#not an ounce of transphobia | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slamminslamminmcgill · 10 months ago

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I LITERALLY ONLY FINISHED EP 1 OF TLOU BEFORE WRITING THIS 😭 this man just has me going fucking insane rn i had to word vomit. spent my whole day on this bc im delulu

warning: homophobia and transphobia, trans fetishization, degradation/humiliation, slurs, vaginal sex, rough oral sex, NASTY daddy kink (like… borderline incest rp and ddlb maybe idk i just work here), hanky code, spit kink, breeding kink, gags, drug dealing (weed and opioids), reader is a sex worker/weed dealer with clit piercings

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/kitty, clit/(t-)dick

It started as a drug deal. A bad habit picked up after top surgery. A rumor that this guy sold opioids. A wink and a nod of the head from across the plaza during a hanging. A few hankies tucked in your jeans, two shades of blue on the right, light green and a flag on the left. You were never sure if he knew what they meant. You’d never had the chance to ask. Until today, you happened to have a favor to ask him.

“Look, you know I’m usually reliable, right? If you could just gimme more time, I promise I’ll get you an ounce on Monday, on me.” That was a pretty decent offer. You usually gave him a quarter of bud every trade, so an ounce for the same price was surely nothing to sneeze at.

“If you’re not ready today, you ain’t gettin’ shit today. Sorry, kid.” Fuck. Ah, well. At least he wasn’t mad at you. Plus, he always called you ‘kid’. It made sense, since he was definitely old enough to be your dad. Maybe he had a soft spot for you. And he certainly met the diagnostic criteria for DILF, but goddamnit, your gaydar couldn’t get a reading on him. You figured the best way to find out for sure would be to offer up your other goods and services and see if he takes the bait.

“Well, uh… maybe there’s…” You took a step closer to him, putting all your weight into your hips hoping they’d jump out at him, “…something else I can offer you?”

They didn’t. His stare never shifted from your face. “Like what?” Joel asked unclockably.

You took the tips of your hankies between your fingers and held them out to him, spreading your wings, a display for attracting mates not unlike that of a peacock. “You know what these mean?” You asked with a quirk in the brow and some devious faggotry in your voice.

Joel crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a cocky, almost sort of try me type stance. “What do they mean?”

You named your hankies, one-by-one. Green, “This one means I’m a sex worker,” Trans, “This one means I have a pussy,” Navy, “This one means I get fucked,” and Cyan, “This one means I suck co-“

“I’m sorry, that one means what?” Joel interrupted, and pointed at your trans flag. He wasn’t just gonna let you gloss over that, just as you’d hoped.

“Oh, this one?” You pinched the tail of the trans flag and let the rest fall to your sides. A cheeky, cherubic, chaotic smile on your face as you taunted him. “It means I have a pussy. I’m trans.”

Joel’s face contorted in a few spasms of different emotions. A blink of shock, a blip of disgust, a second of intrigue, ‘til he landed on confusion. “So, uh…” His eyes crawled downwards to your crotch, then back up to you. “…how’s that work?”

Sure, you could give him the polite conversation explanation of the transmasculine identity, gender dysphoria and its treatments. Or, you could give the simplest and sexiest possible definition that would appeal to Schrödinger’s Straight Man over here. “Was born a girl, cut my tits off, shot up testosterone, and now I’m a man, but I kept my cunt.”

“Fuckin’ Christ…” He grunted, then cleared his throat, trying his damndest to remain calm and bloodbend his newfound erection away. Today was the wrong day for the light wash jeans. His growing bulge was the visual feedback of your influence on him.

A by-the-book boypussy sales pitch. Testing well with the focus group. You took another step with a sway of the hips, encroaching on his personal space but not penetrating it just yet. “Well? Whaddaya think?”

Joel bit his lip and said nothing for a moment. It seemed he was taking his time to figure out what exactly he did think about your revelation. “…Just 2 pills?”

“Just 2 pills…” You nodded, “Just enough to last me the weekend…” and took another step closer, then one more, until you could reach out and rub his bicep. “I’ll bump you up to an ounce, get it to you on Monday…” Your curious fingers started to trail down his arms and over to his delightfully soft dad-bod tummy. “And I’ll show you a good time today… Show you something you’ve never seen before…”

To say you were coming on pretty strong would be a massive understatement. And, hell, touching him? You were coming on like you had a death wish. Your hand slid downward, down to the heat he was packing in his pants, and stroking his rifle in your game of tactile Russian Roulette.

You loaded the chamber…

“All for just two little pills. So?”

Spun the barrel…

“What do you say?”

And pulled the trigger.

“Please, Daddy?”

And with those two whorish words, he snapped. Joel grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you into the brick wall behind him. You gasped in shock and winced in pain. It happened so fast, you barely had any time to think about the mistake you’d just made, but before you could choke out an I’m sorry, his lips were on yours. You moaned into the kiss and he snarled into it, slobbering all over each other in a fit of lust.

“Bratty little fuckin’ queer. So you’re saying you have a cunt, huh, boy? No bullshit?” Joel sneered as he shoved his hand between your legs. He grabbed your crotch and squeezed it tight, delighted to find no bulge, nothing in his way but a few layers of clothing. “Ooh, damn, kiddo, guess you’re right. Ain’t you fuckin’ special…” He let your wrist fall so he could grab your jaw. “Open,” he commanded, and your lips obliged. He spat into your open mouth, and then his lips were back on you.

Your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, eventually clutching his hair and his shirt for lifelines. The second you’d laid eyes on this guy, you knew he’d be a good fuck, and you couldn’t believe your luck. That monumental gamble you took just now had won you the jackpot, and now it was time to bask in your victory.

Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you out of the kiss. “You want your fuckin’ pills, cuntboy?”

“Yeees…” That was why you originally came to him, yes, but now you wanted a whole lot more.

“You want those fuckin’ pills?”

“Yeees, yes, I wan-em…”

“Say please.”

“Pleeease…”

“Please, what?”

“Pleeease, Daddyyy… P-Please, Daddy, I wan- I wan’ the pills…”

“You gonna suck your Daddy’s cock for ‘em?”

“Y-Yeees, Daddyyy…”

“So do it.”

Joel dropped you and let you stumble onto your knees in front of him. You rocked back and forth impatiently as he undid his belt and fished his cock out of his jeans. As you suspected, it was massive, flushed an angry shade of red, and throbbing painfully. He gave it a tantalizing stroke, peeling back the foreskin and pulling it taut on the rebound. You licked your lips at the precum leaking from its slit, waiting for his instruction.

“Open,” He demanded once more. You acquiesced, opening your mouth wide enough for him to stuff his cock in your throat. He let out a deep, husky, growl as he slid down your airway. “Yeahhh, that’s it… That’s it, kiddo…”

Even in your dickdrunk, cockgagged haze, you could guess what was coming next. In preparation, you braced yourself with your hands on his hips, and relaxed your throat as best you could for him to fuck it. Turns out, your intuition was right.

“Fuck, yeah, fuckin’… Fuckin’ choke on it, whore… Choke on Daddy’s cock.” He grunted, grabbed your hair, and held you still while he thrusted into your mouth unforgivably. Tears, snot, and drool were running down your face in no time, and Joel was loving it. “Aw, look at that, yeah, good boy…”

You whined reflexively at the praise, accidentally sucking some spit into your windpipe and choking you in a less sexy and more dangerous manner than intended. Your eyes bulged open and you slapped his thigh twice, tapping out. Thankfully, he got the hint and let you go.

You coughed up the spit and smacked your own chest to clear your airway. “Sorry… Wrong pipe…”

“Take your time.” Joel replied, “Not try’na kill ya.”

Once you could regulate your breathing and you were sure you weren’t at risk of death by blowjob, you got back to work, at your own pace this time. You had the chance to explore him. Stroking and squeezing his shaft and his sack, fluttering your tongue underneath his tip, licking long stripes from the balls to the head. Less force, but no less intensity.

“Ngh, little faggot sure knows his way around a cock, don’t he?” Joel snickered and ruffled your hair. “So good at this, I would’a never believed you don’t got one yourself.”

True, you may not have been blessed with a cock attached to you, but you’d gotten plenty inside you. Not exactly your hometown, but familiar terrain nonetheless. When you felt like you could, you swallowed his length whole, swiping your tongue along his balls as you gagged. Joel threw his head back and moaned into the air, and then, you rode him with your throat again.

“Fu-u-uck, oh, shit, yeah… Yeah, you suck Daddy’s cock… Suck your old man’s cock for pills, and you’ll get ‘em, son... You’ll get ‘em, you fuckin’ junkie.”

You’d honestly forgotten this was about pills. You just got so caught up in the love of the sport, it had totally slipped your mind. Though dangling the carrot of oxies in front of your spit-drenched face was as good an incentive as any, and despite the burning in your windpipe, you sucked him with more power, more speed, more emotion, and more determination. You could taste victory leaking and throbbing on your tongue.

“F-Fuck… I-… I can’t…” Joel’s face was a picture of overwhelming pleasure. He had to pull you off. His wet, pulsating cock popped out of your mouth, and he huffed and puffed wiping sweat from his brow. “As much as I’d like to dump a load in your stomach…” He nudged his boot in between your legs, right up against your burning cunt. “I need to see your specialty, first.” He extended a hand to help you off your knees, then when you stood, hugged you to him and spanked each of your ass cheeks, jiggling them both as he gave his next order. “Take off your pants and bend over. Let Daddy see that pretty kitty of yours.”

You giggled, a goofy, stupid slutty smile on your face, and nodded. “Hehehe, okay… Okay…” You unbuckled your pants and let your jeans drop to the dirt. You stepped out of them and kicked them aside. You turned 90 degrees, put your hands on the brick wall, and stuck your ass out to Joel. He took his place behind you, grabbed your ass, and spread you open to take a peek at your holes. You shivered as the cool breeze ran over your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, I can’t even remember the last time I saw a cunt like this…” Two of his fingers traced your slit then spread your lips, exposing yourself even more to him. He chuckled when he saw your dick piercing. “‘Specially not one with these fancy hood ornaments.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tug on the jewelry.

Naturally, your knees buckled beneath you and you slid down the wall. “A-Ah!” You squeaked, “F-Fuck! S-Sen-Sensitive!” You tried to warn him, but really you were showing off your weak point with the conspicuousness of a video game boss fight.

“Oh, yeah?” Joel scoffed and supplemented it with a smack on the ass. You could feel him kneel down behind you, and he said, “Good.”

And then his lips were on your t-dick and sucking it like a leech.

You had to scream, bad, but it was broad fucking daylight and FEDRA could show up at any second. Instead, you bit down on your hand, sinking all the energy into your teeth as your body collapsed in on itself. Before long, your cunt was dripping down into his mouth, so much so, that there was an audible splash when his lips let you go.

“Christ, you’re a mess. Gonna ruin my fuckin jeans, ‘f I don’t take ‘em off.” Joel stood up and out of his own pants then tossed them beside yours. You heard some more rustling of clothing, felt a swipe up your pussy, then a tap on your lips with wet fingertips. “Open,” he instructed yet again.

You opened your mouth to lick and suck at his fingers, or so you thought. Instead, they pulled away and gagged you with one of your own hankies. Judging purely by the texture, you deduced that it was the trans flag. You relaxed and let him tie the gag more comfortably.

“There.” Joel said, patting you on the ass affirmatively. “Now I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you bein’ a fuckin’ screamer.” Two strong hands took your hips and lined him up with his target. You could feel his head prodding, but not breaching your hole. “Ready?”

You bit down on the gag and nodded feverishly at him. He poked your hole once, then twice, then started to push in and ohmyfuckinggodhe’shugeimeanyouknewthatalreadybutfuckitfeelsbetterthanyouthoughtitwould.

Without the ability to articulate any of those words, you whimpered through the gag and clawed at the wall like a cat trying to get in the bathroom.

“Biiig stretch, kiddo, that’s it…” Joel groaned, “That’s a good boy… Daddy’s almost in…”

Almost in? What the fuck did he mean by-ohshitthatswhatthefuckhemeantbyalmostin… He was so fucking thick that the stretch nearly burned, and long enough to feel like he was excavating your pussy to make room for himself. It was mind-numbing how big he was. He took up not only all the space in your cunt but in your brain as well. You’d never had someone dig so fucking deep.

“There you go, nice and full.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and pin your wrists together above your head. “Daddy’s perfect little cocksleeve…”

He withdrew his hips, practically taking your cunt with him on the way out since it refused to let go, and then speared his cock back into you. His thrust was a shockwave that rocked through your whole body. You let out a garbled moan into the spit-drenched fabric each time he did it. Eventually, he had a steady tempo going.

“Nghhh, so fucking tight… Real fuckin’ tight for a whore. And you’re fuckin’ soaked…” He gave your ass another swat, then stopped moving for a moment. “C’mon, slut, fuck yourself back on your Daddy’s dick. Ride your Daddy’s dick, now-yeahhh, that’s it…” He purred as you started to bounce your ass on him. For a little extra encouragement, he reached out to pet your hair. And for some guidance and a little extra oomph, he slammed his hips forward in time with yours, making his cock hit you twice as hard. “That’s a good boy…”

It was unbelievable, almost intolerable how good he felt. You almost couldn’t bear the thought of fucking any of your regular clients ever again. This was a Flowers for Algernon-type dicking, the absolute pinnacle of nasty sex for just a little while, and you’ll spend the rest of your sex life downhill from here. You’d like to hope that wouldn’t be the case, but none of the other dick you’d gotten in the past could even compare.

And it all stemmed from asking for a front on some oxies.

Joel reminded you of that when he said, “Next time you’re needing a front, I’ll-ngh… I’ll make you work for it, whore… Take you home and fuck you in the ass instead… Let you scream as loud as you need to… Let that little pussy weep for me and it’s gettin’ nothin’… You want some painkillers, then you gon’ hurt for ‘em, son…”

Honestly, the idea of a ‘next time’ had you excited regardless of what hole he wanted to bust open. If you were lucky, maybe it’d be out of mutual enjoyment rather than an exchange. Soon, he struck that special spot inside you, that inner button that has you seeing stars and screaming obscenities into the flag gag. Your hands balled into fists and pounded at the wall. It was getting to be too much to bear. Of course, with your flag in the way, your cries of Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna come! sounded as, “Auck! Auck! Ah gah-ah cah!”

Luckily, Joel spoke fluent slut. “You’re gonna cum? Gonna cum for your daddy?” He knotted his fingers in your hair and yanked you up against his chest. He shoved you both forward until you hit brick, and without an inch of space for you to squirm, he rutted into you relentlessly. “Then do it, slut. Cum on your daddy’s cock. Daddy wants to feel his little man cum all over him.”

God, how could a sentence be so nurturing and so nasty at the same time? So sweet and yet so fucking sick? Regardless of Sigmund Freud screaming ‘I told you so’ somewhere in your head, you came buckets, splashing Joel’s thighs with pussy juice on his every thrust. Your legs gave out around the fourth or fifth gush, and Joel had to hold you up for him to finish.

“Fuck, yeah, keep coming, keep coming, baby, Daddy’s close…” Joel groaned. Every word he said grew more vile and more primal than the last. His only need was to breed. “Daddy’s gonna knock you up, son… Gonna dump some brothers and sisters into ya… ‘N’ you’re gonna fuckin’ take it… Ngh, gonna take my fuckin’ load in ya ‘cause you’re a little cumdump pussyboy whore… ‘S what you’re meant for-shit… Shit!”

He squeezed your body tight and growled into your ear. Hot spurts of his cum flooded your battered cunt. On any other occasion, you’d cringe at some rando calling his load your siblings, but it just felt so good. You couldn’t give less of a fuck what he called it. And it’s not like he was your actual father. He was committing to the bit, a bit that had you mewing and sobbing with pleasure and repressed emotion, but that was a problem for your therapist later.

The world went still as you both came down from orbit. The rest of the QZ didn’t exist in that moment. It was just you and your “daddy”, a man twice your age that you trade drugs with and who just busted a nut in you. Honestly, still a better father figure than most. Closest thing to a dad you had for damn sure.

You felt that paternal vibe from him as he kissed the side of your neck. “You okay, little guy?” Joel asked tenderly. He untied the gag and tossed the flag by your jeans, letting you answer him.

“Mm… Mhm… I’m okay…” You stuttered, still counting on his grip to keep you standing.

“Good boy.” A few quick pecks to your neck and he slipped out, a few drops of his kids pooling in the dirt below you. “Now get dressed. I got shit to do.” He demanded with a final slap on your ass.

You stumbled over to your pants, leaning onto the wall to guide yourself. Even after dressing himself, Joel got to them first, and held them out for you to step into.

“Yeah, there you go, kid. You’re okay.” He cooed, and then clapped you on the shoulders to get your attention. Your head snapped up to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a plastic bag wrapped in tinfoil. He fished out two white pills and gave them to you, just as you agreed to.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” You gave him a shy smile, feeling grateful for the front and the frenzied faux-father-son fucking he just bestowed upon you. “Oh, and, uh… I… I had a good time, s-so if you ever wanna-“

“I’ll see you Monday, kid.”

#i am UNWELL #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou x reader #tlou smut #what the FUCK do i tag this #dd/lb #daddy k!nk #slurs

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magnetothemagnificent · 2 years ago

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Goyische leftists will use Stalin's face as a symbol of anti-homophobia, anti-racism, anti-transphobia, etc, without so much of an ounce of critical thinking. Literally I've seen a white leftist with a tattoo of Stalin's face on one thigh and a tattoo of Mao's on the other. Like????? The level of cognitive dissonance never ceases to astound me. So many Western leftist ideology boils down to "The enemy of the USA and NATO is my friend" which is.....such a dangerous ideology.

#leftie shit #leftist bullshit #leftist antisemitism

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football-in-tuxedos · 11 months ago

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You mention that James Somerton is transphobic but aside from misgendering Nate Stevenson and Rebecca Sugar that one time I'm not sure what you mean can you explain

I mean, that is what I'm talking about, but it goes deeper than that. Cause like, the point he was making isn't...ENTIRELY bad? There's a lot of complexity to it, and it ties into issues of tokenism and the male gaze and fetishization vs. representation, but there is an actual discussion to be had about how queer women are portrayed in media, and by who, as opposed to how queer men are portrayed. He is filtering it through his usual biases, so he's not really diving into the complexity, but there is a real point there.

But the thing is...why go to Nate Stevenson and Rebecca Sugar for that point? Like, if you wanna talk about queer women being allowed to depict themselves in their art, you don't need to misgender Nate and Rebecca to do that. Céline Sciamma, Jambie Babbit, Angela Robinson, Cheryl Dunye, Clea DuVall, Chantal Akerman, Dee Rees, Donna Deitch, do you see my point? Both Alice Wu and the Watchowskis had stuff about queer women on Netflix, the same platform She-Ra is on. He could have named other names.

Now, I do admit some of that might be playing to his audience, and also playing into my point about him being a discoursed poisoned online queer person; Both his audience and queer people who I feel are overdosing on discourse tend to lean towards kiddy shit more than other stuff and a lot of the names I named make artier stuff for adults. And finding those names would take an ounce of research (like, I dunno, browsing down the list of The L-Word directors on wikipedia and looking for women) and their gender identities had to take a back seat to his laziness.

And that's transphobia.

#james somerton #nate stevenson #rebecca sugar #seriously though #The way queer people online seem to zero in on movies for kids and teenagers for their representation drives me insane #Please watch some movies made by queer people made for adults.

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kurt-hummel-eat-your-heart-out · 6 months ago

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okay okay.i KNOW it’s my fav(John Bender) again but I just a loved your fic!(same person) but what if reader and John are in love with each other and after a serious and horrible(abus!ve situation) event that had happened to John. They run to an abandoned house where they stay together.(t4t as a bonus because I HC that John is trans if that’s fine?) thank you!

Hello againnnn @screamfome . IK I WAS GONE FOR A MONTH I am sooo sorry. Hopefully since it's summer I'll have more free time lol. Also yes I love this concept, you Fr have the best ideas:D also this is so outsiders coded LMAO like the abandoned house just reminded me of that.

Transmasc John Bender (The Breakfast Club) x Transmasc reader

Disclaimer/warning: this goes into John’s home life, which as we know isn’t a good one. Abusive family members, frequently mentioned physical violence, transphobia, smoking (it’s John), Just read at your own comfort level.

Approx 4.1k word count. I was on a ROLL lol

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had been a long day. It wasn’t just you, even the hallways at school had felt even more lifeless today. If that was even possible. You sighed, leaning back into the mattress beneath you. You barely remembered a thing after your head hit the pillows, so tired you were practically dead.

The darkness that awaited you carried you to a soft, dreamless slumber. You were out like a light, so much so that you weren’t even bothered by how cold it was in your room this time of year. Unawakened bliss awaited you, welcoming as ever.

No sleep that good can last forever. You felt as if not even a minute had passed since you’d fallen asleep. And yet, here you were, disturbed into consciousness. All you could hear was a distant ringing noise, rhythmic beats emanating from a few rooms away. You begrudgingly turned over on your side, an irritated gaze cast towards your alarm clock on the bedside table.

Twelve-thirty in the morning, who the hell would call at this time? You decided to let the phone keep ringing, it was probably just a mistake. But it went on… and on… and on. You groaned, turning back onto your side to try and sleep. But the mystery caller just wouldn’t let up. You sighed, annoyed out of your mind.

You trudged into the kitchen, the landline still ringing. It was dark, so of course you accidentally walked into the side of the dining room table. Your hip ran into the corner, a dull stabbing feeling ran into your side. You had to use every ounce of strength to not shout out in pain.

You were fully prepared to curse at some prank caller, insult their mother, the works. You picked up the phone off of its hook, giving a sharp exhale through your nose so whoever this was knew you were pissed off. “Uh, hello?” You mumbled, the irritation was evident in your tone.

“Oh thank fuck you picked up.” It took you a minute to recognize who this mystery caller was. The voice was familiar, you just couldn’t pinpoint it in your half-awake state.

“Wait, wait, Bender is that you?” You were glad it was just him, but still a little pissed that he was calling you in the middle of the night. “John, why are you calling me in the middle of the night…” You loved him, but you were not awake enough for this.

“I- I don’t know. I’m in trouble, I need help.” The shakiness in his voice definitely caught your attention, it wasn’t something you were used to hearing in him at all. You could hear his heavy breathing from the other side, he sounded scared and out of breath. You had to find out what happened

“What happened, sweetheart?” You lowered your voice so as to not be too loud for anyone possibly listening in on his side. You dropped the annoyed tone, replacing it with a softer sort of sound.

“I don’t know- I just,” You heard a frustrated sigh from his end. It sounded like he couldn’t even stop to gather his thoughts, it only made you more worried for him. “Can you come pick me up?” His quiet whisper made him sound like a scared little kid. Seeing this scared, vulnerable side of him just made your heart ache.

“Of course, I’ll be there in five. Okay?” You told him firmly. If you let it show that you were scared for him, it might make things worse. You always tried to be a source of stability for him, no matter what the situation was.

But things had never been so bad that he’d asked you to come get him. You were freaked out, to be honest.

“Okay, I love you.” He maintained the whisper. He just sounded so… small right now. It was so unlike him, it almost sounded like someone else.

“I love you too, see you soon.” And with that you hung up the phone, rushing to find your shoes and keys. You weren’t going to bother putting on different clothes, it might take too long. So, pjs it was.

The sleepiness still had a light hold on you as you tripped over nothing a couple times. The only thing you could think to do was go to the kitchen sink and splash some water on your face. The icy tap water hit your face like a train. If you weren't awake before, you definitely were now.

You rushed outside to your car, fumbling with the keys. Your car wasn’t new by any means, but it worked. You were just lucky you had one, you felt bad for John not having one. You knew how some nights got, especially when his dad got home late.

As you drove, all you thought of was your hatred for John’s father. He was an absolute dirtbag. You could recall countless stories of John’s childhood, how loud his house always seemed. How much he just wanted to get away.

After a few blocks you could see his house. A slightly run-down two story house near the edge of town. The chipped and faded gray paint had a blue cast to it in the moonlight. At night, John’s house looked as sad as his eyes were during the day. If you took more than a glance at him, you could see the pained look in his eyes.

He never let anyone see past his rough exterior of course, but you could still sense it. You pulled up to the side of the road, next to his yard. You didn’t even have a second to put the car in park, you could already see John climbing out of a window. The one in his room, you assumed.

His room was on the second floor, so it had a bit of a drop to it. He had the bottom half of the window pushed up. He steadily shifted towards the ledge, nearly giving you a heart attack. He jumped down to the ground with ease, a practiced motion from numerous nights of sneaking out.

He practically ran to your car, not wasting a second. You blinked and he was right in front of you in the passenger seat.

“Drive, please.” His voice came out hard and raspy, like he was out of breath. You didn’t even have time to check on him, to see if he had any new marks.

“Okay, okay. I’m driving.” You raised a hand, a little startled by how abrupt he was. You hit the gas, not really sure where you were driving off to. You decided to just head down some of the wooded backroads away from town.

There were these old trails that had been blocked off outside of town. Technically, the land belonged to the state, but it wasn’t public ground. You and John had always ignored the ‘Do Not Trespass’ signs stapled to the trees near the edge of the forest. How could the two of you not take advantage of such a perfect hiding spot?

You two had a theory that it was some old property the state had seized and had no idea what to do with. It wasn’t big enough to be a park itself or close enough to one to be added to another.

You turned onto a rough gravel road, just off of where your town stopped and the highway started. It wasn’t the smoothest drive, but you couldn’t complain too much. It was a secluded area, far away from anyone or anything to bother you.

You had stayed silent thus far, giving John a minute to himself. His labored breath had only let up so much, you could still hear how on edge he was. You glanced over at him, seeing the slight shake in his shoulders. His arms were crossed upon his chest, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of you.

“Johnny? You okay baby?” You took your right hand off of the wheel, laying it on his knee. This seemed to snap him out of his daze.

He flinched slightly, his gaze snapping over to you. You sensed the sudden jerk of his head in your direction, which made you retract your hand. Had it been too soon? Had whatever happened shaken him up that badly?

“Sorry.” You gave a quick apology, beginning to move your hand back to the wheel.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He reached for your hand, grasping it firmly. You could feel the way he shook like a scared animal. “Stay with me. Please…” He held your hand in his own, leading it back to his knee. You let him place it there, giving his hand a soft squeeze. This seemed to ease his nerves just a bit. You could hear him let out a deep sigh as he squeezed the top of your hand back.

You continued down the gravel road into the woods. You drove deeper into the trees, the shadows your headlights made twisting their shape as you passed them. The forest was always a little creepy, even more so in the middle of the night.

You passed by countless maples and oaks, keeping your hand on his knee. You decided to stop after a couple minutes, you were deep enough into the woods now.

You put the car in park, switching off your headlights. You then turned to John, finally getting an opportunity to look at him properly. The look in his eyes absolutely broke your heart.

He was like a dog on the Fourth of July; his eyes wide and scared, a slight shake to his body, and an expression that made you wonder if he was about to cry.

“John?” You leaned across the center console, getting a bit closer. “Can I take a look at you?” You whispered softly, just loud enough to be heard over the car engine in the background. He finally made eye contact with you. His gaze softened ever so slightly as he saw the unease written all over your face. You weren't going to ask him what happened, not right now at least. Although it would burn questions in your mind, you wouldn't until you knew he was okay. Physically, at least.

He gave a small nod, still looking you in the eyes. You withdrew your hand from his knee. You took his hands in your own, checking for any signs of a fight. The skin of his knuckles were clear as day, no signs of blood or bruising in the slightest.

He turned to the side to face you, giving you a better opportunity to look him over. Your gaze traveled up his arms, turning them over to check the backs of his arms. You frowned when you saw a bruise starting to form on his elbow. John was quiet as you inspected him. He was even somewhat surprised when he saw the bruise on his arm, soon frowning as well.

He turned his face away from you, no longer wanting eye contact as you looked him over. This was too embarrassing for him. Yes, it was a regular occurrence. And yes, you were always there to take care of him after a situation at his house.

But it was different this time. It was more painful to look at himself, to look at how visible his weakness was to him now.

The strain of thoughts in John’s head were currently babbling on about how pathetic and weak he was, almost akin to the drunken babbling of his father not too many hours ago. He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at a particularly brutal phrase that echoed in his head.

You immediately looked up from his arms, barely hearing the little choked sound that came out of him.

“John?” You whispered his name, it was like a request for him to look you in the eyes again. But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you see how weak he was, how pathetic he felt now.

“John, can you look at me? Please?” You kept your voice lowered. You were soft and caring in every aspect, you knew something was different this time. He slowly turned to face you, reluctantly so. The sight of tears pricking his eyes and the red mark under his left eye caused you to let out a quiet gasp.

Your immediate reaction was to pull him closer to you. Your instincts told you to protect him from whatever had happened, even though you knew that wasn’t entirely possible. Time had passed, what had happened couldn’t be reversed no matter how hard you wanted it to.

You felt John’s arms around you almost immediately, holding you back. He hadn’t gotten a look at himself yet, but he could assume what you’d seen. He didn’t have to see to know what was there; he could feel it.

You sat there holding him for a minute, almost feeling like crying yourself. He didn’t deserve this. You were scared for him. You wanted to make it all better. A million thoughts buzzed through your head, loud uncontrolled. You pulled away from him for a moment to get a better look at the mark.

You brought a hand up to his cheek, making sure not to directly touch the red spot. “Did he do this?” You both already knew who you were referring to. And you both already knew the answer to your question. You just needed confirmation from him.

“Yeah.” John’s voice was still just above a whisper. It hurt you to see him so reserved like this. Usually after something happened with his dad, he would quickly find something for the two of you to do to distract him. Something like goofing off at the grocery store, driving around with the radio on too loud, or just having a smoke together. Now his silence spoke volumes.

“Here, why don’t we go on a walk. It’s a nice night.” You suggested, still keeping that same gentle tone of voice. He nodded quietly, and with that you took your keys out of the ignition and got out of the car.

You met John on the other side and had neglected to notice the fact that he only had a t-shirt. You were right when you said it was a nice night; it was a nice night for the fact that it was October. You cursed quietly to yourself before taking off your hoodie and offering it to him.

“Shit, sorry, it’s cold. Here, take this.” You didn’t really give him a chance to respond before you placed the hoodie in his arms. Freezing wasn’t going to be an option, and you would make sure of it.

“You sure?” John quirked a brow at you. He was probably going to refuse your offer and say something about you getting cold, but you didn’t care.

“Shh, just take it.” You assured him, smiling softly at him and waving your hand dismissively. Without another word, he slipped it over his head. His usual cocky attitude had been set to the side for now, so he complied.

You linked an arm around his, taking his hand in yours. His hand was warm like it always was, even with the chill of the night. You two walked down the beaten down dirt trail, deeper into the woods. The moon shined brightly enough for you to be able to see where you were going, but not without stepping on the occasional stick or dead leaf.

You let a comfortable silence hang between you two for a few minutes, for John’s sake. But soon your concern got the best of you, and you were tempted to know what exactly had happened.

“Johnny, baby. You wanna talk about things?” You turned to look at him as you walked along the trail. You were fully prepared for him to say no, it was understandable considering how quiet he’d been thus far.

“Maybe… I don’t know. Jus’ give me a minute, maybe…?” He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to, just thought you might want to.” You squeezed his hand, reassuring him that he didn’t have to talk about what happened with his dad.

“No, no, I think I want to. Could help since it’s you.” He squeezed your hand back. You couldn’t help but smile at what he said. Ever since he started opening up about what he went through, he seemed a little less uptight. Around you at least. But sometimes you notice it with other people, too.

He nudged you with elbow, motioning to something in the distance you two had been approaching. A look of surprise and confusion came across your face as you looked at the old, dilapidated house in front of you. How had you never noticed this before? You supposed you and John had never walked this far into the forest, but still. It was odd.

“Wanna check it out?” He asked. There was that little sense of adventure back in him. You smiled at him, leading him towards the house.

“Oh hell, why not. We could crash here if there aren’t any squatters that beat us to it.” You approached the old wooden door, pushing it open with ease. You cringed at the way its hinges creaked and groaned. It was an awful sound, but you toughed it out.

You called out, trying to see if anyone was there already. John checked a couple rooms, finding no one. With the confirmation that nobody else would interrupt you two, you sat on the floor, against the wall in the main room.

“Alright, c’mere.” You waved John over, letting him sit in front of you between your legs. He was facing away from you so he could lean back into you, letting you hold him tightly. You sighed contentedly, just relieved that he was in your arms instead of in his house.

“So,” You began. But before you could say anything else, John held up a finger to signal for you to pause. You obliged him, closing your mouth. You watched him pull out his cigarettes and lighter. He flicked the lighter to life, pressing the flame to the end of a cigarette. Once he was certain it was lit, he put his lighter back in his pocket and brought the cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag, closing his eyes as he took in the warmth of the smoke.

He exhaled after a moment, leaning back onto your chest with a sigh. You wrapped an arm around him as he took a few more drags. He leaned into your touch, which only made you want to hold him tighter.

“So,” John’s voice was firmer this time. He was grounded now, bordering on relaxed. It was an unfortunate coping mechanism to have, but smoking really did seem to help him.

“As you could definitely already tell, the old shitbag hit me again.” He sighed. You nodded in understanding, not really surprised but livid nonetheless. You didn’t show how pissed off that made you, John had probably already been around enough pissed off people today. Instead, you rubbed his arm soothingly.

“Can I ask what it was about this time?” You wanted to be considerate of him still. This was fresh, you weren’t going to press him for a story. You wouldn’t have to though, as he nodded in response.

“I was makin’ dinner; didn’t feel like going out and getting something. Not too sure I got the cash for it either…” He sighed again, more smoke in his exhale. “The fucker comes up behind me all like

‘Oh look at you bein’ independent. Man of the fuckin’ house, huh?’,

and y’know I could tell he was drunk.” He paused to take another drag of his cigarette. The impression of his father was pretty accurate, you had to admit.

“And I’m just standing there, tryna do my shit. I say

‘Dad, I’ve got a burner on. Don’t try anything.’,

‘cause I don’t want him to burn the fuckin’ house down.” He ran his hand through his hair again before letting his hand settle on top of yours. He interlocked your fingers, settling them back on his stomach. You kept his hand in yours as you listened to him.

“Then he goes

‘You know it’s a shame you gotta be so butchy ‘bout everything. If you weren’t playin’ pretend all the time, you could make some guy real fuckin’ happy. Least I could be proud of ‘ya for bein’ a wife, not whatever the fuck you’re doin’ to yourself.’”

John repeated his father’s words, laced with just as much cruelty as the man who first said them. The words of his father disgusted you, and you could tell things would quickly go south from here.

John went on. “So I say

‘Dad, don’t say that.’

And then he grabs the back of my shirt, throws me backwards, like, away from the stove. And he just starts yellin’ at me, saying all this shit about how he’d treat me better if I was normal. If I just dropped the act and lived like everyone else does.” Johns voice got a little quieter as he spoke. You could tell this got to him. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

You knew he hated the idea of getting hitched, even if he got to be a man in the relationship. Too many outside opinions and expectations, he said.

You cringed at his father’s mention of ‘dropping the act’. At this point, neither you or John had any doubts about yourselves or each other. It was hell existing as it was, but standing your ground about who you were was a whole other thing. You were proud of him for not suppressing who he was, but at the same time you couldn’t stand how he was treated for it.

“Mhm. God I hate that…” You agreed with him, letting him know you were still listening. He took another drag of his cigarette before continuing.

“So he gets me near the wall, like almost throws me against it. And I think that’s when my elbow got hit, now that I think about it. I don’t know, it’s a little blurry,” He paused to let out a small yawn. You could imagine how tired he was, with it still being the middle of the night. And the obvious.

“And I just wasn’t in the fuckin’ mood, right? So I didn’t say shit, didn’t look at him, nothin’. I kinda just took it so I could get it over with. And then he hit me." You knew that was coming but it still broke your heart to hear. The pained sound of his voice came through, you could tell he was so tired of his father. He was tired of all the shit this man put him through. You held John a little tighter, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness over him.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Your voice held such sincerity. It was such a comfort to the man, who needed it desperately. Your soft way of speaking to him and the way you held him, coupled with the cigarette, had him feeling so far away from the situation. Like he was safe from it now, like nothing could even hurt him. You leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, sweet and considerate.

"I've got you now, I can make it better." You assured him of your presence. Even though you could only temporarily make things better, you would try to ease his pain for as long as you possibly could. You ran your fingers through his hair methodically, occasionally playing with a few strands. The sensation could do wonders to put him at ease. You could feel him relax as he finished the last of his cigarette. He snuffed it into the ground beneath you, then flicked it away. He sighed, turning around slightly in your hold so he could face you.

"Hey. I love you. Don't forget it." He sounded a little more drowsy now, like he could fall asleep in your arms any minute.

You leaned it to place a soft, tender kiss on his forehead. A goodnight kiss of sorts. "I love you too. Never forgetting it. Ever." You couldn't help but smile as you saw his face again. He looked adorable, all tired and warm, like he felt safe.

You'd stay happy like this for the night, holding John in your arms and protecting him. You'd be there again and again, no matter the reason. No matter how bad he was hurt, you'd be there to make it better.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hope you enjoyed! Next time I won’t be so late for a request Omg 💀 finals week will do that to you lmao.

But anyways thank you so much for reading and send me a request if you feel so inclined. It’s summer and I’m bored so I’d love to hear some ideas:D go check out my pinned post if you wanna see what fandom I write for!

#male reader #the breakfast club #transmasc reader #Transmasc John Bender #john bender x reader #john bender #fanfic #John bender x male reader #fanfiction #fanfic writer #writers on tumblr

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trans-androgyne · 6 months ago

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“I’m seeing this held up to say this is reflective of transmasc privilege” yeah, because you guys don’t have to deal with the transmisogyny that we do. that makes you privileged. “privileged” doesn’t mean “not oppressed by transphobia”, it means “not oppressed by transmisogyny”. and by the way, you mentioning that transmisogyny exists doesn’t mean shit when you are ALWAYS following it up with “but—“ and an explanation of how transmisogyny isn’t actually that bad or unique. you clearly don’t even actually believe that transmisogyny exists if you think that conversations about it are meant to insult transmascs somehow and undermine your issues.

Again, I have never acted like transmisogyny isn’t awful or unique. Transmisogyny is its own beast of a system and is so horrifying that even thinking about it too hard has brought me to tears multiple times, you can ask my trans girlfriend. It is also however not worse than other types of oppression, because oppression cannot be quantified and compared that way. Are lesbians privileged above bisexuals since they don’t typically deal with biphobia? Or are bisexuals privileged over lesbians because they don’t typically experience lesbophobia? I ask you this because: are you privileged above me because you don’t typically experience transandrophobia? No. You’re not. The privilege is being cis. The privilege is being straight. I do not have an ounce of gendered privilege over you and neither do you over me. If you think otherwise, you haven’t been listening to us.

#trans/misogyny #trans/androphobia #ask #mine #anonsense

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baileythebean · 5 months ago

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Reasons why you should read… Wings of Fire!!

Random LONG-ASS post but idc because this has been my favorite book series since 3rd grade and I still HEAVILY fixate on it - for anyone interested (after I explain ofc) These books are by Tui T. Sutherland and are available in audiobook, paperback, hardcover, and Kindle I think.

Reasons you might enjoy WoF and features of the books!

-creative character designs

-full plot with little to no holes and if there are any, they’re probably explained in one of the MANY side books available.

-well-written characters that can be powerful without being a “Mary Sue” and having their own personalities

-each book follows a different protagonist, sometimes with the protagonist switching up mid-book

-a prologue and epilogue in each book

-15 main books released so far with more coming!!

-STUNNING cover art

-the main characters are dragons!!

-Written like those fanfics where you read them and you forget you’re reading a fanfic but it’s still not quite written like an ‘official’ book, y’know?

-descriptive writing so you don’t have to imagine stuff in weird vague ways

-LOTS OF LGBTQIA+ rep! Including but not limited to: mlm rep, wlw rep, non-binary/non-conforming rep - and the best part about it? It’s casually brought up! It’s normalized! Not even the villains or shitty parents show an OUNCE of homophobia or transphobia!

-There are humans in these books! And POC rep!

-women in leading/strong roles :3

-different continents!

-different tribes of dragons each sharing similar traits depending on their habitat!! NOT JUST RANDOMIZED DRAGONS EVERYWHERE ALL MIXED TOGETHER WHERE YOU DONT EVEN KNOW WHO CAN DO WHAT!!

-Each book features a map of the continent it’s set on, a description of the dragons of each tribe living on that continent (including looks, powers, diet, affiliation in war depending on the book, and current Queen) and a page for the prophecy the book fixates around (different for each arc)

-Three arcs, each solving a different conflict but STILL IN THE SAME PLOT!!

-creepy mind-control stuff!

-well-written villains

-lines that have made me CACKLE out loud multiple times

-TONS OF SIDE BOOKS WITH EXTRA LORE/INFO IN THEM!!

-and so much more! Read them for yourself to find out!!

ALL THE BOOKS IN ORDER PLUS THE NAME, SPECIES AND A PICTURE OF THE PROTAGONIST IN PARENTHESES:

THE DRAGONETS OF DESTINY ARC: 1) The Dragonet Prophecy (Clay of the Mudwings)

2) The Lost Heir (Tsunami of the Seawings)

3) The Hidden Kingdom (Glory of the Rainwings)

4) The Dark Secret (Starflight of the Nightwings)

5) The Brightest Night (Sunny of the Sandwings/Nightwings)

THE JADE MOUNTAIN ARC: 6) Moon Rising (Moonwatcher of the Nightwings)

7) Winter Turning (Winter of the Icewings)

8) Escaping Peril (Peril ((the one in front)) of the Skywings)

9) Talons of Power (Turtle ((the green one)) of the Seawings)

10) Darkness of Dragons (Qibli of the Sandwings) (MY FAV CHARACTER YIPPEE)

THE PANTALA ARC: 11) The Lost Continent (Blue of the Silkwings)

12) The Hive Queen (Cricket of the Hivewings)

13) The Poison Jungle (Sundew of the Leafwings) (MY FAV BOOK YIPPEE)

THE RETURN ARC (not sure if that’s actually what it’s called but oh well): 14) The Dangerous Gift (Snowfall ((the one on the right)) of the Icewings)

15) The Flames of Hope (Luna ((the obvious-looking one)) of the Silkwings)

THERE ARE ALSO GRAPHIC NOVELS UP TO BOOK 7 SO FAR AND SIDE BOOKS LISTED HERE: Legends: Darkstalker

Legends: Dragon Slayer

A Guide to the Dragon World

The Winglets Quartet

There might be more but there are also a coloring book plus an activity/storymaking book and as far as I know the fandom is pretty non-toxic and full of artists and cosplayers!! So have funnnn :33

ALSO SEND ME ASKS IF THERES ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANNA KNOW ABT IT, I’D BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO ANSWER THEM (sorry if Tumblr fucks up the image quality)

-IRL Bailey

@toniothegammafish @thesilliestofallqueers @rebootgrimm @ask-sora-aguilar @schnozzlebozzle

@bioexorcismss @piigeonss @weirdassartist @clown-prince-of-gay @lilacquintet

@wakatoshi-main @metal-mage @vv4loe

#Irl Bailey!#ooc posts #wings of fire #wof #lgbt pride #lgbtq #transgender pride #poc rep #dragons!#PLEASE READ IT BHDHJKWISJ

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mk-writes-stuff · 9 months ago

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The Seven Station Chronicles

Belladonna is the heir to the Seventh Station, one of seven orbital space stations torn from their planet by a wormhole several generations ago and stranded in the dead of space. Six years ago, the ritual that would have allowed her to hoard magic like the other nobles mysteriously failed, leaving her as her parents’ greatest failure. All attempts to regain their favour have been for naught, and, while she still clings to her status as heir, her parents’ manipulations seem targeted at taking away every remaining ounce of control she has over her life and her station.

Cassie is a runaway clone from Sixth Station, escaping the cruel brutality and murderous magical farming of her genetic donor, Cassiopeia. After a tumultuous year on the Seventh Station, armed with nothing but her muscles, the titanium arm she built to replace her lost one, and her street smarts, the magic she gained in an accident during her escape is discovered. To her surprise, instead of being killed outright, she is brought to guard the heir to Seventh Station - with the understanding that the heir will kill her the moment she gets the opportunity.

Both Belladonna and Cassie have secrets to hide and haunting terrors, both past and present, that plague them. Both are desperate to take back the power over their lives that has been ripped away from them. And both are inclined to hate and fear the other. But their lives have been irreversibly tied together by the actions of the leaders of Seventh Station, and not only their lives, but the lives of every person on every station, might be dependent on them - if only they can figure out how to work together.

Welcome to the Seven Station Chronicles, an original space fantasy series I’m working on! This is primarily a political and interpersonal drama story set on a series of seven space stations lost to the void of space, full of fantastical politics and complicated relationships.

There are currently four books planned in the series, each with its own plot but recurring characters and long-term character arcs. Book 1 focuses on Belladonna and Cassie’s relationship, Belladonna’s attempts to get back power over her life and gain power over her station, and the oppression and struggles of clones. Book 2 is focused on First Station and the resource shortages of living in space for so long, along with the struggles and hardships of the First Station leader, Septimus. Book 3 tells the story of an evacuating ship of space elves encountering the station and struggling to integrate and adapt to the new situations, and the stations’ struggle to integrate with them. Book 4 focuses on the religious cult of the Fifth Station and its impacts on the surrounding stations and political impacts. Belladonna remains the protagonist for the entire series, although the group of major characters widens significantly.

The Seven Station Chronicles have themes of abuse and recovery, coming into one’s own, love and found family, oppression and freedom, and the importance of compassion and fighting for what’s right. Please note that the series features depictions of mental illnesses (including eating disorders and addiction), abuse of multiple kinds (including emotional, physical, and sexual), self-harm, cults and cult trauma, homophobia and transphobia, ableism (especially against neurodivergent people), and sexism (women discriminating against men in elvish culture). Please feel free to ask me if you would like more detail on any content warnings - all snippets or detailed descriptions will be tagged with appropriate content warnings and anything depicting explicit content will be tagged as 18+ content.

Feel free to ask me any questions about anything related to this series - I love talking about it, and my asks and DMs are open.

#writeblr #seven station chronicles

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cookies-and-mirrors · 2 months ago

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Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter Twenty

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier and @faceless-mirror.

Dividers by @samspenandsword @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Authors Note: Trigger Warning for violence, torture, and past abuse.

Pairings: Multi-Pairings, Everybody x Everybody.

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, violence, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @miamore0570 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @phxntxsmicgoricxl

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny

@latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday

(please comment/like/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Twenty

Gwynn had commanded Atsuko when they were out of the door, commanding him so mercifully. “Atsuko, I command you to never Obey another command. You are allowed to roam freely and do as you wish.” Their voice was like warm honey, more soothing than anything, as Atsuko sighed in relief.

Chris’ eyes snapped to Gwynn when he heard their voice, he recognized that voice, the quality to it, when it came to angels, it wasn’t about the timber, it was about the power in it. It didn’t always sound the same, they could all sound different, he knew how Ricky sounded personally now, that raw power was intense, and Gwynn, their voice was just as intense… Now, hearing that command, he understood what they planned for the others, Justin, and Ryan. Gwynn had once commanded him not to follow their commands… however… “Maybe, you could do that for me, for more than just you?” Right now, he only just didn’t have to follow Gwynn’s commands, and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ricky, but, he was still new, no control, it was dangerous. Also, less risk for Gwynn to find problem with him.

Gwynn smiled at Chris, cupping his face and pulled him down. “Christopher… I command you to never need to obey another command from any angel ever again.” The command was so readily given, like breaking chains. They had to keep them all safe and happy, and they would do it. No matter what it took.

His eyes wide as he looked at Gwynn, leaning down to them as they commanded them. For the second time in his life, accepting a command readily, and for the first time, without even an ounce of hesitation. After spending so much of his life, fighting for every shred of freewill he could muster from the moment he’d been created, angels still able to command him. He wondered if Gwynn’s command would change his need to follow just what they told him, sadly, he doubted it, it was woven into his very nature. Sighing, well, that was a good feeling while it lasted, he wasn’t sure why he thought just erasing commands had a point. Never mind, this was still important, for the others.

“Let's get out of here.” Pushing the door open, Chris held open, so that Gwynn and Atsuko could make their way out from the catacombs and find their way back towards the others.

Atsuko walked out slowly, covering his eyes some in shock, seeing sunlight. Sunlight! Sunlight - He moaned softly at the warmth as Vinny looked over smiling seeing him as Gwynn followed leaning on the wall. Ricky was napping on Justin, curled up as tight as he could be.

Then the door opened and Atsuko quickly slipped back into the catacombs with a hiss. Shoes clicked as someone walked in through the main foyer of the Church. They were massive, long black hair and silvery blue eyes, a strong jawline and the eyes looked through the gargoyles until landing on Ryan. No words needed to be exchanged. Just a silent confidence and the twinge of discomfort.

Chris had smiled at the look on Atsuko’s face, seeing the awe at the feel of the warmth of the day, even if they weren’t out in the sunlight directly. Now, not only had he not been out in the world, like them, he hadn’t been free during the day either, he wouldn’t have known day from night down there. When he slipped back into the catacombs, however, Chris frowned, what, what was happening? Turning to look to see who was entering, who had disturbed their gathering when the café was clearly closed for the day. The sound of the Church door seemed to trigger the reaction from the other gargoyle… who… oh… oh no…

Ryan tensed the moment he laid eyes on the man. What was he doing here. Why had he come here, now? The way he just strolled in, Ryan wanted to be anywhere but here, first Gwynn, and now him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was going to be sick. He was Trust, he was Trust, but who, who was he supposed to trust right now when all he wanted to do was scream, and run, and… No he couldn’t run, he wanted blood, and it just walked in the door.

No one could protect him… not from that man. He could only protect himself, and he was going to rip him to shreds. Standing from his stool gently setting Vinny down to sit on it as he did, however, he regretted not having his weapons on him down here. His eyes were cold even as his face paled, he just stared at the angel as he just strolled into the Church.

“What do you want, Jerahmiel?” Christopher demanded of him, carefully. Walking towards the rest, his eyes flickering across the space of the room where Ryan stood by the bar, Vinny leaning against him, and then to Justin with Ricky curled up and asleep. They couldn’t afford for this to turn into a fight.

“Christopher, sit down.” The angel demanded with an amused smirk, his eyes raking over Gwynn and to Ryan, fully and wholeheartedly amused. “Shhh…. Shhh….” He whispered, putting his fingers to his lips, eyes gleaming as he walked closer.

Jerahmiel hadn’t needed to put an ounce of power into his voice when he spoke to Christopher, so he hadn’t bothered, and Chris knew it, he’d felt it, he had wanted to cry, but he didn’t. Maybe if the angel had tried to command him he would have been able to attempt to resist, but instead the massive gargoyle was sliding to sit, right there, on the floor. There was no question, no ability to resist, just the immediate giving in, Christ seating himself where he had been standing the moment before when Jerahmiel had made the demand. As far as the others knew, as always he was the ever obedient one, always following the rules… only, for the last little while, he hadn’t been, had he?

Then he was struck in the head by the abandoned ice pack. Jerahmiel froze, blinking a few times before turning to look over at Ricky, who was trembling with glowing silver eyes glaring. “Stay the fuck away from them, father.” He snarled, jumping down from the table.

Jerahmiel looked over at him, snarling softly, “I thought you were in Washington with those mortals.”

Oh, fuck. Father? Justin stared at their former handler, horrified, and yet, it made the worst kind of sense with what Ricky had already told them about his father. About how the man had treated him. How he used to treat them. No, no, Justin pulled Ricky back as Jerahmiel turned on Ryan, hoping Gwynn and Vinny got him away… only…

Gwynn had approached and gently urged Vinny to get Ryan out of the area. Chenza was fast, getting up to tug Ryan towards the catacombs. “Ryan.” A silent command before it was spoken. “Don't move. Don't even breathe.”

Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.

Just like that, Jerahmiel’s voice took hold, the post of his command worming its way in like a vile toxin into Ryan’s veins, like it always did, always had. He could never stop it. Jerahmiel could do anything with him, anything he wanted, well, almost anything, when he commanded him. The worst times, was when he commanded him to do whatever he wanted, at will. Those were the times he basically turned him into his play thing. Admittedly, there were some things, he had learned, that there were things he couldn’t command him to do, but he did try to convince him of. Such as breed. Ryan had never consented to breeding, with anyone, ever. Not in the last thousand years, not without Justice.

Ryan was as still as stone, even as he stood in his flesh form.

“Good girl.” Jerahmiel praised cruelly, walking over reaching out to brush his fingers against Ryan's skin and grabbed his jaw pulling him to look into his eyes, leaning in. A familiar look before suddenly Jerahmiel was on his knees after a sharp crack filled the air.

Gwynn stood right beside him, cane snapped in half from the anger and rage the small angel felt. The larger fallen angel looked up and snarled softly, “Ah… Heaven’s cumdump trying to save the day? Hmm- At least you and your pet match now.”

“Don’t you dare touch my mate-” Gwynn snarled, guilt eating at them for their next words, “Ryan, I command you to do as you please and to never need to obey another angel against your will, including commands-”

Gwynn wanted to throw up at commanding his mate. Jerahmiel saw it and smirked. “Oh… well then… let me show you my favorite improvement I made to your mate.”

This was worse than being imprisoned in stone. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, and Jerahmiel always had full control. What was worse? There had been times that Ryan found himself lost in this. Lost in these moments. Now he knew why though, now he knew, realizing that Jerahmiel had literally forced him to forget his mate. He took over. The unconscious tricks the bastard had used to do it, had become addictive, and Ryan, by the angel, had kept needing more, and he hated himself for it every day.

Improvements, improvements… Gwynn had never, not once, ever commanded him before this moment and as their voice cut through Jerahmiel’s voice, the next thing he knew, Ryan was gasping in a breath. His eyes flickering over towards them, only back towards the other in horror at his next words… improvements… please no…

A menacing growl started coming from the door, and the light almost completely blocked from the pathway way to the front entrance to the Church, that was how massive the Hellhound was as it entered. A bear… the bear sized hellhound pushed his way through the doors of the Church doorway, and he did nothing but growl when his paws hit the holy ground and started to steam. Waves of heat directly from hell itself were coming off of his fur as he stalked his way over to Jerahmiel, snarling, teeth bared. Flaming eyes staring out from the skull like head, glaring out at everyone that dared go near the fallen angel that he was guarding…

Jerahmiel reached up patting his shoulder using him as support to stand, “Thank you, Oli.” He said, scratching The hound behind the ear as if he was nothing more than a puppy.

“Ryan…” he said before offering what could have been mistaken as a sweet smile. “Agony.”

Gwynn turned to Ryan in horror, and looked at Jerahmiel. “Stop! Stop!” he shouted, lunging before Ricky's voice tore out powerfully.

The hall shook with the force coming from the nephilim, “Chris, I command you that you never need to listen to another angel against your wishes-!”

Justin was holding onto Ricky, unsure what to do, and fuck, was that a massive hellhound. He’d never seen a hellhound that insane. Honestly, he didn’t even know they’d come that big before, and he’d seen so many that, holy shit, what did they feed that damn thing?

Ryan, the moment Jerahmiel smiled, and spoke the word, a rune started to glow black right on his neck, it had been invisible until that moment, hidden under a lesser rune. He let out the most blood-curdling scream, as if the very blood in his veins had turned into pure hellfire. In his mind Ryan was burning from the inside out as he collapsed to the floor, and he writhed, not following commands wasn’t an option, this wasn’t a command, it was a rune, they were different… and it just glowed black on his skin before disappearing as he screamed.

The moment Ricky spoke, Chris was simultaneously horrified that the nephilim figured out the truth, and almost willing to cry with relief that he had broken those mental chains for him. Standing immediately from the floor, he had a dagger in his fingers and aimed for that damn hellhound, right between the eyes. He was the only one in the position to make a move, and it was the problem, he had to get past the hound to get to Jerahmiel.

The dagger burned, its blade twisted and melted under the heat that Oli was drawing from hell, so the dagger missed its mark… Oli… Oli snarled at the puddle of the angel runed blade on the ground as he lunged at the first of the opponents closest to him. His jaw clamped on the mangled leg of the unprotected angel that had dared strike at his charge.

Gwynn screamed. He had been out of the field too long and with how little they had actually healed- agony. They screamed, gasping for air before scrambling for his cane, the holy wood splintered as it was, he stabbed towards Oli. At least attempted- he struck the hellhound's leg, digging it in, sobbing trying to free himself to get to Ryan’s side.

Ryan was collapsed on the ground, his eyes vacant as he stared at Gwynn, wanting to reach for them, but not able to bring himself to do it. He didn’t deserve to, he would never deserve to, he knew that, not after he’d forgotten them.

Oli snarled at the cane stuck into his leg, his jaw letting go of the angel in turn, only to look over at Jerahmiel with a hiss through his teeth. Did he want him to keep going? He could rip through these stone annoyances like they were candy, these ones shouldn’t even be pathetically awake during the day anyway. They were no more than chew toys to him. Let them ascend and be on their way. He wanted to go home and dream of his darling baby. A low growl ripped from his throat in warning for the next person that dared make a move.

Jerahmiel pet Oli as Gwynn thudded against the stone floor, bouncing off the stone. “Stop.” Jerahmiel spoke, smirking as he looked at Ryan, “Remember… you don’t deserve love. You were hardly worth it as a toy… a useless little puppet… Nothing has changed. Remember that.” he said softly, turning to look at Ricky, who was trying to get over the table to help. To attack his father.

“You… well, I can at least acknowledge you are a good breeder… daughter.” he laughed, heading for the door. “I’ll be back for their birth. I wouldn’t want to be a bad father.”

A whine escaped Ryan at the way, hearing all the horrible things that Jerahmiel has told him along the way, the toxic venom that he has poured into his veins over the past thousand years. He might have been gone for the past century, but his words, his poison, they hadn’t been. It had been permeating inside of him, the fact he hadn’t even been able to remember his own mate showed that, blatantly the control that man had had over Ryan’s mind. He was a void, a helpless nothing on the floor as he stared over at Gwynn, knowing he was worthless, and nothing, and that Jerahmiel was right. He didn’t deserve them.

Oli let out one last snarl as he practically herded the angel out of the Church as quickly as he could. Both because the press of the holy ground against his paws was starting to grate on his skin more than he liked, but also because he wanted to get him somewhere safer. Churches were a pain in his fiery ass.

Good Breeder. Birth. Bad Father… Justin stared after their former handler as the fallen angel disappeared out the Church doors and his eyes flew back to Ricky… what…

Gwynn groaned, unmoving from the floor. Chenza was moving quickly to check on Ryan as Ricky rushed to check on Gwynn ignoring the words his father had thrown at him. He smoothed his own hair back before grabbing towels to put pressure on Gwynn’s leg, golden blood covering the stone as Gwynn laid still.

“Chris- Chris, go get the first aid kit please-” Vinny spoke urgently, looking Ryan over, “Ryan… Ryan. He’s wrong. He’s always been wrong. He made you forget Gwynn- you didn’t get a choice. Ryan-”

Justin was the one moving for the first aide kit that he already knew was behind the bar, he grabbed at it, and well, he brought it over to Ricky, Ryan didn’t have a scratch on him. Swallowing, he’d never felt the agony rune before, but he heard about it, never seen it on a gargoyle. It was supposed to be used in demon or dark creature interrogations, not, not one of them…

“By the angel, how did he get that hellhound in here?” Chris walked over to kneel by Ricky, grabbing for the kit to pull it open and help wrap Gwynn’s leg. Even an angel, ripping through the wards to get the hellhound in here? They were literally connected to hell, it would be like a demon stepping past the threshold stepping onto the holy ground. He saw the pain the beast was in, the flames flickering off the creature, and yet it had still stood there, withstanding it, how?

Ryan didn’t blink, he couldn’t, but why did it matter, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing. Why should anything matter, they should just leave him in the catacombs to rot with the dead. He was worthless, he knew what he was, he was worse than worthless… Hearing what he’d called his mate, and… He’d hit them. How he’d forgotten them, treated them… he didn’t deserve them. He was a monster.

Atsuko eased out of the catacombs once more, and sighed out, rushing over to Ryan, sitting beside Chenza. “Ryan.” he said calmly, gently using a finger to make him look at him. “Ryan… baby.” he said softly, “You… are not what he made you think you are. You are strong. You’re not a toy. You do deserve your mate. I can’t lie. I will never lie. You are not what he’s made you think you are. Go to your mate.” he urged, quietly, his eyes unwavering. “I miss my mate… but yours is here. Gwynn is here. They need you.”

Gwynn choked out a sob as they were moved, laid on their back, their pants singed and burning as their eyes watered in pain. They were a mess… but it was only added to by the fact that they had done the one thing they had never wanted to do. They had commanded their own mate, and that made the situation worse- more painful. They were a horrible mate- even though they did it to protect him… they couldn’t forgive themself.

Shaking, as Atsuko lifted his chin, Ryan was just starting to shudder trying to keep himself from unravelling completely, and failing entirely. He wasn’t strong though, he wasn’t, he was never strong, if he was strong he would have been able to fight. If he was strong, he would have never given in to Jerahmiel time and time again over the centuries. Atsuko thought this was the truth, it was his version of the truth, but it wasn’t Ryan’s truth, not in his heart. He sobbed, he wasn’t strong, he was weak, and pathetic, and he didn’t deserve his mate. “No, no, no I’m not.” Swallowed, but his eyes flickering over to Gwynn, watching as he saw Chris wrapping their bad leg, their golden blood making him nauseous… No… no….

“I’m not strong, I don’t deserve them, I don’t deserve them. I forgot them, Atsuko. You’d never forget Nicholai… Never…” Ryan was just dejected, his eyes wouldn’t leave Gwynn, laying over there.

Ricky moved, trying to get ready to stitch him up, however he could just before Gwynn screamed in agony from the pressure. “Justin, get the bottle of vodka off the top shelf, a few rags, and a few glasses.” he instructed quickly as the angel sobbed out Ryan’s name as a chant almost, trying to focus their energy on just healing. The blood had followed the grout in the stone floor, spreading out as the angel fell quiet, other than soft murmurs of their lover’s name.

“Ryan… Ryan…” the angel’s voice whispered before their voice echoed in the formerly hallowed hall violently, before suddenly it stopped as they lost consciousness.

Atsuko sighed, petting Ryan’s cheek. “... I wasn’t being forced to forget… you were. There’s a difference there. Would you have ever willingly forgot Gwynn?” he asked, raising a brow. “I don’t think so.”

Justin moved the moment Ricky spoke, vodka, rags and glasses, Chris was holding Gwynn’s leg still while Ricky was getting him ready, glad that Ricky was keeping calm right now. The gargoyles had three of them worked at stitching up each other's bodies multiple times over the centuries, but this young man, he didn’t know how much experience he had in this. Justin bringing back the vodka, more than one to be safe, and Chris grabbed the first bottle, and some rags, cracking the bottle open and poured some over the rags.

Ryan’s eyes stung listening to Gwynn sob out his name, but there were no tears falling. They swam in his eyes as Atsuko pet his cheek, just as he felt his throat close with panic when he couldn’t hear Gwynn anymore. His answer obvious in the wordless way look he looked up to Honesty in panic when Gwynn wasn’t calling anymore, “Say they’re going to be okay, say they’re going to be okay, please Honesty.” Because if he said it, it would be true.

Atsuko sighed, petting his cheek softly, “Ryan… They need you. They will be okay, but they need you.” He said softly, petting his cheeks gently. “Go to them.”

Ricky was pressing some of the rags in to sanitize before starting to stitch as Gwynn laid in pained sleep with closed eyes.

Ryan swallowed, he knew he wasn’t physically hurt, he knew that, he’d suffered under the agony rune before, but knowing, and being able to function after the rune were very different elements. It felt like the fires of hell were still flickering through his veins, even as the rune was dying, he knew it would be hours before would he would be back to normal. Jerahmiel would torture him for days when he felt like it, others just activate the rune for a second and let him suffer… and that was when he didn’t have other things in mind.

Pushing himself, he dragged himself across the floor, to where Chris and Justin were helping Ricky take care of Gwynn, unlike a gargoyle, making it until they could turn to stone, wouldn’t guarantee survival. Then again, it didn’t anymore, not with how slow their healing had become.

Chris didn’t let go holding Gwynn still for Ricky as he stitched Gwynn up, using the rags, nodding to Justin to help Ryan, pulling him closer to his mate’s side as much as he could be. It was crowded, but he needed to be there.

Ricky was quick to stitch and calm as he could be. Vinny was by Ryan, not wanting him on his own. Atsuko sat nearby watching, leaning against the bar, sighing softly as he watched.

By the time Ricky had finished every stitch, Gwynn was leaning towards Ryan unconsciously for comfort. He got up, letting Ryan touch his mate more Gwynn’s silver hair was matted with red and gold blood, peeling up off the stone. “Ryan… Do you want help washing him up?” Ricky offered softly, knowing that the angel would need to get fresh clothes and have their hair washed. “I’m gonna get them a new temporary cane- and some regular clothes.”

Barely holding himself up, or together, let alone touching Gwynn, and Ricky was what, suggesting he help, fuck, was he kidding. “Dude, I’d just make this worse, are you kidding… They need help up, and I can barely stand right now, I-” Chris wasn’t going to let that stop them. “All good, I got you, Justin, you get Gwynn, let's get them both upstairs.” Ryan looked at both of the other two, what… What the fuck did they think they were going to do?!

Ricky stepped back breathing out softly as Vinny held his hand slumping into her as his father’s words sank in… Good breeder… birth… Ricky covered his mouth and walked towards the bathroom quickly, feeling sick even more so with the smell of sweet angel blood on his hands that was steadily going from gold to red as it dried on his skin.

Atsuko sighed and stood, “I… might go find a corner to nap in.” he confessed, “This was a lot for just leaving the catacombs.

Justin scooped Gwynn up as gently as he could into his arms, carefully as possible of their leg, cradling their body against his chest, while Chris leaned Ryan against him. Both Chris and Ryan ambling up the stairs and Justin following up behind all the way up to the apartment. While they knew the rectory the most, Chris, knew well, that the apartment had a better option for what he had in mind right now.

“Chris, what are you doing…” Growling at the elder gargoyle, and glancing back at Justin carrying Gwynn, frowning at their unconscious form, but not saying a word as the four made their way into the bathroom. “We can’t just leave Gwynn to wash up on their own in their state, and you need to sit, and rest, so, best of both worlds, you can help them wash up.”

Ryan twisted to glare at Chris, he was kidding, right, Gwynn was passed out, Chris wanted him to just sit there and wash them up, like a fucking creeper? Was he insane? “Are you kidding? No!”

Chris just paused, glancing over to Gwynn, and then back to Ryan, shrugging a little, “I mean, I guess I could do it… We could take a shower together, I could wash them up, right?” Ryan almost stumbled, shoving the taller man out of the bathroom with a snarl.

“Get the fuck out!” Chris knew fucking better, not only offering to take care of another gargoyles injured mate, but he knew better than to get an opened wound fucking wet in the damn shower. After all the shit Ryan had done for him. Of course, running Chris and Justin out of the bathroom, meant he had to strip the rest of his clothes, and Gwynn’s, on his own to get them in the bath. That in itself was not easy when he felt like he was going to fall down, but he managed eventually. He carefully propped their leg over the side of the tub to keep the stitched wound from being submerged in the water. He settled into the bath so Gwynn could rest back against his chest and he could wash away the gold blood.

As the layers were peeled from Gwynn’s body, the fresh scars covered almost every inch of their body, from toes to their collar bones. Their body and soul had been shredded on one side of their body. Their hips were almost split in half it appeared, almost as if they had been cracked in half like an egg. The scars were black and faded grey showing just how fresh the injuries still were. Their bitten leg had the worst of the damage. As if it had been crushed until there had been no bone remaining.

The most prominent ones… were where their cock had once sat and the word cherub carved into their flesh. It was as if they weighed nothing at all, and their wrists and ankles had fading marks of rope burn- just what had happened?

Ryan’s teeth grit as he tried to restrain the fury at the sight of Gwynn, even with his own pain, he hated seeing them like this. For all his scars, every permanent change, even how much Ryan hated what he had become as it was out of spite at Jerahmiel, it wasn’t… this. Cherub he knew what that meant to angels, in heaven, it wasn’t the same as it was to humans, they got so much wrong… he was disgusted that they had labelled his mate with it. Those fucking bastards.

Gwynn sank against his chest, their warmth like sunshine, as their forehead was matted with sweat and blood. “Ryan-” they whispered softly eyes heavy, “I’m so sorry….” they murmured words slurring some as they blinked slowly, hiding their face as they slowly woke from their impromptu reality break. They didn’t move more than that, too exhausted and sore to budge, though the tension radiating through their body was impossible to ignore. It made the angel flinch in pain, shaking lightly. The angel swallowed the pain like they were used to.

Now that he could finally stop, Ryan was just resting in the tub, his body was screaming at him, every part of him felt like it was dying in some way. His skin felt like he’d been flayed as much as his veins seared from the inside out, but he wasn’t going to complain after watching that monstrous hound of a beast just treat Gwynn’s leg like a chew toy. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did what needed to be done.” His voice was rough as he spoke, wringing out the cloth he was using to slowly wash over Gwynn’s skin.

Warm silver tears dripped down Gwynn’s cheeks, “I didn’t want to-” they whispered, voice breaking, but didn’t budge, even with the shame of Ryan seeing all of their battered form. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. It still felt as if hellfire was raking through their body still, violent and angry with them for existing. But they didn’t regret moving to defend Ryan. They couldn’t ever regret it.

“I never wanted to leave…” they got out, head fuzzy once more… just how hard did they hit their head when they slammed into the ground?

Ryan was silent, just washing the cloth over their skin, letting the water run down over their body, just trying to soothe them the way he knew they were already soothing him. He already felt guilty, knowing that just laying here, with them against him, their body, their blood, smearing against his skin, was lulling his pain to almost nothing… Yet all he could do was what? Wash their body? Gwynn had always been able to do so much more for him than he could ever do for them. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Why…?” Gwynn whispered, “I’m the one who should apologize.” they whispered as they relaxed, feeling Ryan under them. It was relaxing… it was good. It was perfect. But it wouldn’t last. They knew that, they knew it wouldn’t. There was no reason for it to last. Gwynn’s fingertips twitched as they gently pet his skin without thinking.

Sighing, huffing slightly, his voice sounding gruffer than he knew they were used to, “but, I told you, you have nothing to apologize for. You did what you had to do. You did your job, baby, I, I know we promised, but you had to.”

Gwynn nodded slowly, resting their head as it swam. “Ryan… I never stopped… loving you. I'll wait forever if I must…” they murmured, “To earn your favor again I would… wait… forever… You are my reason to still be here…” they murmured heavily, tongue feeling like lead in their mouth…

His eyes closed, listening to those soft words slip from their lips, the way their warm body pressed against his in the bath. This was a lot harder to ever consider, hating was so much easier, hating Jerahmiel was always going to be easier because he didn’t have to think about how much pain he felt right now. How much pain he had been in without Gwynn, and the more he thought about it, the more he just wanted to cling to them, and he couldn’t because he was just terrified.

“I love you, Baby, I love you, and I’ve missed you, so fucking much.” Ryan’s words were barely breathed against Gwynn’s skin as they just rested in the tub.

Gwynn smiled softly, moving just enough to brush their lips to Ryan’s skin that they could reach. “You were the only thing… I could think about.”

Shuddering softly, he wished, he wished he could tell them the same. It had started that way, it had, he remembered the pain had been debilitating in the beginning, he had just caved under it. Then to return and tell them all there was nothing that could be done, that the injury, no one could survive. Then, that was when Jerahmiel started in on his plan to destroy the unit, he was sure, whatever it had been. He took his chance. Ryan had just spiralled.

Sighing, now that he had cleaned, oh so carefully, as delicate as possible with Gwynn as he could be, he needed to get them out of the bath. Ryan had always tried to be gentle with his mate, which, they’d had spent so long trying to convince him they could take more than they looked. The painful reality, that now, the damage their body had taken, was so much more than they should ever have had to endure.

Taking in a breath, he reached for the bottle that Ricky had bought just for Justin’s bleached hair, something about purple shampoo for blonde hair, that would be fine for silver hair, right? Either way, it would wash their hair, and that was what Ryan wanted to do. Pouring some onto his palm, he gently started to massage the soap into the strands of their hair, just as he used to wash their hair by the streams and the lakes.

He wished’d he’d known… He’d have waited longer.

Silver hair draped over the purple mark on their cheek, as the angel melted against him, whining softly in his ear, tension easing up bit by bit now as Ryan spoke to them, and comforted by his gentle touches. Savoring the feeling of Ryan’s fingers in their hair, melting into him more as his fingers worked the soap through their too long hair, eyes heavy and sleepy. “I won’t let it happen… ever again.”

“I know, I know…” Ryan swallowed, his voice still so rough, but soft as he kept working his fingers through Gwynn’s scalp. After a moment, he reached for a cup that was set to the side of the tub and scooped up some of the water. “Tip your head back a little, baby.” So he could pour the water over their hair and wash the shampoo out.

Gwynn leaned their head back looking up at Ryan with those silvery diamond infused eyes, lips parted slightly as they looked at him. “I missed your arms and hands so much…” they murmured sweetly, even if one of the first feelings they had received was the slap, a tiny part of them wanted to be thankful for it. “I missed looking in your eyes.”

Shaking his head a little, Ryan didn’t believe that for a second, he wasn’t remotely how he used to be, nothing of what he was, was how he used to be. Nothing of what he was, was anything to be what he was to be missed. “Hardly anything to miss, Baby.” Pouring the water so slowly over their hair, to wash the shampoo away, and clean the blood from their beautiful locks. Ryan was so rough now, nothing as he used to be. Nothing that they might have missed before.

“Lies.” they whispered softly with a soft gaze. “You’re still my mate. My beloved.” they whispered. “For that alone… I will always miss you, whether it's a second or a thousand years.” they whispered softly.

“You silly angel.” His voice cracked. Ryan wasn’t worth being missed. He wasn’t worth it. Scooping up some more water, to wash out more of the shampoo from Gwynn’s hair as he swallowed heavily, not wanting to think about this, not wanting to consider what he was saying, he couldn’t.

Gwynn was quiet and content, purring softly as they savored the feeling of him being close. The warm water soothing their aches, as they closed their eyes melting into him, head heavy and foggy from everything.

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