#cw: talking about race and body image stuff

[pigdemonart]

I think its really cute that Manuel gets the most love from comments! I think he deserves it, because even I have dubbed him as the Best Boy. But, Mani has mixed feelings about receiving praise and being considered the favorite. He’d sooner think people are lying to him than believe they actually like him that much. Because, why would they?

His view of himself comes from years of being stuck in the middle.

#los brujos #manuel #adrian #victor #my art #IF I CAN just get a little heavy in the tags for a sec #cw: talking about race and body image stuff #not mentioned in this little comic because i didnt want it to be TOO sad #manuel was bullied a lot in school and it affected his self confidence a looot #technically they ALL were to an extent #but Manuel had a very hard time not only being big but also Black #people were unkind and he felt better disappearing to avoid getting sneers from anyone #but that was pretty much impossible when he became so tall #though puertorican culture has a huge African/Black influence it still suffers from colorism and racism #and it would be dishonest to write a story about afroboricuas and not touch that subject even slightly #i just didn’t feel like info dumping in a comic about ALL THAT #cuz really the anons were just being cute #sorry to ramble

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: mentions of violence from previous chapter, body image issues mentioned, sukuna is kinda an asshole

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*despite this being an aged up version of yuji, there will be no sexual stuff involving him, also the violence is only in the first chapter with a few mentions after that!!! Cross posted on Ao3 under Spicycrunchroll! THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT LATER ON!*

Chapter 1 here (chapters will also get much longer once the plot is moving)

Chapter 2: Pain in the Ass

So now you smell like piss, vape juice, cum, tears, and malicious horror in the front of your best friend's car. Nothing about anything is normal right now and as much as you wanted to know about the monster in the back seat, you were still in shock from almost being trafficked and also knowing that the monster brutally attacked the men that were attacking you. They might have deserved it, but it’s not exactly the most enjoyable experience for you. You looked into the rear view mirror and could see the monster glaring out the window, seemingly bored and watching the lights of the city as Yuji sped to your home.

Yuji broke the silence. “He’s bound to me. Cuz of some family curse. He’s been sealed for a long time, but I reawakened him. You can see him now, right?” The last sentence sounded almost worried.

Your throat ached from sobbing. “Yeah.”

Yuji’s face was pale and drooping. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’ll help you when we get home.”

You closed your eyes and another tear spilled. You attempted to shift away from the thoughts of what just happened to you, “Thank you. I’m not going to ask about him too much, right now it’s all a lot to process, but what… is he?”

Sukuna huffed from the back seat, shifting ever so slightly. “I’m a demon. You can ask me.”

“Hey!” Yuji called out. “Don’t talk to her like that after all of what she just went through.”

Sukuna sighed and remained silent, turning his eyes to look at you and fixating on the outline of your face. “I’m no threat to her."

Yuji didn't respond, instead he focused on driving home, not knowing exactly what to say to you. You didn't know what to say either, your mind racing back and forth between the traffickers, the man you went out with, and the demon in the back seat. Even though you wanted to find anything else to talk about, you couldn't help but be curious about him. You tried to eye him through the rearview mirror, looking at his features. If it wasn't for his intimidating and inhuman appearance, you'd think he was pretty hot, and he also looked a lot like Yuji. Much larger than Yuji, and much much larger than Yuji. He has to slump down in his seat and his legs are pressed against the back of your seats, he easily takes up half the space in the back of the car, and on top of that, he's built like a wrestler. You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the features of the more monstrous side of his face. Sukuna certainly notices your stare, but says nothing of it. Under normal circumstances, he'd tease but he's not exactly interested with upsetting you more. After your stare lingers on him long enough, he meets your eyes in the mirror and you quickly look away, an shiver running up your body. He couldn't help but smirk at your reaction.

When you arrived at your apartment, Yuji insisted on holding onto as you wandered inside together, along with Sukuna following closely behind. You didn't ask about him even when he followed the both of you inside, standing to the side of the living room while you and Yuji wandered to your bathroom. After what felt like a century, you removed your soiled clothes and tossed them directly into the trash, not wanting to wear them ever again. You didn't even care that he saw you strip naked, he didn't even care either, he was more focused on the fact that he's gonna have to find some way to explain what just happened and what that might mean for you. You didn't have an inkling of what he was thinking about or what had even happened to make Sukuna suddenly visible to you and Yuji wasn't very excited to explain it to you.

After showering and sobbing for almost another hour, you finally left the bathroom to get dressed, your eyes avoiding the mirror as you rushed to get dressed, disgusted by your own body. You opened bedroom door and went out to see Yuji who was dead silent on the couch. Sukuna had moved from the door and was now looking through your fridge. He paid no mind to your presence even as you gaped at him rummaging through your food, Yuji noticed your expression and turned to Sukuna.

"Don't just eat her shit!" He sounded exasperated as though he had this conversation before.

Sukuna groaned. "You humans and your decorum. Drives me insane." He shut your fridge but took out sandwich meat and started to eat directly from the packaging.

"Um. You can get bread and cheese." You said, making both of them stop moving. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sukuna started to laugh. "Here the brat was, concerned you'd be upset I'm stealing your food." The mouth on his stomach also stretched into a smile before opening up and he dumped the rest of the lunch meat directly into it, making you gape even wider. "That's enough for now." He stepped out of your kitchen and immediately went to the recliner in the room and sat down, watching your face.

Yuji sighed again and gestured for you to sit down. "Listen, y/n. I have something I need to tell you now. I know you have a lot on your mind, but I don't just wanna tiptoe around." Yuji swallowed, looking down at the floor.

Sukuna seemed to be already annoyed before Yuji even started started talking, groaning dramatically. "Do I need to tell her? Spit it out."

He quickly quipped back, "I'm telling her!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes and sunk back into the recliner which now looks significantly smaller with him seated on it. You shifted your gaze back to Yuji and waited for him to speak. "What is it? Can't be any worse than what we just went through."

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna. Or at least that's the name that was given to him. He's a demonic spirit of the past that became bound to my family a long ass time ago, but after the first person he was bound to died, he was sealed away, but then one day, I was fucking around with some shit that was passed on to me and... well... next thing I knew he was sitting on my bed." He looked to your face for a reaction, but all you could muster was a stare. He took that as a sign to continue. "Sukuna is bound to me and as a result of me asking him to save you, he's bound to you now."

You blinked a few times before speaking. "What? What does that mean?"

Yuji looked to Sukuna then back to you. "Well, for one, you can see him. And now you can interact with him freely. Sukuna can interact with whatever he wants, just not whoever. Because of his bindings to my ancestor, he can only do certain things, like for instance, he can't hurt someone unless given a direct command. And the reason he is bound to you and not the guys he attacked is because of the way he had to save you. You see, the guy who first orchestrated your kidnapping was also bound to a demon and this demon was--"

"A pain in the ass." Sukuna interrupted. "A pitiful excuse of one too. A manipulative bastard that made a vow they regret now." Sukuna had leaned forward, looking at you with all four eyes. "By killing the bastard, I ended up creating a vacant binding and the weakling decided to reflect the binding back onto me. Luckily, the stupid shit didn't know how to do the spell properly so I was able to choose who I had to make a vow with. I don't desire to be commanded around by anyone else and thankfully, you aren't the type to demand others."

You didn't say anything in response to him, he's right. If you had the courage to boss anyone around, you wouldn't have slept with all the one pump chumps and found yourself in the situation you did. Yuji, on the other hand, was pissed that he said that to you.

"What the hell? She was literally kidnapped and almost sex trafficked, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" Yuji shouted and Sukuna had no expression.

The demon cocked his head to the side and rested it on his hand. "I didn't say anything hurtful. She's more docile than the other assholes who were in the proximity."

You rose from the couch and Yuji panicked, before he could say anything you reassured him. "He didn't hurt my feelings. Don't worry. I want to go to bed."

Yuji got up to follow. "Do you need me to sleep with you?"

Swallowing a tightness in your throat, you answered. "Could you?"

"Of course!"

Sukuna watched the two of you retreat to your bedroom and couldn't help but wonder why you stopped the conversation so soon. He isn't fond of the situation himself, when he went after the man that kicked you out of his house, he was hoping it'd be a quick return to sender and was beyond angered when he was faced with one of his own. Few demons have the audacity to openly manipulate humans, let alone the pride. He was grateful they weren't a human and was able to get rid of them, but wasn't pleased with the fact that now he has a new "owner". Truthfully, the whole situation left him scowling and exceptionally eager to release his frustrations. The humans that tried to apprehend you were foolish to ally themselves with such a cunt of a demon, but even more foolish to try and steal a human for the sake of a demon's orders. Really, Sukuna leaving one of them without the ability to speak ever again and the other with a few shattered bones was a blessing. The ones that attacked Yuji should be grateful that Itadori was compassionate enough to leave them only with some broken limbs as well. Sukuna's takes no thrill in fighting the weak and barely takes any enjoyment in other's suffering, in fact, compared to most demons, he finds it boring. And here he is, stuck with the most boring people he could have as masters, at least Itadori's ancestor was a fighter himself and sought strength similar to Sukuna. Then again, he reminds himself, at least Itadori and you are stupid enough to be funny.

Sukuna sighed to himself and looked out the window of your apartment, he's going to have an overwhelmingly uneventful life with being bound to both of you. Here he was, so ecstatic to be awoken once again, just to have to watch a shitty college romance between two brats and now watch your pathetic and sad life. At least amp up the drama if he's stuck as a bystander! Well, he wishes for that, but unbeknownst to him is that he already has plenty of drama for himself approaching at high speed now that you're in his life, as he is in yours.

#jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader fluff #yuji itadori #jjk x you

[chaotic-mystery]

Not A Survivalist Girl Part 6:

“What Was I Made For?”

Written by: @chaotic-mystery & @tightjeansjavi

(Joel miller x f!reader)

Summary: After you get too close to the fire that is Joel Miller and get burned, you finally tell him how you really feel and show him was true rage is. In the process, he shows you he actually does have a heart.

CW: Mean! Joel, female rage, heavy on the angst, mild violence, talks of death & murder, child loss, Joel finally finds his heart like the grinch, grief, trauma, heartbreak, forgiveness, making up, fluff, a happy ending for once, +18 minors DNI.

WC: 4.7k

A/N: everything is hitting the fan in the mojo dojo casa house tonight. Enjoy! I love feedback and talking about this so feel free to send stuff to my inbox when you’re done!

When Joel Miller was back in the comfort of his own room, with the 4 walls around him seemingly closing in, he began to pace. The floorboards beneath his feet creaked and groaned with each heavy step he took. He was gripping the tendrils of his salt and pepper stained hair from the roots. He tugged hard, mumbling incoherently under his breath. His eyes were squeezed shut as the images of what just partook in front of the crackling fire raced through his brain. If Tommy were here..Well, he’s not fucking here. He ain’t comin’ back. He left you. Remember? Now you’re stuck with this girl.

I shouldn’t have done that. I should not have fucking done that. What the hell was I thinking? I should have just..I should have stopped myself when I still had the chance.

Don’t tell me you’ve already started to regret it? You saw how eager she was. Don’t stand here and say that you regret it when you know it ain’t true.

Did I have to be so mean? So cruel? I shouldn’t have left her like that. I was too rough. Even if she enjoyed it..I didn’t even bother to see if she was okay after the fact. I just fucking left her there stained with my cum, and retreated to my room like a fucking dog with its tail between its legs?

Don’t tell me that you’ve gone all soft now. For fuck sakes, Joel. You had sex. You fucked her like the slut that she is. She wanted it.

That’s not the man I am. I don’t degrade women like that. I respect them. I always have, I always will—

Well, hate to break it to ya, but you did nothing but degrade her back there. Left her there stained in your cum, tears in her eyes and didn’t even offer to help clean her up? You’re a mean mean old man, Joel Miller.

Oh god, what have I done?

As you laid there on the floor wondering why he got up so fast, you couldn’t help but think it was something you did. Maybe he came to his senses and realized what he did was wrong. Did you come off too strong and he had a lapse of judgment? Even if he did, he was just as guilty with flirting as you were, always stealing glances of you when he thought you weren’t looking, the lingering pauses before he said goodnight because he didn’t want to get off the couch and leave you be. Fuck this you thought to yourself and got up off the floor, immediately wrapping a blanket around you. If Joel wanted to fuck you and leave you there like you were nothing, he was going to hear about it for sure.

“What the fuck is your problem?! How the fuck can you just use me to get off and then leave me on the floor? Are you fucking insane?!” You shouted and bursted though the bedroom door to his room where he was sound asleep, that was until he heard you. You wanted him to hurt exactly how you hurt, to feel so bad about himself like he made you feel but that wasn’t your character. You would’ve never done that to him or anyone else for that matter. Your cold hands riddled with adrenaline grabbed anything close from his nightstand and chucked it at his body that was covered with blankets. The alarm clock went flying across the room and hit him in the shoulder, obtaining a grunt from the old man. Joel shot up out of bed when he noticed the book he started reading a couple days ago was on its way to hitting him in the head. Putting his arms out to stop you, he pleaded with a gruff tone for you to hear him out.

“No! There’s nothing you can say to make this better, Joel. Nothing. You made me feel so vulnerable and special and like you liked me, until you left me there alone. Didn’t even kiss me, not that that would’ve been much better, but it would’ve been something!

You walked over to him, he was standing at the foot of his bed and face plastered with shock and frustration. The look of defeat on your face was killing him inside, he knew what he did would ultimately crush you and make you not trust him again, and yet here you were screaming at him for doing it. Your arm raised up and just as you were coming down to smack Joel across his face, he grabbed your wrist roughly and held it there in place, looking deep into your eyes as if he was trying to tell you something.

“Please don’t fuckin’ hit me. I deserve it, no doubt about it, just..please.” He blew out a frustrated puff of air as he firmly, yet delicately held your wrist in his calloused palm, inches from where it was about to collide with his face. His eyes were pleading with you, begging for forgiveness despite knowing that he didn’t deserve it. “M’sorry. What happened back there? It never should have happened. I shouldn’t..I shouldn’t have done that. I crossed a fuckin’ line and—I know I can’t just go and take it back, but I’m sorry for puttin’ you in that position.”

The tears in your eyes spilled down your warm cheeks and the small ache in your chest finally made you stop in your tracks, completely breaking down in front of Joel. “You deserve so much more than that, you fucking animal. I’ve done so much for you and this is how you repay me? You weren’t even that good, I was faking it.” Your harsh tone was low enough for him to barely hear in his good ear, knowing it was killing him to hear you be so cold. “Fuck you. I don’t ever want to speak to you again and I hate you. I hate you, Joel Miller.” The stare you had on him could burn holes into his face if it were possible.

Joel was taken aback by your words, and the tone you used to deliver them. His brows furrowed as he released your wrist from his grip. “An animal? That’s what I fuckin’ am t’ya? Tell me, sweet girl. What exactly have you fuckin’ done for me, huh?” Sweat pooled around his chest and forehead from the adrenaline-filled-rage that presently coursed through his veins. “Oh, I’m sure you were fakin’ it sweetheart. You hate me so badly? Fuckin’ leave then. What the hell is stoppin’ you? Take what you want and fuckin’ leave.”

That was the last thing you wanted him to say. You didn’t want him to tell you to go, you wanted him to feel so badly about what he’d done, wanted him to make you stay and fix his mistakes but clearly he didn’t want that. Maybe this was his cop out to finally get rid of you like he wanted to awhile ago. “Why are you so mean?” The crack in your voice only made your tears stream down your face faster, the lump in your throat making it harder to talk with every other word. Finding enough will in your body to move your cemented feet from the floor, you walk over to the one thing he ever had that was yours. Your pink blanket. The soft material poking out from under his comforter made it that much harder to take it, but you needed to. He didn’t deserve your kindness, your warmth, your giving nature. You grabbed the corner of your blanket and pulled as hard as you could and made a mess of his bed in the process. The detangling of the two blankets felt poetic in a way almost, like you were separating yourself from Joel, kind of. Then again, it’s just blankets and you’re just a stupid girl who really thought someone like Joel Miller could change. Holding the blanket close to your chest, your eyes met Joel’s once more, searching for some type of reason as to why he’s being like this.

Joel zoned in on your delicate fingers grasping around the ends of the blanket. That stupid fluffy pink blanket that seemed to bring him a certain comfort that he almost despised, loathed even. It smelled of you, of strawberries of sweetness and honey and all the things that he felt he was ill-deserving of. The softness along his skin was equivalent to what he imagined floating on fluffy clouds must feel like. Just as you had grasped the corner, he was already reaching for the other end, grabbing ahold of it firmly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was tell you about his past, about his daughter and what happened to her on outbreak day. He’d much rather gouge his own eyes out, drown, be shot over and over again than have to relive the night he lost his baby girl. He was facing the realization that there was no talking himself out of this one. No more bullshit excuses for his anger, for his resentment. Joel Miller knew that he had to be raw and vulnerable with you if he ever wanted to heal.

“You really wanna know why I'm so mean? Why I struggle so fuckin’ hard on showin’ you an ounce of fuckin’ kindess?” His jaw clenched tightly as his fingers clutched around the soft fabric. He could already feel tears stinging painfully in the corner of his eyes as he did his best to fight them back and not allow them to freefall. His gaze fell upon you, and your own tear stained cheeks and watery lashes, a pleading look to your irises as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“My daughter was murdered on outbreak day. She was twelve years old when she died. It was my thirty-sixth birthday..it all happened so fast. I did everythin’ I fuckin’ could to protect her. I failed her that night. I tried so fuckin’ hard n’just for her to slip through my fuckin’ fingers. My brother Tommy was there that night. Some fuckin’ soldier gunned us down..I still remember watchin’ her body tumble into the grass, the life drainin’ from her eyes. I fuckin’ clutched her dead body in my fuckin’ arms until Tommy forced me to let go. I screamed, and cried, and screamed some more. She was the best fuckin’ thing in my life, and just like that she was taken’ away from me. In a matter of fuckin’ hours my entire world was ripped from me.” He gripped the blanket tighter, yanking it towards him. “So don’t tell me i’m a fuckin’ monster when you haven’t got a fuckin’ clue what i’ve been through, and what i’ve lost. Bein’ mean and cruel is the only goddamn thing that has kept me alive all these years. It’s all i’ve ever fuckin’ known.”

You could almost hear your heart breaking as his words sank in, the tears free falling down your face still. The lump in your throat only seemed to grow bigger to the point not a single word came out despite how hard you were trying. All you wanted was to comfort him and tell him it would be okay, but nothing was coming out. Nothing. The pain on his face was almost unbearable to look at, it only made it that much harder to not forgive him straight away.

“Joel..” you croaked out, “I’m so sorry that happened, I didn’t know. I wish you would’ve told me sooner and maybe I would’ve been a little more patient with you and your rotten attitude. I’m sorry they killed her, I am. But that was years ago, Joel. Being cruel to me over Sarah won’t bring her back. Give me my stuff and I’ll get out of your hair, I’ll leave when the sun comes up. Promise.” Tightening your grip on your blanket, you gave it a tug trying to get it out of his hands.

Joel’s features immediately hardened at your words. It was one thing for him to know that nothing would ever bring Sarah back, but to hear it from you? It almost felt like a knife was being twisted deep into his heart, serrated and tearing into his flesh. “I didn’t—fuckin’ ask for your pity. You’re right. It was years ago and ain’t nothin’ gonna bring her back, right? Not when her body is 6 feet below the fuckin’ surface back in Texas. Not when i’ve got blood stained on my hands from killin’ so many goddamn people. She’s fuckin’ dust now, and men like me don’t go to Heaven. She’s fuckin’ alone up there..somehwere and i’m never gonna fuckin’ see her again!” His voice cracked as he yanked on the blanket hard, his own tears finally cascaded down his weathered cheekbones as he tugged, and tugged, and tugged.

“Do you think someone like me is going to Heaven either? Not by a long shot Joel but at some point you have to let that shit go and stop hurting yourself over it! You can’t see how well you have it here, all alone by yourself in this cabin that others would literally kill to live in. You were a sad and lonely old man before you met me and that’s exactly what you’ll be again if you truly want me to go. Tell me you want me to go.” Gripping and tugging harder on the pink material, you clenched your jaw in frustration and just wished he would stop all of this.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” He glared at you through his tears, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted 5 heads. “You’re good, and kind, and sweet, and—you smell of fuckin’ strawberries and honey. You’re goin’ to Heaven whether you want to or not, girlie.” He didn’t want you to go, not really. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. The walls of his lonesome cabin once haunted him but now there was a newfound light within them that only surfaced because of you. “Of course I don’t fuckin’ want you to go. I don’t want you to leave, okay? You want me to fuckin’ shout it or somethin’?! Cus’ you’re right, if you leave then i’m just a fuckin’ sad and lonely old man livin’ in the woods. If you leave, then i’m a fuckin’ nobody again.” He gave the blanket one last harsh tug and the friction and yanking of the fabric was enough for it to give way. Before he had time to release it, the threads pulled and teared with a deafening sound as the once whole blanket was now tattered and torn, much like the two people grasping onto the fabric as if their lives depended on it.

Falling back on your ass with a hard thump against the floor, you looked at the now separated blanket in each other's hands. “No…no no no…wha-what did you..” Shock washed over your body and you scrambled to your feet, snatching the other half out of Joel’s hands. You were sure he didn’t mean to do that but he didn’t know what that blanket was to you. It was the last birthday gift from your mom before the outbreak, it was all you could manage to grab from your house before they took you out of your home and into the QZ. Silent sobs came from you as you buried your face in the fabric, not wanting to realize just how fucked up things truly were. A stuffy sniffle came from your nose and you tried looking at Joel through your soaking wet eyelashes, but it was no use. The figure standing in front of you was all blurry and you gave up trying. You dropped the torn half to the floor and walked back to your room, your chest sinking with every sob. The door to your bedroom latched just loud enough for Joel to hear and you laid down in your bed, soaking your pillows with tears.

“Girlie—I’m.” It was too late. You were already gone from his bedroom as he bent down and carefully picked up the two shreds of fabric with a heavy sigh. His heart sunk as the realization of what he had just done washed over him. He knew this wasn’t just a blanket to you. He might have not known the story behind it, or who had given it to you but he knew it meant something to you, just like his one photograph of Sarah meant everything to him. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered through the darkness. He allowed himself to feel for 5 seconds before he realized that maybe there was a way that he could still fix this, that he could make things better because you deserved it. You deserved so much more than he could possibly ever give you, but he had to at least try.

So that’s how he found himself outside your bedroom door with his sewing kit tucked under the crook of his armpit. He softly knocked, resting his good ear against the door. “Girlie? Hey, can I come in please? M’so sorry ‘bout your blanket sweetheart. It was an accident I swear. I never meant to rip it..”

Not wanting to talk to him at the moment, you laid there pretending to be asleep and soon enough the door was opening, Joel making his way inside. It was too soon to face him after all of that. You didn’t want to talk about it and rehash it or explain the blanket situation to him. You fake snored lightly in hopes he’d take the hint and go but in true Joel fashion, he did the opposite.

Joel silently sank down onto the edge of your bed as he set down the two halves of the blanket and the sewing kit. “Darlin’? Are you really sleepin’ or are you just avoidin’ me now?” He whispered and when he was met with silence, he let out a sigh. “S’alright. I understand.” Using what little light he had from the pale moon creeping through the curtains, he threaded the needle through a piece of pink string. “Sarah was always tearin’ her soccer uniform. I started off with buyin’ her new ones, but a carpenters paycheck doesn’t pay all that much.” He softly spoke as he started to sew the blanket back together. “Didn’t help that I was a single dad either. Sarah’s mom left us when she was really just a baby. I had Tommy help out thank god, but I was so scared havin’ to raise her on my own. I just..I wanted to be a good dad y’know? Wanted to make sure she was always happy n’god, was that kid always happy. She had a smile that could light up an entire room. Anyway, I ended up teachin’ myself how to sew her uniform back together. It wasn’t the best job, but she’d always sit with me on the couch while I’d be sewing and I ended up teachin’ her as well. Y’know, I think she was purposely gettin’ her uniform torn up just so I’d have to fix it for her. Not that I minded at all..I’d kill to be able to sew it for her..just one more time.”

Slowly you turned around, half covering your face and your eyes on Joel’s hands as he worked his way down the blanket, stitching up the two halves back together. “She must’ve been a really good soccer player, huh?” Your hoarse voice made his ears perk up and for a split second you swear he looked away from sewing and looked at you. Your cold hand pressed against his knee in an attempt to comfort him and show him in some small gesture you’re listening to every word he’s saying.

“She—she was the best. Always wanted to be outdoors. She loved goin’ for hikes with me. Little shit always told me I had terrible knees, and bad back, which I do. She was a real jokester too. Always pickin’ at me with her uncle. Sometimes I felt like she was takin’ care of me more than I was for her. She always reminded me that I was a good dad, that I was doin’ my best. She was real fuckin’ smart too. If she—lived I wouldn’t doubt that she’d be makin’ the honor roll and goin’ off to college to change the world to be a better place. She loved animals too. Always begged me for a dog and I never gave in..wish I would have if only I had known that we weren’t goin’ to have all the time in the world together.” He sniffled softly as he looked up at you through thick lashes.

You sat up quickly and grabbed his face, rubbing your thumbs gently on his scruffy beard. “Hey-It’s okay. I’m sorry about what I said, I should’ve never said anything about Sarah. I’m glad you still have those memories of her and Joel..” You swallowed back some tears and took a deep breath. “You will always be her dad, okay? Don’t you ever forget that. She doesn’t have to be here for you to be her dad. Cherish those memories you have, I promise she remembers them.” A tear fell onto your thumb from Joel’s eye and you wiped it away before he could.

Joel gently placed his hands over your own as he subconsciously leaned into your soft touch on his skin. “Hey, you don’t—you don’t have to apologize for anythin’ okay? You have nothin’ to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry darlin.’ I’m so sorry for how I have treated you. I just..I’ve spent so many years bein’ angry at the world for takin’ her from me. Your kindness it’s—it’s not somethin’ I’m used to.” He sniffled as more tears began to fall. “I just..I’d do anythin’ to hug her one more time. To see her smile..hear her laugh. She—she haunts my dreams most nights and sometimes I wake up and it’s almost as if she’s there, and I can reach out and touch her. She’s not there. It’s just my mind playin’ a cruel trick on me. She’s gone..” he whispered and suddenly his arms were encircling around your waist, hugging you tightly to him as if he was terrified that you’d slip through his fingers too.

If you could take back anything you said to him, it would be that you would leave. There’s no way you’d ever do that to him, not now, not ever. “Oh, baby I’m sorry..” Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into you, stroking the little curls on the back of his head as you just held him. It was one of those moments you wanted to freeze and stay in just for a little while, just to take the pain away from him long enough for him to feel normal again. What else can you say to a grieving father besides what you’ve already said? There’s nothing. All you could do was hold him and let him know you weren’t going anywhere.

baby

Joel allowed himself to be completely consumed by your soft touches as his tears freely fell after being locked away for years. A relief washed over him as the anger seemed to dissipate through his pores, as if all the hurt and poison that inhabited his veins was being sucked out, filtered through and turned to something pure. His thumbs were gently stroking the sliver of skin visible along your lower back as he slowly pulled his head back so he could look at you. The moonlight casted a pale glow across your tear stained faces as his glassy chocolate brown eyes fell upon yours. “Can I—would I..will you—” he cleared his throat that felt as raw as sandpaper from all the yelling and tears shed. “Can I..kiss you girlie?”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you bit back a smirk, nodding quickly at his question. “Of course, Joel. Please kiss me.” The worry of sounding desperate left your body as you moved some of his hair out of his eyes so you could admire them better. There was that funny feeling again inside your tummy. Fuck feeling like there was butterflies, it was a goddamn zoo in your tummy.

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose lightly nudging against yours. Suddenly he was back in highschool, about to share his first kiss with his crush and his palms began to sweat, his fingers trembling along your skin as his lashes fluttered shut. His lips just barely ghosted against your own before he kissed you fully, slotting his lips between yours as he pulled you in closer.

Since the very first night, this is what you’ve wanted. Underneath all the sexual tension and thoughts you had about him, you just wanted to know the real Joel. The soft one who messes with you about catching worms and saves you from frogs and the one who talks to you about his daughter who means the absolute world to him, even from the heavens. You grabbed the back of his head gently and pulled him as close as you could, deepening the kiss.

Joel allowed himself to kiss you for a few moments longer, his hands splayed across your back fully now before he slowly pulled away, forehead gently resting along your own. “Listen..I can’t promise you I can be perfect. What I can promise you is that I will do my best to..learn your kindness. To see the world through your own eyes in hopes that..I can be good to you, always. All I ask is that you find it in your heart to hold patience with me. Guide me, and I’ll always protect you, n’keep you safe from the world. Okay?”

“And I’ll try to learn from you as I go so maybe one day you can trust me to protect you from the world because who’s gonna protect you if I can’t?” You nudge your head against his and smile at him.

Joel couldn’t help but crack a small smile that showed the faint crinkles in the corner of his eyes, and the indentation of a dimple along his cheek. “I’ll teach you how to be a real survivalist girl. How’s that sound to you girlie?”

“That sounds pretty damn good to me, Joel. It’s getting kinda late, should we get some sleep since we have no idea what tomorrow brings us?” You didn’t want to sleep alone tonight but you thought you shouldn’t push him. You lifted the blanket and held it to his chest, “Here, you sleep with this, I know how much you like it.”

Joel was already bringing his arms around the underside of your thighs and gently lifting you from the strewn comforter. “No need for that sweetheart. Will..you sleep with me tonight? Only if you feel comfortable doing so..”

You practically leap out of his arms and start heading to his room, “Yes oh my god I’m so glad you asked, I did not want to sleep alone!” You were already in his bed and tucked in by the time he made it in his room.

Joel watched with pure amusement in his eyes when you leapt out of his arms. He did not expect you to be this enthusiastic over his request, but he couldn’t lie over the fact that finding you already tucked under the covers absolutely made his heart swell out of his chest like a balloon. He plopped down on the bed, nearly squishing you with his body weight as his fingers found purchase around your waist and lightly tickled your sides. The giggle he elicited from your lips was contagious and had him chuckling as you playfully pushed him onto his side. Soon enough his arms were secured around your waist with his chest pressed firmly against your back. His lips were gently ghosting across the shell of your ear as he whispered, “goodnight, my survivalist girl.”

#not a survivalist girl #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #hbo tlou #tlou fic

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

I noticed in a tag you said you had vampire Alex thoughts.

Could we hear them?

yes. yes you can. answering this days after you sent it, but thats because i had too many thoughts to properly pin down, and i wanted to be able to actually list some headcanons :>

so i have two different sort of thoughts for this, one being in a post canon setting that i've been roleplaying and am probably going to try and convert into a fanfiction format which i would post, so i can say more about that one later. but in this post i'm gonna talk about my other concept, which takes place during college in a pre-canon/alternate universe setting.

cw for animal death, violence, general vampire and canon typical stuff

alex getting turned was essentially him being a failed midnight snack. he's leaving a party that involved some of his cast and crew, he might be a little drunk and so he makes for easy prey. as alex is passing an especially dark part of the road, he get's pounced on by some hungry vamp, immediately starts freaking out, because even though alex likes horror this is still a bit much for him with no warning. he should have been dead meat, but the vampire gets attacked by something (or someone) else, giving alex the perfect chance to flee. i'm using twilight logic here too for the turning, so when his attacker becomes the attacked, some vampire blood falls into his open neck wound, and thats what kickstarts his turning.

after that, alex is holing up in his room for a few days, sick and exhausted and hurting and so so hungry, but unable to keep any food down, his body practically repelling it. at some point, he gets this urge to go into the woods, and i have this image in my head of him going completely radio silent to everyone, just off in the forest for WEEKS. no on hears from him at all, which is so unlike alex, because even though he can be bitchy sometimes, he is fiercely loyal to his friends and would never just up and disappear like this. in reality though, alex doesn't even feel like alex anymore. he's a new vampire, doesn't even know fully what's happening to him, and is inadvertently starving himself to death. he's delirious, 90% out of his mind. all the humanity gone from his eyes, just over dilated pupils and blood red irises, upper and lower canines that are too big for his mouth now, at least an inch long that poke out when he closes his lips. alex doesn't know how to hunt, doesn't know how to correctly feed, just knows he's desperate and hysterical with hunger, racing through the woods at night like an animal, holing up in the hollows of trees during the day, when he really does seem to become an animal. after all, the sun feels like fire now, sets his skin ablaze, smoke and all, and if he's human sized, he's too big to hide. so figuring out that he could shape shift into a bat was sort of accidental, but now it's what he used to protect himself from the daylight.

he catches squirrels and rabbits and mice and drains them dead, unable to stop himself from feeding in time for the small animals to survive. it tastes like trash, like the worst fast food he's ever had, and it might hold him over for a few hours, but after that, he's just as insatiable.

eventually, he would regain enough sense briefly to find one of his friends and drop to his knees begging for help, and thus begins his friends routinely allowing him to snack on them, occasionally letting him have a full meal. that stops being a thing when he finally tries tim's blood, because something about it is so different from brian and jay's human blood. something indescribably more... wild about it. aka, tim is a werewolf, and werewolf blood is even more delicious than plain human blood, and tim's wolf self was what saved alex from that vampire when he got turned, and then they fall in love later <3

i really like this au, and would be super up for talking more about it if anyone wants to hehe

#vampire alex kralie #marble hornets #alex kralie #headcanons #my writing #asks

[raindownforme]

Salt Water

Charlie Slimecicle x reader [she/her used]

CW: negative body image, self doubt, negative self image

(Yes this is self-indulgent comfort)

“This is easy.” y/n spoke out loud to no one but herself. She stared in the mirror, turning side to side. Today was the start of summer, and her and her friends had decided to go to the beach. She’d bought the perfect bathing suit for it, too. It was a pretty blue with a dinosaur pattern. It was also a bikini.

She felt comfortable in it. She wouldn’t have bought it otherwise. She felt comfortable when she bought. She felt comfortable when she planned the whole outfit. She felt comfortable when she made the plans. She didn’t feel comfortable now.

She thought she’d grown put of this. She was an adult goddamnit. y/n wasn’t the middle-schooler who got made fun of by her trash friends, or the high schooler who thought so negatively al the time. She was an adult who bought herself the cute dinosaur bathing suit. And by god she was going to wear it.

y/n sighed, stepping back from her mirror to sit on the edge of her bed. She could do this. She knew she could. It would just be so much easier if she could stop thinking for five seconds. It was the same incomprehensible thought over and over, an onslaught of negative thoughts towards herself and her figure. Reminders of every YouTube comment on her videos, in her friends’ twitch chats, in public posts.

Maybe she shouldn’t go?

“Hey, you ready?” Someone knocked on y/n’s door and startled her. She jumped up from the bed, throwing on a pair of shorts and a large plain shirt. She shouldered her tote of necessities, slipped on her flip-flops, and opened the door. Cooper stood slouched waiting for her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” y/n walked in front of him to the car waiting. Ted sat in the drivers seat, shuffling through his playlist. Jawsh sat in the passenger seat next to him, not at all paying attention. y/n watched cooper climb into the furthest row of the car, leaving her, Charlie, and Traves to fit into the middle row. y/n held her breath as she climbed in, being forced to squeeze into the middle seat. She rested all her belongings in her lap, staring forwards through the windshield.

“Everyone packed in?” They all gave a chorus of ‘yes’ as Ted pulled out of his parking spot and to the open road. It was only 20 minutes from the beach, shorter if traffic got lucky.

The music bumped throughout the car and everyone split into different conversations. Jawsh and Ted talked about something or other, Traves and Cooper shared content on their phones, and Charlie turned to look at y/n. “I brought the boogie boards! Do you want to— what’s wrong?”

She turned to look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah. No I’d love to boogie board.”

“Are you okay?” Charlie dropped how loud his voice was compared to everyone else. “Something seems off.”

“I’m good.” She lazily smiled at him then turned back to stare out the windshield. She liked watching the cars and buildings pass by in a blur. Charlie looked away from her and followed her line of vision. He didn’t quite understand, but he was determined to.

The group soon arrived at the beach. They quickly unpacked their full trunk and set up their seating on the beach. Ted made sure the umbrella stood upright, Traves and Cooper carried the coolers, Jawsh and y/n set out chairs and blankets, and Charlie carried the toys.

“Everyone sun screened?” Ted gestured as he tried to pass around a bottle. “y/n? I don’t want you to get cancer.”

“I’m good!” She’d already applied skin protectant before leaving the house. y/n set down her stuff and sat in the low lawn chair. She took in the sight of Cooper, Traves and Jawsh racing towards the shore, stumbling over each other in the sand. Charlie sat a few feet away from the laid out area, taking a child’s plastic shovel and beginning to dig a hole.

Ted snapped a lid to a cooler shut and cracked open his soda. He set it in the cup holder of a chair and set his glasses down on the same seat. “I’m headed to the water.”

y/n waved him off as he left. She closed her eyes, feeling herself sink into the chair. She still had on her large shirt and shorts, but they were starting to grow warm. It was hot outside, and she knew she’d be so much more comfortable in just the bathing suit she had under neath.

A shadow appeared over y/n and she opened her eyes again. Charlie stood smiling, a hand extended towards her pick her up. “Come on! Get in the water.”

“No you go ahead.” She sat up slightly, looking between her friends in the water and the boy in front of her. Charlie stayed, persistent.

“y/n get in the water. It’ll be fun!”

“Charlie you go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned, dropping his hand. “But you were so excited. You told me you bought that dinosaur suit and everything.”

y/n blushed. She didn’t remember telling him, but he was right. She likes the dinosaurs. She had wanted to go in the water this whole time. She took a breath, and stood from her seat. She slowly took off the shorts and t-shirt, placing them back in her seat. She turned to Charlie with a small smile. “Teach me to boogie board.”

“R-Right.” Charlie turned away from her a red tinge to his face. She felt discouraged almost, that Charlie of all people couldn’t look at her in a fucking bathing suit. The negative thoughts started coming back, the reminders, but she tried to kick them away. She wanted to enjoy the beach.

She followed Charlie to the shore line. He dragged behind himself two three-foot-tall boards made of foam and plastic with a tether made of coiled cord and a Velcro band. He slid the two boards into the water. The salt and sand kicked at the foam as he tied one tether around y/n’s wrist. “What are-?”

“You won’t loose it.” Charlie smiled as he talked. He glanced back up to her eyes with a smile, but quickly looked back to make sure the tether was secured to her wrist. Charlie took y/n’s hand in his, pulling her out deeper in the water until the water was just above her middle.

“Aren’t we in the breakers?”

“Yeah! This is exactly where we need to be. Okay you’re gonna hold it like this-“ Charlie got on his board, gripping the top with his hands and resting his chest towards the bottom of his board. y/n copied him, pulling the board closer than he had his. “Okay. So when the right wave comes, jump and let it take you. If it’s the right one it’ll carry you back to shore.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Try again.” y/n felt the water be sucked from beside her as the tide rolled over. She glanced to see Charlie lean further onto his board, and she did the same. “This is a good one. Ready?”

“I guess.”

y/n and Charlie jumped at the same time. She laughed as the wave swept her past her friends towards the Sandy shore. She almost made it, but at the last moment she flipped and tumbled in the water.

“Fuck!” Charlie ran over to y/n’s side. She laid on the sand, coughing lightly as she sat up. There was a track of sand down her side, and the boogie board kept bumping into her rudely. “Are you Alright? I’m really sorry.”

“How do I take this thing off?” y/n sat up, pulling at the velcro around her arm. Charlie removed it for her, tossing the board aside. He extended his hand, helping pull her up from the ground. y/n dusted the sand from her legs, and looked up watch Charlie whip his head away with a furious blush covering his cheeks.

“I— Just unwrap the- the thing. The- that.” y/n did as instructed, and handed the boogie board over to Charlie. She watched him take the two boards back over to their beach setup. She followed him, going to sit in her beach chair and wrap a towel around herself. Charlie took a glance at her, the same red returning to his face, then walked very quickly to where some of the other boys were still in the water.

“You two good?” Cooper took a slow sip from a canned soda, glancing between Charlie and y/n.

“Yep.” She felt herself sink lower into the seat. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well- I just-“ she closed her eyes and took a breath. “I bought this stupid bathing suit cause I wanted to feel good about it and about myself and he can’t even look at me in it. I just feel stupid and ugly.”

“Woah woah. y/n there’s no way you’re ugly, period. And there’s no way Charlie thinks you’re ugly.”

“You’re just saying that cause I’m here.”

“I’m saying cause I’m your friend and Charlie thinks you’re fuckin smokin.”

y/n sat up and looked at copper again. “What?”

“Sorry. Let me re-phrase. Charlie thinks-“ Cooper paused, holding his soda in one hand. “I-uh. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes you did!” y/n stared at Cooper in confusion. He tried to get up and run, but stumbled in the sand and slammed into one of the coolers. He rolled over in the sand, groaning. y/n got out of her chair And knelt down next to him. “Tell me know?”

“He- ugh. He think you’re hot idiot.” Cooper rolled over, flopping his arms outwards and closing his eyes. “That fuckin hurt.”

y/n opened the cooler Cooper had fallen on. She took a handful of ice out and laid it on the spot on Cooper’s abdomen that had hit the cooler. She pressed it closer with the towel she’d been wearing moments before. “Tell me more!”

“No! I’m not doing this for the two of you.”

“The two of us?” y/n withdrew her hand slightly, feeling her face grow warm. “You’re not-“

“Shut up. You’re both so into each tower it’s gross.” Cooper looked back towards the shore line and gave an evil grin. “Speak of the devil.”

y/n paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see someone walking up the the chairs and towels that she had no doubt was Charlie. Cooper started standing, leaving her sitting in the sand.

“Hey you good? We saw you fall?”

“Yeah.” Cooper patted Charlie on the shoulder. “By the way, you tow should talk.”

y/n whipped her head away from Charlie, anger and embarrassment bubbling from within her. Charlie was none the wiser. “Uh, about what Cooper?”

Cooper pushed off of Charlie, walking back towards the water. “Tell her what you think man. I’m tired.”

Charlie watched Cooper walk into the water, then turned back to y/n with a furious blush. “I- uh. I like the suit. The dinosaurs. You look great- the dinosaurs. You look great in the suit with the dinosaurs. I mean you look great anyways I just- dinosaurs!”

“Thanks.” y/n sat up a bit straighter.

“So,” Charlie sat cross-legged on a blanket in the sand. “What were you two talking about?”

“I told Cooper I felt ugly and then he said that you said I was smokin.”

“You’re not-! I didn’t say that.”

“Come on Charlie, am I ugly or smokin?”

Charlie paused, frowning. “Joking doesn’t make it go away.”

“I know. It’s just easier. It’s okay it’s just weird to talk about.” She laid back onto the blanket, letting her arms rest above her head. “I like the bathing suit I just don’t like me in it.”

“I understand.” Charlie built small piles of sand at his feet. “I know I can’t change much but for what it’s worth I think you’re pretty.”

She turned her head, looking at him confusedly. “You do?”

“Well- I-“ He pursed his lips, thinking. “I would use the word gorgeous instead.”

“Oh.” y/n looked away from Charlie, trying to hide their flustered expression.

“Oh wait did I say the wrong thing?” Charlie started fiddling with his hands, not sure what to do. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable it’s just- fuck you’re so pretty and I really like you and god you look fucking great but you’re also really funny and smart and sweet and I like you so much but I’m really sorry-“

“Charlie.” y/n placed a hand on his arm, now sitting in the sand next to him. “You never made me uncomfortable.”

“Oh thank god. I never wanted to-“

“I like you to.”

Charlie froze, taking in what y/n said as a blush crept up his neck to his cheeks. He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “No way! Wait no way. Really?” y/n nodded and he laughed again, leaning over to place his hands on the side of her face and rest his forehead against hers. “Holy shit! Like actually holy shit!”

y/n laughed, quickly kissing Charlie’s nose. “Come on nerd let’s get back in the water.”

“Yeah! Yes.” Charlie scrambled upright, pulling a giggling y/n up with him. “Here watch this.” Charlie, in one fluid motion, swept y/n off her feet and began carrying her bridal style. He walked with her in his arms all the way to the water, where he fell into the water with her. They both came up for air, y/n laughing the whole time. “Better?”

“Much better.” y/n kissed him again, putting her arms over his shoulders to hold him close.

“Hey! You two.” Cooper splashed water at y/n and Charlie. “You done?”

The two paused, looking back to each other, then swam towards their group of friends, starting a splash free-for-all.

#dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp x reader #charlie slimecicle my beloved #charlie slimecicle #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle #slimecicle x reader #lunch club #lunch club x reader

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver  - 16

So, here we are with part 16. Be prepared for the olympics of fussing. Our bird boy goes all out to fuss and take care of his girl. And Aelin fusses about him too because Rowan is not well either.

CW: light mention of alcoholism, death, hurt/comfort and some light smut.

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

Rowan’s phone had pinged with a message and like a desperate man he had grabbed it from his pocket and stopped in his tracks and his heart raced.

It was a text from Aelin.

I am sorry.

That’s all she had said. What did she mean by that? Was she okay? Was she sorry because she had left? Or worse done something insane?

His brain was in overload on his way back to his office, all sorts of thoughts rushing all together, including some very dark ones. She could never… she would never do that.

He looked at the time on the message and saw it had just been sent so he tried his luck and phoned her. His heart loosened a notch when the phone rang.

Please… please answer me.

“Hi.”

Gods, she sounded terrible. He could tell just by one word.

“Aelin… are you okay?”

Silence.

“Please, where are you? We are all worried sick.”

She told him an address.

“I will be there soon. I am coming.”

“Ok,” was all she managed and as soon as he closed the call she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, maybe with him at her side she would get better.

Rowan called Aedion straight away “I am going to her. I will keep you posted.”

“Wait, I want to come as well.”

“No,” said Rowan quite sternly “It’s best if I go alone. I am not sure she is okay and two people might be too much.”

The man on the other side of the phone sighed “I understand. Just… just look after her, please.”

“Always.” Said Rowan, realising the weight of his words.

On his way out of the office he met Gavriel and explained him what happened and that he had to go and had no idea when he was coming back. He was glad he had met Gavriel instead of Lorcan. The man would have given him so much grief for putting her again in front of his career, but he could not care less. Aelin was not okay and finding her was all he cared about. His job was, again, at the bottom of his priorities in that moment.

“Go, look after her and don’t worry about work.” The man patted Rowan on the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He walked quickly out of the base, fearing someone else might stop him. Got to his car and drove home. He got changed out of his uniform, packed some clothes, he had no idea how long he would be there, she might not be ready yet to go back home and he was not leaving her alone again. 

Once he was done he got back to the car, entered the location in the sat nav and started driving. She had gone deep in the Staghorms mountains. She had hidden away properly. No one would have thought of that.

The drive had been nerve-racking and the trip seemed endless. The mountains were getting closer but not fast enough and he was already one the verge of the speed limit. He needed to be with her quickly. The voice over the phone was still haunting him. It was lifeless and flat and it had terrified him. 

Please be safe, he kept repeating in his head, please be safe, please.

It was finally two hours later when he spotted the signs for the holiday park she had mentioned. She had told him cottage 21. He followed the signs on the path and eventually spotted it and her car outside. He took a deep breath, parked the car and grabbed his stuff. The few steps to the door felt endless, then he gathered his resolve and knocked at the door. 

A minute passed and finally the door opened and he almost gasped at the image in front of him. She looked like a wreck, dark shadows under her eyes, now devoid of their usual light. She had a blanket wrapped around her and it looked as if she could barely stand. 

How could have he missed how bad she was? He should have pushed to stay at home a little longer and go and see someone as soon as he noticed the first signs of ptsd. He was an idiot.

Aelin looked up at him, then her face broke and burst into tears and leaned against his chest. Rowan’s arms went quickly around her body and held her tight “I am here,” he whispered to her while kissing her head “I got you.” He stepped inside, without ever letting go of her, dumped his bag on the floor and closed the door. Then he lifted her in his arms and walked to the bed and deposited her down.

He toed off his shoes and joined her. Aelin nested in his arms, letting him envelope her fiercely. She grabbed his t-shirt and cried.

“Let it go. Let it all out.”

And she did and he let her, whispering only I love you from time to time.

Eventually she fell asleep in his arms but never said a word. She would talk when she felt like. He was definitely not going to push her. Slowly and carefully he disentangled himself from her and went to his next mission. The cottage had a kitchen and he doubted she had used it. There were a few dishes in the sink that he washed and stowed away. Then he opened the fridge and noticed a couple of ready meals and nothing else. He knew she could not cook. 

Rowan sighed. He really had to teach her. He grabbed his phone and searched for a place where to buy groceries in the area. Once he found it he scribbled down a note to her just in case she woke up and found him gone.

Rowan came back thirty minutes later and found Aelin still asleep. Good.

He went to the kitchen and unpacked all the food he had bought. She needed some sustenance and he was planning to bring her back to her former self and food was the way to start. He knew she had not cooked for herself and probably survived on junk food. 

A sound came from the bedroom and he went to have a look and found her awake and sitting in bed.

She was staring at him in disbelief “You are really here?” Her voice still haunted.

He took a step to her “Yes, I am here,” and sat down beside her, caressing her face gently. She leaned into the gesture “I thought it was a dream.”

A gentle kiss on her lips “I am really here.”

Aelin bowed her head “I am sorry I—” he stopped her.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” Another caress “I am making lunch. We eat first, then if you feel like, we can talk.”

He stood again and walked to the kitchen and Aelin, still wrapped in her blanket, padded behind him. 

Seeing her that broken hurt him deeply. She walked to his side and hugged him at his waist, leaning her face on his arm. He let her and went back to cooking without moving her. It felt as if she was craving contact with him and he was not going to deny that to her, no matter how awkward it made cooking.

“It smells lovely.”

“Better than those ready made meals.” He gave her a smile and her head went back to his arm.

With his free hand he grabbed a piece of the carrots he was slicing and passed it her.

“It’s a vegetable.” She complained.

“Yes, and you need it. Your body needs it.” He pushed and Aelin finally took it.

“So bossy.”

He stooped down and kissed her and gave her a slice of chicken and she took that as well and more eagerly “Thank you for cooking for me.”

“It’s fine. If I don’t do it you will just keep eating those horrible meals.”

She snuggled closer “but they are easy to make.”

“I know, but now you have me and cooking for you makes me happy.” And he looked down in her blue eyes and sadness hit him again. He could not stand seeing her so broken. 

“Do I?”

“What?”

“Have you?” She asked him, staring in his pine green eyes.

“Yes,” he said softly kissing her lips “To whatever end, remember?”

Aelin nodded and dried her eyes with the back of her hand “Come on grampa, this lady here is starving.” And she gave him a very faint smile. It was a start. She was trying and for now it was enough. It would take time and he’d at her side during her recovery.

Once he was done they sat at the table and ate in silence.

“Is Aedion mad at me?” She asked timidly while eating his amazing meal. She had not realised how hungry she was until she had Rowan’s food in front of her.

“Worried, mostly.”

“I didn’t mean—” but he stopped her again.

“Eat, relax, then we can talk all you want.”

Once they were done, Rowan washed all the dishes and Aelin helped him to dry them and put them away, making small talk.

Dishes all clean and tucked away, Aelin took his hand and guided him to the bed. He sat down with his back against the board and she snuggled against him. She finally abandoned the blanket and let his arms do the job.

“I am sorry I left,” she started “I was…” she took a deep breath. Where to begin? How could she even begin explain to him how she had felt? “I was happy to go to back to work. It felt good, I was ready, but there was, deep down in me, a lingering fear and I ignored it.” He let her talk and she tried to gather her thoughts “Once I was at the station it became too much. The interactions but worst of all, the memories. I had a panic attack before getting to the station. Then I had one in my office and freaked out after the guys left. The look on their faces, the sadness reminded me that I almost died. The bells almost rang for me this time.” His arms tightened “every time I wake up from a nightmare all I can feel are my lungs and skin burning and the feeling of suffocating. And I burn. Every time I burn.” She gently touched her injured arm “when they left for the call the sirens brought me back to that night and in a moment I was in that hangar again. Stuck. Lost. Burning.” Aelin paused but Rowan never interrupted her. “I was not okay. I knew it. You told me over and over again to go and speak to someone but I didn’t want to admit that I needed help.” He felt her shaking “I put up walls as I did when Sam died and I left. I thought that being alone was going to help but it got worse. I felt lonely and lost like the night of the fire when I got trapped.” She felt his lips on her head “I wanted to call you but after the way I left I could not face you. I was terrified you’d be mad at me and leave me because you had realised I was too much bother and I was not worth the trouble.”

“Never.” He finally whispered “I went insane because I had no way to be with you and help you.”

“I hurt everyone.”

His finger lifted her chin “you did not. We all care about you. We were just worried.”

“I can’t go back yet. I just can’t.” Her face again hiding in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” he told her and kissed her nose “we’ll go back when you feel ready.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“No chance I am leaving here on your own while you are like this. No. My job, everything else can wait and if Lorcan suspends me again, who cares.”

“You are risking to ruin your career to look after me. Lorcan made that quite clear.” She looked up in his eyes and they were full of sadness.

He loosened a breath and leaned his head against the back of the bed “I already neglected one woman because of my job. I didn’t realise how much until I found out the divorce papers. It’s not happening a second time.”

“But—” he shut her up with a kiss.

“I am struggling at work at the moment with Fuzzy’s death and all that is going on I…” he paused “I have my own ghosts and I know how you feel just now.”

Aelin’s mind travelled back to the day she had watched him fly and Lorcan had mentioned about the fact that Rowan needed that day because the student’s death had reminded him of his dark moment “Tell me,” she whispered to him, caressing his face. He had listened to her, now it was her turn. 

“It was my first year as instructor. I had this amazing group of students. They were all very eager to impress. There was one of them “Carrot” who was a bit on the shy side. He was skilled. He was good, but always felt less skilled than the rest of the class. He would never give himself enough credit of how good he was. So I had a chat with him. I told him I believed in him and that I wanted him to believe in his skills a bit more.” He caressed her head in an absent minded motion “I pushed him to dare a bit more. Not much, as long as he was comfortable, but I told him I knew he had skills and I wanted him to be a bit less other people’s shadow for once.” Rowan’s hand tightened on her back “One day during practice I put him in charge of his group. I wanted him to have more confidence. And boy was he good. He was one of those pilots who had a knack for flying. I was proud of him. Then it all happened in front of me in a matter of seconds. He was busy giving orders to his team that he flew through someone else’s wake and lost control of the plane. I tried to help him recover as much as I could but the plane started spinning and soon got into a graveyard spiral. He probably lost consciousness and he crashed on the runaway in a ball of fire.” He finished his tale and was silent for a moment “he reminded me so much of Fuzzy. They were both similar and shy boys with great talent. Carrot’s death destroyed me. I went into my own personal graveyard spiral. I was put on leave and I started drinking heavily. It was a bit before I met Lyria. I was alone and I just hid at home denying my pain and staying away from my squadron mates. I pushed everyone away. Gavriel in the end was the one who helped me to find my way back, after he found me on the floor of my own house verging on alcoholic coma. I know how you feel right now. It took me a while to find the courage to go back, to fly again. I knew it was not my fault but I kept thinking that I was the one who pushed him.”

She turned to him and kissed him “we have in common more than I thought.”

“We can both hide away for a while. I know it’s the coward way but I don’t care just now.”

Rowan nodded “let’s take a week to ourselves.”

Her hand sneaked under his t-shirt and touched skin “I like your plan, captain.”

Rowan shuffled away and got off the bed “let me make a couple of phone calls,” he leaned forward for a kiss.

Rowan returned ten minutes later and found Aelin reading a book. She still looked haunted but the decision of staying at the cottage for another week had removed a bit of the harsh lines in her face. He realised that probably they both needed that break. Lorcan had been strangely quite okay with him taking time off and for a second he thought he heard misheard him. But no, apparently he had his CO’s blessing.

He had also phoned Aedion and given him an update on Aelin. Told him that she was having a hard time but that he was going to help her and that they would stay away for a week. The man had eventually relaxed.

“All okay?” She asked him when he got back from his phone calls.

“All fine. I also called Aedion and told him I got you. He was very relieved.”

She cuddled back into him once he sat back on the bed “he was trying to help so much, but I didn’t want to worry him. He fusses about me just as bad as you do.”

“He cares about you, madly.”

“I know. We grew up together and he always protected me. He has always been at my side and I owe him so much.”

“I can take you out hiking, if you want. I think fresh air and nature will do you good.”

She looked at him in surprise “really?”

He nodded tenderly “I know a few paths around here. Easy stuff since we don’t have the proper gear.”

“Yes,” she said happily and for a brief instant her smile was back and Rowan realised he’d do anything to see that. He’d move the world to see her smiling and happy. He didn’t want to see ever again the shell of a woman he had seen that morning.

“Good, but today you rest. You’ll have another decent meal tonight and hopefully an easy night.”

“As long as we cuddle….”

Rowan snorted “as if I could stop you. You always end up asleep on top of me and I have all your hair in my mouth. Hurricane.” And he flipped her nose and she loved when he did that. It was such a silly gesture but it was the affection behind it.

“What?” He asked her at her curious expression.

“I just…. I just can’t believe sometimes that you are the same guy that could barely laugh at my jokes when we met all these months ago. I mean my bra joke was epic and you ignored it.”

Rowan pulled her closer in for a deep kiss “I did not. They day I went to get you clothes I opened your underwear drawer by mistake and saw a bra. You have no idea of the thoughts that crossed my mind.” He squeezed tenderly “and I had no idea I was capable of falling so quickly and so hard for someone. It was the way you stood up to me the day of the fire. You left me speechless and no woman before managed to do that.”

“Not even Lyria?”

He shook his head “some friends introduced us and played a bit of matchmaking. I liked her, she was nice, but it was a slow burn. She was very quiet and to be honest she was the complete opposite of you. She loved gardening, cooking, baking and absolutely no love for adventure.”

“Sam and I met on a call. When Dorian became chief, Sam got promoted. I saw him other times we had worked on calls together, but there was so much to do that we never interacted. Then one evening we had this horrendous fire, once he made captain, and we worked together with the two squads. Next time we had both a day off he invited me for coffee. We hit it off straight away. He was the sweetest man ever. He was kind and funny. Sometimes when we were on the job he used to make dirty jokes to make me laugh.”

“He sounded like a great guy.”

“I miss him so much.” She confessed quietly “and I think all my problems right now are also bringing back memories of his death.”

Rowan brushed a rebel strand of hair from her face “how did it happen?”

“An explosion in a warehouse. He was near it. He just…” a sob escaped her and she quickly placed a hand on her mouth “he was near it. He burned. His burns were too severe and he did not survive. I didn’t get to see him one last time. When we arrived, Thomas stopped me before I could see his him. But when I saw the body covered by the white sheet I knew it was him. His right hand had come free and I spotted the ring I gave him and that he wore on his thumb.”

Rowan’s arms brushed her back. That could have been her, a part of him kept telling him. But he pushed the anguish away.

Aelin took a deep breath and brushed her tears away “I think it’s enough dark stories for one day.”

He smiled at her “I agree.”

“Fancy watching stupid tv shows and make fun of them?”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“It’s fun.” She grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels “look,” she pointed to the tv “it looks like it’s pilots. Wanna see if it’s correct? I like watching shows with firefighters and spot the mistakes.”

“Your idea of fun is weird.”

Rowan sat comfortably against the head of the bed and Aelin took her place between his legs. She pulled her blanket to her and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“The whole point of the game is to be loud when you see mistakes.” She explained him.

“Oh well, what he just did? It breaks so many rules I can’t even start.”

Aelin’s hands went on his on her tummy.

“What an idiot. He just let himself and his wingman completely exposed. If we did that during training we would get sent back to flight school.”

She felt like laughing.

“Go on, buzzard. That’s the spirit.”

“Ok, if you do that in real life you are an idiot. They are clearly flying at high altitudes and you do not remove the mask. No matter how much you want to celebrate winning the dogfight. If for any reason the cockpit loses pressure you don’t have much left.”

“Ro, we are only half an hour in. This movie sucks.”

He shrugged “the planes are quite awesome though. I think they are a mix of different real ones.”

“Ok, the actor is definitely not my type but I must admit that those jump suit of yours make you all so much sexier.”

Rowan roared with laughter then went back watching the movie but not following the plot. His hands had started tracing lines up and down Aelin’s arms, she pushed her back deeper against his chest and his chin went on her shoulder.

He was enjoying this. It felt natural to have her in his arms and cuddle and make fun of stupid movies. She looked a bit better and he also noticed a very faint smile and he called it progress compared to what he saw in the morning. 

“Ok, the love interest has appeared. I bet they are having sex within twenty minutes.”

Rowan pointed at one character “he is going to die. I have a feeling. His callsign is flapjack.”

Aelin patted his hand “what about storm trooper?”

“Oh no, he is the villain. The antagonist. He will be humiliated at the end of the movie but he will not die.”

“It’s because they are the best pilots?”

“Actually they are terrible. Both of them. In real life they would not last five minutes.”

They watched the movie in silence for a while until Aelin felt Rowan tense all of a sudden. Then in the movie the afterburners of one of the pilots stopped working and he lost control.

Rowan stood quickly and left the house.

“Shit.” Apparently she was not the only one suffering. How could she have missed how bad it was for him as well? She had been so centred on herself that she had forgotten about him. Gods she was the worst girlfriend ever. He had been thoughtful and caring all while he was struggling as well.

She ran outside and found him sitting on the grass in front of the cottage, his head on his knees and his arms at its side. 

“Ro,” she kneeled at his side and brushed his hair “I am sorry. I am so, so, so sorry.” She felt tears sting her eyes.

He pulled her to him “why are you apologising?”

“I was so selfish. I was so wrapped up in my own mess that I forgot that you were going through some tough shit as well. I am the worst girlfriend ever.”

He leaned forward and kissed her “I love that.”

“What?”

“You calling yourself my girlfriend. I really love the sound of it.”

“Ro, are you okay?”

“I will be fine.” He brushed her off and then grabbed her and pulled her on the grass with him pulling her body on top of his.

Aelin stared in his eyes and still saw pain in them. He was not fine. Not even remotely, but he was being tough for her. He was pushing his pain away to be strong for her. They had to be strong for each other. 

She caressed his face and then kissed his nose “you can talk to me too, you know? It’s not just my walls that are bad. Yours too. I am here for you. We can take care of each other. Be a little braver day by day, together.”

“Kiss me.” Was all he said and she did. Avidly and deeply and he opened for her and she teased his lower lip with her teeth and his hands sneaked along her sides. Aelin straddled him properly and felt the bulge under his shorts. She kept kissing him and their tongues met. Her hands fisted in his hair and the moan that left her was a clear direction of where her thoughts had wandered. He rolled her over and pushed her off him. Aelin was about to protest but Rowan lifted her in his arms and ran back into the cottage.

She pulled him on top of her all the while grabbing his t-shirt to get it off him. They undressed each other in a frenzy of need and when Rowan was finally naked as well, Aelin grabbed him and pulled him on top of her. She needed him badly and had no time for foreplay. Not the first time around. 

From the way he positioned himself on top of her she knew he was feeling the same. 

“I need you…” she whispered in his ear and those words were Rowan’s undoing.

It had started to get dark when Aelin and Rowan finally lay exhausted in each other’s arms. The first time had been intense and mostly a way for both of them to forget in each other arms. The second one had lasted a bit longer and it was less a way of escaping and more one to find each other again. The third time had been the complete opposite. It had been long and sweet. Whispering sweet nothings to one another, taking their time to explore their bodies and drag the sweet apex from the other.

Rowan was staring at the ceiling while Aelin was sprawled on his naked chest.

“At least we know that in bed we are pretty epic. I am wiped. I mean, happy, very satisfied but wiped.”

She heard him chuckle gently, his hand travelled down and his fingers twinned with hers. The hand went to his mouth and he kissed it “I am exhausted too, but very, very satisfied.”

Her stomach grumbled and Rowan laughed “and that’s my clue.” He moved from underneath her and got off the bed and walked to the kitchen stark naked.

Aelin turned on her side and pillowed her head on her arm, staring at him wearing the apron but leaving his backside exposed. The scene was ridiculous.

“Sexy.”

He wiggled his backside and Aelin giggled. The man was perfect. His body was muscular and thanks to his strict diet and exercise regime he didn’t have a gram of fat on him.

“How hungry are you? Back to your normal levels?”

“Almost.”

He smiled, that was a great sign. Her appetite was coming back “I’ll make a bit more just in case you are still hungry after the first portion.”

While he cooked she stared at him in her cozy spot in bed under the blankets. She had spent four full days in bed and she had come to hate it, but now that he was with her it was perfect. Also, his scent of pine and snow was everywhere and she felt at home.

“Don’t fall asleep or you will miss dinner.”

“I can’t. If I sleep I will miss the beautiful view in front of me.”

He clenched his butt in response and Aelin laughed. It was a silly thing but it made her feel light hearted.

Once he was done cooking he walked to the bed with two bed trays and gave one to Aelin, then went back to get the food.

“Here we go, milady,” he gave her the food and got back to get his, then got rid of the apron and joined her in bed.

She turned her head to him “thank you for dinner,”

He just kissed her “eat.”

Once finished eating, Aelin stood and cleared all the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, then got back to him. He had the tv back on and was watching a cartoon.

She laughed. She really did not paint him like the type of guy to watch cartoons.

“What?”

“You are watching cartoons.”

He patted her side of the bed inviting her to join him again “they are fun.”

She curled against him and eventually they both fell asleep.

***

As usual Rowan was the first one up.

Aelin was curled at his chest and he was glad she had managed to sleep all through the night without any nightmares. He gently kissed her head and got off the bed. He went to his bag and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and got dressed to go out for a run. 

Although it was full on spring, the air in the mountains was much cooler so he wore a hoodie as well. He got out of the cottage and took a moment to breath in the fresh air. The location was super peaceful and he realised he hadn’t done that in a very long time. He hadn’t slow down in what felt like forever. 

Another full breath and he left. He knew Aelin would be asleep still for a while if she had gone back to her standards. He had left her a note just in case. Behind their house there was a path leading into the woods and he took that setting himself up for a challenge. Off track running was far more challenging than on the pavement. But he welcomed it. Welcomed the opportunity to switch off his brain for a while. The path started to rise slightly as he got deeper in the woods. He could hear a river so he followed it. He spotted berries along the path and thought about coming back and pick them and make Aelin a nice cake with them. He continued along the river for a couple of kilometres until the roaring sound of the water increased and he noticed a gigantic waterfall, opening up in a pool at the bottom of it. The water was crystal clear and he was positive Aelin would love that. He could take her along that path. It was easy enough and she should manage it. 

Rowan sat along the path and stared at the scene for a while, then decided to climb down to water level. 

Once down he crouched and took a sip of the water and it was refreshing. He wetted his hair and face and climbed back up and slowly made his way back to the cottage. 

Half an hour later he was back at the cottage. Tired but he felt recharged at the same time. The run had been good.

Back in the house, Aelin was still asleep and he laughed but did not wake her up. She needed it pretty badly. So sneakily he padded to the bathroom and went for a much needed shower letting the warm water soothe the ache in his muscles. He chuckled when he realised that without Aelin to keep him company, his showers reverted back to the military efficiency of a run against time to finish before the hot water ran out. He grabbed a towel from the rack, patted his hair dry and then donned it around his waist. 

Still in a towel he walked to the kitchen and made breakfast and at the smell of food he heard Aelin wake up. 

“I smell food,” she said from the bedroom. A moment later she was behind him, wearing only the t-shirt she used as pyjama. Her arms around his waist “you were not in bed.”

“I went for a run.” He replied while concentrating on cooking “French toast is fine?”

“Aye, aye captain.”

“I found a nice easy path that we can walk along today.”

“Good, but I am mad at you.” She told him while caressing his naked back.

“Why?”

“You took a shower without me.”

Rowan chuckled “you were sleeping.”

“So, so rude.”

“Menace, sit down and grab some coffee.” He ordered her. 

Aelin gave him a mocking salute and filled two cups with coffee and took her place at the table.

“Did you had a nice sleep?” He asked worried. She had been quiet all night and that had been a good sign but she still didn’t look okay.

“I did, actually. I had no bad dreams or anything. I think it was you presence at my side. I felt safe in your arms.”

He gave her a big smile “do you feel up for a walk?”

Aelin nodded eagerly while taking a bite of her food “I need fresh air. I have been cooped up in here for too long.”

“Good, then finish your food.”

An hour later they were outside in front of the cottage.

Aelin had a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Rowan had convinced to wear something warm. He loved to fuss.

He had the same attire and also a backpack filled with water bottles, lunch he had prepared and packed for both and for some reason unbeknownst to Aelin two towels as well. 

“Do you need all that stuff in you backpack? We are just going for a walk, not a mission on top of the Staghorns.”

“Always,” he said, walking in front of her “you do not go out on a walk in the woods without food, water and basic first aid supplies.”

He slowed down and got to her side and grabbed her hand “we have to do survival training while we are at flight school,” he told her “we had to learn to survive in the wilderness in different types on environments and also in a very cold climate. Also how to survive in an enemy zone and what to do if we get captured.”

She looked at him stunned and a part of her ignored the last words. Captured meant to be in enemy hands and possibly torture. For a brief second she felt sick at the image of him in an enemy cell being beaten up. Quickly she brushed the bad thoughts away. 

“It’s in case we suffer a malfunction and we are forced to land. We need to be prepared for anything and to know how to make it out alive.” He had continued while she zoned out.

“So if we get lost in the woods you would know how to keep us alive?”

He nodded. 

“Damn, you are more useful than I thought.”

Rowan roared with laughter.

Then they reached the area with all the berries and stopped Aelin and he walked to one of the bushes. He grabbed a plastic container from his backpack and started picking berries.

“What are you doing?”

“They are berries, I saw them during my run. I will make a cake.”

Aelin walked to him and he offered her a blueberry “Are you sure they are edible?”

He rolled his eyes “yes, Fireheart.”

He opened his palm to her and offered her a few more. They tasted delicious.

Rowan went deeper into the bushes but Aelin did not follow. She sat on the side of the path and waited for him to come back.

He did so twenty minutes later with an air of satisfaction on his face. In his hands she noticed the container full of different berries and in his other hand a smaller one “this one is for snacking.” And he passed her the smaller container.

Aelin then noticed his legs covered in cuts “your legs.”

“Ah it’s nothing, the bushes have thorns. There’s a river appearing quite soon I’ll wash there.”

The path wound among the trees and they slowly walked enjoying the fresh air and the peace “it smells like you.”

Rowan looked at her with curiosity.

“You smell of pine and snow and right now we are surrounded by pine trees and it just smells like you.”

He gave her a gentle kiss and they kept walking until he heard the sound of the river and he knew the surprise would come soon enough.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” Rowan turned to her and saw her serene face and he relaxed. The walk had been a good idea.

“Come on. We are not there yet.”

She skipped a few steps in front of him and his heart melted. She looked as carefree as when he met her but a part of him was wondering if that was a mask she was putting on for him.

She peeked beyond the trees and saw the river flow down in the valley “can we go down?”

He took her hand again “be patient.”

She huffed a puff and kept walking at his side and Rowan could tell she was getting restless.

“Fine,” he yielded. “There is a majestic waterfall down the road. Race me to it?”

She gave him the most amazing grin “you betcha. See you there, grampa.” And she sprinted, leaving him behind. 

Rowan raced after her and not long after he had caught up to her, most likely thanks to his long legs. He had also a backpack but that did not stop him from taking over and eventually reaching the waterfall before her.

She arrived a couple of seconds later and bent over, hands on her knees “you…” she was breathless “have long legs. Not…” another breath “fair.”

He chuckled and helped her up “look,” he said pointing at the waterfall.

Aelin followed his finger and gasped amazed. The waterfall was tall and fierce. The spray created a beautiful rainbow and at the bottom there was a pool of the most crystal clear water she had ever seen.

“Let’s go down.” She grabbed his hand and pulled.

Carefully they made their way down and as soon as they were at water level, Aelin ran to the pool and went on her knees to play with the water. It was chilli but so gorgeous. She tasted a palmful and it was super refreshing. Rowan joined a minute later and sat beside her “what do you think?”

Aelin stared at the gigantic waterfall “so stunning.” Then she stood and started peeling off her clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“There is no way I am not taking a swim in this paradise. We did it in Doranelle and this is so much better.”

“It was also much warmer.”

“Up to the challenge, captain?” Aelin was now towering over him completely naked, her long blond hair unbound.

Rowan stood in silence and undressed in front of her, meeting her wanton smile.

“Come,” she said to him offering him her hand.

Step by step they entered the water which was not as cold as Rowan expected. The pool was exposed to the sun and quite shallow, allowing the water to warm up a bit.

They walked to the centre and then he sat down on the bed and wiggled a finger to Aelin. She joined him and straddled him “you brought the towels. You knew this would happen.” Her hands brushed his hair and angled his neck so he was looking up at her.

“I saw the pool this morning and I thought at how naughty we could be in it.”

“I like the way your mind works.” She kissed him and pushed her naked body closer to his. She stood on her knees and she felt his hands grab her buttocks. One of his fingers traced lazy circles around her core teasing her. Aelin lowered herself down to him, grinding against his finger.

His free hand went around her neck and pulled her mouth close to his “I need you… to touch you, to kiss you… to be inside you…” his voice rough with desire.

“Then go ahead, captain. Fuck me senseless.”

Rowan stood in a swift motion and lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapped around him. He moved toward the waterfall to one side with less water and walked under the water and behind it and Aelin noticed a small cave.

“Privacy,” he told her once through and moved against the rock wall, pinning her body against it.

“Now, where were we?” His breath tickled her neck and she felt his tongue tracing the length of it. With one arm he held her up whilst the other slithered down along her thigh, between her legs were the proof of her desire was there for him to feel. The tip of a finger found its way inside her and Aelin closed her eyes and once the whole finger eased into her a moan left her lips. His head tipped down and took one of her hardened peaks in his mouth. Aelin’s back arched and her lower abdomen felt the proof of his growing desire. Aelin moved against his hand and he responded by adding a second finger and curling them inside her reaching that hidden spot.

“Fuck.” His thumb brushed her clit and Aelin was glad she was in his arms because she doubted she’d be able to stand. His free hand grabbed her leg “both of them around my waist,” he told her against her mouth.

“Please…” she told him her hands on his back, pulling his body closer.

His fingers left her and for a moment she missed their presence inside her. His hands went to her hips and angled her and she felt his tip nudge at her entrance. A moment later he eased fully into her and stilled for a few seconds letting her enjoy the feeling of him filling her. Gently he pulled out and slammed into her straight away, Aelin’s nails leaving half-moon marks on his back.

“You feel sooo…” another thrust “perfect. So bloody perfect.” She angled her hips sightly and at the next thrust she screamed in pleasure. They kept the rhythm steady until she felt her body ready to tip over the edge. Her muscles tightening around him. He groaned and his lips kissed her hard.

“Aelin—” her orgasm swept over her like a river that had broke its banks, powerful and strong. She felt him pick up his speed prolonging her high until he joined her as well in blissful oblivion and eventually relaxed spent against her.

Aelin turned her head and kissed the corner of his mouth “I scratched your back,” she added apologetically, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“For this?” He kissed her, never putting her down “totally worth it.” 

He moved away from the wall and started walking back to the pool and both sat back in the water.

Aelin pulled away from him and swam in the crystal waters while he sat with his back against the edge of the pool and looked at her.

She stood in provocation “seen anything you like, captain?”

“Go back swimming, menace.”

Aelin laughed and splashed him playfully then went back to enjoying the water.

Rowan on the other hand, left and went to the bank and started drying himself up and getting dressed again.

“Spoilsport.” She shouted at him when she saw him leave the pool.

“You should get out too, you don’t want to get too cold. The sun is moving and the pool is going into the shadows, it will get cold soon.” He pulled out her towel and opened up for her “come on,”

She stood and went to him. Rowan enveloped her in the big towel and then used his one to brush her hair dry as much as he could. Once she had clothes on as well he moved them to a patch in the sun and they sat back down “Sit here, it’s sunny and it will help you dry your hair.”

She obeyed him and then saw Rowan open his backpack and pulling out all of his stuff. He had water bottles, a thermos with coffee, the tub with the berries and two tubs with their lunches inside.

She always felt spoiled by the care he showed to her. She had to find a way to repay him.

“Eat.”

It was much later in the afternoon when they finally got back to the cottage. After the pool and the waterfall they had continued along the path and deeper into the woods and they did a super long circular walk that in the end brought them at the entrance of the holiday park.

“I am exhausted,” she complained sitting on the bed. Rowan stopped in front of her and kissed her nose “you have freckles and your face is nice and red, you have some colour on you.”

Not like the shell of a woman he had seen the day before with pale lips and dead eyes.

She extended her arms to him “kiss,” she begged but he walked away grinning without her seeing him.

“Whitethorn,” she barked.

He turned and gave her a chaste peck on the lips but her hands grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer.

“Thank you.”

“For the kiss?”

She shook her head “for being here. For not giving up on me. For finding me.”

He kissed her softly “I will always find you.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​

@jlinez​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@courtofjurdan​

@whimsicallyreading​

@tillyrubes10​

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #fluff #angst #Throne of Glass series

[hurting-fictional-people]

Day two

Just a quick disclaimer: I tried to read about blood loss and stuff to make this as accurate as possible but in the end, the real scientific and completely medically precise source used to describe how Noah feels is how bad I feel after drawing blood when I can’t eat beforehand. So just ignore the medical inaccuracies please hsdjfhj

CW: lab whump, medical setting, needles, drawing blood, manhandling, restraints, muzzle

Previous

“Mr. Reeve, the doctor has requested you.”

It was weird how, sometimes, words felt physical. Noah was sitting on the bed one moment, trying to talk to his roommate – who kept dodging his questions –, and in the next, he was up and backing away to the wall farthest from the door and the guards waiting there, hands raised in surrender as a shiver ran through his body.

Even though he could hear his heart racing and feel his stomach churning, Noah grinned at the guards and crooned “You can go and tell dear dr. Carver to shove his request up his– “

Before he could finish, three guards hovered over him. Unforgiving hands grabbed his arms and hauled him out of the room, jerking in the tight grip.

Maverick, who had kept mostly to himself as Noah tried to get him to spill out everything he knew about the facility, stood up with a frown and called his name, but Noah was left guessing what he was about to say as the doors locked them each in one side.

He thrashed and kicked for half of the way before giving up.

“Fine, I’ll stop fighting, you guys can let me go. I’ll lose my arms if you keep cutting off my circulation like this.”

As soon as the hands left his arms, though, Noah darted forward. The hallways were endless and identical, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to leave.

Noah didn’t even get to the corner before he was thrown to the ground face-first, avoiding breaking his nose by turning his head in the last possible second, hands held behind him and a knee on his back. A high-pitched yelp escaped his lips as the guard barked at his ear, “done with the antics, kid?”

He nodded against the cold tile. The man pulled him up but didn’t let go of his arms, still painfully twisted behind his back. Noah groaned, but didn’t bother complaining – he knew he wouldn’t be heard anyway.

Noah tried his best not to think of where he was going or what might be awaiting him, but when they stopped in front of sliding metal doors, he was already trembling. One of the guards typed something on a keyboard by the door, and as it opened, Noah had to lock his knees to keep them from bucking.

He stood before a wide lab, eyes darting between trays filled with needles, flasks, and sharp objects he didn’t know the name of but filled him with unease either way; cabinets he was sure held more of the frightening instruments; and the metal table, right in the middle of it all, surrounded by restraints.

He swallowed audibly and started to back away instinctively, earning a growl from a guard and an annoyed shove forward.

Dr. Carver looked up at him from where he rummaged through a cabinet and straightened up, smiling at the false bravado Noah was trying to pull.

“Noah! How nice of you to join us,” the doctor cooed, giving him a wink. Noah wished to have his hands free so he could punch that fucking wink out of that smug face. “On the table, please.”

“If your henchmen stop trying to dislocate my shoulder,” he hissed, writhing against the hands holding him.

The doctor only tilted his head to the side and admired the scene as the guards pushed him down on the table and buckled restraints around his ankles, his wrists, his chest, his hips. Noah swore through gritted teeth, loudly and profusely enough to feel burning glares from the nurses and other doctors strolling around the lab, casually ignoring him until then.

“Language, kid,” Dr. Carver chastised.

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking psycho, sadistic creep,” Noah grunted.

“Quit insulting me, Noah, it won’t do you any good.”

“I wasn’t insulting you, asshole, I was describing you,” he replied, pushing against the restraints and finding no give.

He expected annoyance at least, fury at best in response to his retort. Instead, he was met with an amused smile.

“Did you know we’re recording every test and experiment?” the doctor said softly, towering over Noah’s defenseless figure. “I’m going to take great pleasure in watching this later, once I’ve taught you how to behave properly.”

“We’ll see about that, doc,” Noah smirked, hoping it would conceal the dread pooling in his stomach.

“This is one of the wild ones, huh? We’ll see how long It lasts,” someone muttered behind him, earning low chuckles from faceless people. Suddenly it was too hard to keep up the fearless facade as helplessness fell over him like a thick blanket, stealing his breath away. They talked about Noah like he was a zoo animal – locked up against his will, just a helpless and unwilling entertainment. A lab rat. It was hard not to feel like it.

“Are you done being a brat?” Dr. Carver asked, dragging a stool and a metal tray on wheels next to Noah. “Let us begin, then.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he shouted, but no one listened.

Noah trashed as hard as he could, but all he could do was scratch his skin against the harsh material strapping him to the table.

“I’m not doing anything yet, kid. Hold still or this is going to be a lot more painful than it has to,” Carver warned with a look a parent might give a disobedient child.

Noah only thrashed harder.

Hands came from everywhere, grabbing his body all at the same time. A tourniquet was tied to his arm way too tightly, a cotton-tipped swab stuck up his nose so high it burned and made his eyes water. Before he could do as much as take a breath, a needle was stabbed into his vein so harshly and abruptly he couldn’t help by cry out.

“I told you to hold still,” dr. Carver said in a sing-song voice that got Noah clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

As people continued to poke and prod him, Noah searched for the small black circle of a camera, finding one in each corner of the room. Staring straight at the closest one, he screamed “I want this to stop now! I do not allow my body or my image to be used in this experiment! They are keeping me captive and using me against my will!”

When he finished, shaky hands, gasping breath and raw voice, a chuckle filled the room.

“Cute,” Dr. Carver commented, patting his hand. He didn’t get a chance to scratch the man before he took the hand away. “But the recordings are mine and are never going to be seen by anyone else. Nice try, though.”

He would have replied, weren’t for the harsh hands suddenly holding his head still. Noah tried to bite and scream, but he was truly helpless to stop them when a piece of metal was shoved inside his mouth, keeping his tongue uncomfortably pressed to his palate, his jaw unable to fully close or open, and someone held his head up as another buckled straps behind it.

A muzzle.

They muzzled him.

Noah stared at dr. Carver with wide, betrayed eyes. The man simply giggled and continued to fill a bag with his blood. He tried to force his jaw open, to say something, anything, but the muzzle was strapped tight, and all he could produce was a pitiful whine. Shame filled him to the brim, making his cheeks burn.

“Don’t worry kid, this is just so you stop screaming and don’t give us a headache since we’re going to be here for a while,” the doctor said in a tranquilizing voice. “We’ll take it out once we’re done.”

He looked at Noah expectantly, as if waiting for a response, his smile wrapped in just the right amount of mockery to make Noah seethe.

With even his words taken away, Noah let his body sag on the table, eyes closed to keep the tears from falling as the doctors went on.

They took X-rays, ultrasounds, and countless tests no one cared to tell him the name of or what they were for. His body was handled by precise, impersonal hands, moving him slightly when needed, like a puppet being rearranged on stage. Like an object, made to be played with. Whenever he had the chance, Noah writhed as best as he could just to annoy the doctors, but the satisfaction it earned him was quickly muddled by the pain when they tightened the restraints so hard his extremities started to tingle.

It wasn’t the pain he was scared of. He had agreed on participating in the experiment before he knew it was actually a prison, knowing it would probably include some degree of pain. It was the lack of freedom that made him sick to his stomach with panic. The loss of his free will, which he had fought so hard to conquer, now being taken away in the blink of an eye. It hurt more than anything those so-called doctors could do to him.

And so, it hurt inside and out, as strangers with apathetic eyes used his body as if there was no one inside, whimpering softly and hoping that dreadful day could just come to an end.

-

After what felt like forever, when Noah was already dizzy and weak from all the blood they’d taken – why did they need two blood bags and that many tubes, anyway? –, dr. Carver smiled sweetly and shook his shoulder to get him out of the sleepy daze he didn’t realize he was in.

“We’re all done here, kid. I’d say you did good, but you really didn’t. You also lost quite a bit of blood and haven’t eaten anything, so I’d recommend resting and eating whatever we send to your room unless you want to be back here sooner rather than later. Hopefully next time you’ll behave better, and we won’t have to use the muzzle or the restraints, huh?”

His head was lifted, the muzzle taken away, leaving his jaw aching and his pride scattered somewhere along the floor, replaced by anger and embarrassment.

“Let’s not pretend you wouldn’t tie me down just to see me struggling, doc. I can see it in your eyes,” he said, working his jaw to try and alleviate the ache.

“You’ll be so cute when you learn to keep your mouth shut, Noah,” Carver sighed, not looking at all as annoyed as his words might’ve suggested. Actually, he sounded more entertained than anything.

With an indifferent nod to someone Noah couldn’t see, the doctor patted his cheek patronizingly and turned away.

A part of Noah felt the impulse of provoking the man one last time, just to try and get a reaction out of him, but the rest just wanted to curl up and sleep, forget that this day ever existed. So, when the guards surrounded him, unbuckling the restraints with maddening slowness, Noah just laid there and waited, too worn out to do or say anything.

The walk back to the room looked more like two grown men dragging a rag doll through disturbing hallways, but Noah was so faint and defeated that he just sank in their grip and stumbled across the cold floors.

He didn’t even realize they were already in front of his cell until the guards let go of his arms and shoved him inside. The ground approached quickly as his knees bent with the sudden push, but instead of being met with chilly tile and pain, he was enveloped by warm arms and a comforting presence holding all his weight.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Maverick helped him straighten up before staggering toward the bed.

“You are either the most intriguing subject they ever got their hands on, or you really pissed someone off if they left you like this on your second day here,” Maverick remarked, sitting on his own bed across Noah’s.

“I don’t think Carver likes being called a crazy fucking psycho,” Noah said in as smug a tone as he could muster, “or a sadistic creep.”

Maverick pursed his lips, but a snorted laugh was quick to escape them. He shook his head slowly, laughing audible for a moment before forcing his mouth back shut and replacing the softness the laughter had spread across his face with a slight frown. “Bold. But you shouldn’t do that, Noah. The sooner you stop resisting, the less they’ll actively hurt you.”

“They are keeping me captive; they are hurting me either way.”

Maverick glared at him, jaw pressed tight. “You are hardly escaping. It’s better to comply and accept the mercy you can have than fight for a lost cause.”

“The day I stop fighting, Maverick, is the day my fucking soul dies. If I comply, then I give up and I am never doing that. And you know what? You shouldn’t either – if you let them convince you that you can’t escape, then you really won’t.”

The words fell out of his mouth in a stumbling croak, his tongue feeling weird and sore inside his mouth. Even so, Noah would’ve kept going if the other man hadn’t turned his face away, brows furrowed and gaze furious. He would’ve been sorry for scolding him, but Noah truly meant what he’d said.

“Hey, how long have you been here?” it was hard to keep a lighthearted tone when he felt absolutely miserable, but Noah forced himself to roll to his side and swallow down the nausea and the humiliation that seemed to have stuck to him.

“I don’t know, they don’t let us keep track of time,” was the low answer, a hint of sadness tinging every word. “You have to make peace with what you’re living now, Noah. I’ve been here for longer, and I can tell you for sure: people don’t leave this place. The only thing we can do is hope that today doesn’t hurt as badly as yesterday.”

Helplessness emanated from Maverick as the words left his mouth. Noah’s roommate had clearly been through a lot more than he had, and he knew that arguing would render him nothing. So Noah kept his mouth shut and silently promised himself he would prove Maverick wrong. 

“Are you okay?” Maverick asked suddenly.

“Yeah, why?” 

It was a flat out lie. Noah’s body felt feeble and strained after so many hours held in the same position, his head hurt, and he feared he might start crying anytime.

“You are so pale your lips have disappeared.”

Noah pouted, trying to see his colorless lips.

“Damn, I can’t believe I’m already making a bad impression. Wanted to look nice at least on the first few days, you know?” he mumbled, the instinct to joke and hide his vulnerability taking over.

“You look like a very handsome ghost, don’t worry.”

Noah managed to crack out a smile as Maverick stared so intensely at his face, he feared he was looking at his soul.

“I think you’ll be okay, you just need to eat something and rest for a bit,” his roommate finally stated, glancing at the box attached to the wall from where the meals came in. “I’ll keep watch for when they deliver some food. You should sleep for now, I know you didn’t last night. Tell me if you start feeling worse or if anything changes, alright?”

Noah nodded once before curling up and closing his eyes. Strangely enough, he quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, too exhausted to even think about how he could still feel the muzzle pressed against his face. For once, he just laid there and let himself be lulled by the warm presence watching over him, knowing he wasn’t alone after such a terrible day.

When Noah woke up, he was alone in the cell, Maverick’s absence feeling like a weight on his stomach. This time the unease he felt looking around had nothing to do with blood loss.

Next

#whump #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #defiant whumpee #lab whump #medical setting #needles cw #blood mention #experiment whump #experimentation whump #medical whump #test subject #lab rats

[jawritter]

Pieces Of Me

Summary: It can be so hard to let go, no matter how much you think you’ve prepared yourself. 

Warnings: **SPOILERS**  Season 15 episode 20, Carry On spoilers. Read with caution! Angst, Character Death, language, heartache, panic attack, fluff, Jensen is a sweetheart. I think that’s about it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1908

Request by: @msmarvelouswinchester! I hope you like it love!!

A/N:  This fic is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. It’s personal, and it was hard to write. There are alot of emotions in there, but I tried to be a switzerland as I could manage, because I’m still feeling it too guys! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one! 

**MASTERLIST**   **BECOME A PATREON**

“Ready sweetheart?” Jensen asked you not even an hour before as he sat down next to you on the sectional that was spread out in the living room, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over the pair of you as you settled into his side, letting the scent of his body wash and the warmth of his body comfort your nervous, restless heart as only he could.

“As I’ll ever be,” you responded, tucking yourself deeper into his into the warm little cocoon the two of you had created for yourselves. 

Jensen flipped the TV to the CW and grabbed his beer from next to the couch where the two of you were sitting. 

This was it, the final episode of Supernatural. “For now,” as Jensen has been saying. You knew he was having just as much trouble letting go of Dean as you were. Dean had been such a large piece of Jensen’s life for the past fifteen years, and being a part of anything for that long, no matter what it was, was going to be really hard to let go. 

In fact, the two of you had already decided to continue writing Dean’s story in hopes of a revival sooner rather than later.

He’d called you the night he wrapped for the last time crying like he’d lost his best friend. That was a part of him the world didn’t get to see. The part of him that seemed to be grieving the loss of his “best imaginary friend.” It scared you, but you wouldn’t let him spoil the final episode for you.

You’d been watching Supernatural for years, and even though you were in a relationship with Jensen, it didn’t take away from your love for Dean. In fact, you enjoyed seeing the little glimpse of Jensen here and there in Dean. The little traits that Dean had “picked up from Jensen”. He’d put so much of himself into the role that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart. He brought Dean alive in more ways than on the screen. He made him real, relatable, a person that everyone fell in love hard with. Including you. Jensen had said so many times that “Dean is a piece of me,” and anyone who knew Jensen personally could see that without a struggle.

Dean was your best imaginary friend too. Whether Jensen realized it or not, Dean had gotten you through some pretty hard stuff in your life long before you had even met Jensen. He was woven into the fabric of your past and present. He was a part of you, just like he was Jensen and so many other people. 

You had been crying for days in secret, knowing that tonight would bring the end. You didn’t want to let it on to Jensen just how hard of a time you were having accepting this ending of an error. So you kept it hid, and prepared yourself, promising yourself that you wouldn’t cry tonight no matter what. 

Boy were you wrong. 

At first, you weren’t sure what was happening was real. At first, you were confused. Just as much as Sam was even. Then you figured it out, and man, that’s when the waterworks started. Still, you held out hope that at the last minute someone was going to step in just in time and save Dean...but then no one did. It crushed you. 

The pressure started to build in your chest, and the tears started to flow down your face like floodgates had been opened. You couldn’t accept it. No, Dean deserved more than this. After all he’d lived through, after everything he’d been put through, all the trauma, all the heartache, all the sacrifice, and they killed him like this? It didn’t seem right, it didn’t seem fair, but most of all it was devastating. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream, but couldn’t, you had no real expression for the utter agony that was ripping its way through your very soul. 

Jensen quickly paused the TV and got down on his knees in front of you to cradle your face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, hey, hey look at me, baby. It’s okay, I’m here. Breath with me baby girl,” he said, taking a deep breath which you tried to mimic with so much difficulty that it physically hurt. 

“That’s it, baby, just breathe me,” he cooed in an attempt to calm you. 

Your head was racing with thoughts that seemed to only make you feel like you were spirling worse, and you were having trouble getting the image of Dean impaled to a pole in a dirty barn out of your mind even though Jensen was physically kneeling in front of you doing all he could to help you calm down. 

After a while, you got your breathing under control, but the tears seemed like they were never going to stop. Jensen got up off the floor once he was certain you weren’t going to pass out on him, and pulled you into his lap on the couch, rocking the two of you slightly as he wrapped the blanket back around you, kissing your forehead and holding you tightly to him while you tried to process what you had just witnessed. 

“Talk to me baby,” Jensen said, brushing the hair away from your face with his free hand, nuzzling into your hair to get as close as possible as he could to you. 

“Why?” was all you could seem to get out through the still free-falling tears. 

Jensen swallowed the lump that had seemed to feel as if it were closing off his own throat and placed a chased kiss to your forehead again as he tried to come up with an answer that he really didn't have. He’d had his own struggles with the ending, and this, seeing your reaction, only made his own feelings that much more prominent in that moment.

“Baby I wish I had the answer to that, but I don’t,” he said, his own thoughts were still a mess on this subject, and if truth be told, he didn’t want to let go of Dean either. 

“It’s not fair,” you tell him through choked sobs that are still wracking your grief riddled body.

“I know sweetheart, but what death in life has ever been fair? Dean died doing what he loved to do, he was saving people. He died saving those kids, and he gave his baby brother one last chance to have a real-life away from the horrors they had grown up in. He died doing what he loved. He still died a hero.”

You sat there for a moment as Jensen’s words sunk in, but you just couldn’t let it go, you couldn’t digest it. 

“Jay, they killed him by impaling him on a pole! He deserved so much better than that! Why couldn’t he get the chance at a normal life? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending? It’s not fair that Sam got a chance to experience a family, it’s not fair that Dean had to die that way. I can’t accept it. I can’t.”

Jensen placed two fingers under your chin and guided your gaze up to his, searching your gaze for a moment as you searched his before wiping away the tears that had stained your cheeks. 

“Dean’s still right here, he’s a piece of me, sweetheart, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he said, dropping his voice at least a whole octave to Dean’s deep gravel for a moment, and a chill ran through your system at the sudden change in him. Jensen never ceased to amaze you when it came to his ability to do that. Just turn it on in an instance, and lose himself totally to the character he was playing at that moment. 

He brought his lips to yours in a deep and slow kiss that took your breath away before looking back at you with your Jensen firmly back in the center of the conversation, resting his forehead against yours and holding you close to him as physically possible as if he were trying to hold you together. 

“Nothing in Supernatural ever really stays gone, and Dean’s right here sweetheart,” taking your hand in his he placed it to his chest where you could feel his heartbeat just below the surface of his thin shirt. 

“He’s grown with me for fifteen years. He was my best friend, he was the guy I’d hide behind and talk to when I couldn’t find the words to face whatever it was myself. He was there on the nights I spent alone in Vancouver filming, and I didn’t have anyone to come home to. He listens and knows some of my deepest, darkest parts of me, and more importantly, if it weren’t for him I’d never have met you.”

Jensen’s hands brushed past your cheek and into your hair as if he were grounding himself against his own emotions, kissing you quickly again before he could continue. 

“Death is a part of life, and Dean died on his terms. He died saving people, hunting things, and he died just as much of a hero as he would have if he would have gone down in the biggest blaze of glory money could buy. He was happy, he was at peace, and most importantly he can rest now. The load is gone, and he can have the peace he’s deserved for so long. It’s not how we die baby, it’s how we live that matters, and Dean lived and died by his terms, not chucks, not the writers, not anyone else, and if you ever miss him just remember he’s right here.”

You took a shaky breath and buried your head in Jensen’s shoulder, breathing in his scent and his comfort that only he could ever give you as the two of you sat wrapped in each other's embrace. 

“I’m so proud of you Jensen. I’m so fucking proud of what you’ve created through Supernatural and through Dean. I know it will get easier, but right now it’s a hard pill to swallow for me. I can only imagine what it was like for you to have to do that after fifteen years of playing this character. I see so much of you in Dean. He’s such a big piece of you.”

Jensen brushed his lips over your own again before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV before standing with you in his arms as if you weighed nothing at all, and carried you towards your shared bedroom to lay you down in his arms. 

Sure, Dean was a piece of him that was larger than he even realized until he had to let him go, but you were a big part of his heart too, and tonight he knew your heart was heavy with the loss that he’d been dealing with for months alone, not able to tell anyone or warn anyone of its outcome. So tonight you’d both grieve the loss of your best imaginary friend, and tomorrow you would pick up the pen and continue writing Dean’s story, because as long as you kept it going Dean would never truly be gone, so that’s what you do. He still had work to do, after all, the world would always need Dean Winchester.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6​ @anaelsbrunette​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​ @writers-whirlwind​

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles comfort fic #dean winchester #jensen x reader #jensen x you #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot #spn comfort fic #x reader inserts #jawritter #pieces of me

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Heartless: Killan Josta

CW: Referenced past whipping, referenced wounds, blood, vague threatened noncon/potential noncon but none occurs at all, debt slavery, slavery in general, dehumanization in a way, creepy whumper, noncon touch (nonsexual)

Killan exists in @wildfaewhump​‘s Iesin and Talvos world, universe used with permission and feedback, all credit to Vic for worldbuilding!

Tagging: @astrobly​, @burtlederp​, @finder-of-rings​, @slaintetowhump​, @quirkykayleetam​, @whumpallday​

“Here.” The soup pot and cooking pan clattered into the dirt at Killan’s feet, and he stared down at them with only the tiniest kernel of anger twisting inside his chest. When he looked slowly up, keeping his chin lowered to try and hide how hard he had to bite his lip to keep back the first words that came to mind, Tinch was grinning down at him, his one silver tooth glinting in the dim sunlight that filtered through the canopy of trees. “Head down to the river and wash these, Matti.”

My name’s not Matti.

Killan swallowed, shifting his weight almost fully onto his left leg. “Tinch, it’s like a mile’s walk down to the river and I’d have to build a fire-” He raised his bandaged right hand, wincing as that pulled on the bandaged that covered him under his shirt.

Killan’s right side was one big open wound, from fingertips down to his toes. He’d forgotten to take care of Ren’s horse a few days ago - just overnight! - and Ren had exploded when he woke up the next day to find his horse hungry and upset. Killan’s body proved how upset he’d been.

I’m going to beat the shit out of you, and after each blow you’ll say you’re sorry to my horse, Matti.

“Not my problem if you have to walk, Matti,” Tinch said airily. “You know we all work for our living around here. You’ve been a lazy bit of bone the last few days-”

“I’ve been healing!”

Tinch clicked his tongue behind his teeth. He mostly ignored Killan, but when he didn’t, he was one of the meanest of them. Beron at least could be nice for days at a time, and Ren had his moments - even Vanya sometimes showed him things - but Tinch… Tinch hated him, for reasons Killan never understood.

Hated him, and stared at him funny, with long unblinking stares when Killan cooked or chopped firewood or just settled into his bedroll at night, made jokes about him on bath day when Killan had to get into the lukewarm water last. 

Jokes he didn’t like, for reasons he didn’t understand.

Sometimes Tinch followed him to the river on washing day, his only time to himself, and just... stared at him for a while before he turned and walked back. Killan never understood why he did it - but it terrified him in ways he couldn’t define.

“You got yourself hurt. We don’t stop working when we’re hurt, neither do you. Ren wants our cooking stuff scrubbed clean, so get down to the riverbank and make it happen.” Tinch kicked over the soup pot and Killan winced at the sound of his boot, sturdy and reinforced, against the beaten-up old metal. Ren told Killan all the time that the cooking pots were worth more than he was.

“Fine,” Killan ground out, leaning over and fighting back a rush of sickness in his stomach at the woozy dizziness brought on by his pain, gathering the cooking pan and soup pot up, even as his injured fingers - whipped with a switch, one hit after another, and he’d counted each blow and lost count at twenty-six when Ren made it to his shoulder- ached and tried to resist closing around the handle at all. “I’ll do it.”

“Damn straight you will.” Tinch leaned over and ruffled his hair, and when Killan flinched back from the touch, his fingers gripped tight into Killan’s wavy, light brown hair until he cringed from the ache there, too. “Be good, Matti.”

Killan looked up, and the look in Tinch’s eyes was all wrong - cold, like all of them, but cold in a way that made his skin crawl. He’d been with them for three years now, or just about, it was hard to keep track, and somewhere in there Tinch had stopped seeing him as a kid that they kept like a servant and started seeing him as… as something else.

“Yes, Tinch,” Killan whispered, feeling the cold start in his heart and spread from there.

Tinch snorted, but some of the intensity in his eyes faded and he let go of Killan’s hair, stepping back and wiping his hand on his clothes, like he was any less dirty than Killan himself. “That’s what I thought. Go on, then. Go earn your fucking keep.” Tinch looked over his shoulder at where Ren and Beron stood, looking over Ren’s map of the mountains - off limits unless you wanted to get your liver torn out by the fae monsters - and of the land just south of the range, the woods where their group was currently hunting and trapping, planning for the next run to town. “Can think of better ways you could earn your dinner.”

Killan swallowed, hard. “... Tinch?”

Tinch didn’t look back at him, and Killan didn’t know if that felt better or even more frightening, for fuzzed-over cloudy reasons he couldn’t seem to coalesce into real thoughts. “Go on, Matti.” 

He walked back towards Beron and Ren - Vanya was out checking the snare-traps - and Killan watched him go, shoulders hunched up nearly to his chin in his threadbare, too-big shirt and pants tied with a strip of cracked old leather at the waist, one of the reins from Ren’s horse’s old bridle. 

I have to get out of here. 

Where would he go? He was a marked debt-slave, they’d already hunted him down once. They’d just track him again. 

And again and again and again and Ren might think the last time it wasn’t worth letting him be alive any longer. Besides… if it wasn’t for them, he’d be dead, right?

Dead people don’t hurt this much.

Killan turned from that thought, physically pushed it away from his mind, and walked off into the woods, following the deer trail to the riverbank. He didn’t bother with his shoes, his blisters were bad enough these days and his heels were roughened anyway, he barely felt the sticks under his feet. Mostly he felt the softness of an earth that rarely saw sun, lost himself in the deep green moss that grew between the roots of trees that stuck up from the earth. Listened to the chatter-crash of squirrels chasing each other through tree branches, the squawking song of birds, beautiful and shouting their furious rage at one another in whistles and chirps and trills he loved.

Ahead of him on the trail he saw something catch the light and blinked, shifting the cooking pan and soup pot a little so he could hold them both in his good hand, and dropped to a crouch in front of the object, staring down at it.

A bit of copper twisted around a smoothed stone winked up at him, half-covered by underbrush and decaying old leaves, or things that had once been leaves, anyway. The copper looked new, not tarnished, shining like gold almost. He swallowed against the pain and reached out his bandaged hand, brushing fingertips just across the beautiful blue stone inside. It had rings of color, nearly a pale blue of sky on the edges, then darker and darker until the center was an oblong darkness with hints of glitter, like a night sky shining with stars.

A bird trilled in the branches above him, chirped curiously, and he glanced up, blinking. He’d never heard a bird sound like that before. 

He didn’t see anything - empty branches, and a redbird sure, but he knew what those sounded like. 

Beron told stories about the monsters up in the mountains, that there were rules about the kinds of forests they were in now. Don’t pick up anything strange, don’t talk to strangers, don’t eat any food or drink anyone offers you, don’t take gifts, don’t… something something something…

Killan swallowed, let his fingers rest against the pretty pendant for a moment longer, and then pushed himself back up to his feet, groaning as a wash of pain ran straight up his right leg, through his ribs, down his arm and to his fingers again. “Stupid fucking horse,” He muttered, then flinched, as though even this far from camp Ren might hear him.

When no reprimand or swift blow to punish his impertinence came, Killan sighed and set off again, kicking a bit of brush over the pendant to cover it up.

The strange bird trilled again when he started walking, but he still couldn’t see it, only dark branches and the usual animals. He heard crashing, then, somewhere off to his right, but it sounded like deer racing each other, and Killan was more jealous of their freedom to run than he was willing to go back and tell Ren there might be good meat and hides worth money nearby.

The trees opened up to the sandy riverbank and Killan busied himself working on building a small fire there with driftwood dried to a bleached pale white like bones in the sun, plus some other wood he found around the edges of the cleared space. It didn’t take long for him to get a good  spark and some smoke, and he filled the soup pot about a third of the way with water to get it hot enough to take off some of the food bits crusted around the inside from last night’s stew. 

He started in on the fry pan right away, getting rough sand and pebbles and scrubbing with his left hand - awkwardly, it wasn’t the hand he used best, but the idea of how much it would have hurt to scrub with the wounds reopened under his bandages meant he didn’t even think about using his right - until he could get most of what was on there off. Then he filled that with water and set it by the fire, too, keeping the handle far enough out that he had time to grab it without hurting himself when it heated, too.

He worked in the sun for a while, pulling his shirt off to let the unbandaged side of his body bask in the warmth of it, feeling like a cat in town sunning itself on a stone wall. He smiled at the image - he liked cats, always had. They’d had a cat for the barn back home-

Killan forced that thought away, too, as fast as he could. He didn’t think about that place any longer. He’d been the one to leave, thinking he could make a go of life in town, find adventures, get work that didn’t involve milking cows and plowing fields.

Couldn’t say he hadn’t found just that, could he?

“‘Be careful what you wish for,’” He said, grinning at the way he could still echo his mother’s voice if he wanted to. “‘In a world like ours, y’just might get it, Killy.’”

It took an hour or so to finish scrubbing the pots but Killan decided to pretend it had taken two and laid down on his back, staring up into the blue of the sky. The tips of the mountains, snow-topped even in the height of summer, were visible somewhere far away, where the river flowed from. The water ran coldest in spring, he knew that, when snow melted from the lower edges of the mountains below the tree line and flooded the rivers with the freshest, purest water, cold as the ice it’d come from. 

Beron said there were stories about the monsters putting magic in the water to spell people and lead them away to be eaten, but it’d been three years now with Ren’s gang and Killan had noticed Beron never hesitated to drink his fill of the good spring melt, just like the rest of them.

A bird began to sing, a low trilling set of notes, high and low and high again. The repetition was soothing, almost lulling Killan to sleep. He felt his mind drift, listening to the song, and slowly pushed himself up on one elbow looking up at the branches of the closest tree.

He could have sworn he saw movement this time, just a shift of feathers, light and dark. Then it was gone, but the song continued. Killan slowly sat up fully, then came to his feet. He was warm from the sun, hungry but it had receded back to the gnawing feeling of empty and not the stomach-growling hunger he hated most. He felt clean and clear, suddenly. Wiped free of the stains of what had happened to him, of his own culpability for leaving home in the first place.

It had been his fault to dream of better when he’d had a life waiting for him at home, just one he hadn’t wanted.

But… a second song added to the first, harmonizing with it in a slightly sharp key, and Killan took a step forward, and then two. His feet pressed into the hot sand and rocks. He forgot the remains of the fire he’d put out when he finished cleaning - never leave a fire banked if you weren’t going to use it in just a few hours, always put the fire out, he’d learned one by being beaten until he kept the lesson in his head, too - and forgot the cooking pots, his own shirt, forgot everything but the clarion call of the song.

It echoed in his mind and out of it, swam around the trees like a fish through water, and Killan found himself walking back down the deer trail he’d followed to get here, placing each foot with less and less care and yet he never seemed to trip on anything at all.

He followed the song with half-blind eyes, a mind full of the notes that settled into his bones and rattled there pleasantly, raised goosebumps on his skin (goose walking over your grave, Killy-love, said his mother in his memory, rubbing a young boy’s chubby arms through his shirt) and kept him lost in it. The song was louder and louder, and he couldn’t understand how they didn’t hear it back at camp, how he didn’t see Beron and Ren and Tinch and Vanya fall in to follow it, too.

The song’s notes trilled high, and Killan stumbled forwards, moving faster, led by his need to know what beautiful birds could sing like this, voices that twined around each other like lovers or family or better, there could be better, he would find better in the woods than he’d ever found outside it.

When Killan finally came to a stop, he didn’t know where he was.

The sound of the song had gone, faded away, its final notes in the eerie two-toned harmony soaked up by the ancient trees that pressed in close on every side, the darkness of the canopy above his head nearly total. He turned to look back only to realize that at some point he had left the deer trail he had been walking.

Had he gone left, maybe? 

He couldn’t remember. He was lost. 

The last notes of the song seemed to still be there, echoing and bouncing back and forth, and Killan’s breath came faster in a sudden panic. He spun this way and that, heart pounding in his throat, but the trees all looked identical on every side. 

These trees were old, bigger around than two or even three men could encircle, some of them bigger than five or six men. Killan felt buried by them, their smooth trunks with branches that only began so far above his head he could never have hoped to climb high enough to see any further.

It was as dark as midnight at camp here, his eyes struggling to make out the shapes even as he heard the crunch of a hoof or a paw on sticks not far away. He let out a soft little sound, a whimper maybe, and pressed his back up against one tree only to jerk forward and hiss in pain as it pushed into the welts Ren had left with his switch.

He knew where he was, suddenly, with a deep-seated fear fed by every story Beron ever told around the fires at night, by his own mother’s soft lullabies and warnings as a child. He had gone off-track and moved into the darker forest at the foot of the mountains. Here, it felt colder already, and the air shifted and crackled around him. The hair on his neck and his arms stood up. 

He was lost in the darkest, oldest woods that settled beneath the mountains, led right up into them if you weren’t paying careful mind to your path, and in the mountains were the monsters. The monsters that owned the highest places and came down only to hunt and feed and kill. The monsters who would shred you for trespassing in their part of the world, but he hadn’t… he hadn’t meant to, he’d only been following the song- 

“Pretty,” He heard, a whisper in his mind and outside it. It snaked into his thoughts, settled there, soft as a brush of knuckles against the side of his cheekbone. “Pretty boy. Follow you, pretty boy. Buachaill del. Follow you.”

Killan’s breath caught in his throat. It was the voice from the rabbit, or he’d thought it was maybe the rabbit. Beron had told him the idea that rabbits could even think, let alone talk or be magic, was stupid, but who knew what kind of things lived in the woods so close to the mountains? Who even knew what the monsters could do to their prey?

That’s you, Killan. You’re the prey.

“Wh-who are you?” His voice shook, in the asking. 

“No fear, buachaill del. No fear, you.”

Killan felt a sudden wash of calm. Nothing to be afraid of. He was safe here, in the darkest woods, safer than he had ever been before. There was a pause, and then a single feather, long at his hand from the tip of his middle finger to just below his wrist, drifted down from above him. His head slowly tilted to the side, watching it slip to one side and then the other until it came to rest on the ground. He bent down to pick it up, looking it over, a pure white with stripes of black color along the inside, a white central ridge hollowed for flight. Perfect vanes.

Too big to be any bird, too big to be anything but-

The song began again, the two-part harmony he knew now was being sung by one single voice, accompanied now by whisper-shift of feathers moving together, wings for balance, as a man dropped to the ground in front of him.

Not a man, at all - he had great wings in the same inside white-and-black stripes, the outer feathers at the back a rusty-red that hid well in the dark canopy of the forest. His face seemed mostly human except for ears that were long and pointed, moving forward in interest as yellow eyes with slit pupils glowed. A smile pulled at his lips, showing pointed, sharpened teeth.

He’s going to eat me, Killan thought, and that was fine. He didn’t need to be afraid of that, the monster had told him not to be afraid. 

Still singing, the fae stepped forward - one step and then another, head tilted this way and that, taking Killan in with those glowing eyes. His hair was long, black at the top and fading to a kind of yellowed-blond at the bottom. He wore nothing to the waist and below that a simple pair of black pants, softer-looking than anything Killan had ever worn.

“Pretty,” The fae said. His voice was low and gravelly, at odds with the song he had been singing, the eerie high notes that trilled and fell over each other like tumbling children. “Pretty boy. Followed you, now your turn.” 

He was so close Killan could smell him, a strange scent of cold mountains and pine trees and something dark like ash underneath. Cold like the night sky in midwinter when men could freeze to death in the mountains in minutes without a fire. 

He reached out one taloned hand, and Killan stared into the yellow eyes, slowly raising his chin for the fae to trail its sharp nail - sharp as Beron’s best blade, sharper even - slowly down the line of Killan’s throat. 

“No fear,” The fae said, and Killan was not afraid. “No pain.”

The throbbing aches of the wounds under his bandages seemed to vanish into the voice, drifting away from him like smoke. He was not afraid, and he felt no pain. 

“Calon Nie, me.” The fae smiled at him, Killan’s eyes lost in his. “Calon Nie. Killy, you?”

Killan blinked, and something about the name - his mother’s nickname for him, one only she had ever called him - made him think something was… something was wrong. The fear stirred in him again, and he took a step back, eyes dropping to the black talons that the fae’s hands ended in. “N-no, not… I’m… I’m Killan, where are my-”

“No fear,” The fae said again, more insistently. “Calm, Killan.” 

He pronounced the name oddly, - Kee-lahn - but Killan still felt the wonderful certainty that everything would be fine wash over him again. When the talons scraped lightly down his cheek, he leaned into the touch with his eyes closed, shivered at how easily the fae could - and might- tear him apart.

That would be fine, if he did.

It was all going to be fine, now.

“I know where are your people,” Calon Nie said. He had so many sharp teeth, in his smile. “I know where are they. I know this, me. You need them not, now, you are Calon Nie’s creature. Yes? You are mine.”

“Yes,” Killan whispered. A taloned fingertip dug itself just slightly into him, slid down the side of his neck, and he tilted his head to give Calen Nie easier access to the clear, unmarked skin. Blood welled, ran in a trickle of warmth down his collarbone. He couldn’t feel the pain, only the blood. “Yours.”

“Mo rognaithe, buachaill del. Mine now. My pretty boy, now. My Killan.”

Killan swallowed against the dully beating panic in the very back of his mind, so buried in the eyes of the fae before him that he couldn’t quite remember what he had been so afraid of. Beron’s stories about monsters seemed so laughable when the fae he belonged to was so beautiful. “Yours,” He repeated. He couldn’t seem to remember how to say anything else.

“Good. Maith, buachaill del. Good Killan. I take you home. I take you, me. I want pretty boy Killan, I take, is mine now. My pretty boy.”

“Your pretty boy,” Killan said, lips moving numbly. He could barely feel himself speaking the words.

“We go kill them, your people. No more people, you. Only me now.”

“Only... only you.”

Calen Nie began to laugh, the sound like a thousand falling stars.

Killan fell into the beauty of the sound and let it swallow him whole.

#whump #fantasy setting #mind control #fantasy whump #fae #wildfaewhump's world #winged fae #creepy whumper #magical whumper #spelled whumpee #magic whump #referenced beating #threatened noncon #sort of #noncon touch tw #noncon touch (nonsexual) #blood tw #debt slavery #slavery #enslaved whumpee #dehumanization #pet whump #in a way sort of #killan is babey and saddest boy #calen nie: I see I want I take #evil fae

[peterparkerstarker]

Kinktober Day 20: Sex Pollen (Starker)

A whumpy dubcon sex pollen fic in which Peter totally has the hots for Tony, and is forced to ask him for... assistance.

Cw: Starker, age difference, underage Peter (16), Tony is in his 50s, sex pollen, dubcon turning into con, nymphomania, handjob, physical whump (Peter in pain, feverish, cramps, is scared)

@readysetstarker @jwolf18791 @warathena418 @pray4meireadstarker @thotticusmaxximus @mvrphyblooms @morgoona-stark @silkystark @untold-royalty @pollyparrot8 @sthefystarkersworld @katzenbaby1 @another-starker-hoe @tony-is-my-daddy @mystarkershame @plsstopgivingpetertrauma @hoeforthegays @lonleystarker @awesomeimportantfan @friendlyneighborhoodlosxr @hpspazz @starker-obsessions @starkershomelife @tightaroundthewebslinger @animefan1998-love @peterpissparker @starkercandy @loki-helmet @petecake @starkercrossedlovers @nerdylocksandthethreebears @thirstyhoe4yoongi @starker-reader @starkerissemiok @tomhollabel @momobaby227 @dragonskittysblog @sleepy-and-depressed

———————————

Peter shifted in his seat, sweaty and uncomfortable. He hadn’t been feeling great ever since the alien battle they’d narrowly won, but Tony had chalked it up to him not sleeping well. It didn’t help that he’d breathed in a mouthful of some dust that the hive-like creatures were apparently trying to spread. It tasted disgusting, and Peter had to lift his mask to spit out the offensive substance.

Tony had blasted the powder in the air with a repulsor beam and discovered it was highly flammable. It was a big risk for him to have taken, but once they’d discovered their weakness it made short work of an otherwise exhausting battle.

“You’re doing too many late night patrols, kid,” he’d told Peter afterwards, ruffling the boy’s messy, damp curls. “Leave some baddies for the rest of us. You’ve got that AP Calc exam to ace. We can handle Queens for a bit.” He’d smiled down at Peter, cocky and sweet, and Peter had felt something flutter in his stomach.

It’s not like he’d never thought of Tony like that. Of course he had. It was Tony freaking Stark. Who hadn’t been charmed by his good looks, easy confidence, and penchant for generosity?

But Peter knew he couldn’t act on it. Couldn’t ever tell Tony about his crush. It would be too weird, too much blurring of lines.

Plus there was the minor inconvenience of Peter still being in high school, and Tony was pushing 50.

So he shoved down all those thoughts into the part of his brain that could box things up, and he did his very best to not let himself go down that road whenever they were together. So far he’d been surprisingly successful.

Except now, his stomach was starting to cramp and he felt feverish, like he was going to be sick. But instead of the usual queasiness, he felt… something else. Something needy and desperate and animalistic.

Horny.

Holy fuck, he thought to himself, cramps nearly making him double over in pain. His cock was throbbing now, swollen and leaking pre-cum, and he wanted so desperately to touch himself, but he couldn’t. This was all developing so fast, and he didn’t know what was wrong, but clearly something was. Fear entangled with the heady pressure of desire, and he gripped the nearest armrest to keep from falling down.

He was alone in a helicarrier with Tony, and it was all he could do to not start rubbing one out in the cabin. Tony glanced over, finally noticing something was wrong, and Peter looked up to see him looking concerned, scared even.

He drew in a shaky breath, willing himself to gain control over whatever was happening to his body, but that turned out to be the wrong choice. Tony had moved to bend over him, clearly trying to figure out what was going on, and all he could smell was Tony. His fresh clean scent tinged with motor oil and grease.

It made him want to hump the older man’s leg until he came over and over, made him want to keep going until he was utterly spent, any last bit of his orgasm milked out of his cock. He bit back a moan at the delicious mental image and held his breath, afraid to catch even another whiff of Tony’s scent.

Tony moved in closer, a steadying hand resting on his shaking shoulder, and Peterabout cried from the touch.

It was warm and comforting and soothed some ache deep inside. He wanted to chase that feeling, drown in it. He needed more.

“Pete, talk to me, what’s going on?” Tony’s voice was so firm, serious. It made Peter want to submit, do whatever he said. It made him want to give up any and all control and just let Tony have his way with him.

His heart was racing, mind dizzy with jumbled thoughts as he stuttered out, “I-i, think there’s something wrong... feel k-kinda off.”

“No shit, kid,” Tony barked out a laugh, but there was no humor there. “Talk to me, what are you feeling? I need details if I’m gonna be able to help.” As he spoke he rubbed a circle into Peter’s hunched shoulder. His thumb caressed bare skin, and in spite of himself, Peter let out a desperate, high pitched moan.

He clenched his eyes closed, mortified, as he felt another desperate throb coming from his cock.

Tony’s eyes went wide, darting down to Peter’s groin. He shifted, trying to hide his incredibly obvious erection from the man, but the high tech spandex suit wasn’t built to withstand whatever was happening to Peter’s body.

He glanced a nervous look at Tony, who suddenly seemed to grasp onto more of the situation now.

“FRI, I need you to do a chemical analysis on the kid’s body. Look for any foreign substances, anything that might be causing this... this kind of reaction.” Tony’s voice was still stern, but there was something else there. Embarrassment. Pity. He felt bad for Peter, and that was somehow so much worse.

“Sir, Mr. Parker seems to be experiencing high spikes of physical and mental arousal, likely due to a xenomorphic powder, ingested through the mouth and nose. I immediately found traces of it, and am working to analyse its compounds, but my initial results suggest this could be life threatening if action is not taken immediately,” the AI said in a serious, clipped tone

Peter darted a look to Tony, who seemed to still be processing FRIDAY’s words.

A moment later, Tony spoke. “What is the recommended course of treatment, FRI?”

“The substance appears to be attacking Mr. Parker’s central nervous system, blood pressure and hormones, among numerous other bodily functions. The obvious answer seems to be to alleviate the symptoms until I can finish my full analysis. At the least it should buy Mr. Parker some time,” she said.

Peter let out a startled huff. “She doesn’t mean, surely, not…”

Tony sighed, eyes not meeting Peter’s. “The best plan right now is for you to get yourself off right now. Hopefully it’ll put off the effects of whatever that powder is having on your body until we can figure out a solid plan of action.”

“But, but, I can’t… I mean I can’t… not with you here,” Peter said, right as another cramp wracked his body, and he let out a loud groan, cheeks flaring crimson red from how obscene the noise was.

“I don’t think you have any other options, Pete. You heard FRI, this stuff is killing you. I know the cabin is small, so I’ll do my best to give you some privacy. I get that this is embarrassing, kid, but it’s the best option we have right now,” Tony said quietly, turning to give him the promised space.

Peter breathed out heavily. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to jerk himself off with Tony 20 feet away, but the other option was dying, so he had no other choice.

He pressed the release button on his suit, feeling a hint of cool relief on his skin as the tight fabric loosened its grip. Gritting his teeth, he worked the suit down his body until at last, his cock sprang free, slick and coated with pre-come. He felt so sticky and messy, but at least there was plenty of lubrication.

Peter placed his hand on his cock, pumping experimentally, letting out a whimper that had him clasping his free hand to his mouth, as he tried in vain to silence his sounds. Tony didn’t react, just stood there with his back turned to Peter, ever the gentleman.

He kept stroking, faster now, being rougher with himself than he ever had before, chasing his relief. With clenched teeth and his hand still muffling his mouth, he made a series of mortifying groans and whines, desperate to come, desperate to soothe the ache deep inside. He kept pumping, gripping himself harder, harder, until it almost hurt, but try as he might, he couldn’t get to that point. He couldn’t quite come, and the more he tried, the more it frustrated him.

He stopped, catching his breath.

He knew what he needed to do, what he needed to ask of Tony, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“Uhm.. T-tony? It’s not really… working. It’s helping, but I can’t seem to quite, uhm… get there. If you know what I mean,” Peter said in a whisper of a voice. His whole body ached, down to his bones.

“FRI, can you give us an update?” Tony asked instead of responding to Peter.

“Boss, Mr. Parker’s vitals improved significantly while he was alleviating the symptoms, but I fear that if he doesn’t reach climax soon, he may develop a brain bleed from the amount of stress on his body. His blood pressure and hormones are spiking again.”

“Fuck,” Tony said, still not turning to face Peter.

“There… there is one thing that might help,” Peter said, biting back a yell as the cramps took hold again. “When you touched me earlier, it helped. Your-your thumb touched my bare skin and I felt a lot better for a minute. Maybe if you....” But he couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too mortifying. God, he couldn’t believe he was even asking this of Tony.

Ever so slowly, Tony turned to face him, fear and confusion apparent on his face.

“Peter, I can’t, I mean, you’re 16 for Christsakes. I can’t. Your Aunt would kill me,” he said.

“Please Tony, I don’t want to die. P-please?” He was crying now, fat tears dripping down his cheeks. He was so scared, so afraid that he might not make it through this.

Tony scrubbed a hand on his face, thinking. “Okay,” he said. A long moment passed before he spoke again, “I’ll do it. I can’t lose you kid.”

And then he was crossing the length of the helicarrier cabin and was kneeling in front of Peter, and it was all too much. He’d spent so many nights shoving down thoughts of this moment. He didn’t want it like this, but what choice did they have?

“How should we do this?” Tony asked, and fuck, he was too perfect, too beautiful.

Peter gulped and said, “Maybe if you just... touch it?” He winced. God, that had to be the least sexy thing he could have said in this moment.

But Tony did as he had been asked, and grasped shaking fingers onto Peter’s throbbing cock. It was practically purple with all the blood flowing to it, and he felt instant relief at the touch.

He moaned loudly, clapping a hand to his mouth once more, but Tony kept touching him, ever so gently. He held Peter like he was delicate, something precious and fragile.

And then Fuck fuck fuck! Tony was stroking him, up and down the length of his shaft, circling the head and using his thumb to spread the wetness. It was incredible. Peter felt dizzy and floaty as pain gave way to pleasure. Real and unfiltered pleasure. He wanted to cry from how delicious Tony felt, working him in smooth steady strokes.

He leaned back against the wall behind him, lost in the sensation of Tony’s hand on him. He didn’t care about how fucked up this whole situation was anymore, because it just felt so goddamn good. He thrust into Tony’s grip, chasing the friction, needy and greedy for more, and closed his eyes.

“Tony, ah, fuck, Tony. Need you so bad. Thank you! I’ve wanted you for so long. I know this is wrong, know you’re just doing this to save me, but I’ve wanted you for so long, please don’t stop, don’t stop!” He knew he shouldn’t be admitting this, but his fever-addled brain didn’t care. He needed Tony to know.

Peter could feel it rising from deep inside, the pressure building at the base of his cock, from within his balls, and he was so close, so, so close. “Tony, I’m gonna, gonna--” And then he was spurting, shooting thick milky come, coating Tony’s hand, his chest, and he kept pumping up into the wet warmth like an animal in heat, releasing every last little droplet he could.

He sagged against the wall, slumping a little from how exhausted he was. He was drenched in sweat, his fever apparently broken, and all the pain he’d felt had faded away. All that was left was fucked out bliss.

They stayed there for a few moments, before Tony started laughing. Peter, still sleepy from coming, peeked a look at the man still kneeling before him.

“Jesus, Pete, if you wanted me so bad you should have just said so. You didn’t need to go huffing alien viagra,” his smile was easy and relaxed, the relief that Peter was okay clear on his face.

“Hey now!” Peter started, but FRIDAY chose that moment to interrupt. “It appears that his vitals have returned to normal, boss. The alien substance has worked its way through its life cycle, and is no longer present in his body from my readings.”

Tony gave a quizzical look at Peter, before asking, “Life cycle? I thought you said it was just a powder, FRI?”

“That is what I had initially assumed,” she continued, and Peter swore he could hear a touch of indignation in her voice, “But I’ve ascertained it’s something more similar to a pollen, something the hive you fought was spreading in an ill-advised attempt to gain control over the human species. I’ve already sent out dronebots to collect any remaining particles for containment, boss.”

“Atta girl, FRI,” Tony said proudly, turning his attention back to Peter, “So.. sex pollen huh?” he chuckled. “You really do need a break from patrolling after all that.” He leaned up to place a gentle kiss on Peter’s lips, soft and warm and sweet. “Let’s get cleaned up and get you home. And maybe we don’t tell your Aunt about this particular mission, Pete?”

Peter gulped, nodding and said, “Yep, a completely routine alien battle, we got them taken care of in less than 15 and then you took me out for shawarma and made me study for AP Calc on the way home, right Mr. Stark?”

“Right kid,” he said with a smile, kissing Peter once more. “Now, are you going to tell me about all these fantasies you’ve been having about me, or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?”

#kinktober #day 20 #starker #sex pollen au

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Someone told my friend, who has Crohn's disease, that sick and disabled people were "not made in the image of God" and "not fully human". He believed that disabled people should be exiled from their communities and left to die. Other Christians told her that she should pray to get better, or that her sickness was God's will. As an atheist, I believe that disabled people should get the evidence-based treatment and accomodations they need, and that they shouldn't be stigmatized. Thoughts?

cw ableism, violent ableism

I am outraged to hear what people have been telling your friend. My stomach is roiling just thinking about it. I’m so glad she’s got a friend like you to tell her otherwise. 

Sick and disabled people are made in God’s image; we are fully human; we are a vital and worthy part of our communities. 

All human beings deserve to exist and to have access to abundant life – it doesn’t matter whether we fit into what society considers “productive,” it doesn’t matter what support we need. 

I don’t know if this is annoying to share or if could be helpful for your friend, but when I was a chaplain this past fall i would do “rounds” in the hospital, basically just dropping in on as many patients as i could. one patient i stopped by to see turned out to be a guy with Crohn’s disease. 

he was super friendly, and he joked a lot. He called me “reverend,” which made me laugh – even after I told him I wasn’t ordained yet, he told me that if i one day would be, than he could call me reverend now! 

he said he didn’t understand why God would make him sick, and we delved into that a little bit. my job as a chaplain isn’t to feed patients my answers to their questions, but to help them discover what they believe. as we talked, what he came up with is that God could use his illness to show everyone that the ones we call “weak” have plenty to give the world. 

he proceeded to pull out his laptop and show me songs he’d composed in garage band. he’s published them and even does tours! but i can’t remember his name, so i’ve never been able to find his work again. it honestly wasn’t my cup of tea anyway, but i remember him telling me the album he was working on now would be called “God is a She.” (or something like that, i can’t remember exactly!) and would be about women who have inspired him throughout his life. i thought that was super cool and evidence of some deep theological wisdom in this man. 

so if your friend needs examples of people of faith who have Crohn’s disease, people who have Crohn’s and are living creative, happy lives – here’s one example of such a person. 

I’ve got some resources that you or your friend might find useful:

The first is non-religious-specific – a post about how we don’t need to be “useful” or “productive” to be beloved and important members of society; it’s got links to lots of articles about prehistoric people with disabilities!

I’ve written a paper that sums up the ideas of various disability theologians about how disabled people are a vital part of the Body of Christ and how it is urgent that we work to include them more fully in our churches 

For the people who tell her to pray for a cure!! I offer this quote!! 

For the statement that her illness is “God’s will,” I recommend my sermon on John 9, when Jesus’s disciples asked him “who sinned” for a man to be born blind. We find that disabilities and illnesses are not punishments; disabled people are not “lessons,” not objects for other people’s inspiration porn. These things just happen, and while it’s 100% valid for disabled persons to seek out and find meaning or value in their disability if they want, none are obligated to do so. God can work with anything that happens, good or bad, but that doesn’t mean God wills the messier or harder parts of disability (things like chronic pain and ableism). 

I’ve also preached on how Jesus rose from the dead with disabling wounds – that the Body of Christ is disabled. 

Here’s a story of a disabled woman who recognized that God had a special calling for her not in spite of but in many ways because of her disability. 

Finally, I actually just created a google doc for resources on disability for Christians!! Scroll to the last two pages for Christian-specific resources, including the books on disability that I used for the paper I linked earlier. 

You might also find useful stuff in my #disability theology tag. 

The God whom we encounter in the Bible – both the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and the Greek (New Testament) – is a God of the oppressed. A God who gives special love and attention to the people whom our societies shun to the margins. A God who promises to lift up the lowly and bring us all into abundant life. 

God is always, always at the margins. Disabled persons have been shoved to the margins in our communities – and therefore, God is with disabled persons. If we were to exile disabled persons from our communities, we would be exiling God. God would go with them. 

Sorry this got long, but I have a lot of feelings on this topic. I will close with this passage from 1 Corinthians 12:

“There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit; and diversities of vocations, but the same Lord; and there are diversities of workings, but the same God is working all in all. …For just as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of the body, being many, are one body, so also Christ. …And the eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you”; nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. …And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if a member is given honor, all the members rejoice together.”

The human race is one body, a body that needs each and every member. We are all interdependent, and that is a beautiful thing. 

I hope this helps, anon. Your friend has the right to love and accommodations, not hate and exclusion. And she is deeply loved by God. 

#disability #ableism #violent ableism #disability theology #resources #long post #anon #queerly christian asks #essays

[ravenqueen89]

the breaking of chains

It is still the wonderful @sternenstaub28‘s birthday, which means it’s time for BIRTHDAY FIC!

Stern requested fic of another of her amazing ocs, Saarea, another oc i absolutely love. I also loved writing this, and I hope I did both her and Stern justice <33333

Fandom: Dragon Age (Inquisition)

Title: The breaking of chains

Pairing: Saarea Adaar/Iron Bull

Rating: PG but lots of implied angst, pls heed the CW.

CW: body image issues, blood mention, a very nightmarish time in the Fade, PTSD.

Notes: We all know I’m a sucker for writing longing and people who feel like they don’t deserve good things so this was very up my alley and I loved getting in Saarea’s head. Here be way too many commas and long paragraphs. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STERN! (unintended consequence of the title and the constant chain mention: having fleetwood mac’s the chain stuck in my head...not a bad thing. oh and adan just casually stumbled in too, i blame dea)

Word count: 3052

Now on ao3

Saarea is always aware of them watching her, but it doesn’t stop her. It can’t stop her. Every day when she’s in Haven, she strides down to the training grounds with all the confidence she doesn’t feel and practices her strikes. 

Soon after the Bull's Chargers join the Inquisition, Saarea can feel their leader watching her train with an intensity that makes her unable to focus. The Iron Bull represents everything she's been running from, and her scars ache with the memory of agony. She can't read him, but when she looks at him she knows that what he sees in her is someone not to be trusted. And all she sees in him is chains, reaching out to trap her again. Anxiety rises in her throat like bile whenever she thinks of the words he is sending the Ben Hassrath, words about her, pinpointing her location and making her a target. She doesn't allow herself to think about it too much.

When Saarea walks by the Iron Bull, his gaze lingers on her scars, and she hates how visible they make her, in ways that his do not make him. She hates what he must think of her, so she does what she normally does in this situation. She lifts a shoulder in a shrug that wishes itself casual, quirks the corner of her mouth up so that it seems like she's smiling, looks right at him with a stare that hides nothing about what she is, and then, only then, she says 'bit too scary for you?' and she thinks the question does not reveal her feelings. The Iron Bull laughs and shakes his head, points at his own scars and says ‘I think I can handle it’ but Saarea leaves with the distinct impression that he's seen right through the guise, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that.

They drink together on the night that Haven falls to pieces, with the rest of their company giving up on keeping up with them. The maraas-lok tastes like home, and she hates it, so she has more of it, the burn of it racing through her. She's not used to being around someone who can drink like her anymore, and she's enjoying it far more than she thought she would. Not for the first time, she thinks that there is something powerful about drinking quantities that would eviscerate humans and still being the most level-headed person in the room. Varric is staring at her, unable to coat his awe in the layers he usually hides behind, and when Saarea laughs at him it doesn't feel like she's pretending to feel something she doesn’t, the loud and boisterous façade she usually masks herself with seeming less fake than usual. When she looks back at the Iron Bull, he's looking right at her. He never seems uncomfortable at the sight of her eyes, and that makes a feeling flutter in her chest that she can't quite describe. She doesn't trust him, and he doesn't trust her, but they are comrades and that means something. In this moment, Saarea feels a little less like who she used to be and a little more like who she might become. Then the alarms ring and the screams rise and a mountain falls on her, and what she thinks when she falls to her knees in the snow, numbed by the cold, is 'I wish I could have been more.'

*

In Skyhold, she tries to keep up with the motions, but her exhaustion brings all the old memories and aches back. The constant cold doesn't help, creeping under her skin and making her chase the relief of late nights in the tavern, where it’s warm and where barrels of maraas-lok are always supplied by the Chargers.

With the state of the hold their next expedition is still weeks away, and Saarea starts feeling more and more trapped by petitions and adulations that have nothing to do with her and everything to do with the foreign titles that she has been assigned. Walking through the ever more crowded great hall is even more difficult than walking to Haven's now-gone training grounds used to be, and every time it feels like an exercise in futility. She can feel all their eyes on her, can hear the whispers of the Orlesians hiding behind their masks, and she wishes it wouldn't make a difference but it does. The scars hurt and she has to keep herself from touching them because she doesn't want even more attention drawn to them. No matter what she does, she can't hide them, nor her height, nor the strangeness of her eyes. She avoids her reflection as much as possible, and when she walks she stares straight ahead, her jaw set and her eyes fierce, and the posture or the magic that crackles just  out of reach keeps them at least away from her. It doesn't stop the whispers, so she spends more and more nights in the Herald's Rest, where it doesn't feel like she's putting on a show, where the Chargers are loud and the Iron Bull holds court. She’s not the Inquisitor there, she’s just one more of them, and that feels right in a way she doesn’t want to think about in too much depth. Varric joins them sometimes, when the ghosts of his past are written in the circles under his eyes, and Saarea’s other companions join at different times, and it’s the most she’s felt like she belongs.

It’s on nights like these that she talks to the Iron Bull above the racket, the burn of the alcohol on her lips. There’s no structure to what they say to each other, but with each conversation Saarea feels less wary of him, and she believes the same is true for him. She’s always keenly aware that her words are being recorded, but she hopes that more and more of them remain for the Bull’s knowledge alone.

They talk of everything, even of the Qun, but Saarea doesn’t intend to tell him anything too revealing about her own experience until it all spills out of her, one frozen night when she can’t bear the sight of herself and the layers she’s wrapped herself in do nothing to hide her from sight. The tavern is almost empty, and it’s just the two of them at the table, empty tankards lined in front of them, and Saarea just keeps talking, because the scars hurt, because she’s kept the memories to herself so much that they’re tearing her apart from the inside and he has scars too but they hold none of the same meaning, and she doesn’t know why but she wants him to understand, she wants him to see.

As Saarea speaks, the Iron Bull’s eyes harden, the flames from the hearth drawing shadows on his face. She knows what he’s been trained to think, she knows he never flinches at the sight of her but he always does at the sight of her magic. She used to believe what she’d been told too, but that had evaporated in the sparks of the explosion that coaxed blackness in her eyes and allowed her to flee back then. Sometimes, on the worst nights, she still longs for home, for the comfort of discipline even as it chained her. In the world outside the Qun, chaos prevails, but Saarea knows now that freedom means more than order. The Iron Bull, however, still belongs to them, to those unseen figures of her past.

He says nothing as the words spill from her, and she doesn’t need him to speak platitudes so it suits her fine. When she falls silent too, they sit there, staring ahead of them, as an icy dawn breaks outside.

*

Saving the Chargers is not really a decision she struggles to make. She doesn’t want the Qun anywhere near her, or near her companions, or near the Chargers. The Inquisition doesn’t need it, and she definitely doesn’t, but her heart still clenches when relief and heartbreak clash on Bull’s face as they watch the dreadnought burn. She knows that feeling well, that jarring rupture of everything she’s ever known. There is no comfort she can offer, not for this, but she brushes her hand against his, just for a second, and then leads her other companions away, leaving Bull to the Chargers, his real family.

By the time the Ben Hassrath make their third assassination attempt, Bull's face has recovered its usual carefree mask. He hasn't talked to Saarea, not really, but she's watched him train with Krem, and whenever his mask slips the relief always wins over the sadness.

One morning she's doing her usual training in the courtyard, and she can feel him watching her. She doesn’t know why she does it, but for once she trusts herself  enough to act on instinct. She sends a lightning bolt into the dummy, interrupting apothecary Adan’s walk to the infirmary and making him jump and grumble into his beard. Saarea apologises with a smile, and then turns to look at Bull, who's grinning at her. 'Looking good, boss!' he says, and ‘boss’ still sounds too much like another word in qunlat for comfort, but still something flutters in her chest again, something she can't quite figure out, something just out of reach, something she’s never allowed herself to think she deserves. She challenges him to a sparring challenge, agreeing to his term of ‘no sparkly stuff’, and Krem finds them hours later, laughing.

*

In Adamant, they fall into the Fade, and Saarea jokes about it at first, ridicules the fear lurking in every corner. For the first time since their first meeting on the Storm Coast, Bull’s face is an open book, his terror obvious. Saarea leads the way but stays close to him, trying to dispel the confusion with remarks that wish themselves witty, trying to brush the Nightmare’s remarks off, but Bull’s hands are shaking, and Saarea is focusing so much on keeping him and the rest of her team safe that she doesn’t step into the portal until it is too late. She ends up in an entirely different part of the Fade. Up is down and time doesn’t exist, but the fear is real and tangible and utterly blinding. Saarea can’t find her way out, the Nightmare whispering at times, screaming at others, feeding her images of the torture she’s been through, of the pain and the horror she’s tried so hard to bury. Her scars are bleeding like they’re fresh, and she believes it when the Nightmare keeps repeating that she deserves it, that she deserves all the agony, that she should be kept on a leash, that she’s dangerous and out of control.

She crawls her way back without any sense of direction, and she ends up hearing Bull’s voice calling for her, and it sounds almost desperate but she can’t be sure, she can’t be sure of anything. She doesn’t know where her staff is, but the magic is crackling and sparking around her hands, out of control again but guiding her to her companions. By the time she reaches them the blood is gone but her throat feels raw, like she’s been screaming, and she can’t tell if that happened or not.

When the next demon appears, Saarea’s magic bursts out of her, unleashed and unstoppable, and she can see the fear in Bull’s eye but she doesn’t stop until she’s out of the Fade, the shock of the real world calming her down. The immensity of what has happened only hits her later, when she can’t stop shaking at the thought of the person left behind, at the onslaught of memories. Her scars ache for days, and Bull doesn’t look at her once on the way back to Skyhold.

*

Saarea hides in her room and doesn’t emerge for days, not even when Dorian brings her the staff she’d thought lost. She’s scared of touching it, and Dorian’s eyes are kind, but she can see that he doesn’t know what to say so she lets him go without a word other than a murmured thanks. Her voice still feels splintered and when she looks down at her hands she keeps seeing chains and the rusty stain of blood. Oddly enough, no one bothers her, and Saarea thinks about what they’re most likely saying about her but she can’t dwell on it because everything else is already threatening to crush her. She feels monstrous, and the words of the Arvaraad keep haunting her. She should be in chains. It’s for her own good, for the safety of those around her. She thinks of the fear in Bull’s eyes, thinks of how she dared long for what someone like her could never have. She’s painfully aware of each and every scar that mars her skin, as aware as she is of her horns needing to be tended to, but her hands are shaking and she sits in the dark until it feels like nothing else exists.

Bull’s voice filters up to her, carried by the wind, an indeterminate amount of time later. When she opens the doors to the balcony, snow flurries and a chilling wind rush in to greet her. Far below, Bull is laughing while training with the Chargers and a variety of onlookers braving the cold to watch them. He seems to be boasting about the new scars from Adamant, and Saarea envies him that, but she also feels the odd urge to laugh, the sound of his voice soothing her. She’s not fond of the cold, but in this moment the light snow twirls around her in a way that feels beautiful, and she can breathe in the frost in the air and for a moment it feels right. She can see him look up at the balcony, most likely having caught a glimpse of her movement. He doesn’t turn away when she waves, and when she reaches out to her staff the magic is fully under her control.

A few afternoons later, Saarea’s hands have stopped shaking enough to allow her to pay attention to some of the letters on her desk. She is interrupted first by Josephine, who leaves her a tray of what she calls ‘Orlesian petits fours’ as an offering from the new baker. Next, Dorian and Vivienne bring her a selection of runes from Dagna that they all pore over before Varric comes to read her a chapter from his new novel that -mercifully- seems to have nothing to do with her, as of yet. Sera comes over the next morning to gossip with her about everything and nothing, the subject of Adamant kept at bay for now. She finds Cole’s hat on her desk, covering a piece of spiced apple pie after she returns from the rookery, where Leliana’d showed her a basket of week-old baby nugs.

It carries on like this until she is sure she’s fallen into a rift because it all feels surreal, because she doesn’t deserve any tokens of affection. She walks into the Herald’s Rest for the first time since Adamant in a state of utter confusion and the Chargers cheer at the sight of her. It feels impossible, but everyone gathers around her, like she’s worth looking at, and Bull smiles at her. She talks loudly about insignificant things and it doesn’t feel like a performance. She beats everyone, particularly Cullen, at Wicked Grace, and she laughs and drinks and laughs some more. Her hands aren’t shaking and her scars aren’t hurting and it feels normal. It feels like perhaps she has a new home. No one flinches at the sight of her, and she doesn’t understand it, but she feels she might accept it.

Later, much later, when the laughter has died down and the tavern has slowly started emptying, Saarea finds herself once more at a table with Bull and no one else.

‘Do you think I should be in chains?’ she asks, and it’s not even slightly what she wanted to say, but it is what spills out and she can’t bring herself to take the words back. She needs to know.

Bull looks at her in that steady way he has, like he’s considering what to tell her, and she finds herself wanting to touch the scars on his cheek. It’s yet another thing she doesn’t deserve, but for the first time in her life she can’t find it in herself to want to stop longing for it.

‘Do you?’ she says when the silence stretches almost unbearably, aware of his hand on the table, so very close to hers.

’No,’ he answers, and it sounds so definitive that Saarea  feels inclined to believe him even though she knows he could easily lie to her. Protests rush to her anyway, and he sees them on her face. He lets his fingers rest on top of hers and the contact is almost too much. ‘You don’t deserve that, boss. You’ll never deserve that. I’m starting to see that maybe no one does.’

An odd sort of sound breaks from her and his hand is warm and it almost feels like he’s speaking a language they don’t share. She wants to say something funny, wants him to make a joke, wants something to feel normal, but what happens instead is that his free hand finds its way to her cheek and his thumb traces the scars around her mouth like he can’t even fathom being repulsed by her, and she laughs, almost deliriously, the room empty around them and him touching her.

He’s looking at her like he’s waiting for her, and all Saarea can think to do is to press her forehead to his and breathe, drunk on freedom, on all the possibilities that she can almost reach out and claim.

For the first time, the chains that her memory has woven around her start to disintegrate. For the first time, she feels light.

#my writing #saarea adaar #HAPPY INTERNATIONAL STERN DAY

[mikiruma]

🏳‍🌈📌💎🎥💕 for homestar runner!!!

🏳‍🌈 do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you?

GAY STRONG BAD... and while a lot of it is projection & kinny its not just that... i think it's hilarious how in an effort to make strong bad into this. whatever he is. bragging about how many ladies are on their knees just to date him? he always has these ridiculously beautiful girlfriends who love him so much, but you'll never meet them because they live in far off lands? or on the moon? (sbemail #67: autobiography) the though of trying to hit on the ONE girl to further his "womanizer" image disgusts him??? imagining a male character to be female so it would be "acceptable" to date him?? (sbemail #99: different town) imagining a male character falling in love with him but only expressing distaste outside the imagination sequence? (sbemail #130: do over) receiving a love letter in an email from a dude but only saying so much as "it just wouldnt work out" when he remembered people are watching him??? (sbemail #8: brianrietta) TEXTBOOK!!!! hes gay man!!!! yeah theres internalized stuff which is. kinda what im hinging on but like. he's gotten better over the years w his general personality shift. im just disappointed that this probably wasnt how he was meant to be written at ALL but like. if i had free reigns over the show i'd want him to find acceptance and realize yeah, you can be gay and still commit arson.

(other than that homestar/homeschool/champeen/strong mad are autistic. also coach z is trans & him and bubs are married. i also rly like trans strong bad)

📌 how did you find your hyperfixation?

my uncle actually introduced it to my sibling & i way back when!! and we hadnt actually talked about it SINCE he told us abt it... until last time he was in town!! and i didnt even know he remembered it until he saw the trogdor board game which came in the mail the day before & we got to go crazy go nuts over that again!!! (i dont rly remember much of the introduction other than. we were at my grandparents house for christmas or something & i had to go home to visit the site... and i was like 9 or 10) anyway cool uncle rights

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

the brothers chaps have regularly used the fan-owned homestar runner wiki as a resource... useful when u put out as much content as they do! the wiki is credited in all five episodes of strong bad's cool game for attractive people in the "special thanks" section, the brothers have mentioned the wiki itself by name in interviews & at least one toon (that i've seen), just over the past few days on strong bad's twitter page they linked to one of the pages! it is an incredible resource if you wanna know everything about everything in the series, but i think it's really something knowing the creators use it as well. oh yeah and they donate when they can to help keep the servers afloat when the site runs donation drives so. that's pretty cool.

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

"favorite scene" or "favorite toon".... im gonna drop some of my favorite toons (or the ones i quote the most) bc most are 3-5 minutes long

fall float parade

sbemail #129: garage sale

pumpkin carve-nival

doomy tales of the macabre (cw: body horror)

halloween potion-ma-jig

i killed pom pom! (cw: alcohol)

sbemail #206: videography

sbemail #110: for kids

play date

donut unto others

where my hat is at? (cw: alcohol)

the homestar runner goes for the gold

the homestar runner enters the spooky woods (cw: emetophobia, (one) dead animal is part of homestar's final fear)

sbemail #207: too cool

a decemberween mackerel (cw: unsanitary in an easter egg)

added some content warnings just in case, also the links in red go to the official site while the black links go to youtube!

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

i will lay down my life for strong sad no questions asked. he deserves several hugs. i would like to be his friend. i like to think if everyones aware theyre in a cartoon and does their own thing outside what we see on the site, then like... hopefully theyre nicer to him.... i know its fun to rag on him bc he is kind of an easy target but listen. goth king. similar music taste. we totally would have hung out in middle school. also thinkin abt how him and strong bad used to get along.... bro.... i would like to see more of that....

#response #tilde-heart #ask game #THIS ENDED UP BEING SUPER LONG SO I'LL AT A READMORE LATER BUT THANK U FOR SENDING!!!! QWQ