightly, a mixture of confusion and deep thought” THAT one is on us, more context next time yep “I accidentally walked into the bathroom when Jason forgot to lock the door-” NO TIME TO UNPACK, NOPE SKSKSKS LETS KEEP THAT BOX CLOSED FOR NOW

Sunny: how do you know he wasn’t singing showtunes in the mirror??? Maybe Rachel’s regret was seeing a GIANT FUCKING NERD in the bathroom 

Star: “What’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly” I LIKE THAT !! Never heard it before either, but I LIKE IT !

Sunny: I don’t know where I originally heard this phrase ??? but when I first heard it, I LATCHED onto it, cause I am a freak weirdo (like I never wear pants because I don’t find them comfortable, if I have to go in public, I literally ONLY wear dresses/skirts and people think I am a weirdo for it) and like so many things about me are not ‘normal’ but I always wanna be like ‘this is MY version of normal’. Same for so many other people 

Star: “You didn’t bother with socks or slippers” I’d rather die KSKSKKS SORRY TO BE SUCH A SOCK SNOB, BUT I WOULD RATHER DIE

Sunny: okay but ME TOO??!! I ALWAYS wear slippers, idk, it was just something random in the original draft 

Star: “And he was quite a sight to behold… nothing but a pair of black boxing gloves and black sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips” yeah 🥵🫣 “He was pounding away…” hELLO “...at the heavy punching bag” oH “slight bit of pubic hair where he hadn’t properly tied up his sweatpants” dear lord “It swung around freely as he worked, punching hard at the weight bag” and it’d be a damn crime to keep it contained

Sunny: this entire section of the fic is what I like to call ‘the female gaze’. Look at Gar with my slutty slutty feminine eyes and slutting him up the way that a female character would be examined in a piece of work that a man wrote. And I had SO MUCH FUN writing it 

Star: “If you came to train, don’t let me bother you. Apparently that’s all I am to you lately” WOOOOOOW ALRIGHT JESUS ♥️ HERE ! JUST KEEP IT, NOW THAT YOU FINISHED RIPPING IT OUT (not uncalled for but GODDAMN)

Sunny: I really wanted Gar to come off as broken down and defeated because he is the type of person to be emotionally bruised and LONELY. He gets sad boy and upset if his friends don’t give him the right attention/enough attention 

Star: “he was taking off the boxing gloves, throwing them somewhere on the floor” which is SIGNIFICANTLY DIFFICULT TO DO WITH BOTH OF THEM ON !! I always have to use my teeth on the first one 🙃

Sunny: I LITERALLY DID NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT THIS?!?! CAN YOU TELL THAT I HAVE NEVER GONE ANYWHERE NEAR A GYM IN MY L I F E 

Star: “Utmost” I'm embarrassed to say that genuinely I thought for years that it was UPmost (https://www.tiktok.com/@favclipsnewgirl/video/7128101049117789445 … what is an “ut”? Nick is right)

Sunny: okay but this is me. I used to think it was ‘lick a gift horse in the mouth’ when the real one is: ‘look a gift horse in the mouth’ and I was like WHY ARE WE LICKING HORSES (and I am a native English speaker) 

Star: “You didn’t think his growling would ever be so sexy to you” WELL– ONE OF US CAN SAY THAT (I’ve thought about it extensively)

Sunny: the original version of this is one of the first Gar fics I ever wrote, and this is where the growling thing started for me lmao 

Star: “vaguely aware of the fact that there was probably a camera somewhere in the room” well lets hope Jason is the one on security room duty tonight and not Grayson 🫢

Sunny: THIS NEEDS TO BE ITS OWN FIC. like omg I can so perfectly imagine Jason being in the security room because Dick wants him to wade through a bunch of files (really tedious shit) and then Jason starts going through the cameras out of boredom, and he sees THAT happening in the training room and he starts watching and touching himself and then later he just says the most ‘little shit’ thing to Gar like ‘you know there’s cameras in there’ and AAAAH I need to write this soon 

Star: “He soon brought a whole new definition to the words ‘eating pussy’” this is another subject I could write an entire essay about… ooooohhhh ranking the titans from best to worst head (we must discuss this in length, I beg you please)

Sunny: I need to do an in-depth post about what I think their kinks are, describing their dicks for the guys, and ranking all of them on sexual performance and whether they enjoy giving or receiving more (which might fall under kinks? idk) 

Star: “You’re so fucking perfect. Fuck, Y/N.” OKAY I HAVE THE FUCKING YN NAME CHANGER EXTENSION ON MY LAPTOP AND YOU DONT USE YN THAT OFTEN, I FORGOT IT WAS ON AND THIS HAD MY REAL LEGAL NAME ON IT !! I NEED YOU TO THINK ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS NOW 

Sunny: THIS IS WHY THE INTERACTIVE FICS EXTENSION PAYS OFF. the girlies who say ‘using y/n is cringe’ THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE FUCKIN MISSING

Star: “Was he seriously saying that he didn’t love you?” on all levels except physical, I am bonking their heads together “These were Gar’s last words to you before you stormed out of the training room” IM GONNA KILL THEM PLEASE !!!!

Sunny: this genuinely made me laugh snort omg. They NEED their fucking heads bonked together 

Star: “ate your pussy like it was his fucking job” it is

Sunny: TRUE

Star: “‘We don’t get days off, Gar’ Dick pressed ‘” and you need to stop making yourself my enemy

Sunny: one of these days I am going to write enemies to lovers with Dick where the reader calls him out on all his BS and then edges him until he cries and we will finally have our revenge 

Star: “Do you really think some psychotic asshole is gonna care if you have a little headache while they’re trying to kill you?” he remains the worst, friendship with Grayson over, again… where’s Hank when you need him?

Sunny: WHERE IS HANK I MISS HIMMM. Like the whole time I was writing this I was thinking about how Dawn and the reader would get along so well because they’re both soft and sweet and Dawn canonically knows ASL

Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part Two: Our Past, Our Present, Our Future

Summary:

After having an argument with Gar that nearly ends your friendship, you decide to finally get over your fear of using your own powers and finally embrace them. If you do things just right, you could finally get everything that you (and Gar) have ever wanted.

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut, (Slight) Angst and Fluff. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 18,000

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

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List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general emotional angst (due to the reader and Gar having emotional distance from having an argument at the end of the other chapter), (very light) canon level violence, mentions of medical experimentation/medical torture, the reader character has medical trauma from years of illness, mentions of medical debt, manipulation and emotional abuse (from Doctor Caulder toward Gar and the reader), mentions of burns/burn scarring, mention of the reader being abandoned by her parents, mentions of vomit (no graphic descriptions), the reader character has a seizure, (likely) improper first aid performed for a seizure, the reader has chronic illness/chronic pain, use of prescription medication, the reader is more feminine (wears lacy underwear), the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. 

This chapter contains smut - both dream fantasies and played out sexual acts. The reader character is mute but all consent is enthusiastic and clear, biting/marking kink, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (having sex in the communal area of a house - also, coincidentally, the sex fic I have read where characters have sex in a space that just happens to have a camera in it), scent kink, oral - reader receiving, multiple orgasms (reader receiving), (slight) overstimulation (reader receiving), hair pulling kink (Gar receiving), it’s implied that the reader and Gar are virgins but it’s not lingered on and it’s not a plot point of the fic, unprotected sex, creampie, penis in vagina sex, rough sex, (idk how to phrase it?) marriage kink/commitment kink, passionate sex/love making, Gar calls the reader ‘wife’ (in a fantasy sequence), some mentions of blood (the reader scratches Gar’s back and draws blood by accident), I believe that’s it. 

A/N: This turned out way longer than I intended. But I love it and I really hope that you guys do too!!

...

After the argument, you didn’t see Gar for the rest of the day. 

When Dick came in to check on your progress with training, he immediately questioned why Gar was missing. You made up a lame excuse about how he had been feeling sick (which had to be translated to Dick by Jason) and Dick complained that all of you had to learn to ‘work through’ things like illness, but at least he didn’t question why Gar had locked himself in his room for the rest of the night and didn’t come to dinner. 

After you had washed the dishes and sulked through the rest of your nightly routine, you considered knocking on Gar’s bedroom door before finally going to bed yourself - but you just couldn’t bring yourself to face him. 

You had truly hurt him, and you weren’t sure how you were going to recover from it. 

As you laid in bed that night, so strung up with guilt that you couldn’t sleep, you stared at the ceiling. Of course, all you could think about was Gar. 

You thought back to when you had first met him - going over those first days of your friendship in your mind. The undeniable way that the two of you were drawn so close together. In friendship or in that unutterable, constantly denied romance - the two of you were soulmates. 

And you had fucked it all up. 

You missed your best friend so badly. You wondered where it had all gone so wrong. 

… 

You felt lucky that Doctor Caulder had taken you in. 

Before him, before the serum, your last chance at moving out of the palliative care ward would have been offering your body as a live cadaver up for experiential treatment. It was something that might have put a dent in your medical debts, but it also would have meant a lot of pain and torture as your body was used as a trial for vastly experimental medicine and treatments - none of which were guaranteed to prolong your life as the deadly brain tumors grew to consume your brain, seemingly trapping you in a loop of pain and torture for those last few years that you had. 

At the time, Doctor Caulder was a savior to you. 

He used the money he had from his dense inherited wealth to pay off all of the medical debt you had acquired from your lifetime of illness, giving you only one very small catch in the face of this intense generosity. He wanted your consent to try out his serum on you, claiming that it would either do nothing to change your condition, or it would be the magical cure-all that you had been looking for. 

(He conveniently let out the fact that in your state of unwellness, with your weakened body, there was a large possibility that the serum could overwhelm your senses, stopping your heart - but that was a risk he was more than willing to take.) 

Honestly - while you didn’t believe him - you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him down. 

You had no other options, after all. 

After he injected you with the serum and you woke up with your sight fully restored, you were shocked. It had somehow shrunk down the tumor in your brain enough that it was no longer pressing on your optic nerve, and you could once again experience the world in full, glorious vision. 

It was something you were entirely excited by as you arrived at what would be your new home. Doctor Caulder had described it as a ‘vacuum of scientific advancement against the bureaucracy of the world’. Naturally, you had expected some kind of cold looking industrial building, another medical center that you would be trapped inside for years to come. 

You certainly hadn’t thought that it would be a sprawling, gorgeous Victorian mansion in the secluded, peaceful countryside. 

He brought you inside and set down your bag. You were too busy marveling at the details of the architecture, the stunning antique decorations, taking it all in after years of being deprived of sight to truly notice anyone else in the building at first. 

You didn’t notice anyone else there until Doctor Caulder spoke to him. 

“Ah, Garfield, I’m glad I caught you.” 

You turned at the sound of someone’s name being called. Caulder had warned you that you would be living with several other people - people who he had helped and was continuing to help with their ‘unique conditions’. 

When you looked over at him, the person that Doctor Caulder had called Garfield, the only truly unique thing you spotted about him was his bright green hair. That, and the fact that he was startlingly attractive. 

Garfield paused his footing halfway down the hallway as Doctor Caulder spoke to him. When he turned back around to give the man his attention, you noticed that he had a candy bar poking out of his mouth as he held it there between his teeth, and a pair of large headphones over his ears with some kind of handheld gaming system in his hands. He reached up and moved one half of the headphones off to the side when he realized his full attention was needed. Then he bit off the candy bar, moving to shove the rest of it, mostly still wrapped, into the pocket of his large green hoodie. 

“What’s up, Chief?” He asked, his mouth obviously stuck together by the candy and some chocolate slightly smeared on the side of his mouth. 

“Garfield, please don’t talk with your mouth full.” Caulder - apparently the Chief, quickly scolded him. 

You guessed that he found it rude because he was more uptight and proper, more old fashioned. But it was something that you easily found adorable and charming. 

Garfield hung his head in shame and made a clear effort to swallow, running his tongue over his teeth to somewhat clean his mouth before he spoke again. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly. “Did you need something?” 

It was then that he really eyed you up and down, as though he had just noticed you standing there. 

You felt entirely out of place, but tried your best not to look nervous, and simply smiled as his eyes landed on your face. You noticed a small tinge of pink come over his cheeks when he finally made eye contact with you. His eyes made a quick jolt back to the carpet, obviously nervous and not wanting to linger on you. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard Cliff mention my newest patient.” Doctor Caulder told him, gently motioning toward you. “Y/N will be staying with us for the foreseeable future while I explore her condition and any affects the serum has had on her.” 

Garfield nodded at this. The wild tendrils of his green hair bobbed in a very adorable way with the motion, and you suppressed a giggle because of it. 

“I’ll need you to show her around and help her get settled in for now, because I need to go up to my office and work on some notes while everything is still fresh in my mind. I’d like not to be disturbed for the next few hours, is that clear?” Doctor Caulder ordered, his voice calm, but oddly stern. 

Garfield’s face twisted slightly into a frown, as though he was afraid of the possible consequences if he did disturb the man. But nonetheless, he nodded once again. 

“Understood.” He said simply. 

Doctor Caulder gave him a curt nod and then walked up the stairs, leaving you in the hands of your seemingly meek, very handsome tour guide. 

He stepped toward you, and then realized the game console was still beeping in his hands. So he pushed a few buttons, shutting it off, and then he shoved it into his pocket as well before he slid his large headphones to sit around his neck. 

“Hi, I’m Garfield. You probably heard that. But you can just call me Gar. I prefer it.” He rushed these words out in a puff of air, seemingly still very nervous to be in your presence. 

You nodded at this. Before you could communicate in any way that you wouldn’t really be ‘calling’ him anything because of your mutism, he let out a huff - something akin to a nervous laugh and steamed rolled right into more conversation. He didn’t really seem to mind your silence. 

“Y/N, right?” He posed, easily remembering your name from when Doctor Caulder had introduced you. 

You nodded once again, giving him a small smile. 

“That’s a really pretty name. It matches you. I mean- I-” He stumbled over his words, clearly nervous that he had unintentionally said something flirtatious. “I’m supposed to introduce you to everyone, right? Come on.” 

He then took you on a tour of the sprawling house, his chatter filling the air in a most perfect way. The more he talked, the more he seemed to gain confidence around you. He became filled with energy, fueled by the things he was saying. Especially when he spoke about the house and the daily life that he lived there, pointing out the different rooms and where you could make yourself comfortable. His words filled the space so well that he didn’t seem to notice the fact that you couldn’t talk. 

As he took you on the tour, you came across the different eclectic members of the household and Gar introduced you to them. And you very quickly came to realize what Doctor Caulder had meant by ‘unique conditions’. 

If you didn’t have your vision freshly restored in order to see it, you likely wouldn’t have believed it. But they were very real. 

Gar introduced you to Cliff - someone who looked more like a machine than a man, squeaky joints and all. But it quickly became apparent to you that he had a shining personality underneath all that metal, and his humanity wasn’t easily defined by something like rust and bolts. He was working on a half-disassembled car in the large garage, and Gar explained to you how the mostly mechanical man was an ex-racer who had gotten into a bad accident and been put back together by The Chief. 

He then introduced you to Larry - who was in the kitchen, baking some kind of very tall, very impressive multi-layered cake (apparently in celebration of your arrival). He made a comment about you ‘being rather quiet’ and you just shrugged. They would probably be amused later when they found out why. 

Larry didn’t want to comment much or explain the reason that his entire body was covered in bandages, and you understood why. In your mind, you assumed that he had been badly burned and the bandages covered some kind of scarring. The visual reminded you of people who had passed through the palliative care ward with severe burns over their bodies and didn’t survive long because of it. But he seemed to move without pain and he was obviously thriving, so whatever Doctor Caulder had done for him - it had worked. 

Gar tried to introduce you to the last member of the household - Rita - but when he knocked on her bedroom door, he was met with silence. He simply told you that she likely wasn’t feeling well. And that you understood deeply as well. 

The house tour extended down into the basement, because Gar was very excited to show you his room. You couldn’t bring yourself to disrupt his rolling speech or dampen down his swell of excitable energy. 

He was showing you some of his movie posters - something for a movie called Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. It was a movie you had never heard of before, and you only found yourself truly paying attention in order to learn about it now because Gar spoke about it with so much enthusiasm. 

“-it’s considered one of the first examples of parody ever in cinema, an effort to take horror, something that truly terrified audiences at the time, and turn it comedic. Like shining a light on that monster under the bed so he’s no longer scary. It’s brilliant.” 

Gar rambled on, his breath almost entirely escaping him as his enthusiasm overpowered his lungs. 

You couldn’t help but to feel a swell of fondness as you looked at him. 

His passion was so intensely palpable, it gave you goosebumps. It was a very old film that you likely wouldn’t have taken an interest in. But the way he talked about it - like it was revolutionary, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. It made you want to watch it ten times just to get to know him better, just to have a small taste of the passion that he felt so epically for it. 

You didn’t know it then, but feeling his overwhelming enthusiasm spreading in the air was the beginnings of your very intense crush on him. It was the moment that you started falling for him. 

“You know originally, Lou Costello scoffed at the idea of even making-” Gar suddenly cut himself off, a look of dawning crossing his features. “Woah, I’ve been talking for such a long time, haven’t I?” 

Technically, yes. 

But you would have been perfectly content to stand there and listen to him talk for hours more about this film or any of the others related to posters that he had on the wall. His enthusiasm and the way it was backed up by factual knowledge made him endlessly interesting to listen to. 

In response, you simply shrugged. 

Yes, he had been talking for a long time. But - you enjoyed listening. His tone and the abrupt way he had cut himself off made it sound like he had burdened you with his ramblings, and you weren’t sure why. 

“Sorry.” He giggled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I’m probably being so annoying. I haven’t even let you talk about yourself at all. What - what kind of movies do you like?” 

He seemed nervous suddenly, as though he had become self conscious in the conversation. 

You filled with nerves as well, coming to the realization that you would now have to communicate to him that you couldn’t talk. 

You motioned toward your throat, hoping he would be able to see the scar from the surgery that had stolen your ability to speak so long ago. Rather than understanding, Gar’s face knit with confusion. 

“What, did the sea witch steal your voice?” He asked. The action reminded him a lot of that cartoon mermaid, desperately tapping on her throat, trying to explain to others why she couldn’t speak. “Do you need a kiss from a handsome prince to get it back?” 

The words escaped him before he could stop it - and then he realized that it sounded entirely more flirtatious than he intended. 

He bit his lip nervously and you let out a giggle. You became entirely overwhelmed by your own nerves, and your undeniable attraction toward him. If you were feeling at all bold, you might have leaned over and kissed him in that moment. But something in the back of your mind told you that it was rude - that he hadn’t truly meant it, that it was strange to come onto him so soon after meeting him. 

When the awkwardness swelled inside of him, he rushed to speak again. 

“Sorry,” He blurted out. “That was probably insensitive. If you’re really mute, that’s like a disability, and you shouldn’t make jokes about people’s disabilities-” 

You vigorously shook your head, meaning to tell him that ‘no, I liked the joke’. 

But his eyes instantly grew wide, believing that you were shaking your head negatively, believing that he was truly being insensitive and rude. 

You raised your hands and began explaining it in sign language, and he sighed in defeat. 

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I don’t - I don’t understand.” 

Then, a look of dawning came over his face so strong it was almost as if a cartoon lightbulb appeared over his head. He then rushed into the other room - there was some ripping of paper (what you didn’t know was him ripping pages he had used out of a notebook so that you wouldn’t see them). After a moment, he rushed back toward you, thrusting a notebook and a pen in your direction. 

You took it happily, and began writing. 

‘Yes, I am completely mute. Yes, it is technically a disability. And yes, I did think your joke about the sea witch was funny. But… I don’t think a kiss from a prince will fix me.’ 

You passed it to him and after he read it, he gave a small chuckle. 

“Yeah, that wasn’t so smooth on my part.” He said. “What happened? To your voice?” 

You explained it to him. You spent a long time passing the notebook back and forth, explaining things to him about yourself and your life. 

You told him how you had been ill for as long as you could remember, and it had only gotten worse as you progressed into your teen years. And eventually, the mounting medical debt became too stressful for your parents so they abandoned you and disappeared with no way for creditors to track them down. They had left you orphaned in the most cruel way. 

Gar’s eyes danced with tears when he read this. You didn’t know it then, but he vowed to himself that he would always be by your side. He would be the one person who never left you, no matter what happened in life that might try to draw the two of you apart. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ You scrawled out, passing the notebook to Gar with careful curiosity on your mind. 

“Yeah, anything.” He replied. 

‘Why are you here? What is Doctor Caulder helping you with?’ 

You were tempted to add on something about how he ‘looked normal’ - but you didn’t want to accidentally insult him. 

“My condition… it’s uh…” Gar stuttered through his attempt at an explanation, and confusion flooded your features. “It’s probably just easier if I show you?” 

You nodded in acknowledgement that you understood, and Gar put the notebook aside and stood from the couch where the two of you had been seated, talking for hours. 

“Would you - uh - would you mind closing your eyes for a second?” He asked, once again draped in that nervous energy. 

You hesitated for a second, but then complied. You weren’t sure how him ‘showing’ you would go if you had your eyes closed. But you trusted him to harness in that condition - whatever strange ability the serum had given and not let it hurt you. You felt safe around him even though you had only known him for a short time. And you wanted to make him comfortable rather than arguing about it. 

You were curious when you heard some gentle rustling, and you cringed slightly when you heard what sounded like the cracking of bones. You hoped that whatever he was doing, it didn’t cause him any pain. 

Your curiosity became too great and you opened your eyes when you heard a low rumbling. If you weren’t mistaken, it sounded like the purring of a very large cat. 

Shock instantly overtook you when you opened your eyes to see that standing in front of you in the middle of the carpet - rather than Gar - there was a very large tiger with bright green fur. When your sight had been restored, you never, ever thought that this would be one of the first things you would get to see. 

Your first instinct was to pull your feet up onto the couch, and the tiger - which you quickly had to reason was Gar, who had somehow shifted his body into a different form - hung his head in shame when he saw the fear overtake your body. You didn’t want to be afraid of him. You shouldn’t be, right? He had been nothing but kind to you since the two of you had met. He wouldn’t use this odd power to endanger you. 

When you looked into those large animal eyes, you saw nothing but kindness. And you couldn’t resist the urge to step off the couch and lean out, petting a hand gently under his furry chin. 

It was then that you were struck with the realization. The dream you had of being married to a large green tiger - it had likely meant something. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on it. 

Instead, you scratched under his chin and he purred, and you giggled at the fact that such a large, possibly terrifying animal was so docile under your touch. 

(When Gar transformed back, you would deny that you snuck a glance at him changing back into his clothes. And you would definitely deny that you became obsessed with what you saw.) 

… 

Later that night, you met Rita when she came down to join everyone for dinner. She was a lovely, sweet woman. She was actually the only person (aside from Doctor Caulder) at the table who understood your ASL, though she didn’t seem eager to explain where she had learned it. You knew that everyone in the house had somewhat of a painful past, so you didn’t bother to ask. 

The cake Larry had made turned out beautiful. A towering masterpiece that everyone had to purposefully crane their necks around as they spoke to each other. You couldn’t help but marvel in wonder at it and the rest of the amazing spread he had made. Gar told you that it really wasn’t that out of the ordinary, seeing as cooking was Larry’s favorite hobby. 

You felt slightly bad for Cliff - seeing as he sat with an empty plate in front of him. But he seemed to show up to the meal mostly out of habit, family obligation, and a slight curiosity to get to know you. So you tried your best to answer everyone’s questions and be welcoming to the new friendships. 

You enjoyed the meal well. Everything was delicious, and compared to the food you once ate on the ward - it was heaven. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. 

Larry cut the cake and made sure that you got the first slice - which you selected from the towering variety of many different flavors. He cited that he didn’t know what your favorite flavor was, so he made a good variety as insurance. The taste of lemon was sweet on your tongue and you were enjoying yourself - when one of the lights began flickering. 

It was just a few flashes above your head, just for a few moments, but it was enough to send a sharp pain shooting through the middle of your forehead and instantaneously cause a wave of nausea through your stomach. You dropped your fork onto your plate with a clatter, and everyone craned their necks around the towering cake to look at you. Gar immediately got up from his chair to rush to your side, wondering what was wrong. 

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly. 

Your senses were overwhelmed by dizziness, a horrid feeling that your eyes were churning inside of your skull. Sharp waves of pain radiated out from the middle of your forehead and seemingly caused the world to turn wildly underneath your feet. 

You didn’t know that the harsh unwellness was visible all over your face - from your unpleasant expression to the light layer of sweat that had so quickly formed over your skin. 

You shook your head, attempting to confirm to him that you were not okay. But this only caused the pain to worsen, and you held back a harsh gag, trying your hardest to keep the amazing dinner inside. 

“You need to lay down.” Gar said quietly. 

You felt safe under his touch and you let him guide you as he pulled out your chair. He put one hand around your back and used the other to take your hand as he helped you up and guided you away. You let your eyes fall closed against the harsh light as his hand came to rest on your waist, a calming comfort against the harsh pain throbbing through you. You let yourself lean on him for support as he did as promised - took you to lay down. 

You were partway up the stairs when a voice disrupted you. 

“Garfield.” 

Doctor Caulder called after him harshly, causing Gar to pause his movements. You leaned on the bannister and kept your eyes closed. You had to concentrate hard on willing yourself not to vomit while Gar was distracted with the conversation. 

“This is an important opportunity to study her condition, you should be taking her to-” Caulder began to argue against Gar’s actions, but he was cut off. 

“She needs to lay down.” Gar argued quietly. “She’s had a long day. She needs rest. You can do your studies tomorrow.” 

You didn’t know it, but this was the first time that Gar had ever gone against the man on anything. Doctor Caulder stood there in shock at Gar’s sudden shift in attitude while Gar put a hand on your lower back once again and helped you the rest of the way up the stairs. 

He helped you into bed and pulled the covers over you. And then he got a hot cloth to put on your forehead, and got a bucket to put beside the bed in case you did throw up. It was then that you knew you would never feel properly cared for again unless it came from him. 

When he thought that you weren’t paying attention, half sleepy and half drowned in the pain, he leaned down and laid a gentle, timid kiss on your forehead, right above the cloth. 

…

Later that night, after everyone had fallen asleep, Gar snuck out to town and picked up a book on ASL. He was especially careful that his teeth didn’t pierce any of the pages. 

He used the rest of the night to study, and he greeted you the next morning with a tray of gentle breakfast food (porridge, hopefully something that wouldn’t aggravate your upset stomach) and Advil. Despite the pain throbbing through your head, you broke into a beaming smile when he signed the words ‘good morning’ to you. 

It was then that you realized just how much you were going to have to suppress your feelings for him. 

… 

Later in the day, Doctor Caulder was carrying out his tests as promised. 

He had you in a different part of the basement - in an area that essentially looked like an operating room. Just seeing the tables and all the cold medical equipment triggered a lot of your fight or flight instincts, but you tried your hardest to remain calm. Especially because Gar was by your side, even though he likely could have been playing video games or doing something else a lot more fun. He told you that he would stay by you the entire time to make sure that you were comfortable. 

You tried to relax and trust the process. 

Doctor Caulder had adjusted the table, propping up the top of it so that it was much more like a chair. And he had wheeled in a large machine that consisted of a series of lightbulbs - something that turned out to be a strobe light, set to make specific patterns. He had taped several electrical probes to your head, ones connected to an EEG machine. Although he knew that this procedure was likely to trigger a seizure, he said that it was important for it to occur because your neurological problems were closely tied to your powers, and the areas of the brain that the serum had affected. He said that it was something important to measure - even if a seizure happened. 

“Just face forward, and keep looking into the light.” Doctor Caulder explained. “It will go through a series of flashing patterns. I need you to try your hardest to keep your eyes open, and stay focused. It’s important that we record your brain activity while this is happening without disruption.” 

You nodded in affirmation. You weren’t looking forward to the pain that it would cause considering that your head was still thumping with a migraine from the night before, but if he considered it necessary, you would do it. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Gar asked. “How do you know this isn’t just gonna cause more harm?” 

He was standing beside the table, holding your hand, and you were entirely grateful for his presence there. 

He had seen the way you had reacted to a relatively dim chandelier bulb flickering at dinner the night before. He thought that this would be disastrous. 

“Garfield, if you continue to question me, then I’ll have to ask you to leave.” Doctor Caulder told him curtly. “You can’t keep disrupting the process like this. We need to move forward.” 

Doctor Caulder glared at Gar, giving him a moment to make his choice. To see if he was going to speak up and argue or remain quiet. Gar looked to you, wanting to see if you were truly okay with all of this. Nerves boiled in your stomach, but you feigned a smile, and squeezed his hand tighter, assuring him that you needed him there - right by your side. 

Gar then nodded at Doctor Caulder, who stood behind the machine with the lights and turned it on. Gar flinched hard against the lights as they began to flicker. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, but he kept a tight hold on your hand. 

Though it went against every screaming, pained nerve in your body, especially the ones pulsing through your head - you fought to keep your eyes open. Your carefully tuned hearing picked up on the scribbling needles of the EEG machine, Gar’s breathing. You could even hear the electricity sizzling in the bulbs as they went through three long flashes and then turned off. Three long flashes, and then off. 

You survived the first pattern well before it switched to two quick flashes and then a period of seemingly prolonged darkness - something that wasn’t any more than three whole seconds in reality. 

The moment that it switched to the intense, rapid strobing - you felt it. The tingling in your hands, the dizzying haze that said you were only moments away from having a seizure. 

You had no time to warn either of them, especially considering that this was the first seizure you had post-serum, and it had unexpected size effects. 

As your muscles became tight and your body began to violently seize, the house itself began to quake around you. It was as though the building were at the epicenter of a violent earthquake. Later, Doctor Caulder would come to the conclusion that your seizures now caused ‘rapid bursts of psychic energy’ to be released from you, completely uncontrolled by you. He realized that you would be needed to put on a high dose seizure medication to prevent any further incidents. 

In those moments, though, it was chaos. 

Between the shaking of the house underneath you and the unpredictable seizing of your muscles, you quickly rolled off the table. Gar easily caught you in a moment’s notice. Across the room, Doctor Caulder made a similar movement - reaching urgently to catch the EEG machine before it fell off of its own table. 

When the quaking stopped, and you were left quivering in Gar’s arms, he couldn’t help but to feel a rush of disappointment as he saw the obvious play out before his eyes - Doctor Caulder was far more eager to save his data, to preserve the research that you had given him than to actually take care of you - his patient who was clearly in need. 

“What was that?” Gar breathed out, looking from your unconscious face to the surrounding room. He didn’t think that it was a large coincidence that an earthquake had struck at the exact same time as your seizure and had lasted exactly as long. 

“I believe that her powers were responsible for that.” Doctor Caulder theorized. “We’ll likely have to do more research to fully comprehend it-” 

He abruptly cut off his own words when the scribbling needles of the EEG machine stopped. 

Gar began peeling the probes off your forehead and Doctor Caulder only looked up toward you when the EEG flatlined as it was disconnected. 

“Garfield, what do you think you’re doing?” Caulder barked at him. 

“We’re done right now.” Gar said, his voice choked off by his anger. “Clearly, this isn’t helping. She needs rest.” 

Gar resisted the urge to say more. He resisted the urge to berate Doctor Caulder for harming you. He resisted the urge to swear. He resisted the urge to threaten to run away with you - taking away Doctor Caulder’s precious source of research so that the two of you would never be seen again. 

He had no clue that his anger was so intense that it flared up in his eyes, threatened to invoke his transformation against his will. 

He felt calmer when he looked down at you, and petted a hand across your forehead. Although you were forced into unconsciousness because of the seizure, you looked peaceful and calm with your face so still, your eyes closed and your muscles finally relaxed. He hoped that you would feel better soon. 

That was the day Doctor Caulder decided to start keeping a tranq gun near the operating table. 

… 

Things were quiet for a few days after that. 

Doctor Caulder said that he needed time to go over the results of the EEG, and he didn’t want to induce anymore seizures in you for fear that it might bring down the house. So he did let you rest. 

But in the interim, he didn’t check up on you or attend to any of your medical needs. He locked himself in his office to contemplate the science of it all while Gar stuck by your side. He held the bucket and rubbed your back while you puked, he held a hot cloth to your forehead when you needed it. He held a spoon up to your lips to feed you because your hands were too weak after being rocked by such a harsh seizure. 

After a few days, you were almost thankful to Doctor Caulder for it. You and Gar were growing incredibly close so quickly because he refused to leave your side, and you had never felt so lucky to have someone like him in your life. 

You hesitated when Doctor Caulder called you into his office upstairs. 

He made a poor apology for the incident with the lights. He said that he was sorry for causing you pain, but it was ‘necessary’ to explore your condition, to map your brain and find out how the serum had affected you. 

He said that the next step would be further exploring your strange powers. The powers you had accidentally discovered while transitioning out of the hospital. When one of the nurses had been attending to you, you had looked into her eyes, and you couldn’t even fully identify the feeling at the time. But suddenly, you knew this shocking, painful information. One of the other patients on the ward who you had come to know as a friend wasn’t going to live much longer. And when you had asked the nurse about it, she had accused you of snooping, reading through files - because the information was supposed to be confidential. 

But Doctor Caulder - who had witnessed the conversation - easily saw it for what it truly was. An unnatural power given to you by his serum. 

He then called Gar into his office as well - someone you obviously trusted and could work well with. 

He set it up as a game. 

He had written down several things on flashcards. You and Gar would sit across from each other, and Gar would read one of the flashcards, fully capturing the idea in his mind. And then you would use your powers to try and push into his mind - figuring out what was on the card without him ever speaking a single word or giving any hints. 

As you sat across from him, preparing to begin, you were incredibly hesitant. 

‘Are you sure about this?’ 

You wrote this as a message to Gar on one of the blank index cards. They were intended for you to write the answers that you retrieved from his mind during the ‘game’. You intentionally held back with the message, not fully describing your worries. You wanted to ask if he was okay with you breaching the privacy of his mind, but you were worried about Doctor Caulder seeing it, because you knew the man didn’t like to be questioned. 

You flipped it around to show Gar, and he simply nodded after he read it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gar assured you with a smile. “It’s just a game, right?” He grinned. “It’ll be fun.” 

You didn’t quite think so. But you tried to take on his positive attitude. 

“Let’s begin.” Caulder said. He was standing behind Gar in a very imposing manner, reading the cards as well to ensure that he didn’t flub the answers just to please the Doctor. 

Gar picked up the first card and read it, and he concentrated on it for a moment, making sure that the idea was focused in his mind. He gave a small nod, and then looked up toward you, knowing that he had to make steady eye contact with you in order for you to use your powers. 

Pushing past your discomfort, you did as you had been instructed. You stared deep into those big beautiful brown eyes, and you purposefully breached the surface into his mind. The first thing you were met with was a rich visual of several golden retriever puppies frolicking in a field of grass, happily yipping and prancing around, almost tripping over their clumsy new feet. 

You soon withdrew - even though it was a happy scene that gave you joy, you knew that you had the answer. You had an unconscious grin on your face, and that easily made Gar giggle as you flipped over the message you had made to him and wrote down your answer on the other side. 

‘Puppies’

You lifted up the card and showed it to Doctor Caulder, who took a glance down at the card in Gar’s hand (which said ‘DOG’). He nodded at you, his stern face not flexing for a moment to show any sign of positivity. He picked up a clipboard from a small table on the chair beside Gar and began furiously scribbling. 

“Continue.” He said, not looking up from his fast paced notes. 

Gar looked down at the next card, took the same moment of concentration, and then looked back at you with a small grin on his face. 

This time, rather than feeling like you were committing some kind of crime or doing him a grand disservice, you looked into his eyes and pushed into his mind with a gleeful joy - as though the two of you were sharing a delightful secret. 

The next rich visual you saw featured Gar himself. He wore a pair of tight jeans and a leather jacket with some red tee shirt underneath, and he walked up to a red car - a very fancy, vintage looking car. He opened the door, got inside, and adjusted the mirror to look at himself before he stomped on the gas pedal and the car sped away with a screech. It was a very ‘cool guy’ moment, something that made you giggle because of the stereotypical absurdity of it. 

When you drifted back into the real world, you went to the next index card, and had more of a difficult time figuring out how to phrase your answer. 

You went with:

‘Driving a car?’ 

When you held it up to show Doctor Caulder, he checked Gar’s card, which simply said ‘CAR’. He frowned, and you thought that you had gotten the answer wrong. 

“You have to concentrate more, Garfield.” Caulder scolded him. 

Gar’s face dropped into a frown, and it made your chest twinge with sourness. You thought that a face as sweet as his should never have to frown. 

“You got it right.” He told you quietly, before flipping to the next one. 

You nodded. You hated the way that Caulder treated him. If you could scream at the man, you would. 

Gar waffled for a few moments, looking at the card with blank eyes before he then looked up at you. There was a slight glassiness swimming there that told you he was ready to cry, along with the hesitation of a quivering lip. You wanted to end the entire exercise and simply retreat to the basement to play video games with him, but you knew that Caulder likely wouldn’t let you get away with that. 

So you continued. 

You used your powers once again, purposefully entering Gar’s mind. 

You were surprised by the scene you were met with. 

It was a vision of you and Gar - it was almost like a beautiful painting, like a fantastic daydream. 

You were off in some grassy field, seemingly the same place the puppies had been. Lush greenery, boundless blue skies, warm sunshine that you could almost feel tingling against your skin. The two of you were holding hands - and the most peculiar thing that stuck out to you? 

Your attire. 

Gar was wearing a formal black suit with a green tie and a green vest to match his naturally wild green hair. You were wearing a long, lacy white dress that you couldn’t mistake for anything other than a wedding dress. There was a bundle of flowers looped around your head in a large crown, with a long, flowy lace veil going down your back, and a bundle of flowers in your free hand that wasn’t holding his. 

It was a wedding, a marriage. 

At the time, however foolish it was, you didn’t consider the scene to be any specific desire on Gar’s part. You simply thought that he was trying to communicate the idea - the concept to you. You thought that it was just part of the game. 

When you pulled yourself back to reality, you felt entirely confident in your answer as you wrote it down. 

‘A wedding’

When you flipped it over to show them, you were grinning proudly. 

Gar’s face immediately dropped - embarrassment clutched at his stomach and panic overtook him. Caulder sighed with annoyance as he looked at Gar’s card, which said ‘WATER’. 

Before any further discussion of it could be had, Gar dropped the cards and they scattered over the floor. He rushed out of the room, moving so swiftly that he was practically a blur. Doctor Caulder called after him, complaints wafting through the air. 

You didn’t care to listen to the man. You got up and chased him, almost tripping over your own feet to get to him. 

You caught him as he zipped up his jacket, clearly ready to escape out the basement door and go into town (something he told you he was not permitted to do, but often did anyway). You stepped right in front of his path. He sighed hard through his nose and tried to dodge you, and you stepped in front of him and kept blocking him. Eventually, he was forced to look up at you. 

It was then - when you saw the look of a truly kicked puppy spread across his features, naked embarrassment lingering in his eyes - that the truth clutched at your stomach. You got the sense that what you had seen was truly private. 

Part of you wanted to prod at him about his desires and ask why he had been thinking about that. But a larger part of you worried far more about the fact that you had upset him with the freakish invasion by your powers, and you wanted to remedy it. You wanted to save this amazing new friendship. 

With the index cards and pen still in your hand, you quickly wrote a message to him. 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

You wrote down, and then quickly flipped it to show him. 

“It’s fine.” He huffed, clearly eager to escape the conversation. 

Once again, he tried to dodge around you. 

Once again, you blocked his path. 

And then, you wrote down something else to show him.

‘It’s not fine. I shouldn’t use my powers on you like it’s a game.’ 

“The Chief needs to explore your abilities, right?” Gar sighed quietly. 

‘Not at your expense.’ You reasoned. 

Gar was silent when he came into this information - like this was the first time he had ever truly considered that the Chief’s methods were unethical. 

‘We should make a deal. I shouldn’t use my powers on you unless it’s an emergency. Your mind should be your private space. I don’t get to go poking around in there for fun.’ 

You scribbled this down with haste, feeling very emotional about it. Then you handed it to Gar. 

He gave a small smile and nodded after he read it. 

“That - uh - that sounds fair.” He said, chuckling nervously. “And we… we don’t have to talk about what you saw.” 

You both nodded and dissolved into giggles at this. And then, he took off his jacket, and fired up his X-Box so he could teach you how to play Cuphead to help the two of you forget about the whole thing. 

…

Back in your room at Titans Tower, so long after those first amazing days of your friendship with Gar - you fell asleep deep in thought about him. You couldn’t stop going over those early days in your mind. Thinking about all the intense kindness he had given you when the two of you had first met. 

Thinking about all of it truly made you realize how badly you had fucked up. You genuinely wondered if your friendship with him would ever have any chance at recovering from the cruelty you had shown him. 

You were genuinely stuck between a rock and a hard place. You thought that if you told him about the things that had happened - about the visions you had seen - even if you stressed to him that it had been by accident, then he would feel that you had violated his privacy. He would be wounded by you seeing into his mind and not reporting it to him right away. He would be upset that your powers had put a wedge between the two of you. And now, he was upset because you had stolen his secrets and you weren’t confiding any of yours in him. 

You were a bad friend. And you didn’t know how to make it up to him. 

You woke up the next day feeling like crap.  

You quickly realized that Gar was avoiding you. He did finally come out of his room because Dick banged on his bedroom door, demanding in a harsh voice that if his illness was really that serious, he needed to get it checked out. And Gar came out shoving a hoodie over his head saying that he was fine - while wearing the saddest expression you had seen over his face in a long time. 

When you placed a coffee cup down in front of him as a peace offering - dark roast filled one third with vegan marshmallow flavored creamer, just how he liked it - he distinctly ignored it. He didn’t even look at you as he got up from the breakfast bar stool, taking nothing more than a dry piece of toast for breakfast before he stormed off toward the training room. 

He placed himself in a secluded corner of the gym with his headphones blasting music, doing harsh pushups and pummeling the punching bag. He was making it very clear that he wanted to be left alone. And even when Dick called all four of you into another room for a verbal quiz on The Art of War (where you wrote down your answers on a white board) - Gar refused to make eye contact with you. 

Even when you drew a satirical comic of Dick’s Robin cape being propelled by a fart (that you labeled ‘pent up aggression’) - Gar’s face didn’t flinch from the hard stone it had been set into. It made Jason snort water out of his nose and caused Rachel to call you both ‘immature’. And it got you a verbal lashing from Dick and three weeks of washing the dishes - by hand. So not worth it considering that Gar hadn’t even cracked a smile. 

Gar’s cold indifference toward you rolled right into dinner. Gar didn’t flinch or try to take sides when Jason and Rachel broke into an argument about what had happened during game night. Jason brought up how stupid the concept of the game had been and he and Rachel began arguing about the rules. 

(“If I’ve never seen the movie before, I should get a new question!” 

“That’s not how it works, dickweed! Trivia is supposed to be difficult because you don’t know the answers!” 

“So not true. Trivia is a test of memory. How am I even supposed to remember the answer if I don’t know the damn source material?!”) 

The argument lasted long enough for you to finish your meal. 

When Dick realized they were debating who was the true loser of the bet you had made, he pointed out that regardless of any bets, you had to do the dishes as punishment for the dumb little drawing you had made. You didn’t care all that much as long as it got Jason and Rachel to shut up - but Jason was all too smug about it as he handed you his plate. Once you had finished cleaning up, something you found oddly calming, a nice distraction from the chaos of the last few days - you found yourself wandering to Rachel’s door. 

Much like you, she didn’t talk about her powers often. 

Especially not since she had been tricked into summoning her demon father to earth and then she had been forced to kill him because of what he did to all her friends - the people she considered family. But you knew that like you, she had some kind of capability to see into other people’s minds - to delve into their memories or walk the long, winding halls of their thoughts. You knew she might be the only other person on earth who might be able to understand what you were going through. Someone who could give you some kind of solid advice about it. 

After steeling yourself with a sharp breath, you raised your hand and knocked, waiting to see if she would even answer. The music that she was playing stopped, and after a moment, she opened the door, a look of surprise knitting over her features when her eyes fell upon you. 

“Y/N.” She greeted you in a quiet voice. “What is it?” 

‘I need to talk to you.’ You signed to her. You had some hope that she would understand what you meant, but her face was immediately overtaken with confusion. 

“I’m sorry - I.” She sighed, quickly cutting herself off, looking for the right words to explain it. “Between Dick’s whole list of mandatory reading stuff, and the sparring practice… I’ve been meaning to, but I haven’t had any time to study sign language,” 

She had genuine regret in her voice, which you could appreciate. 

You exhaled through your nose, a deep sigh. 

You gently pushed past her, inviting yourself into her room to settle in for the conversation. It did frustrate you that ASL wasn’t just a common language that was taught in schools, especially because it was psychologically proven that it was easy for toddlers to pick up on it with their brains being at a developmental age for it. It frustrated you that sometimes it was difficult for you to communicate with the people around you. But you tried not to let it get to you often. 

You got your cell phone out of your pocket, gesturing with it to let her know you would be texting her the things you needed to say. It was a simple, easy system. You invited yourself to sit on her bed, flopping back among the messy, unmade dark sheets as you carefully chose and typed out the words you needed to say. Rachel settled back into her desk chair, turning on her music once more, adjusting the volume to a low hum that settled into the background. You recognized it as the Arctic Monkeys and silently admired her taste in music. 

‘Have you ever accidentally seen something you regret?’ 

You sent the message. It took only a moment to race through cyberspace and you heard Rachel’s phone ping where it sat on the desk beside her. 

She picked up the phone and looked at your message. She then looked back at you with her eyebrows knitted tightly, a mixture of confusion and deep thought pulling them tight together. 

“Well there was that one time I accidentally walked into the bathroom when Jason forgot to lock the door-” She began. 

You cut her off with a raised hand and a pair of wide eyes glaring her down. 

You looked back to your phone and began typing another message, wanting to clarify what you meant. 

‘With your powers. Have you ever seen something with your powers that you didn’t want to see?’ You typed it out quickly, hitting send. 

Rachel read it over, placing her phone against her chin pensively as she contemplated the answer. 

“I… I don’t know.” Her voice was thick with thought. “I used to have these horrible nightmares. Almost every single night. And now I realize that those nightmares are what led me here. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop Trigon if I hadn’t seen those things.” 

Your throat tightened up. 

You and Rachel had never really talked like this before. You almost felt bad asking her for advice, knowing your problems were very different from hers. Quite pedestrian compared to the woes of somebody who had literally stopped the apocalypse and saved your life, and everyone else’s. You were worried about a school girl crush and she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

“Why, what did you see?” Her curiosity leaked through her lips. She had quickly connected the dots to realize that you wouldn’t be asking questions like this if you hadn’t seen something of significance. 

Naturally, you weren’t going to tell her the details. Not only because the things you had seen were incredibly graphic, revealing, and private, but because you did suspect that she had some kind of small crush on Gar. And you didn’t want to crush her small hope of being with him and make her upset. Especially considering you had seen what she could do when she was upset. 

You opened the one-way text conversation and thought for a moment, carefully contemplating what you would tell her. 

‘I saw something private. Something I probably wasn’t supposed to see.’ You sent the vague words, and she read them over quickly. 

“What, like a sex dream?” She posed. 

There was a laugh on the edge of her voice, as though she was only joking. But the accuracy of the comedic prod scared you. You wanted to change the topic quickly - before she truly sniffed out the truth. 

‘Doesn’t matter.’ You sent quickly. When she saw the three small bubbles pop up, indicating that you were typing more, she simply waited. ‘Have you ever felt weird acting on information you’ve gotten from your dreams? Doesn’t it feel like cheating the system? Like you should just shut up and pretend to be normal?’ 

Rachel sighed, a sharp breath that clung to the insides of her throat. She placed her phone down in her lap and leaned back in her desk chair, swaying slightly with the swivel of the rolling chair’s base. 

“I don’t think any of us can just pretend to be normal.” She noted quietly. 

Rachel’s words were calm and wise. It was something she had probably realized about herself a long time ago. It was a truth you had yet to fall to. You caught glimpses of the future in your dreams, you could see things about people they never dared to admit to themselves. You were in love with a man who could turn himself into a tiger at will, and yet, your heart still cried for something that resembled ‘normal’. 

Rachel saw it written all over your face - that warring. And more of that oddly aged wisdom came pouring from her lips before she could stop it. 

“What’s that saying?” She pondered aloud. “‘What’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.’” 

It was a saying you had never heard of before, but it was oddly comforting in those moments. The idea that ‘normal’ means something drastically different for everyone. 

When you didn’t say anything, didn’t pick up your phone to start typing, Rachel continued. 

“I mean, I don’t know if I’m supposed to be the spider, or the fly, but…” 

She trailed off for a moment, getting lost in thought. She looked up at you when she had found the proper words, her eyes filled with a steely determination. 

“Look, somehow, I saved Dawn from a coma.” She firmly reminded you. “She didn’t give me an open invitation to go poking around inside her brain, but she needed me. And I needed her. I know having the ability to see inside people’s minds can be weird. But you shouldn’t just go around pretending you can’t do it because you’re afraid you’ll hurt people’s feelings, or whatever. You could save their lives.” 

You knew the information you had obtained wasn’t exactly life saving, but she had a point. An excellent one. Maybe the reason your powers were acting up like this was because Gar was reaching out to you. Maybe it was because he had felt the same way about you for a long time now and he didn’t have the guts to tell you either. So unconsciously, he was reaching out, trying to show you his feelings so he wouldn’t have to risk getting hurt.  

‘Thank you. That actually really helps.’ You sent the message and gave her a smile, hopping off the bed and leaving the room once again. 

…  

You had some time to kill before going to talk to Gar. 

You really wanted to talk to him this time - truly wanted to conquer everything you had been holding back over these past few days. So you were hoping that everyone else would be in bed asleep so they couldn’t interrupt the two of you. 

You took up some of the time with a nice, long shower. Which was partially interrupted by Jason banging on the bathroom door, complaining about how long you were taking - once again. And you took your time getting ready afterwards. 

You did your hair neatly and smoothed nice smelling lotion all over your skin. Of course, the thought did occur to you that the ‘conversation’ could lead to you and Gar having sex. That’s what had been so prominently on his mind for the past few weeks. That thought likely did influence your decision to put on a pair of skimpy, cute lace underwear and forego wearing a bra underneath your pajamas. A thin matchy cotton tank top and shorts set. 

Your stomach was ripe with bubbles, absolutely full of air and anxiety as you sat on your bed, waiting for more time to pass. There was a book in your hand that you barely knew the name or contents of as you tried to kill more time. Your eyes flicked over to the clock. It was almost one in the morning. Surely you had waited long enough. 

You didn’t bother with socks or slippers, your cold feet eager and quiet on the floor as you sneaked your way to Gar’s room. You were surprised to find empty, his wide open door revealing a messy, unmade bed without him in it. You hovered in the doorway for a moment, almost losing your courage and going back to bed. 

But then your eyes landed on his nightstand. 

There was a wide picture frame holding the picture of him and his parents. And tucked into one of the outer creases of the frame’s wood was something else - two photobooth pictures of the two of you. The pictures were from the first time he had snuck you out of the house to take you to the arcade at the roller rink. You had taken the other two pictures off the set of four, and always kept them in whatever journal you were currently working on. 

Seeing the memento kept so close to him, so dear - it filled you with a fresh wave of confidence and desire. You turned around, determined to find him. Luckily, there weren’t that many places to check. 

The kitchen and living space were empty. The bathroom was empty and the doors to the security room were shut - meaning Dick was likely in there, researching something, occupied. The only other place to check was the training room. 

Gar was in there, putting himself through another rigorous training routine. Clearly he couldn’t sleep with the fight the two of you had still weighing on his mind. And he was quite a sight to behold. 

He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxing gloves and black sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. He was pounding away at the heavy punching bag, clearly trying to take out some of the frustrations that you had caused to run ramped inside of him. He was aglow with sweat, the tips of his green hair hanging down in his eyes, sticking to his forehead. His tight abs were slick and shiny in the light in a way that made you want to lick your lips. 

His attire easily revealed the delicious cut V of his hips and even a slight bit of pubic hair where he hadn’t properly tied up his sweatpants, and they were beginning to slip slightly due to his activity. You could see a rather impressive bulge, signifying that he was definitely not wearing any underwear. It swung around freely as he worked, punching hard at the weight bag. You had to force yourself not to become distracted by the movement of that mighty snake inside his pants - especially now that you knew what it felt like against you when it was throbbing and hard. 

He either hadn’t noticed your presence yet or didn’t care to interrupt his workout to acknowledge you.

“If you came to train, don’t let me bother you.” 

Gar huffed quietly when he finally paused his movements for a moment. He sounded so entirely wounded, and the words caused pain to radiate through your chest. He leaned down to pick up his water bottle between the two clunky foam gloves without taking them off. He took a large gulp from it while he not-so-subtly eyed you through his peripheral vision, clearly waiting for your reaction. 

“Apparently that’s all I am to you lately.” 

He added on after he swallowed the water, deadly quiet. His words were barely louder than the metal creaking as the punching bag continued to swing from the residual momentum. But you heard him absolutely clear. 

The sentiment weighed on your heart like a pound of bricks. 

You knew there were no words to explain it to him. You knew he would still be angered at you for using your powers on him without permission, even if it was by mistake. You couldn’t explain how it had been a mistake, how it had only been with him. You still didn’t know exactly why or how it had happened. 

After he gulped down a healthy dose of water, he tossed the bottle aside and rose to his full height. For the first time all day, he finally cast his attention over toward you. His face was set with one of the most sullen expressions you had ever seen. You hadn’t seen him this upset since he had attacked that man back at the asylum. Every bit a kicked puppy, as you looked at him, you tried to find the right words, but came up empty. You almost turned to walk away, almost burned dry of the courage you needed to face this. 

But with Rachel’s words still ringing in your ears, you looked into his glassy eyes, and for the first time in a long time - you pushed into the quiet realm of his mind purposefully. You needed to dig to find something that would help you. Something that could remind you of how perfect you were with Gar. 

You were surrounded once again by the thick, plush world of his own imagination. 

Even if it wasn’t that different from the world you lived in. 

The two of you were in the training room, with him wearing a blindfold as you practiced the unorthodox drill that was assigned to you. You got in a few good hits with the practice sword in your hands, and ultimately tackled him to the ground. 

The two of you ended up in a position that wasn’t too different from the reality of the day before. Though it was playful and light, rather than hypersexual and startled. 

You pinned him down with your thighs on either side of his waist, your hips sitting dangerously above his. Your body weight was balanced partially on your knees and partially on him. You held your wooden sword to his throat, poised in a threat you would never carry out against him. 

He swallowed hard, his throat muscles jerking underneath the wood. You knew it was more because of the rising heat your compromising position was causing him and not because he was actually afraid of you. Or perhaps him being just a tiny bit afraid of you turned him on that little bit more. 

You let out a laugh as you tossed the sword away, leaning in to take off his blindfold and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“What was that for?” He asked, regarding the unique new affection you had never really shown him before. 

‘Kiss it better.’ You signed, before leaving in and leaving a deeper, more heated kiss fully on his mouth. 

You forced yourself out of the thick, hazy daydream then. 

This was the answer. No words would be able to fix this - you needed to kiss it better. 

‘Kiss it better.’ 

You repeated this to yourself in the real world, confirming it as the truth. 

Gar read the signs you performed and - out of context - it draped him in hopeful confusion. 

He continued to stare you down with that delicately confused look enveloping his features as you marched across the room toward him, your steps over the cushioned mats of the floor filled with pure determination. 

He wondered if he had read your signing wrong, or if you were really planning to kiss him. Part of him thought you were going to hit him, or finally flip out on him for whatever perceived crime he had committed. And when you did it - he could hardly believe that it was truly, finally happening. That it wasn’t some dream. 

You reached up and grabbed him by both sides of his sweat damped head. And after years of waiting - you pulled him into your lips. 

Without hesitation, going on the pure fire in your belly, you kissed him. 

You channeled every ounce of raw need that had built up since the first time he had sucked you into a daydream where he so ferociously kissed you. His shock was evident at first. His whole body went stiff under your touch, which almost caused you to pull away. But a small moan rang out from the back of his throat - something that made you instantly dizzy with need. It made your lips seek out his with even more force, making your grip on his head clamp down as if to not let him escape. 

He began to kiss you back with just as much ferocity as he had in his dreams - echoing out another moan as he truly appreciated the taste of your lips. 

You felt him move but you didn’t open your eyes to look. You heard the tearing of velcro as you gnashed your teeth across his top lip and then latched onto the bottom one. Behind your back, he was taking off the boxing gloves, throwing them somewhere on the floor with a careless, quiet thump. Then his arms were around you, snaking around your waist. His flat palms went up the back of your shirt like impossibly hot magnets and pulled your body to his. He closed the small gap you had left for fear of being rejected - he welcomed you into his world with the utmost sincerity. 

Your shirt stuck to him because of the sweat he had worked up, and you wanted it off immediately. You wanted all your clothes off. You wanted to feel the naked rawness of the bulge you could feel swelling against your hip. But for now, you were too distracted by the other sensations he drowned you in to even consider pulling away to strip down. 

You were too caught up in the wicked work his tongue was doing as it snaked past your lips. You were obsessed with the loving way his hands held you. You lavished in the heat of his body as it radiated out against you like a wildfire. One of his hands was sprawled out in the middle of your back underneath your shirt. The other cupping the back of your head like you were the most beautiful, delicate doll he had ever had the pleasure of holding in his life. 

Eventually, both of you were forced to pull away from the kiss - succumbing to that formidable human breath. 

“Is this real?” 

Gar said quietly, seemingly almost more to himself as he pulled away from your lips. 

You opened your eyes, running a hand down to gently cup his cheek. He felt your gaze on him and opened his eyes. For the first time in days, he stared into your eyes so intimately and the dream became real. 

“Are you forreal right now?” 

These words were a bit louder. 

Not loud enough to break the sacred bubble of hot mingled breaths, spit, and sweat you had created. He wouldn’t dare do anything to shatter this if it was just another sleepy fantasy. But even if it was a fantasy, he still wanted to ask for your consent. That much you realized. 

Hesitantly, you tore your hands away from his glistening, flushed skin to formulate your reply. 

‘I want you.’ You told him simply. 

Without another moment of hesitance, he used the strong hold of his arms around your torso to take you to the ground. 

You wrapped your legs around him upon instinct. Your arms came up to clasp around the back of his neck as your ankles fumbled somewhere on his back. The action unintentionally drew your hot centers closer together. 

Gar bringing you down elicited a surprised squeak from you, which staved off into light laughter as your back met the mats. The laughter was easily echoed by him, deep and hardy. The sound turned into a playful, pleasurable growl into your neck as he ran his teeth along the skin there, nipping, marking his territory. You didn’t think his growling would ever be so sexy to you - but fuck, the noise ran a shock up your spine. It made your pussy clench around nothing and sent a wave of wetness into your underwear. 

This was going to be fun. 

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this.” 

Gar grunted into your neck, his voice already deepened by the cloud of his lust. His tongue licked a hot path down your skin into your cleavage. His hands ran down your sides to grip your hips through your shorts, his touch feeling blazen through the material. 

“Wanted you.” He groaned, sounding so lust-drunk already. “You’re so fucking perfect.” 

You had some idea. 

But just hearing him say it, feeling the words vibrate against your skin made you moan for him. It made your fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder blades. You were desperate for some kind of anchor on the plane of reality to assure yourself that you weren’t lost in the depth of another beautiful dream. 

You were vaguely aware of the fact that there was probably a camera somewhere in the room. Maybe multiple cameras seeing what Dick’s personality was like. Hell, Batman was the one who had designed and built the place and Dick was only teaching you guys what he had been taught. He probably used the footage of you guys training to review your weaknesses so he could make you better - build better soldiers. 

But all those thoughts melted out of your mind the moment that Gar lifted up your shirt. He continued the wet trail with his tongue down the middle of your stomach, stopping once and a while to make sloppy kisses against your skin. You knew exactly what his intentions were when his hands curled into the waistband of your shorts and underwear all at once. 

Your legs fell limp as he started to pull them off. 

A fresh wave of heat surged through you, making you absolutely drunk as he tossed your clothes behind him. He poised himself between your bent knees, kissing up your thigh with a tight hold on it, holding himself up with the other hand. 

“You smell so fucking good.” He growled out, low, heavy under his breath. You moaned out, only getting drunker with his words. “Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you.” 

You didn’t have a moment to sign to him, to give him some kind of encouragement or permission before he was diving in. He got low on his knees, wrapping both his hands possessively around your thighs. He leaned some of his weight on his elbows and from what you could see - canted his hips toward the mats, fruitlessly humping against the softness, seeking some kind of relief. 

He used his hands to spread your legs - not that it was much of an effort. Your legs practically fell open at his touch. You whimpered hard in the back of your throat as you felt his breath fanning out over your wet pussy. A heavy moan swelled on your tongue when he licked a broad stripe across you from your hole to your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, you taste so fucking good.” 

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders so your feet rested comfortably on his back, laying so he was more flat on his stomach, clearly getting comfortable. He laid a few tender kisses on the inside of your thigh. Then he looked up at you with dark, ferocious eyes. 

“Just, ah… smack me on the head if you want me to stop, okay?” Gar told you. 

Clearly, he was saying this for your safety - putting in a failsafe in case you changed your mind or became overwhelmed. But it came off as a sharp, pleasant warning of what was to come. 

Your pussy throbbed and you only ached for him to hurry up, biting your lip as you looked down at him. You nodded briskly, communicating that you understood his words. You had a feeling you most certainly wouldn’t want him to stop. 

Gar’s fingers dug into the tenderness of your thighs as he ducked his head down, latching onto your swollen, needy flesh. He soon brought a whole new definition to the words ‘eating pussy’. Like with everything he did in life, he did with the utmost enthusiasm and passion. He lapped at you, put his beautiful pink lips around you and sucked. He kissed your pussy just as passionately and wholly as he had your mouth. 

He shoved his tongue between your folds and dragged it in long, languid strokes. Clearly he was eager to lap up every last bit of your essence that he could - eager to devour you. He moaned into your pussy, moaned just as loudly as if he were the one being pleasured. It made the vibrations of his tongue on your clit even more deadly. Your hands were on his hair in a minute, both of them grabbing up as much of the gorgeous green as you could and holding tight. The action pulled a rumble from deep in his chest as he was satisfied by the pleasant pain of you tugging at his roots.

“You’re so fucking good.” 

He moaned into you, and you echoed back a high pitched noise that you hardly recognized as your own. 

“Everything about you is perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.” 

His grip around your thighs became even more possessive, his fingers digging into you hard enough to leave marks. Your lust clouded brain couldn’t clock the pain. You could only enjoy the view of his gorgeous hands gripping your skin. He labored over your clit, determined to make you cum. He flicked his tongue hard and fast over your clit as his hot breath fanned over you in quick, lustful pants. The orgasm washed over you so suddenly, a rubber band snapped from his actions. The tension had been built up over weeks of him living inside your mind, torturing you through lustful dreams.  

Your back arched, every muscle in your body pulled tight. Your thighs quivered and spasmed around his head as he continued to grip them hard. Your mouth became a mess of foreign noises that sounded daft and dumb to you but were absolute music to Gar’s ears. 

He chased you hard the whole way through it, shoving his tongue deep inside your throbbing cunt so he wouldn’t miss a single drop of your juices as they flowed out of you. You thought perhaps he might come up for air when your orgasm subsided. The aftershocks were still shaking your thighs, one of your hands falling to lull by your side, the other petting fondly through Gar’s now even messier hair. But it seemed you were wrong. He was just getting started. 

He growled with a feral hunger, the noise making your hips jolt, unintentionally canting toward his face as a whimper fluttered from your lips. He lapped at you in a drunken, lazy way for a few moments before he went back to eating your pussy with a renewed kind of starvation. 

Nipping at your swollen pussy lips in a way that made your entire body jolt, forcing his tongue inside you and fucking you with it while his nose bumped at your thrumming clit. Your second orgasm built up so quickly on top of the first. Your fingers curled in his hair as an unspoken signal to it. The feeling of your nails digging into his scalp only driving him to makeout with your cunt with an even deeper desire. 

He soaked up your practically pornographic moans with reverence. The wear and tear on your extremely damaged vocal cords began to hurt your throat, but the noises were absolutely unstoppable as they poured from your lips. His talented tongue was forcefully driving the moans and whimpers from you. He loved the feeling of your fingers ripping at his hair, leaving a pleasant sting across his scalp. He didn’t let up at all as your second orgasm plowed through you. 

He wasn’t satisfied even as your voice was echoing the wrecked, harsh moans of a third. 

He had you panting, your lungs struggling for air. Your muscles twitching with the excess of adrenaline and electricity. You whimpered pathetically as he tongued over your intensely sensitive clit again. Deciding it was time to give in, you reached over and tapped him gently on the top of the head. 

He looked up at you with those beautiful, wide brown eyes. This time not a lick of innocence or confusion anywhere to be seen - his irises completely overtaken with a deep, primal lust. 

You crooked your finger at him, motioning for him to come back towards your face. He kissed the inside of your thigh a few more times. He unintentionally smeared your sticky wetness, which had gathered on his lips in a heady, thick coating, across your skin. 

“I love your pussy so fucking much.” He murmured into your skin. 

Hearing him spout such filthy words without shame sent another wave of heat rolling through your belly. You had no idea how you were still so needy after cumming so many times, but Gar had easily done that to you. 

You reached over and gently tugged on his hair again, bringing his attention back to you. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you knew exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t know how to ask for it. Surely, there had to be a sign in ASL for intercourse - but you just didn’t know what it was. You had never felt the need to look it up before now. You decided to improv, knowing that Gar would get the meaning either way. He always understood when it came to you. 

You raised your hands, making a partially closed fist with one hand and sticking your finger into it. You knew that it was probably a rather juvenile motion. To make your point perfectly clear, you mouthed the words ‘fuck me’ in an exaggerated way, hoping it would be easy enough for him to pick up on. 

“You want me to fuck you?” 

He gently shucked your legs off his shoulders, sitting up on his knees. He wiped your essence off his mouth with the palm of his hand, a delighted, surprised expression falling over his features. 

You nodded swiftly, enthusiasm spreading across your face, biting your lip as you could barely contain a giddy smile. 

“I mean, I don’t have a condom or anything… should I go find one?” 

He moved slightly as if to get up and leave you, but you were quick to trap him, hooking your knees around his thighs and squeezing tight. This touch was a good enough signal to bring his attention back to you. 

‘Don’t worry about it.’ You signed to him, firm and final. 

He clearly wanted to question you, but there was something heavy dancing in your eyes, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment by pushing it. 

(You were infertile. Just another thing your illness had taken from you. If it meant this moment with Gar would be a bit more worry-free, then you’d take it. If it meant he would break up with you down the road because he wanted kids that you couldn’t have… then you’d just enjoy the time with him that you were given.)

“Okay.” He breathed quietly. 

Your attention shifted dramatically when his hand moved to adjust his cock in his pants, which was straining harshly through the fabric. It was a long, thick outline like a shadow beaming out from the black fabric, with a damp spot at the tip. Fuck. 

Eating you out had turned him on so much that he was leaking precum into his pants, quite a lot of it. You latched onto your bottom lip at the sight of it. You couldn’t help but to outright stare now that you were allowed to look - lavishing your eyes over the thick, magnetic outline of his beautiful cock. His hand gripped it once more, adjusting himself, trying to make his throbbing cock more comfortable where it strained against the fabric. It made the sight even hotter somehow, and your eyes jumped up to his to see the almost shy look on his face. Even after what he’d done, he was shy about you staring at his bulge. 

‘Show me.’ 

You egged him on, trying to be encouraging. You wanted to play up the obvious desire that you knew was prominent on your face by pouting your lips and batting your eyelashes for him. He raised his hand to the edge of his pants, but his muscles strained, hesitant still. 

As a show of good faith, you sat up slightly, peeling off your tank top, which was now stuck to you with sweat. Your skin appreciated the cool air of the room, and your ego preened at the way Gar’s eyes devoured the newly revealed skin. 

He let out a harsh breath before he stood up on the spot and took his pants down, letting them fall to his ankles and kicking them away. 

“I thought you might laugh at me.” He said quietly, insecurity racking his voice. “Because… ya know… the carpet matches the drapes.” 

Laughing was the last thing you were thinking about doing. 

As you laid there, propped up by your elbows, staring at him, your mind could only focus on how entirely fantastic he looked. His body was so perfect, his muscles built, building up more each day with the training. His whole body covered in perfect, smooth skin, surrounding a gorgeous, filthy prize that you had only dreamed about being this amazing in real life. 

His cock sprang out from a nest of green pubic hair - which yes, ‘the carpet does match the drapes’. But you found that to be nothing to laugh at. There was absolutely nothing laughable about the gorgeous, nine inch monster that stood proudly in front of you - smooth skin covering hardened, gorgeous flesh just like the rest of him. With a drooling, bright pink tip just ready for your lips to be wrapped around it. 

‘Why would I ever laugh at such a beautiful prize?’ You told him, assuring him that you held nothing but admiration and lust for his body. 

A light dusting of pink came over his cheeks, absolute flattery from your words. He dropped down to his knees once again. His cock bobbed so deliciously as he moved, and you knew that would be so whipped by the ability to have it. When Gar realized the power he could hold over you with sex - you would be done for. 

“Jason thought it was pretty funny.” He shrugged, his voice gruff with the memory of it. 

‘Jason is a clown.’ You assured him. 

The conversation was cast aside when he gripped your ankles, playfully tugging you across the mats toward him - something that caused more giggles to erupt from your throat. 

Then, he was hovering over you on his hands and knees once again. With one hand beside your head, the other came over to grasp your chin with two fingers. It was so light and careful compared to his previous touches. He peered down into your eyes, making your stomach seize up with the sheer amount of love and affection he stared you down with. 

If you didn’t feel the same way for him, you might have backed down from the towering might of his feelings. You might have been tempted to run from something so divinely grand and beautiful. But no - you wanted to be his. You wanted to make him yours. 

‘Take me.’ You mouthed. 

Your hands were numb and useless at your sides. Your body was stilled by the cosmic depths of his affection, hoping your silent lips alone would be enough. 

Gar leaned down and swept your mouth into a kiss. His thumb on your chin rubbed sweet circles on your skin as his lips smoothed into yours. Your tongue reached out to eagerly dive into the cavern of his mouth. Soon his touch was gone from your face as your hands woke up to find him, to reach out for the perfection of his body. 

You eagerly sought out to touch his arms, his back, his ass, anything you could reach. He used his hand to hoist your knee gently over his thigh, opening you up to him. Then he poised his cock perfectly at your hot, leaking entrance. 

“You sure about this?” He breathed across your cheek, pulling away from the kiss to ensure your consent one last time. 

You nodded with the most frantic posture you could muster, impatient breaths spilling from your nostrils and pouring across his clammy skin. 

Satisfied with this, he rolled his hips forward. Finally, after weeks - no, years - of waiting in quiet agitation for him, you became complete. 

Even with his massive size, his cock slid easily inside you. 

Your pussy was readied by the many orgasms he gave you, your muscles relaxed and naturally slicked up for him. He fit perfectly like he belonged there, your hot inner walls pulling him in. Your hot cunt clung to his cock in a way that made him groan deeply into your neck. The feeling made his buttocks tense as he pulled together his last ounces of self control to not lose it - to not pound into you like a careless sex doll. You were perfect, and you deserved to be treated perfectly. 

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock.” 

He groaned, leaning down on his elbows. He trapped you completely in his warmth, pressing his body firmly into yours from chest to chest to where he was smothered deep inside you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect. Fuck, Y/N.” 

You dug your nails into the muscles of his back - hearing your name on his lips with such a gravelly desire making your pussy squeeze around him. After a few restrained moments, he finally pulled his hips back and began to move. It started off as a slow, deliberate grind, a slow drag of his hips into yours, but it quickly became unhinged. Not that you minded one bit. You wanted to tempt that animal inside him - you wanted to see his rougher side.  

The sloppy sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he hammered his hips into yours. The sounds almost completely drowning out the quiet wave of your pathetic whimpers and his possessive growls. He tried to trap the sounds in the skin of your neck, while gnawing mindlessly at your skin, sure to leave some kind of mark on you. 

He was impossibly heavy and hot inside you, hitting all the best spots. His cock drove more electricity into your nerve endings and absolutely milked you for everything you could give. His knees pinned open your thighs where they jolted and jumped, your body so overstimulated from your previous orgasms that they wanted to clamp shut on his hips to keep him from moving. Your unconscious wanted to pin him down and hold him there - wanted to hold him inside you so that you could feel so impossibly full forever. 

And then, just as you felt another orgasm coming to form like a screeching fire in your belly, he dared to raise his head from your neck, dared to look into your eyes. 

Before you knew it, you were tumbling once again through the thick curtain of reality and into his mind. You were pulled against your will into another one of his fantasies. 

In the fantasy, you were on your back, still, completely naked. You were slicked with a sheen of sweat with his thick, pulsing cock deep inside you. But this was slightly different. The material under your back was most certainly a mattress - plush, more giving than the stiffness of the padded floor of the training room. It had an almost too soft layer of silk sheets covering it that your skin stuck to unpleasantly with the sweat. 

Your hands were poised on Gar’s chest, your nails digging into the skin there, leaving light marks. One of the things that stood out most to you about this picture was not the fact that Gar was having a fantasy about fucking you, but the ring on your finger. Seeing as this was his mind, he was the one who had put it there. Quite clearly a wedding ring or an engagement ring. It was beautifully ornate, poised on the correct finger for marriage. It held a bright green stone in the middle - green like a certain someone special to you. 

“Fuck, I love you so much.” 

Dream Gar moaned as he pounded into you, his hips taking on a sloppy rhythm as his orgasm drew near. 

“My beautiful wife. Mine. Finally fucking mine. You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” 

‘I’m yours.’ 

You found yourself mouthing the words without even realizing it, whipped out of the fantasy world so harshly once again. A very small part of your mind wondered if it had been a small slice of the future that you had seen or if it was simply a conjuring from Gar’s imagination. 

You didn’t have the time to think or care, because your body went into overdrive. The Real Gar’s forehead was now resting on your tits. His hands created a tight grip on your hips as he pounded into you harder, harsher, deep grunts spewing from his lips each time his cock settled back inside you. 

“Please cum for me, Y/N.” His words came out as a whining beg, something so wonderfully small from the man splitting you open on his cock. 

He kissed between your breasts, his thumb coming to rub harsh circles on your clit, sending jolts right through you. 

“Cum on my cock. Please.” 

With the vision still hot on your mind and his words searing through you, the orgasm tore you up like a rabid animal. It was like nothing else you had ever felt in your life - like your entire body was on fire, being entirely consumed by Gar, by his touch, by his love for you. Finally being owned by him, finally having the one thing you wanted, needed most. Finally having him, full and whole. 

You screamed so loudly it hurt your throat, something you knew you’d be feeling for days afterward. Your whole body shook around him while your eyes screwed shut, your head tilting backwards as the pleasure was exorcized from you. 

You felt a hot dampness under your fingertips that you recognized as blood. In the back of your mind, you realized that you had gripped him hard enough for your nails to cut him - but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, it only spurred him on more, if the deep, ferocious grunts pouring from his lips were any indication. He was absolutely wild as he chased his own orgasm, breath fanning out in hot grunts against your breasts as he bucked wildly into your spent, tired hips, making your muscles twitch with bitter overstimulation. 

“Fuck! Y/N!” He cried out as he came, finally spilling his thick, hot cum inside you. 

You let out a small moan at the feeling. It became even hotter when you felt his cum pooling around the base of his cock, where you were connected, and leaking down between your cheeks. He lingered inside you for a few moments, petting his hands up and down your sides while your hands laid numbly on his back. He pecked small, delicate kisses across your clavicle that were almost an irony to the whole interaction. It made you smile. 

You were quickly falling tired from the massive aerobic exercise and post-orgasm haze, disappointed by the fact that you had to get up and make your way back to bed. You hoped Gar would let you sleep in his. It came as a bitter shock when he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and cold as he moved away from you so suddenly. When you blinked, he was standing, bending over with his back to you as he picked up his pants and righted the legs so he could put them back on. 

What he did next came as even worse of a shock to you. 

“I - uh… I understand if you don’t want this to affect our friendship.” He said, just loud enough for you to hear him. His tone was flat, completely void of emotion. 

“I totally get being horny and just… needing someone. We’ve been locked up here for weeks, and like. Like you said, Jason’s a clown.” He let out a laugh, but it was hollow and tired. He clearly didn’t even think his own words were funny. 

The words were so strange in those moments they took far too long to process through your sex-hazy brain. 

Was he really insinuating that you might go to Jason for sex? Was he trying to… let you down easy? Was he saying that he only wanted to be friends? Friends with benefits? 

Was he seriously saying that he didn’t love you? 

Your head was spinning with questions as you propped yourself up on your elbows, your whole body stiff as those beautiful, orgasmic chemicals faded away. It left you tired, shocked, and… feeling used. Your eyes scanned over Gar’s back as he tied up the drawstring of his pants. You focused on the dark red, deep, partially bleeding marks you had left. You had marked him, whether he liked it or not. You had some claim to him. You should. 

“I’m gonna stay for a while and finish my workout.” He told you quietly. “Do you need help getting back to bed?” 

When he came over and offered you a hand, you brushed it away. For the first time ever, you felt cold and unaccepting of his touch. You felt angry with him. How dare he invite you into his mind, show you how much he cared about you - how dare he fuck you with so much love and passion and then try to brush it all off as if it were nothing? 

‘I’m fine.’ You told him, hoping your coldness could come across in tired, limp handed signing. 

You forced yourself up on quivering knees and then onto your feet. You gathered your clothes where they had been carelessly tossed and shoved them back onto your used, dirty body. You would have preferred a shower first, but you preferred the precaution of drapery in case you did run into anyone on your way to the bathroom. 

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” 

These were Gar’s last words to you before you stormed out of the training room, going to the bathroom to ruminate on the whole experience by boiling yourself in hot, steaming water. 

…  

You thought about it for a long time while you were in the shower. 

Just stood there, under the hot spray and let your mind concentrate on the things Gar had said. He had fucked the living daylights out of you, ate your pussy like it was his fucking job. He was apparently having daydreams about doing so while calling you his fucking wife, and then once it was all said and done - he backed down from it. He told you that he ‘understood’ if you only wanted to be friends. 

He was afraid. 

It was like everything else in his life. He could transform into a fucking tiger, but he was afraid to bite people. He didn’t want to use the fantastic power that had been given to him. For years, he hid away with Doctor Caulder, a man who emotionally abused him and manipulated him. He had been too afraid to stand up for himself, too afraid to leave the house and chase the things he really wanted. 

And with you. He was clearly terrified you were going to reject him. He wanted a life with you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted you and your heart, he wanted your everything. But he was too afraid to voice it. He was too afraid he’d look like an idiot if you didn’t feel the same way. 

That’s probably why he had unconsciously reached out to you, unconsciously broadcasted his fantasies to you whenever you were near. And you’d thought it was your stupid powers acting up. 

Just like with kissing him to initiate that amazing sex - you were going to have to shake off your fear of rejection so that the two of you could be together already. 

… 

You woke up the next morning with a pounding migraine. 

Even with the preventative medications Doctor Caulder had prescribed to you to help with your seizures and migraines, the tumor that still lived inside your brain did get to torture you occasionally. When you lifted your head from your pillow and saw the gray, gloomy sky looming over San Francisco, the raindrops racing down your window, it didn’t take you long to figure out the cause of your pain. You groaned, falling face first back into your pillow, not wanting to get up. 

The ever present pain from coming from your head was topped off by soreness that had spread through your whole body - undeniable evidence that what happened between you and Gar last night wasn’t just another dream. Dreams don’t have consequences. Especially considering that your pussy was aching hard, still sore from having his impressive length splitting you open. On top of it all, your throat was stinging with an almost flu-like ache from having screamed so much through your surgery damaged vocal chords. 

You really hoped Dick would let you have one day off from training. You probably could have gotten through it with just your body being sore. But the migraine was already ravaging you, already turning your stomach sour with systematic nausea. 

You heard a knock on your door and sighed quietly. 

You had just barely hoisted yourself into a sitting position by the time the person entered. Squinting through your tired eyes, you were able to makeout a flash of green and immediately knew that it was Gar. 

“Hey, you don’t look so good. You feelin’ alright?” He knew the look that always settled upon your face when you were overtaken with such intense pain. He hardly needed to ask. “Where’s the bottle?” 

You motioned toward the drawer that held the item he spoke of - your hot water bottle, which you used to help ease the bitter pain of a migraine. He opened and closed a few drawers before he found it. Your eyes gently closed against the harsh light pouring in from the hallway, too sensitive to the light to actually look at him. 

“It’s okay, lay down.” He told you, his voice a comforting lull past the aching thrum in your forehead. He patted your thigh gently through your blanket, and you eased back onto the bed, throwing a forearm over your eyes to block the light. “I got it.” 

He went to the kitchen and filled the rubber bladder with boiling water, returning quickly with it and a glass of water. You took the now very hot water bottle. You gave him a small moan of gratitude as you placed it down on your pillow and pressed your forehead into it. 

In a practiced routine that only spoke to how much he loved you, he closed the bedroom door, blocking out the harsh light of the hallway. And then he walked around the bed to close the curtains, blocking out any potential light from the outside. He placed the glass of water down on your nightstand with a harsh clink that only radiated through your skull so painfully because of the migraine. Then you heard him open the nightstand drawer, digging around for your medication. 

You trusted that he knew which ones you needed right now. You trusted that he didn’t need your advice on how to take care of you. It was something he knew well after so long. 

You felt his fingers brushing your open palm, then felt the round tablets of your medication left there as he pulled away. 

“Sit up and take these.” He said quietly, voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to hurt you with a single decibel. 

He used a gentle grip on your forearm to hoist you into a sitting position, and you swallowed the medication dutifully with the water he’d brought. 

“I’ll tell Dick you need to sit out of training today.” He explained quietly. “You need anything else?” 

‘One thing.’ You signed to him, your hands weak and tired. 

Though your pain was disruptive, and you were glad Gar was not acting any different after what had happened last night, you couldn’t wait any longer before doing this. 

Before he could question what that thing was, you leaned in. Your lips easily found his in the darkness and you planted a smooth, gentle kiss on his mouth. 

‘Don’t wanna just be friends.’ You signed, opening your tired, painful eyes to see his reaction to your words. ‘I love you. I have loved you for a long time now.’ 

A broad smile came across his face, his expression of pure joy practically glowing in the darkness. 

“Yeah. Awesome. That sounds amazing. I love you too.” His voice was slightly louder now, his joy overriding his caution for your hypersensitive, pained ears.

He felt absolutely giddy - this was what he had been waiting for, dreaming of for so long. He wanted to climb in bed with you and lay by your side for the rest of the day. But he knew that he needed to attend to other things, and more importantly - you needed your rest. 

“Get some rest now, okay?” 

He tucked you into bed, made sure the covers were up over your body, full and warm with the hot water bottle under your head before he left the room once again. 

It wasn’t long before you heard voices coming from down the hall. 

“Where’s Y/N? We’re doing balance drills in ten minutes.” Dick’s gruff voice echoed down the hall, very obviously directed at Gar, who he’d sent to wake you up.

“She needs the day off. She’s got a wicked migraine and she needs rest when it gets like this,” Gar told him simply, hoping Dick would respect him at his word. 

“We don’t get days off, Gar.” Dick pressed. “All of us have to train through pain, or injury. Do you really think some psychotic asshole is gonna care if you have a little headache while they’re trying to kill you? Do you think they’re just gonna come back another day? Do you think they’re gonna stop shooting at you if you have to stop and bandage your boo boo?”

His words cut through you, causing a sallow pain to rise up in your chest. It was something you’d been hearing since your childhood - since your treatments and hospital stays had caused you to miss too many days off and your teachers quickly stopped taking pity on you. You had always been told to just work through your pain, that the world won’t stop for you. You considered getting up and just going to training. You wanted to tough it out just to show Dick that you could, that you could puke into a garbage can and keep going, that you could boot and rally. 

You heard footsteps coming down the hall, and in your pain heightened sensitivity, you heard the metal of the doorknob shift as someone put their hand around it. The sound of Dick coming to get you out of bed anyway. 

He didn’t get the chance, though. 

“Leave it, Grayson.” Gar’s voice growled - a harsh, sharp sound that you had rarely ever heard from him before. “You don’t understand what she’s going through, and I won’t have you pushing her until she pukes on the floor just to satisfy your ego. She already trains harder than you ask and you know she could probably kick your ass,” 

You heard a harsh sigh, a deep breath through nostrils - Dick’s surrender. His footsteps disappeared down the hall, and Gar’s followed shortly after. 

Your heart bloomed with affection, awed by the blanket of protection he had put around you. 

You really were his. You always have been. 

...

When Gar was getting dressed after his shower later that day - he came across a small box in his underwear drawer. It was the ring that Rita had given him before he left Caulder House, a very expensive looking vintage piece from her days on set. Gar tried to insist that he couldn’t take something so nice, so sentimental from her. But she had closed it tight into his palm with the promise that it would be yours someday - that he would use the polished emerald ring to propose to you. 

Of course, she saw that big, beautiful, dangerous thing brewing between the two of you from a mile away. Gar considered marching down the hall and giving it to you right then there. But he tucked the box back into his drawer. In honor of Rita’s vision - he would make it old Hollywood, romantic. 

He had plenty of time.

THE END.

...

Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie.That is still my username on AO3, and this is my new blog. This is one of my old fics, so please don’t accuse me of stealing it if you see this. I have added some new scenes and elements to it (hence, why I have split it up into two parts) so if you recognize me by this fic and if you’ve read it before, I hope you enjoy re-reading it in its newly improved form. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

I'm still not writing for bts anymore but I just wanted to get these few requests out cause I don't wanna be a bitch and make these people wait so long for something and then have me say "sorry lol I don't wanna do it anymore 🙃" but anyways this is for @babyboytae1 so I hope you like it (even tho you requested it like eons ago and I only just now made it-)

Making BTS Cum in Their Pants

Jin

     In the moment, Jin would find this incredibly hot. The fact that you have so much power over him you can make him cum in his pants like an over excited teenager drives him nuts. His favorite thing is when you don't actually touch him, but just tease him with your words as he desperately ruts against your thigh, a pillow, or anything else you've given him permission to use. You'd be sitting on the couch trying to watch a movie when he comes up to you all hot and bothered, so you just keep staring at the screen while lightly patting your thigh and he gets the message. He'd be grinding against your thigh,whimpering and moaning into your ear and if he tried to take his pants off for some better friction you'd just look at him and say something like "Did I give you permission to do that doll?" And he just shakes his head with a high pitched whimper while speeding up the movement of his hips. From time to time you'd look over at him with a "Is that the best you can do?" or "Look at you doll, so desperate to cum you're using my leg when you could just be jerking off somewhere." Your simple words bring him to the edge faster than he thought they would so he starts begging for his release, hips stuttering as he waits for your reply. When finally told to cum his eyes roll back in his head as he cums all within the confines of his underwear. He'd sit there for a bit before he starts complaining about how he'll have to do the laundry again even though he just did it (I want Jin as my housewife ok, sue me) but he knows he'd do it again in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

Yoongi

     If it's just in his jeans or any other regular clothes he had worn for the day I don't really think he'd mind. He loves to make sure that you're enjoying yourself and if him cumming in his pants makes that happen then so be it. He'l be damned, however, if you try to make him do it in pretty clothes he's bought to dress all cute for you. If he's wearing lingerie or a pretty skirt/dress he's found at a store just for you, he's not going to let you ruin it just because you're horny. If you guys are in the foreplay section of the night and you have him grinding all up on you in a pretty pink skirt he wore with a nice white set of lingerie and you tell him to keep it on while he cums he'll just glare at you before ranting about how much it cost and how embarrassing it was for him to go get it and wasn't going to put himself through that again so you can just take what's been handed to you. You'll just giggle at him with a quiet apology as you press a kiss to his lips and carefully undress him before going on with the night you have planned. Sometimes you'll just bring it up as a joke because you have to admit his little rants are pretty darn cute since he talks with a pout on his lips.

Hoseok

     Hoseok is very loud and very sensitive so you just have to play with him out in public, what monster wouldn't? So you have definitely made him cum in his pants more times than he could count. In changing rooms, bathroom stalls, even a little ways down an alleyway close to your home when it was dark enough. He's in heaven when you push him up against a wall, looking him in the eyes as you mutter all the dirty things you wanna do to him while rubbing him through the front of his pants. Just that is enough to make him cum. The thought of someone stumbling upon you two and seeing how weak and pathetic he becomes under your touch makes him go crazy. Realistically you've taken precautions to assure that wouldn't happen but the thought is a turn on nonetheless. Long story short- make him cum in his pants in public. If you make him walk around for a bit with his release almost staining the front of his pants (don't worry, you give him a long hoodie or shirt so no one could see it unless they were looking for it) he would be willing to go another round as soon as you got home.

Namjoon

     Oh my goodness I've been waiting for this one!! Could you imagine? Making the leader of one of the most widely known groups in the world do something so dirty?? Yes please 🤤! He can look so calm and collected to everyone else but he'll be on his knees humping your leg with his pants still on in a heartbeat if you asked him to. Now that's a pretty picture. The leader of BTS pathetically humping your leg like a mutt, not caring if he ruins the clothes he has on. Even better if you force him to wear them a little while longer into the session, taunting him about what a dirty boy he is and letting him feel his release seeping through his pants and sticking to his legs. Y'know what I think I've thought about this a little too much-

Jimin

     Jimin is the kinkiest little bitch, as we all know, so he's down for anything you wanna do to him. He is really into humiliation though so if you make him cum in his pants and then sneer at him while telling him what a pathetic whore he is for getting off so quickly he will become hard as a rock again in seconds. It's not like it's something he would do unless you told him to do so, but he does still enjoy it to a certain degree. The humiliation factor? 10/10 would do it again just to hear you insult him, but he finds it a little uncomfortable after a while with his release sticking to his legs. He does prefer to stay pretty clean for the most part and doesn't like the feeling of cum on his skin. Unless of course you wanna cum on his face, then he's all for that. 

Taehyung

     Our sweet puppy Taehyung :,). I honestly don't really think he'd like it that much. It's sticky and uncomfortable and like hell he'd let you ruin his expensive ass pants. That shit's probably Gucci so I don't know about you but I couldn't replace that in a million years. He's also just a sweet boy who wants your praise so the humiliation factor isn't too appealing to him either. The only way I could really see him enjoying getting his release on his clothes is if he cums on his stomach or something and you wipe it up with his underwear and then shove it in his mouth as a makeshift gag as you fuck him. Other than that, ruining his clothes is a no go. 

Jungkook

     Our sweet baby boy is all for experimentation with you. If there is absolutely anything you'd wanna try out with his all you'd have to do is say the word. I think with this situation it would be more like J-Hope in the sense he would love for you to make a mess of him out in public. Making him walk around the rest of the day in his ruined jeans that would probably be more visible that J-Hope's cause Kookie does tend to wear tight jeans most of the time (which is honestly probably why you felt the need to pull him aside and take care of him cause damn those thighs) unless he's wearing sweatpants which still wouldn't help his case. But that's really the only time I think he'd cum in his pants. He doesn't really see the need to do it at home since there are so many other options but if you're out in public he's always down.

[mazuwii]

Chapter 9 || Stolkhom

Reiner x reader

Previous chapter

Warnings: age regression and violence

Authors note: Do forgive me for the late update, I’ve been hit with a painful period cramps. Now it’s calmed down. 

Though only in the midst of August, it was starting to get colder by the day. Y/n finally saved enough for the doctors. She predicted the price of the surgery, and so doubled that amount. The money she made working in the cafe piled up with the savings was more than enough.

Y/n had buried Reiner in sweaters, thick clothing, a coat, and a pastel blue hat with a cute pompom on top. Finally, she wrapped a scarf around his neck, allowing only his eyes to prevail. "Right that's it," she smiled to herself, applauding herself for a good job, "Don't want you catching a cold on me."

His eyes disappeared in his grin, shaking his head in agreement. She took his clothed hand with her bare ones, feeling the fuzzy material of his mittens intertwine around her hand.

Y/n led him down the tan path to the bus stop, where she'd take directions towards the address. Thankfully not too far away. She'd prefer it if she had just bought a car. She knew Reiner had a huge chance of falling asleep midway.

And her theories were confirmed to be true once they had gotten on the bus, he leaned against her shoulder and cuddled her arm, his body limp yet at peace.

Still, there were many stops before they'd arrive. He silently repositioned himself on her, averting her attention onto him again. Y/n kissed his forehead and rested her head against his, allowing herself to dream.

≈≈≈

There really was no point in going to work for Zeke. The war was over, no one had won, no one had lost. Apart from the countless lives declined in their nation due to the revenge of those once innocent people they call "devils".

The island of people they so despised had hit back, harder than anyone predicted. Although close to annihilating the entire nation of Marley, they stopped, as if warning them to stay clear of their land.

Marley had given up, they left the people alone. However, they were more cautious this time. They stocked up on soldiers and military weapons lined up, just in case. But Zeke knew they'd start another war if their delusional paranoia rose up on the subject again.

The people would purposely have their attention averted onto something horrible yet stupid as the Marleyan government plans things no one would realistically stand for.

Nevertheless, being a war chief of Marley meant he wasn't allowed to speak against them. Otherwise who knows what would happen. The punishments varied. It could get his family tortured, he could be executed or maybe he'd suffer the same fate as Reiner. A life full of humiliation was worse than having his life stripped away in one blow.

Sir Magath, his superior, had always been suspicious of Reiner's whereabouts. He never believed the conspiracies that he died. The military would be invited to his grave, and if not, then at least one funeral home would have been hired for it. But every single one that the military checked had denied their accusations, stating that even if the wife of such a pitiful failure would come into their business, they'd throw her out.

He had a lit cigarette between his lips as he observed the humps of roads and buildings from the view next to Zeke Jaeger. "You know," he began. "I never believed that Braun's wife wouldn't invite you to his funeral."

The blond man shrugged blandly, "I suppose her and her child's life mattered more in that moment."

"Maybe..." Magath responded dryly. His eyebrows creased in thought once again. Zeke could see him do so in the corner of his eye. He wanted to kill the man, to push him off and watch as his body tumbled and punctured against the sharp rocks beneath them. Even after believing Reiner was dead, the military was ordered to look for any signs of his whereabouts. Dead or alive.

To them, he was a pawn. A war weapon as opposed to a human. Every single one below Magath was. Even Zeke. They all knew too much and if any information got out, they'd have to kill them. Reiner got away and if he were not dead as the rumours say so, he could be revealing things. Committing treason had consequences so dire that no one even entertained the thought of it.

So what makes them think, a man raising a child and providing for his family would even question doing it? What could it do for him, other than rip his life apart into shreds?

These past few weeks had Zeke mentally questioning if they hired someone to finally finish the job off by bashing his head in. A brick the size of his foot plunged into the scalp of his comrade. In broad daylight. The bearded man recalled hearing so much. The weak groans that died down from the fallen man. Some children screamed, some adults were cheering and others were silent but delighted. Either way, they couldn't do much to Reiner's motionless body as a superior chief was around. Zeke.

Surrounded by all those sheep had him looking for one who had aimed the brick so precisely. Yet it proved hopeless as he scanned through the random villagers. No one noticed. Their gazes were glued to the gory crack of blood staining the strands of blonde.

"You know, if you hide anything from the military, you'll be punished as a traitor would."

"Yes sir," Zeke answered without any hesitation. Magath could only dream of cracking him open, to see what Zeke truly was thinking. The war chief was both calculate and intelligent to an astonishing degree. But he hid it well, acting mindless and dumb to an extent. For if he even threatened any higher-ups ego, he'd have been annihilated.

With that, Magath left to go back inside the headquarters, leaving Zeke to concentrate on his clear thoughts. Y/n will be just fine and so will Mihai. That is if the military doesn't go searching for the kid too.

If they find Mihai, who knows what they'll do. Would they take him away? Would they not give him or Pieck a chance to explain themselves, instantly plunging them into punishment and torture. Children were no exception to this, some have been fed to hungry dogs alive for stupid things.

All he knew was that Mihai couldn't stay for longer. Magath was onto him. Zeke calculated the next move, a prediction animated in the front of his mind. His door kicked in, armed officers trashing the house to search for something they already knew existed there.

That's it. There's no time to send Y/n a letter. This is it now.

≈≈≈

Surprisingly, the receptionist kindly welcomed both Reiner and Y/n into the room with the booked doctor. They were on time, thanks to Y/n's timing.

The waiting room had only eight lined up chairs in fours. It wasn't a sketchy place, it just felt out of the ordinary that they were accepting right in.

The man who had answered her knock with a 'come in' was typing away on some new technology. He seemed to be balding and had eyebrows as thick as his hair. "Ah," he smiled at the two, specifically, Reiner. "I've heard all about your husband." He gestured at the two seats by his desk.

Y/n shyly sat down with the wandering man by her side. "Yes... it wasn't so pleasant." She sheepishly said.

After a bit of awkward small talk, he finally popped the question, "So, what seems to be the issue?"

Y/n's hand gently clenched Reiner's, distracting him for only a few seconds and when he realised she wasn't trying to avert his attention, he went back to looking at the health posters on the wall, as if they were more entertaining than whatever the doctor had to say.

"After the incident, he's been having behavioural problems," she started, "I have to bathe him, put him to sleep, feed him- basically... he's a child." She mentally winced. The doctor nodded a few times during her explanation, he jotted down her words on a piece of paper, rather than use whatever technology sitting in front of him.

"I see," he took his glasses off, "and you think this is a matter of brain damage?"

"Maybe?"

"Well, Mrs Braun, it could be a number of things. For example, you told me he worked in the military." She hesitantly nodded, "Age regression is a symptom of PTSD for some, perhaps he may be showing signs of various mental illness."

"There's more?- I mean, for age regression?"

"Indeed. We could have him examined by a psychologist... if you'd like?"

While she'd do anything to help Reiner get back to normal, there's a chance the psychologist could cut away the amount she'd need for the surgery. The medication industry can be too greedy sometimes, especially in times like these.

"Today?" She finally asked.

"Today."

With that, they were taken to the front desk, where the doctor was talking to the receptionist and filling out an online form on the box-like computer. After a while of awkwardly standing by the desk, the two were finally met with the doctor. He adjusted his glasses with a confident smile.

"Right then, shall we?" He motioned towards the other side of the hallway. Y/n cocked a brow. "Where's the psychologist? Isn't a different building?"

"Oh no, I'll be the psychologist."

Again, Y/n felt uneasy about the man. There was something about him that weirded her out and she couldn't pinpoint what it was. All she could conclude was that Zeke knew some odd people. Odd people that potentially reflect his own personality. But the Zeke she knows was weird in a comfy way like there was no pressure to pretend to be someone you're not around him.

"Right then, for this practice, I ask to be alone with Mr Braun, is that fine with you?"

Her hooded eyes switched from the doctor to Reiner, contemplating whether or not she'd trust him to take the feeble man alone for a while. Her husband looked back at her with a pleading expression, like he was desperate for her to decline. 

"Okay," Reiner widened his eyes in shock, his face mirroring that of a kicked puppy as the doctor gently began to guide him away. Had he been a bad boy? Was Y/n giving him away? "Y/n." He whimpered. However, she responded with a reassuring nod and surrendered to the waiting area.

Constantly turning around to steal glimpses of her, he gulped down scary thoughts and allowed himself to enter the opened door of the room, where it appeared like a child's nursery. The doctor sat on a high chair while Reiner was instructed on a fluffy pink mat.

“So, where shall we begin…”

Next chapter

[mikasaluna]

緑黒髪

⚠ WARNINGS： ! smut ! nsfw !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY.

「 Keep in mind your triggers and do not engage if it will provoke negative emotions. You are responsible for your own actions. 」

♥️

notes：gender neutral pronouns, AFAB body, dry humping, characters aged up 18+

♥️

A/N：having the translations in there at the end kinda bothers me, but there are often phrases and things in Japanese which can’t really be communicated in English, I can imagine what the characters would say in Japanese a lot easier and it just seems more realistic to me lol

Just a few months after moving next door to Sasuke, a certain ninja had released some kind of poisonous gas in your house, probably to get back at you for kicking their ass. He let you stay over that night, naturally understanding of the trouble which came with this kind of job. 

This wasn’t the first time you were in his house, as you’d been helping him to improve his English ever since you moved to the village. Even though you could understand Japanese fine, there was something familiar and comforting about speaking the language of your homeland. After some heated card games and one too many bottles of sake that night, you had both fallen asleep under the kotatsu together. 

That’s where it all started. You were woken up by heaving breathing, and the crushing weight of Sasuke laying on top of you. He was still asleep, humping into your clothed cunt fervently. It must’ve been an undeniably good dream, so you almost felt bad in having to disturb him, but then again you really could not breath at that point. Was is because of the insanely sexy thing happening to you, or the fact that Sasuke’s entire body weight was pressed against you? You couldn’t tell.

“Sasuke, you’re crushing me.”

No reply.

“Sasuke, seriously I’m going to die.”

Silence. 

“SA-SU-KE!” His eyes flew opened, flickering wildly around the room for a moment before noticing the awkward position you two were in, his erection still pressed firmly against your heat. 

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Blood rushed to Sasuke’s face as he shifted his weight onto his hands, towering over you. He looked completely mortified. The kind of look you make when you wave back to someone who wasn’t actually waving to you. Before he had a chance to move away you grabbed his hips, holding them in place and glancing sideways nervously.

“It’s fine now, I couldn’t breathe is all.” Despite all of the confidence you had in your head, your voice still came out breathy and flustered.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I’ll do anything, I just- how can I make this up to you?” Your heart stopped for a moment, how the hell did you end up in this situation? Not that you were complaining, but your brain was struggling to keep up with this turn of events.

“Okay... don’t stop then.” Now that you’d gone out and said it, a sudden surge of assertiveness flowed through you. Sasuke’s eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. The way his silky black hair flowed down from his face as he hovered about you made your stomach knot, how could somebody be so perfect?

At that moment, he leant down, taking your lips into a sloppy and desperate kiss before lowering his clothed erection against your panties. Your tongues intertwined, exchanging saliva and swallowing the moans you let out whenever Sasuke’s cock rubbed over your clit.

He was clearly enjoying himself too, his breath becoming shallow as he rutted against you. It was almost embarrasing how something so simple could make you feel so good, better than any sex you’d ever had. Your body was on fire, sensitive to every touch.

“I want you to tell me,” you spoke softly “what kind of dream were you having?” Sasuke’s hips faltered, his breath hitching at your words.

“Well, you were in it...”

“What was I doing?” Suddenly he ground his hips into you particuarly harshly, making you bite your lip to avoid letting out your voice.

“You were... uh, giving me head.” You could feel the embarrasment seeping through his voice, hiding his face in your neck and leaving hickies along your skin.

“Oh? Is that what you want me to do to you, Sasuke?” You whispered into his ear quietly, ravishing the way his body reacted.

“Not yet,” he replied. It was obvious that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop now. Neither could you, bucking your hips up and trying to meet to his thrusts. The rough movement of fabric rubbing against your clit, it felt slow and teasing but in the best way possible.

If you weren’t careful, you might become addicted to this, addicted to him. Your panties were already soaked through, leaving a wet patch on the front of Sasuke’s boxers as he humped into you. 

A hot tingling sensation began to progress, from deep in your stomach further and further down, about to explode. Sasuke kissed you just barely, panting against your mouth.

SLAM

You turned in shock, standing in the doorway behind you was... Naruto!? His expression looked horrifyed, and you really couldn’t blame him after what he had just walked in on. 

なんで服を着ながらやってるってばよ!? why are you doing it with clothes on!?

(nande fuku wo kinagara yatte ru tte ba yo!?)

うるさいウスラトンカチ、帰れ！shut up you idiot, go home!

(urusai usuratonkachi, kaere!)

[dom--minnie]

hellooo !! can i request number 12 + chan from the smut prompts list? thank u <3

Thank you for requesting~

Content: light inappropriate touching in public, most of this takes place in a bathroom, tastes of dom! chan, slight masturbation, making out, dry humping, cunnilingus (r. rec), orgasm denial

In your very honest defence, this dinner was incredibly boring. A bunch of old men and business jargon that made you question why Chan had invited you or even accepted the invitation at all. Realistically, you did know why though. Chan was too nice for his own good and finds it difficult to say no to a man that he had only worked with a few times. Which led to him asking you because he knew that there was nothing for him there and you just can’t say no to your absolutely adorable boyfriend.

You had pretended to pay attention for about 45 minutes before impatience could replace your boredom. Hands had drifted up thighs and Chan really didn’t stop you, not at first. A seemingly innocent hand on his leg had turned into a not at all innocent hand palming him through his dress pants. Something dirty must have flitted through his mind earlier because he was half-hard in your hand with no effort. 

The moment you gripped him through his pants, Chan was batting your hand away discreetly. Your hand returns back down to his knee but pout at him when he continues to look away from you. When nothing more happens you return to the daydreams that kept you occupied before. Unfortunately, now they contain much more distracting and inappropriate content. Chan taking you home and tying your hands behind your back before using one of your toys on you. Or even Chan taking you to the bathroom not too far away and bending you over the counter to use you there. 

The fantasies continue further and further down into the lewdest parts of your brain until a hand lands on your knee. You stop and look at Chan with your head tilted in a silent question. He looks back at you impassively.

 

“You were squirming so much, angel. Do you need something?” 

Given your past action you thought Chan might have guessed the turn your thoughts took but he looks genuinely concerned for you. You look to make sure that everyone is still embroiled in their own conversations. 

“The only I happen to need right now, is your dick in one of my holes, Channie.”

The typical shyness pops out and Chan’s ears rapidly turn a dark red under the dim lighting. He looks around in a similar manner to you just moments ago.

“Only like 20 more minutes. Then I can take care of you.” 

You pout but Chan barely acknowledges it beside a peck on your cheek before he goes back to lifelessly participating in a nearby conversation. Well, that just won’t do anymore. With the many thoughts of Chan just taking you in the nearby bathroom it isn’t hard to make your face turn red. Leaning back you fan yourself and easily catch the attention of a man to your right. 

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks.

Chan turns back around and looks at you, leaning back and flushed where you weren’t just a minute before. The devilish plan continues to form in your head and you have to hold back a smirk at how this will likely go. 

“Sorry, sir. I’ll be excusing myself for a moment.”

The man seems grateful to let you go and nods without a second thought. Quickly locking the door behind you, you shed the restrictive pants that had seemed like a good idea before. Hopping up on the large counter you start lightly rubbing over the cotton. You’re soaked from the thoughts and close your eyes to imagine what Chan would do if he was in here with you. A few minutes pass by in a flash like that and the expected knock comes.

“Yes?” You call politely, as if you aren’t expecting the person who is obviously there. 

“It’s your loving boyfriend!” 

You hold back a giggle and hide behind the door when you open it, taking Chan’s arm and pulling him in before shutting it behind him so no one can see. When Chan regains himself and takes in your distinctly not-sick state his gaze hardens and you shiver. He takes a few steps and suddenly your back is against the cool tiled wall. 

“I thought I told you to wait.” He grits out.

You look at him with the most innocent expression you can muster but he doesn’t seem convinced by it for even a second. Instead, he just raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting a response. 

“I was so bored out there. Not my fault you look amazing tonight.” 

One bold step forward and your bodies are finally as close as you had craved. You lay a palm flat against his solid chest and bite your lip. Ignoring any need for words Chan leans forward and catches your mouth in a harsh kiss. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth when he bites your lower lip and his tongue enters your mouth. The setting of this has all faded with your bodies tied together, his hands on your ass and your leg wrapping around his hip. 

Your arousal comes back to front and centre when your groins press together and you grind down him hard, once. 

Chan curses under his breath but does it again, gripping your hips to pull your body even closer. Suddenly, you’re like horny teenagers making out and grinding on each other in a bathroom. One of Chan’s hands moves under your low-cut and low-buttoned top to grab your boob. You hum into his mouth when he pinches and pulls a few times.

The public setting makes you both set a rough and rushed tempo. His hand doesn’t stay for long, instead straying to the edge of your underwear. One finger rubs your clit and then pulls down farther to your soaked hole. At the same time your hands twine into his hair and tug as you’re finally getting the bare contact you had desired for so long. 

Before you can even blink Chan is dropping to his knees and you obediently step out of your underwear without even thinking. The only thing that brings you back to reality is Chan’s eager mouth on your pussy. Your hands are still fisted in his hair and you hold him close as he eats you out like the full meal he had eaten before didn’t exist.

Your previous horniness combined with Chan’s skilled mouth has you coming close to edge rather quickly. Chan looks up when your hips start moving on his face of their own accord. It’s still a bit embarrassing how needy you get but the glint in Chan’s wide eyes always tells you he enjoys it. 

One of your hands has to come up and slap over your mouth when a loud moan nearly rips out of your mouth. One that you’re sure would have been heard far beyond just outside the bathroom door.

An equally loud whine follows seconds later when the buildup inside of you reaches near the peak that you’re so desperately needing to come crashing down on you. And then a new, desperate sound comes out because Chan pulls away the moment he hears you again.

He looks wrecked but that’s only because you can’t see yourself. Hair mussed and standing in odd ways from your frantic hands and lips shiny from the kisses and your wetness, and he’s also gasping from the eagerness on both ends. It makes you want to wreck him just a bit but moreso you want to know. 

“Because,” he says, standing. “I’m going to fucking ruin you. But I have plans that require more than a bathroom wall to do it.”

“Why?” You gasp out.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Hey guys, 

This is the local dog rescue charity that we were carers for, for several years. May do it again in future, but after Debbie (who was rescued by Precious Paws), it feels like we need a break. 

We have had three foster fails, but two puppers came through our home, learned to feel safe and loved, and went on to a perfectly matched new family.

There is always a demand for carers, so if you think you can, have a look at their Carer Info. Or look into the FB page, to keep your eyes open.

The best way to find new carers for animals is having a network of people sharing the Urgent statuses, which flags the attention of new groups of people. No dog will ever be LEFT on death row. They look for carers until the last second, but will absofuckinglutely take the dog anyway and put them in a boarding kennel short-term whilst a carer is located.

No doggo left behind.

It can be a bit confronting, though, so I understand if you cannot. The majority of the dogs have been surrendered to the pound, for various reasons, and the rescues in the region put their hands up for the ones slated for being put down each week. This list constantly refills, so there is always a need.

Some other dogs, like Debbie, are rescued directly from the disgusting human slime of the world who have caused them pain, injury, or attempted to kill them.

Carers open their homes to as many as they can, but there will always be more needed. A dog can be with you for a few months, to a few years, depending on their needs. 

Little Willow was so scared of everything when we got her, it took 5 months to get her to trust men near her due to where she came from. But after nearly a year, she was ready for adoption and went to a new mother; happy, healthy, and confident. She was fast, smart and a very delightful little doggo. I do miss her, sometimes, but her new mother sent us photos of Willow on her first and second adoption anniversaries. 

And little Gemini’s face, when her new family sent a photo from her first meeting with her human brother, was SO BIG!

It is hard to say goodbye, because they are with you for a long time, and you have to work hard with them, so they are an integral part of your life. But it helps to know that their future family is out there, not yet aware that there’s a dog shaped hole waiting to be filled.

As my parental unit says, “In reality, if they were not with us, they’d be dead. Someone without any heart dropped these animals off to be killed, and because of all these rescues, all these dogs and cats get another chance at life.”

Harvey, who we have now, was 9mths (Willow too) when they came to us. BABIES who just were too energetic or too big, so they had to be sent away. It takes a while to rebuild that trust in them.

Not to mention the absolute FUCKS who take their little old dogs, who have known and loved them their WHOLE LIVES to the pound and walk out with a new puppy (or kitten). FUCKS.  Those little doggos are never forgotten, PPARs and the other rescues make sure they have somewhere to go as well! I know of a 16yo bulldog called rosie, who was snappy when she first came and very depressed, who blossomed with her carers into a happy old girl. She was adopted recently!!!

It is important to be aware that these animals are often traumatised and have behaviours that some can consider ‘naughty’. You have to be understanding. Like traumatised kids, the worst thing you can do is yell or hit or whatever, even if they piss on your favourite rug or chew a beloved pair of shoes.

They may snap and snarl. Might shy away from men, or women, or teenagers. Might cower away, or show subservience constantly. Might hide for a few weeks. Might wet themselves or run to hide if something makes a loud noise or there is a specific trigger. They might rip up the couch twice, or hump your pillows. Try to escape the yard (need strong fences). A trigger? One of our kids was terrified of men, the noise of a powertool, and anyone having the hood of their car open. Would sit, shaking, panting in fear if these things were present. Still a bit much for her, but she knows to go to a human, who will keep her safe. Or sit with her sister doggo, who will protect her.

Willow was scared of men, shouting, and would be immediately wet-herself-afraid and show her belly in subservience. My giant bearded mountain of a sibling would lay on the floor with her, and talk gently, let her come over to sniff him. Eventually, she would lay next to him, and finally he could pat her, and it progressed from there. This took months of consistency and care.

I know of another carer couple who had this tiny little dog who was SO SCARED of everything she spent absolute months hiding under their bed or sofa. Too scared to be touched. They fed her and never made a fuss if she had a little accident indoors. And one day, she popped her head out while the male carer was pretending to be occupied... and licked his arm. That was it, went straight back under the bed. But it was a huge step. She can now be held and cuddled, and loves her little life. But it took the time, understanding and patience of these carers to get her there. It’s important to note that carers dont normally have the whole backstory for each dog, but after a while, you tend to get good at figuring it out based on behaviours. Harvey’s behaviours were extremely frantic for attention, he didn’t know how to sit or be still, he was desperate for attention; his behaviours increased when on a lead (which had to be used for the first few weeks and outside time, as this was a New Household Member time).  It was clear that given his age, when we got him, and his behaviours that he’d been an xmas gift puppy that had gotten WAAAAAAY bigger than anticipated. When he was small he’d been the fuss of what we suspect was at least 2 children. After getting too big, he was put on a leash in the yard, and had no real interaction.

Harvey would go BALLISTIC if given even a glance from a human. He NEEDED attention, and it took months of careful work with him to teach sit, stay, look, settle, back back, etc. He’s still a bit ridiculous, sometimes, but he can sleep on a bed with a human and only half drown them in spit (ugh) lmao. 

So consider if you could be a carer.  Or, if that isn’t realistic for you right now... donate.

-------- 

Donate, if you can.

If you’re in Brisbane, you might see them doing sausage sizzles at Bunnings on the weekends to raise needed funds! 

-------

COVID-19 hit all the rescue charities hard. Their normal fundraising was crippled by the lockdowns, but animals are always in need of new homes and protection.

If you can help out your local shelters, they’d appreciate it!

There’s food and supplies that need to be paid for; PPAWs specifically help out pensioners who take on an animal, by providing the food and toys, collar, bedding, etc. There’s desexing, microchipping and all vaccinations to be paid for. Some animals have extreme medical issues that need to be fixed (such as a dog surrendered with a broken hip, or dogs like Debbie, who were starved almost to death. Who need intensive and long-term things; with Debbie, my family put money forwards for her insulin and eye surgeries, etc. bc we could budget for it. Not everyone can, though.

There’s also little emergencies here and there that they jump in for, to assist.  [E.g early on when the caninculin levels were being sorted, Debbie had a random fit, so I rushed her in and they discovered her BSL had hit 1 - very dangerous. PPAWs got on the phone and said, “Any tests, any medication, any fluids, anything that needs to happen for that little girl, you DO IT” and they stabilised her. PPAWs also helped fund the full-day glucose testing and blood panel the next day and an overnight with the vet, that was pretty expensive. To be clear, it is expected that her starvation and new diabetes was likely to experience highs and lows, so we had bought a glucometer, and had squeezy-top bottles of honey all over the house as an emergency-response kit. When Debbie went funny, we filled her mouth full of honey and transported; which was the protocol, as was taking her medication chart (she’d been waaaay high for BSL that morning so this dip was SCARY). It took another incident before the vet decided to use an interstitial fluid monitor, and the results backed up our concerns that Debbie was having completely random highs/lows and spikes with no real pattern. She had the vet recommended food and no treats outside of the ones she was allowed, and at times suggested by the vet. Except on her last day when the vet said she could absolutely have a wholw happy meal, and little Debbie was DELIGHTED. I have the funniest photo of her with it all in her mouth looking excited but not sure where to go from there, but it still makes me cry to look at it because we lost her just three weeks ago. (We did rip it into little mouthfuls for her, though. Just to clarify.) She was placed on a higher dose, after that, and was completely stable from there. It was the testing that initially identified a flaw, though, and we are forever grateful that PPAWs stepped in on that day.

And the point of my rambling speech... is that shit happens. Especially with these dogs, cats, horses, and all the other animals they rescue.  Emergencies are often the most expensive to cover for charities.

On the upside! Donations also help with a) transporting animals to carers around the region, and b) on the occasion that an animal’s new furever family is interstate, they can be flown to them!

Lots of stuff.

Think about the mess of words, and consider donating - to PPAWs, or find out the name of your local charity and see if they need help!

[thieving-magpiexhunting-tiger]

Mormor, but with Tiger Therapy?

Jim looks around, wondering why he’s being made to do this but nods anyway when asked if he was ready. This was going to be embarrassing, telling how he felt about his therapist and answering questions about their non-existent relationship.

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - “Hopefully a long time.” 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - “I don’t know. How could I know that? He’s nice enough and far from ugly. He has chocolate in his drawers.” Close enough?

How was their first kiss? - “It hasn’t happened yet but I imagine it will be nice and...slow? I don’t know. ...not that I imagine it.” 

Wedding:

Who proposed? - “I think I would.” 

Who is the best man/men? - “For me? Richard. I don’t know about him. I’m sure he has some friends.” 

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - “Would those be needed?” 

Who did the most planning? - “I’m not sure? Me probably. I like having control.” 

Who stressed the most? - “Again I probably would.” 

How fancy was the ceremony? - “Wouldn’t want it to be too fancy but something nice.”  Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - “Those people are dead. Or will be by then so they couldn’t be invited.” 

Sex:

Who is on top? - “That’s a bit private. Probably him. That’s how it normally goes.” 

Who is the one to instigate things? - “I’m not sure? Me?” 

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - “Long enough I would hope. Why is this information needed?” It was really starting to worry him. Are they in trouble or something?

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - “No? He would probably get more.” He knew how it worked. 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - “Realistic or want to? Realistic? 2. Want? 8.”  No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - “Two men? I don’t know, biologically, probably 0. Definitely no more than two.” 

How many children will they adopt? - “It would count towards that no more than two.” 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - “I don’t know, that would be a while from now? Me?” 

Who is the stricter parent? - “Probably Sebastian.” 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - “Both.”

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - “Sebastian. I don’t even remember my own.” 

Who is the more loved parent? - “Both I would hope.” 

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? -  “Neither.” 

Who cried the most at graduation? - “Definitely wouldn’t be me.” Little did he know...

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - “Either would but they should know not to get caught.” 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - “Sebastian? I wouldn’t mind it though.” 

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - “Sebastian I would guess. Not too sure.” 

Who does the grocery shopping? - “I could but maybe both?”

How often do they bake desserts? - “Often, baking is enjoyable.” 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - “Either. Food is food.” 

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - “I would do it.” 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - “Sebastian probably?” 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - “Couldn’t see either. Though if someone was being distracted either could.” 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - “I would.” 

Who is really against chores? - “Sebastian seems like he would be.” 

Who cleans up after the pets? - “I would.” 

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - “Sebastian?” 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - “Me probably.” 

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - “Not me, I’ve looked there.” 

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - “I would like to.” 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - “Sebastian? I don’t really like dogs.” 

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - “Sebastian? I haven’t before.” 

What are their goals for the relationship? - “To be happy. Both be happy.” 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - “Sebastian? I don’t sleep much.” 

Who plays the most pranks? - “Probably him again.”

[meat-husband]

Brahms Heelshire - Alphabet Ask Meme

I’m hoping to start doing requests on this blog, so I thought I would start up with the alphabet ask memes as a sort of intro! I figure all the letters get asked eventually, so I’m just doing all of them in one go. There will be one of these posted for each character I’m writing.

I have a page with what and who I write for here.

Both the NSFW and fluff alphabet asks are under the cut!

NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

You better be prepared to pamper this boy afterwards – snacks, cuddles, the works. Brahms isn't going to want to lift a finger, but he definitely expects to be taken care of. Get him tucked into bed or cuddled up on the couch, and expect to be there a while, petting his hair, kissing his mask and holding him. Getting up from this position is going to be the hard part. Brahms is a clingy bastard and he's not gonna let go just because you can't feel your legs or you have to pee. If you're lucky, he'll fall asleep and you can sneak away (and risk him waking up grumpy) otherwise, you're in for the long haul.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Brahms is a boob man and I will tolerate no dissent on this topic. It doesn't really matter what size, shape, etc. he just wants dem titties. If you ever need to get him out of the walls, a low cut shirt or clingy sweater is a guaranteed way to get it done quickly.

Not really a body part, but Brahms likes being tall – especially if he's got a short S/O. He might not want to be on top all the time, but he wants to be in charge and it's easier to boss people around when you're nearly two goddamn feet taller than them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn't have much of a preference for where it ends up, which is a good thing considering he's a bit unpredictable. It's hard to tell what or when he might tip over the edge, this boy is 2 seconds away from nutting at any given moment tbh. If it happens to get on him, though, he'll whine and moan about it until you clean him up, preferably with your mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Brahms is a garbage boi, all of his secrets are dirty ones. Probably the one he'd most want to keep hidden from you, though, is the fates of the nanny’s who arrived before you did. He’d be tempted to threaten you with the knowledge, but ultimately he thinks it’s best you don’t know too much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's probably got a computer in that incel man cave of his, so he’s seen some shit - but that doesn't mean he has any idea what to do with a real person. In fact, any pre-planned ideas of what he might do go flying right out the door once he's got a Real Live Naked Person™ in front of him.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Whatever you can do to him while he’s relaxing on a comfy pile of pillows.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Just fuckin' desperate lol.

Clingy, grabby, hard porcelain kisses and lots of bratty whining.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Brahms knows how to bathe and take care of himself. But that's what you're here for. Showers/baths are a couples event now, and you always have to sit on the side of the tub with the faucet. He will absolutely refuse to do even the most basic self care unless you're helping or doing it for him, so haircuts, bath time, laundry days, etc., are up to you to enforce. It's rare that these moments turn into sex, he prefers the bonding and cuddles they bring, so even if he gets a little riled up he'll wait until the moment is over.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

BRUH. The rest of your damn life is going to be one long, intimate moment as far as Brahms is concerned. You are never going to have a damn moment to yourself now. Watching TV? Brahms is right next to you, complaining that you're not paying him enough attention. Reading a book? Bedtime stories only in this house. Making dinner? Brahms is following you around the kitchen, whining that he's hungry but getting in the damn way every step you take. It might get annoying and make you long for five seconds where a giant, hairy man-child isn't tugging on your sleeve, but he thinks this shit is the height of romance. Every remaining second of your life is going to be intimate. His day revolves around you and he expects the same in return.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation head canon)

There is not enough time in the day for all the fucking this boy requires, so he'll have to take care of himself occasionally. Most of the time you never even know about it – he retreats to his room in the walls, or watches you silently through a peep hole somewhere – but if he ever feels like he's being neglected (god forbid you need to leave the house for a few hours, he's like a dog that panics and thinks you're leaving forever) you will wake up one morning to find the most treasured things you own covered in cum. He will refuse to apologize no matter how angry you are – clearly if you'd only take better care of him, this wouldn't have happened.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Skipping over the obvious ones, Brahms is really into body worship. Let him lay back on some soft pillows and spend a while undressing him, giving him soft kisses and quiet whispers of praise. Tbh he'd probably nut before you got to the main event. He also loves being teased, so give him all the kisses he wants, but not where he wants.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Since you're alone in the house, nowhere is really off-limits or taboo. His favorite is probably inside the walls, though. Dark and enclosed, almost not enough space to fit two people, forcing you to keep incredibly close. He might even be comfortable enough to take off the mask in this situation.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, it'd be faster to list what doesn't get him going. He's been touch starved for so long that even innocent touches like hugs and goodnight kisses can set him off.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not a lot of things he would outright say no to. Obviously, though, no threesomes/involving other people. This is a monogamous relationship with no wiggle room.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Get used to blowjobs, cause they're gonna be a big part of sexy times in the future. Really, anything that lets Brahms lay back and get pampered is something he'll like. It would take a lot of convincing and trust to get him to remove the mask in order to reciprocate though, and it may be that he'd never do it. He would want to, and maybe that frustration will encourage him to give in, but he would never risk showing his face to you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Brahms relies a lot on instinct, so left to his own devices he's rushed, desperately trying to cum and doing whatever he can to get there. You'll have to slow him down and make him take his time, which he won't always want to do. When that happens, just let him have his way and once he's got what he wants, he'll do his part to take care of you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He really prefers drawn out, long sessions, but realistically you'll get more quickies just because he's a needy garbage boy who doesn't wanna wait for his rewards.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

There isn't much risk to take with Brahms, in terms of getting caught together. You're alone in a giant house and he's good about staying out of sight whenever someone does come around. Personal safety is another thing entirely. Mood swings are a common thing for Brahms and you have to be careful of any misstep. Something as simple as answering the phone can drive him into a tantrum and it's during these rages that he feels the need to take charge and remind you of who's really in control here.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Normally, it's quick and rough, but if you can manage to keep him focused then he can go until he loses that focus. His max times in a row is probably two - maybe three if he's angry and needs to work off that energy - simply because you gotta make time for the post sex snuggles.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Brahms would absolutely be the type to own a fleshlight, I swear to God. But I can't see him managing to sneak that onto the grocery list, so most likely he does not own anything before you show up. He would totally be into whatever you wanna bring him, though, and I think he'd enjoy something to hide under clothing or for you to wear in public secretly. He'd have a love/hate relationship with chastity devices for sure! Loves the teasing aspect, but will 100% lose his temper the first time he gets a boner and you don't immediately take it off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His teasing game is non-existent tbh, it's just gonna end up with him desperately humping your leg. He will try but your willpower is stronger than his, so he'll lose pretty quickly.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He screams at the top of his lungs until he’s out of breath. God forbid you tell him to hush, that’s only going to make him louder, just to annoy you. You would think all those years of hiding away would give him some volume control.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

He will never fully believe that you wouldn’t leave if the right opportunity came up. Everything you mention that references your life before him infuriates him and only reinforces this belief. Old photos, souvenirs and mementos are some of the first things he’ll get rid of when you come to stay.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

That much fucking can’t be good for you. You tell him his dick will fall off if he keeps it up and he isn’t amused (he still doesn’t know if you were joking or not).

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time, Brahms won’t fall asleep afterwards, but he will pretend to. Once you’ve cuddled him enough, he’ll close his eyes and keep still, waiting to see what you might do without him watching. Leaving the bed is a big no-no, but if you keep close and drift off yourself, he’ll do the same (after making sure that you’re not faking too).

Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

How trusting you are. You might be the nanny, but he’s still in charge so having someone who won’t fight him and try to get away with breaking the rules is a plus.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) If you’re living with Brahms, you’ve already got a baby (it’s him, he’s the baby). He’s not going to want a child of his own, at all. It would be dangerous to even hint at this being a possibility.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

You’re gonna have to get used to him hanging off of you like a monkey most of the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s got to lean down, arms around your shoulders, and shuffle along behind you awkwardly as you walk, he’s a touchy boy. It would be easier to give in and lay down with him, but then you’d never get anything done.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Does hovering ominously over you from the end of your bed while you sleep count? He’s a little torn because he has no idea what exactly a normal date would consist of locked up in the house, but he’s also seen plenty of romantic movies and they seem important to relationships. You eat dinner together, does that count as a date? The people in his movies did that. So as far as he’s concerned, you’ve had quite a few dates and it’s up to you to decide if you want to burst that bubble.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

‘You are mine.’

There’s no compromise with this, Brahms is a lifelong commitment (even if it’s only for your life). This relationship is your full time job now and there’s no room for error, cause he’s just waiting for you to mess it up.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

It would take a lot for him to realize he actually likes you beyond being his pretty nanny. He thinks he loves you immediately so it’s going to come as a shock when he figures out he was just super horny lol. Once you’ve both settled into a life together and he sees you doing things to please him because you want him to be happy, rather than because you’re afraid, it will start to shake up how he thinks of you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Most of the time he’s very gentle, but it’s more out of timidity and nervousness than anything else. He’s not used to contact with other people and he’s unsure of how to go about it. Eventually he’ll get over the nervousness, but unfortunately he’s still got no social skills so prepare for some of the most awkward cuddles you’ve ever had.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

All the time. It’s really tiring hearing that little huff every time you pull your hands away to do some task or chore. And it’s not long before one or both of them are occupied by his and you’ve got to tug them away again. He’s really got no concept of personal space.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

He was interested right away, like he always is when a new nanny arrives. He followed you in the walls, trying to get a better look without giving himself away. Once he picks up on how pliable you are, willing to follow the rules and not ask questions, he knows you’re going to be staying.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

This is probably the most obvious ‘yes’. There are exactly two people allowed inside the house and you’re one of them. Anyone else is horribly unwelcome and it won’t end well. He might allow some temporary visitors once you’ve stayed with him a while (you gotta get WiFi set up ASAP before you go insane) but they’re on thin ice.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Of course, your first kiss has gotta be the goodnight kiss. There’s a creepy man living in the walls, a quick smooch is the worst he could ask from you, and he’s delighted by how quickly you accept the rules of the house. Of course he doesn’t stop at demanding bedtime kisses anymore.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Brahms will say it first, a lot, and before he really means it. He mistakes lust and want for love at first and it will take him a long time to realize that they aren’t the same. But love and trust aren’t the same thing, and when he does figure out how much he likes you it’s only going to make him more possessive and overbearing. 

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

The first time you invited him in to sleep in your bed. Of course it wasn’t the first time he’d slept there, he would always sneak in or slip past you before you could close the door, and good luck getting him off the bed once he’s in. Eventually you give up trying to keep him out and automatically assume that’s where he’s spending the night when it comes time to tuck him in.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Technically, he’s super fucking loaded. He could crawl out of those walls and buy you a gold plated yacht. But you’re here to spoil him, not the other way around, and you best believe he expects it too. Not with money, but virtually everything else. He wants your attention, time, love - anything you might have to give and more.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Grey, like the skies outside. He sees the way you look at the windows, the look on your face when you go outside and see the stars. But he’s confident that you’ll follow the rules, because he’s made sure you know what will happen if you don’t.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

He doesn’t mind you giving him pet names, he’ll probably get off on it tbh, but he doesn’t use them for you. He always uses your full first name, no shortening it, and it’s honestly sort of off putting (that’s probably why he does it).

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He has an old paint by numbers set that he’s had since before the fire. He’s filled in all the pages and used up all the paint, but he keeps them anyways. He’s copied the pictures so often that he can nearly do them without looking at the original.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

‘Outdoors’ isn’t really his thing. Rain doesn’t make a difference when you never leave the house anyways, but he’ll appreciate that any plans you may have had in town will be delayed.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

He’s naturally a loner and doesn’t want to be around anyone when he’s upset. He’ll keep away for days until finally slinking out when you least expect him. That doesn’t mean he’s not watching you, of course.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Brahms isn’t very talkative and most of your conversations are a little one-sided. Most of the time he uses the boy-voice and keeps his sentences short and simple, but if you’ve really upset him then he’ll scream and rage, one of the only times you’ll hear his natural voice.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Once you’ve fallen asleep and he can sneak off to his space in the walls. He wants to be beside you 24/7, but that brings its own stress and he can’t fully relax when every little noise wakes him, afraid you’re sneaking away.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

He’s normally such a brat that when you genuinely praise him for something he’s quick to repeat it. Oh, you liked the sandwich he made you? Guess what you’re eating for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next two months. He’ll also take things you use everyday and return them like a proud dog bringing in the paper, like he wasn’t the one that hid them in the first place.

W = Wedding (When, how?)

Brahms is pretty firmly not about that life. You’re his nanny before anything else and he’s comfortable the way things are. That doesn’t meant this isn’t a serious relationship, cause he expects the same amount of loyalty and love you’d give a husband, but he isn’t going to break the facade.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Well, he’s not going to pick just one! Brahms loves music but he also likes variety. He’s got favorites of course, but there hasn’t been a lot of new material and he doesn’t want to get tired of the best ones. Do not attempt to introduce him to modern music though, he will just be offended.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Your relationship is a weird thing. You’re his girlfriend, sort of? But really his nanny. Who’s really his girlfriend. Sometimes hostage. It’s confusing, but marriage is for sure not a part of that equation. Even if it were possible, with him legally dead, it’s not something Brahms would want anyways.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

He’s not into animals at all. Besides, you’ve got him to take care of and that should be what you spend your time on.

[tjp5]

Hump Day obstacles

1.22.20 - Written 1.23.20 

There is a quote out there that says Wednesday is the second Monday of the week or something like that. Today, that was kind of true; there were so many things that happened today that would have stopped me from going to the gym. These things would have stopped me from going to the gym as close as three weeks ago. Now, I have something to be dedicated to, see that old me, a program really does make a difference. Honestly, something else that makes a difference is the fact that I don’t want to look like a bitch to the people that read this. From health issues in the family, a family member that I have no interest of talking to, maybe ever again, to finally, just an all around shit workday, old me would have found an easy out to going to the gym yesterday. But thankfully that is no longer the case. Last week I went to see my therapist, so I was behind on getting to the gym, which was no problem. It actually turned out to be a good thing, because once I got there I was easily able to get on a squat rack and get the 3RM done. So this week, I thought it would be much of the same, GUESS WHAT!?!?!? NOT THIS WEEK.  I waited until later to go to the gym in hopes that it would work out again, well, it didn’t. I got to the gym and it was packed, I cannot stand when the gym is packed. It makes me just want to throw elbows and get people out of my way, luckily I have the self control to not do that, but sometimes I wonder if it would be a warranted response… I am only half kidding. So, The workout was a tough one, no more easy workouts to find your max and get you into the routine, part of me thought this might be something that was designed to torture you, but I know better than that. To be honest with you, even if it was, that is all a mentality, you have to have the mental and physical strength to get through tough things, that is something that a younger me wouldn’t have thought about. It used to be very easy to cheat myself, which led to cheating the people I was on a team with, or those people that were supporting me. I intend, and more realistically hope, to never be that way again. What last night showed me, was although my cardio is getting better, its still shit, but I am doing things that I thought I would never do, like actually getting on the row machine regularly, that shit is wild fam, try it out. Something that I decided to do different this week, which isn’t that big of a difference, was write down my workout in a notebook. This way I could keep notes for myself throughout the workout, instead of just mentally. Not to mention it would save time, because I am not locking/unlocking, or switching apps to find out what the next workout would be. That is something that is different now too, I am walking through the gym with a notebook. WHO TF IS THIS PERSON, everything I used to laugh at, that’s who. Its only the beginning of week two, and not only is this workout humbling me, but my new found willingness to look back is humbling me as well. Something that isn’t changed, and I hope I don’t become one of these people, is joining the gyms “transformation program.” Fuck that. I don’t even know why, I am sure that it is wonderful, but I don’t want someone sitting there and telling me directly what I should be doing, like for this day, I needed plenty of flexibility because of how packed the gym was, I am not willing to give that up to listen to a trainer right now. Maybe if I decide to join a crossfit (crossfuck off – letterkenny reference https://www.reddit.com/r/videos/comments/6hquv5/letterkenny_cold_open_classic_canadian_comedy/ ) it will be different. But as of now, I am quietly having a competition with this people in my own mind. “Fuck y’all, you’ve got no chance,” is a mentality that I seem to have in competition. I love it; I honestly thrive off of competition. I don’t care if its go fish, I probably want to win. Good luck to my future children, (half kidding.) This combined with the packed state of the gym led to me being in a mood that I haven’t felt in a long time, pure angry determination. It was wonderful, and it powered me through the soreness that I was experiencing.

The workout was jumbled. Normally we need to move from the warm-up, right to the heavy lift, unfortunately, the squats were the last thing that I did. I had to break up the row distance into two, because I’m way out of shape, but the second session was longer by 300 meters and it was only about 30 seconds longer, so pacing was something that got better. Probably because I just wanted to be fucking done.  Rev lunges were back, I don’t like them, but they were easier this week, I am working on burpees, but I subbed jump squats, and five other types of work were done before I got to squats. Which was 4 rounds of twelve. The percentage I was using, put me having less weight on one side by 2.5 pounds, but honestly I had to just go up and even the weight, it was driving me insane, subconsciously it was a huge difference. I ended up doing three rounds of eight before my angry motivation kicked in again, and I crushed the last two sets of twelve easily. I also did something I didn’t think I ever would, finding my last set motivation from 7 Rings, man what a song. I love it, no shame.

I ate well yesterday. I finished the left overs first meal. Second meal/snack I had some pretzels, the leftover smash burgers, and a banana. I crushed rotisserie chicken after the workout, I would have had more, but I was running low on time. It worked out well.

For all of the bullshit that went on yesterday, it was a great workout, and for that I am thankful.

Talk at y’all tomorrow.

Cheers.

[lonelylibrary]

How to create scientifically realistic creatures!

Hi everybody! I was studying for my biology finals when I suddenly noticed, A LOT of it could be used for writing. Especially science-fiction and fantasy where authors often create new species. I decided to create a post all about it, in the hopes of helping some of you out!

How to get started

“What makes a scpecies scientifically realistic?” When they fit in their environment. This applies to all creatures living in relatively stable environments. If, say a magician, has just created a new species and just puts it in the forest, it might not fit in there. It will either have to adapt itself (through evolution) or it goes extinct. It might even change the environment in some ways! So the environment is the key factor to how a species lives.

So, before you go around creating some species, you first need to think about where they live. I highly advise you to build an environment for them as the first step and then actually create the species. It does not have to be complicated at all, as long as you get some of the basics down.

You might think about so called "abiotic factors". Those are basically environmental factors, that aren't based on life. This includes:

How intense is the light? (Is there a lot of light throughout the day?)

How much water is there?

What is the temperature?

Where is the water? (lakes? in the air? in the ground?)

What does the ground consist of? (stone, sand, soil, etc.?)

Are there seasons/what changes during the seasons? (are there any seasons at all? What are they like?)

And the list goes on. Please keep in mind that you do not need to know any exact numbers or whatever. It's enough if you know a little bit about it (e.g. there is very intense light from sunrise to sunset). You also don't need to have every single one of these factors thought out, in the end it would get too complicated. Now, these factors directly influence how the plants/animals live in this area. I will be talking about more specific things that happen later (only with the animals!). What to do with these informations now? Think about it; Have you ever seen full grown, green trees in the desert? Have you ever seen a flower in winter? This way you can roughly get an image of your plants/animals in your head.

Then there are biotic factors. Those are factors that are based on life. Some examples:

What other species live in the area?

Who hunts who?

Are there plants?

What kind of/how many plants are there?

There are obviously a lot more of those. Especially when it comes to concurrence, it can have an influence on how many individuals of the species there are. Keep in mind that just because a population has a lot of predators, it doesn't mean that there are only a very small amount of their prey living. They might be perfectly adapted to having so many predators.

Based on this knowledge, you can roughly think about how your species behaves, where it lives and so on.

Traits of animals on the earth

So, now that we know the environment of the species, it's time to actually create it! I have decided to list a few traits that species living in certain places on earth show and that are very common.

Animals living in dry places usually have a few special traits that help them survive the dryness and with it most probably also the heat. Living beings very, very rarely live in places hotter than 45°C (113° Fahrenheit). This is because the proteins in their bodies break when it's hotter; and these destructions cannot be reversed. To add: All life depends on these proteins. In order to save as much water as possible, animals living in deserts do not sweat (or only a tiny little bit), have a very concentrated urin and there is barely any water to find in their excrements. If their body temperature normally stays the same (mammals and birds have a constant body temperature), it may be able to have a higher tolerance border without doing any harm (it would kill us humans quickly if the temperature rose only by 10%). This is a thing, so no water has to be used to cool them down. Camels have a lot of fat in their humps. This is both an energy store and a water ressource, as the burning of this fat produces water. Even their nose is designed to save water! There's a rule in biology that animals living in hot places are smaller than their relatives living in cold places (e.g. penguins in the Antarctic and the ones living in Australia). They also have bigger body attachments (ears, tails, etc.) than the ones living in the cold. Some animals simply move to places with more water during dry periods (mostly if the deficiency is due to the seasons). Very few animals (mostly microorganisms) shrink down in size and sort of "sleep" in order to not waste any water. As soon as there's water again, they grow back to their normal size.

Animals living in cold places are more or less the opposite. They are bigger, have very small body attachments. A lot of animals sleep during the winter, some of them can be woken up rather easily (bears) and some of them not. They usually have a thick fur or any other type of protection against the below freezing temperatures. If their body temperature drops below 0°C (32° Fahrenheit) they would die. Some animals take advantage of their bodily fluids freezing; but only those, that have a body temperature that can vary (i.e. reptiles, fish). They let their body "freeze" and just wait until winter is over. A few species specifically create fluids with a lower freezing point.

Animals living underwater often do not breathe through lungs. If they do, they have to breathe over the water surface (but they can keep their breath for quite a long time). Their bodies are in an “auqadynamic” shape, making it easy for them to move through water.

Light is the main source of energy. Plants are only able to produce oxygen and biotic material when there's light around. And that's what every single species needs, in order to survive (as long as it isn't able to produce oxygen). But it plays a much bigger role. It synchronises the rhythms of all animals. When to get up, when to go back to sleep, when birds should start singing, when to release hormones, etc. It tells certain animals when summer's coming/going, so they can move.  It tells them when to search for a partner to make some babies.

Of course, there is a lot more about this and it's far more complicated! This is more or less all that I know, if you don't understand something or just have another question, feel free to ask me. Keep in mind, I am not a specialist and am very sorry if I got something wrong. Now go out there and create your OCs weird pets, beasts or whatever else you want these creatures to be! I recommend sticking by these rules if you create species living on a completely untouched planet, where nature was just able to do it's thing. In a world with intelligent beings, things may vary a bit (talking about genetic engineering, creating artificial environments, etc.). Be creative with what you know!

[tinkeringwithcannabis]

“Consuming Cannabis: OMG I’m Way Too High”

Aj Tinker November 26, 2019

Most of us who have tried cannabis have accidently overdone it and found ourselves trying to handle effects that are way more intense than we expected. This may be due to being an inexperienced user, trying a new strain, trying concentrates for the first time, eating too much of an edible, or an array of other reasons. In some cases, this has made people turn away from cannabis as a treatment option all together. In other cases, it has left some leery of using those specific products again. Then there are those of us who continue to use those products and just decrease the dosage. These are all things that happen after the effects are over, so what can you do during that moment when the world is spinning, you feel like you can’t function, maybe you are paranoid that everyone knows you are high, or you have something important to do and you need to come down? Luckily, there are several routes you can take to fight back against a THC overload, so let’s jump right in and talk about what those options are!

First, it is important to remember that in many cases the idea that people will know you are high is all in your head. The more you ruminate on the idea that “everybody knows” the more anxious you will get, and the more likely everyone will end up knowing. Therefore, it is important that you keep yourself from panicking and keep reminding yourself that you are fine, everything is fine, and you do not have to worry. Now, this is not to say that there are not cases where people will not realize you are high just from looking at you, but in either case, the effects will begin to dissipate within a few hours at the most, and you will be back to feeling as you did before you medicated. All will be right with the world again. When it comes to smoking or vaping cannabis, the timeline is usually about 90 minutes to two hours before the effects really come down and get to the point where they have pretty much worn off. With edibles, tinctures, etc., it can be a little harder because they don’t hit your system for about 90 minutes, so it can take a couple of hours before they fully hit you. The important thing is that you do not lose your cool, and that you just keep reminding yourself that you just have to get past this hump, and you will be just fine, nothing bad is going to happen.

The second thing to keep in mind is knowing where you fall in regard to tolerance. If you are a new user, and have barely used cannabis, or you haven’t used cannabis in a really long time, then your tolerance is going to be really low. In this case, you aren’t going to want to smoke a whole blunt and then try to go about your day, because you won’t really be able to get too far before the product knocks you on your ass. If you are a more experienced user, then you should have a better idea of what your tolerance level is and how much cannabis you can consumer and in what forms before you cross the threshold from functional to lost in the fog. This is not to say that you won’t have times where you accidently consume too much. This can happen when trying a new strain, a new type of product, or even in cases where you may be smoking with a friend and completely lose track of how much you have smoked until it hits you like a brick. It is always important to remember to go low and slow with any new product, however, realistically, this may not always be the case. In my personal experience, this has happened on occasion, but it has also made me more aware of just how potent that product was for the next time that I used it in order to prevent a similar situation.

Third, drink water. Yes… it’s that simple. Hydration always has amazing benefits in helping to cleans the body, but in this case, it also acts as a sort of distraction technique allowing you to focus on drinking and swallowing, while also addressing any signs of dry mouth at the same time. You can also use some sort of juice if you prefer, but water is always the best option. Lemon squeezed into water is also a great option that really helps in these types of situations. Do not go for caffeinated beverages, as they can dehydrate you and make you feel worse, and definitely avoid anything with alcohol, as alcohol can intensify the effects of the THC, therefore increasing your high rather than decreasing it. Eating light snacks is also something that may help, but in my experience, I have found that this depends on how you consumed your cannabis. Now, eating is something that I have heard many people do when they are too high in order to bring down the high. This works in a sense, but it is also dependent on your means of medicating. Sticking to light snacks, like fruits, nuts, and cheeses are good for combating overly intense psychoactive effects from any cannabis product. That being said, heavy snacks and meals can be counterproductive to the goal of diminishing the effects, especially when the cause of the intensified effects comes from taking a tincture on an empty stomach. Eating can make this worse, and after learning this the hard way, I have found that sticking to water, and then using the next method on this list work best for me.

This next one may come as a surprise to many of you, I know it did not only to myself, but to many of those who I passed this along to, but black pepper. Yes, black pepper. I was skeptical, but after I accidently overdid it one day on the tincture, and then made it worse by forgetting that I should not eat anything heavy, doing so, and then ending up even more high than I already was, I was sitting in the café I was sitting in a café with no other option but to give it a go. I figured, worst case scenario, it did nothing and I just had to weather the storm. So I grabbed a few packets of black pepper and began stuffing them in my mouth one at a time. Within 10 minutes I could feel a reduction in my high, which led me to feel confident enough to get up and go outside and do the next thing on my list, which is to use some CBD oil. I always keep CBD on me in multiple forms. CBD helps to bring down the high and balance out the effects of the THC. Between consuming three packets of black pepper and hitting my CBD vape about six times, I found myself to a functional point within 25 minutes, which was great because I was easily at least an hour and a half to two hours away from coming down without those methods.

The last options pertain to relaxation methods, such as distractions, like reading or watching TV, taking a hot shower or bath, taking a nap, or going for a walk. These are excellent options for days when you don’t have somewhere to be, and you are just trying to come down a bit when you are at home. I have tried these in the past and I find that the relaxation I feel when taking a hot shower is phenomenal and really helps to ease me into the effects and transition the experience from anxiety provoking to more enjoyable. When I have used this method, I have then found myself a comfortable spot on the couch or curled up in bed, turned on the TV, and vegged out until I either fall asleep or until the effects completely wear off.

These are just some of the options that you can choose to try in order to decrease your high if you find that you overdid it on your cannabis session, but the top priority should be to keep hydrated and to do something that relaxes you to prevent the anxiety from taking over and making the trip more unpleasant that it already is. If you can get yourself to relax into it, you may find that the effects are not as bad as you thought, and you can ride out the storm with a little more ease than you would have without finding a way to implement your favorite relaxation strategies. Regardless of what you choose, I do highly recommend trying the black pepper and CBD options, as I have had amazing success with these strategies, and have found that they work quickly, along with increasing my water intake. Another great suggestion, which combines the main terpene of the black pepper which decreases the high and the CBD options, is to find a CBD product with Beta-caryophyllene. There are CBD companies who offer products with this terpene in multiple forms. Regardless of which option or options you choose to try, at the end of the day you just need to remember that the effects are only temporary and they will pass within a short time., and now you will have a better idea of how to gauge your tolerance when using that product in the future.

[trashassassin]

How to Smut 101: Getting Over the Hump (heh) and Just Doing It

Hello friends! This little guide comes to you from someone who has literally been creating original stories in some form or another since before they could hold a pencil. So well over a decade. And yet, I’ve only really delved into the land of smut writing in the past few years. This was a genre that I, and many creators I’m sure, were scared to touch. It was too difficult, too embarrassing, too easy to get wrong.

And yet, I believe I’ve gotten a pretty good handle not only on writing it effectively but also dissolving the embarrassment surrounding the subject, at least in my own mind. Obviously everyone’s methods for writing are different, so this will be less of a guide and more of an outline full of things to help you prepare for your jump into the world of smut for the first (or maybe twentieth after a bunch of scrapped attempts if you’re like me) time.

The first thing that really helped me was changing how I thought about smut.

Sex scenes always had this mystical, untouchable quality to them whenever I thought about writing them. They were set apart from the rest of the story, placed on a sort of pedestal, a pedestal that had my thought processes heading places like “alright, now it’s time for the Sex Scene™”. Sometimes I would just throw random sex scenes into a story because I felt as thought they had to be there. Which brings me to my first real point.

Sex scenes must have a reason to exist!

Unless you’re writing a plot-what-plot situation, a sex scene must be in your story for a reason! This applies more to published novels or longer fics, which is why I’m posting it first as this one in particular won’t apply to many of the people who clicked on this post.

Imagine this a bit differently. What if your story was progressing along normally when, all of a sudden, you threw in a random, pointless scene about your characters stopping to get coffee? Nothing plot-relevant happens; no important characters interactions happen; there are no special items hidden in the coffee shop. Your characters just decided that they needed a pick-me-up and sit around quietly sipping coffee for 1,000 or so words. This would be really boring, right?

Well, an unnecessary sex scene is the same way. I’m not naming any names here, but there is an exceptionally popular series of erotic novels out there that makes this mistake all the time! If you have pointless sex scenes sprinkled into your story every chapter, it’s going to become boring and grating in a hurry.

Sex scenes must be consistent with the tone of the story, happen naturally over the course of the plot, and/or teach us something important about the characters involved in order to have a true place. If these things are not present, I find it’s best to reconsider if it’s really best to have a sex scene during this point in the story or in the story at all.

Sex scenes are just like any other scene!

Going back to the whole stopping for coffee analogy, a sex scene is just another scene in your story. Now you might be thinking to yourself, “well, duh!”, but this realization was actually a big turning point for me.

I realized the main responsibility we have in writing is to take mundane, everyday activities and present them in a new or interesting way. Think of an adventure story. A group of characters going on an adventure to find the Golden Sword of Wisdom is the exciting version of you and your friends driving down to your local Walmart to obtain Golden Magnum Ice Cream Bars.

Or, consider the Harry Potter series. It takes going to school, something every person within its targeted age group is required to do, and turns it into a fresh and, dare I say, magical experience.

Instead of simply providing a blow-by-blow (pun intended), textbook-style retelling of a sexual encounter, it’s important to put your own unique spin on it.

Play with your readers’ senses.

A huge part of what makes any scene great is the ability of the reader to immerse themselves into it. And you as the author can make this much easier for them by describing it to them in as much detail as possible, how everything contained within it looks, feels, smells, and tastes.

And sexual scenes are certainly no exception to this. In fact, I’d say creating an enjoyable sensory experience is of the utmost importance.

Consider things like how does your character’s partner smell? How do their surroundings smell? Are there any candles burning, a window through which fresh, or perhaps not-so-fresh, air is streaming? Have their clothes or sheets just been washed and smell of a particular scent of detergent?

Also consider how things feel. Is your character in a cold or warm place? Perhaps you could describe a feeling of goosebumps rising on the skin or of sweat dripping down their back. How do the sheets feel beneath their fingertips? How does the brick wall feel at their back? What is it like to be pressed up against a window pane?

What sounds are present, besides the obvious ones? Is there music playing? A fan going? Cars outside? Perhaps the sound of footsteps are present as they desperately try to keep quiet in a crowded place.

Also consider your characters’ own personalities, as well as how much experience they have in sexual situations. How do they feel about their partner? Are they excited or apprehensive? Are they overwhelmed with love or simply looking to get their rocks off? All of these are important things to consider when creating a well-rounded scene.

Your scene does not have to be vulgar, but it can be!

You may think that every sex scene must be contain levels of vulgarity reserved for professional porn movies, but this is simply not the case. As I said before, take into account the personality of the characters involved. A shy character would not likely use words like “cock” and “pussy”, where as a more bold or experienced character very well may.

And if you’re not comfortable with using such words in your writing, well, now is the time to step outside of your comfort zone! As long as it is appropriate for the characters involved, of course.

But regardless of boldness or levels of experience, some are simply just not into super vulgar dirty talk. This post by Smut 101 is a perfect example of dirty talk of a more romantic sort for the more hopeless romantic types that may appear in your stories.

Keep things accurate but not necessarily realistic.

You always see people criticizing sex in books and movies for not being realistic enough, for not involving vagina-having characters taking a piss afterward to prevent UTIs, for a lack of condoms, for both characters reaching orgasm at the same time. You know what I say to that? I say that sexual scenes are meant as an escape, as a fantasy, and that such realistic touches would ruin the illusion of the perfect scenario the reader is looking for.

That being said, if everything is sunshine and rainbows all the time, you’ll once again find yourself with a boring scene on your hands. It’s alright to include moments where your characters knock their heads together or say something so ridiculous it makes the other person laugh. Sex can and should be fun and, when the moment calls for it, a bit goofy.

Something that you cannot compromise on, however, is accuracy. If you’re delving into a particular fetish or act you’re not familiar with, it’s best to do your research beforehand, something else that the author of the aforementioned exceptionally popular series of erotic novels seems to have neglected. Watching videos, reading articles, and browsing forums can all be useful in familiarizing yourself with the subject.

Even if you’re a virgin, this does not bar you from writing well-written sex scenes, I assure you! If someone was required to experience something in order to write about it, the vast majority of authors would be up shit creek without a paddle.

As with any genre, it never hurts to familiarize yourself with it before you start writing it. Reading highly praised romance novels and other peoples’ erotic fics is a good place to start if you’re looking for inspiration or guidance.

Don’t be afraid to draw from your own experiences.

If you have had a bit of sexual experience, it’s not a bad idea to draw inspiration from this. Remembering specific sensory experiences you’ve had and applying them to your writing can help enhance the realism of a scene.

It’s also not forbidden to include your own personal fantasies in your stories. Just be careful that all of your erotic stories don’t turn out exactly the same. While we all have our own individual tastes and preferences, it’s good to step outside of that to keep your stories fresh.

Some general tips for you as a writer.

Writing smut is going to feel awkward if you’re not used to it. And even if you are used to it, feelings of embarrassment may still come up on occasion. This is normal. Do not let it dissuade you from pursuing your creative endeavors. Even if the embarrassment over writing lewd scenes never fully goes away, it will get easier with time. I promise.

Whenever I’m writing any kind of scene whether it be exciting, emotional, or, yes, lewd, I always like to select some music to set the tone in my mind. Spotify and YouTube are my go-to sources. If you’re settling down to write a smut scene, find yourself a sexy playlist to get your brain in the zone.

Your mood is important as well. Obviously you don’t have to be dripping with lust to write this sort of scene, but being upset, tired, or ill can definitely put a damper on your ability to get into the proper mindset.

Never try to force writing of any sort if you’re not feeling inspired. As that old saying goes, writing is like a fart: if you have to force it, it’s probably shit. The original quote pertains to relationships, but I think it’s pretty fitting here as well. Should this happen, don’t scrap the project entirely. Simply take a break, play or watch the property involving the character(s) you’re writing about, read some of your favorite authors or fic writers, read some guides like this one. And then come back when you feel suitably inspired.

In conclusion...

As I said before, this is less of a guide and more of an outline. Everyone has different methods for putting out their best content. Perhaps listening to music distracts you or the writing of others sticks in your head and hampers your ability to create original work.

And that’s completely fine.

That being said, I hope that you guys found this useful in instilling you with the confidence you need to finally begin writing smut! There can never be too many smut writers in the world. If there’s something in particular that you’d like advice on, leave a comment and I’ll try to address it as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, everyone! Now, go forth with the faith that you can finally do the thing !!!