#why say I’m helpless and can’t survive on my own if you refuse to let me have even a modicum of independence

[enigma-the-anomaly]

😒

[whumpspicelatte]

Skin, wound, and fear for the not-so-nice ask game :>

Okay, the only OCs unleashed upon the internet on this blog in any true capacity are my whumper Cole Glass, my whumpee Abelard Montagnard, and Cole’s somewhat morally skewed caretaker Daniel Henrikson. I dunno which one you wanted me to answer this about, so all three it is! 

Note: By the way, this got very long and holds what probably counts as spoilers, so I’m putting it under a ‘keep reading’ to keep things contained. 

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

For Cole, his greatest fear has to be full-out honest-to-god helplessness. Cole’s got pretty major trauma, which I’ve acknowledged at even the first time I’ve written about him, and I’ll talk about it more in later installments, but to put it plainly, he got abducted by a vampire as a preteen to act as said vampire’s personal thrall and servant. Vampiric persuasion doesn’t work on Cole for a very mundane but easily overlooked reason (I’m already littering the text with tiny clues here and there), but a terrified, traumatized kid is very easy to keep in line. Being fed on so often during a crucial part of his development had its…effects on him, physical, mental and emotional. Daniel’s the only reason why he managed to get out before his captor…well, Cole is decently attractive. He made a cute kid, and had a pretty face as a teenager. That should be enough context. He still refuses to let anyone other than Daniel touch his bare skin. 

No, he doesn’t talk about it. Yes, Daniel is fully aware of all this, but Daniel knows more about Cole than literally any other person on the planet. But Cole doesn’t like to think of it- he just makes sure that he will never be so helpless again. 

Abelard’s greatest fear is actually drowning. Yep, he’s the one with the panic-spiking irrational phobia, nothing overly deep, just a deeply visceral terror which he has never been able to relinquish. Almost like a forgotten childhood trauma come back to bite him in the ass… He’s a vampire, so it’s not going to kill him, but damn would something that simulates the experience of drowning mess with his head. You know, like being waterboarded. He doesn’t like to acknowledge it at all, finds it mortifying. So far, Cole doesn’t know about this, but there’s plenty of time to find out…

Daniel can’t deal with failure- and by failure, I don’t mean just failing something once, I mean he will throw himself against a metaphorical brick wall again and again in order to make something work. If, despite his best efforts, he cannot succeed, his self-esteem will take a major, major blow. Blame it on his adoptive father; he tried his best, but being a vampire hunter means that you either start off screwed up before taking up the mantle or end up screwed up just to survive, so he was…tough. So far in his life, hard work has carried Daniel through pretty much everything he’s faced thus far- there’s a reason why he’s one of the top hunters in the country, and has managed to reach his forties despite being in the business since he was literally a child- but hard work doesn’t always work out. Not everything can be succeeded at. And oh, does it punch him right in the gut when success is no longer possible. It’ll probably be what gets him killed one day. 

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

I’d say that, at the start of the story, all three of my ocs are pretty comfortable in their own skins! 

Daniel is the most self-aware, actually, but this doesn’t make him an actually good person- I might write a series about what he gets up to at some point- and he’s also the most at peace with himself, horrors and all. He sees himself as a person- not bad, not good, mostly outside of moral contexts. He’s aware of just how much of a monster he can be, and just how much of a saint he can be at the very same time. Very comfortable with his inner nature. 

Close after him is Cole, after having received a lot of therapy, catharsis and a caretaker who refuses to quit at pretty much anything. He’s also quite self-aware, and has gotten mostly at peace with himself. But he still feels like that terrified, helpless, useless child he used to be still lurks within his marrow, and he will do anything to keep from becoming so weak again. 

Then there’s Abelard. Outwardly, he’s very confident and sure of himself, proud of being an apex predator whose very voice none can resist (except for one person before Cole shows up). He’s powerful, very much so, and he damn well knows it. Very comfortable with his body too (though all three of them are). The problem, of course, is that Abelard was not always a vampire, and wasn’t always a vampire with nobody to fear either. He still does not deal well when forced to confront the fact that no, relying on his vampiric persuasion (which is strong enough to even work on other vampires) was not the smartest of moves to make, and he damn well knew it. Ultimately, it’s that vulnerability which he hides behind his entitled arrogance. As well as the person he used to be, over a century ago, before he got so used to the bloodshed, gore and indifferent decadence littering vampiric high society. He’s not that person anymore, that person is very much dead, but he refuses to think back to when he was that person. It hurts too much. 

The feeling of being a rabid beast who needs to be contained comes later into the story, thanks to Cole’s, ahem, influence. 

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Physically, all three of these guys deal well with being physically wounded- mostly, anyway. Daniel and Cole are both vampire hunters and have gotten hurt quite a bit in their line of work, and they’re good with remaining clinical and unbothered by all their wounds while ‘on-the-hunt’, just patch up and go. It’s a survival skill, nothing more, nothing less. Abelard, on the other hand, actually deals with injuries fairly well- when it’s not silver. Silver will typically just make him very, very mad- so long as no survival instincts rear their head. 

Now, worst wounds. Hmmm…

Daniel once literally got (lightly) vivisected by a vampire he was hunting! That was fun! Especially for Cole, who was the one who had to drag his mentor’s sorry ass to safety and to emergency medical services for what Cole couldn’t patch up himself. He’s still got the scars. Annoyingly chipper about the whole incident, which is a one-way track to inflaming Cole’s temper. 

Cole…well, see vampire-abduction-enslavement above. I’d say that counts as the worst scarring he has ever received on a mental and emotional level. Yes, he's also got physical scarring from the experience too. Moving on.

Abelard…well, I’d say this experience, the story focused on Abelard’s torture and conditioning, will be the worst thing to ever happen to him, when taking into account the fact that he is going to get whumped quite a bit and get mindscrewed over for the sake of Cole’s ‘domestication theory’, but before now? Uh…his sire was a very messed-up person! Let’s just leave it at that for now! 

Thanks for sending this my way! It was pretty fun to round my characters out like this a bit more!

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'm pretty sure this is prompt four. Jiang Cheng/Qin Su - Jin Rusong as heir to Lotus Pier

ao3

Jiang Cheng heard the news in pieces, scraps of wild rumor and gossip repeated a hundred times over, but he still refused to believe it until he actually saw the official announcement.

Jin Guangyao had divorced his wife and sent her back to her father’s house, along with their son.

“Is he insane?” Jiang Cheng asked his second in command, who only shrugged helplessly. “Putting aside the fact that I’m certain that he loves her madly, putting everything else aside, Sect Leader Qin is influential and powerful, and a strong supporter of his father – no matter what happened between them, surely someone as pleasant and compromising as Jin Guangyao could find a way to work it out?”

Jiang Cheng had only met Qin Su a few times, always at Jin Guangyao’s side. He’d heard about how she’d fallen for the dashing young man that turned out to be Jin Guangyao and sworn to marry him, no matter the obstacles; he’d heard how they’d managed to overcome every storm, fight the wind and rain, and eventually made it to their marriage bed.

They’d even had a son together, little Jin Rusong; he was Jin Ling’s best playmate.

And Jin Guangyao was kicking him out? Kicking her out?

Absurd!

Who did he think he was?

And yet, contrary to Jiang Cheng’s expectations, Sect Leader Qin did not immediately explode, or, rather, within a few days, he did, but not in the way anyone had expected. Everyone had joked that he would find Jin Guangyao and strangle him, and he really did physically attack someone – but not Jin Guangyao.

He attacked Jin Guangshan instead.

It was as if he’d gone mad, red-eyed like Nie Mingjue in the throes of his qi deviation; he’d charged at Jin Guangshan, his old friend of thirty years or more, right in the middle of Jinlin Tower, and swiped at him viciously with his sword, cutting a gash in his chest as the surprised Jin sect leader darted back too slowly to wholly dodge.

What could be done? The Lanling Jin sect guards could not stand silently by with such provocation – they counter-attacked at once, and Sect Leader Qin did not survive. A little later, and it was discovered that he had never intended on it: his sword was laced with poison.

Sect Leader Qin died, but he took Jin Guangshan down with him the underworld.

The rumor mill exploded.

Everyone was talking about Sect Leader Qin’s motivations – the suspicious timing of the divorce – Jin Guangyao’s now inevitable ascension to the seat of Sect Leader Jin –

Only Jiang Cheng thought about Qin Su, who should have been ascending right beside him. It had been her father that had died, after all.

Laoling Qin was far enough away from Lanling Jin that they were still mostly independent, and they were close enough to the Qinghe Nie that Jiang Cheng could pretend that he’d only made a short detour on a visit directed towards Nie Huaisang, that notorious purveyor of gossip; luckily enough, Nie Huaisang remembered their old friendship and was more than happy to help cover his tracks.

When Jiang Cheng arrived, the house was already decked out in mourning. Qin Su greeted him, eyes red and swollen from tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng said awkwardly, then flinched when he realized he probably should have said something in greeting first – they really didn’t know each other well enough to skip over all that.

Nevertheless, Qin Su nodded, forgiving him the slip-up before he could even retract it. She was gracious and gentle, kind and quiet, economical and thoughtful – a consummate hostess. The wife of Jin Guangyao could not afford to be anything less.

Former wife.

Jiang Cheng’s gaze danced around the room, searching for something to say, and then abruptly he noticed – “There are two deaths in your household?”

“My mother took her own life,” Qin Su said, her voice dull. She tried to suppress it, but tears gathered in her eyes again. “Shortly before…”

Whatever it was that Jin Guangshan had done that had driven Sect Leader Qin mad, it had involved his wife, Jiang Cheng thought, and then abruptly he turned pale as he put two and two together. He’d never doubted that Jin Guangyao had adored Qin Su, so why would he divorce her?

Unless…

Jin Guangshan had a reputation.

Qin Su laughed a little, a bitter sound. “Everyone will know, soon enough,” she said wisely, seeing that Jiang Cheng had figured it out. “I don’t blame my former husband at all; he acted as he ought to in every respect. It’s only my poor A-Song…I can’t imagine what his life will be like from now on.”

Jiang Cheng looked helplessly at her. To lose not only your parents, one right after the other, but your husband, your reputation, and next even your son…

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, and Qin Su stared at him. “If Sect Leader Jin’s assault were recent rather than ancient, it would have provoked the same result. The only reason anyone might suspect the truth is because of the timing of your divorce – if there’s a reason given for that, people won’t think twice about it.”

His words had come out all in a rush, smashing together like stones tossed around by a waterfall; he hadn’t thought of the idea until right this moment.

“Are you suggesting I admit to adultery?” she asked. Her eyes were as round as the full moon.

Jiang Cheng shrugged, a little helpless. “Your reputation is gone,” he pointed out, wishing he knew how to be kind or tactful. “Adultery or incest – it’s the same either way for you. But for A-Song…”

To be the son of an adulterous woman was disgraceful, but such things happened and people generally looked the other way, as long as the real father was powerful enough.

It was better than being a child of incest.

“But what of your reputation?” she asked. “Sect Leader Jiang, you can’t. I won’t let you injure yourself for my sake.”

“Not for you,” he said, though maybe it was, just a little bit. The loss of your parents, the loss of your whole life, everything you’d ever believed – who could understand that better than him? “For A-Song. He’s Jin Ling’s best friend.”

Qin Su had always been kind to Jin Ling, he thought. She didn’t need to be, could just tolerate him the way most people in Jinlin Tower did, but she really seemed to like him…

It occurred to him suddenly that Qin Su met all of his requirements for a bride: a beauty from a good family, obedient, economical, with a mild personality who wasn’t too loud and wasn’t too talkative, who was good to Jin Ling…

“How’s your cultivation?” he asked abruptly. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Mediocre,” she said, blinking at him. “And I’m better at baking, I think. I like making sweets.”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, relieved. “That’s – good. I’m glad. Will you marry me?”

Qin Su bit her lip. “Let me think about it?”

Thoughtful, he added to the list. Cautious, not reckless.

“Take all the time you need,” he said.

She came back to him two shichen later. “What happens to A-Song?” she asked.

“I’ll adopt him as my own,” Jiang Cheng said. “Or he can keep the surname Jin, if you prefer. And if Lianfeng-zun agrees, which I think he will – it’s his birthright, after all.” Too many times over. “Jin Ling lives with me sometimes; they can grow up as cousins, the way they should.”

Qin Su nodded, lips trembling a little. “You won’t regret this?”

“I might,” Jiang Cheng admitted. “But I’m probably not going to marry anyone else, and I’m willing. Are you?”

“I am,” she said, and smiled at him. Her eyes were still red, and the smile shaky, but it was something. “Thank you. I…no, never mind.”

“If we’re going to be married, you’re going to need to learn to ask things of me,” he reminded her.

Qin Su wiped her eyes. “Yes, but there’s asking reasonable things, and then there’s asking to alert my former husband before we announce our engagement.”

“Oh, no, that’s a great idea,” Jiang Cheng said, immediately relieved. “If there’s one thing Lianfeng-zun knows, it’s how to manage an announcement of that sort of magnitude. We should definitely tell him.”

Qin Su’s smile this time was stronger.

Nie Huaisang pulled a few strings and got Jin Guangyao to come over to the Unclean Realm, and when he walked in and saw Qin Su, he flinched. Jiang Cheng could see on his face that he still loved her, and he felt bad for him – not enough to stop, but still.

“I see,” Jin Guangyao said, hearing the plan. His expression was surprisingly neutral – thoughtful, but not as upset as Jiang Cheng would have expected. “It’s not a bad idea. And you don’t even need to admit to adultery, either.”

“We don’t?” Jiang Cheng asked, surprised.

“We can say that my marriage with A-Su broke down after my father’s actions - painting them as recent, rather than ancient,” Jin Guangyao explained. “I didn’t feel I could oppose him, she had no choice but to do so – it was an irrevocable breach. You came to comfort her, having met her during your visits with Jin Ling, and her sect is in need of support…you can say it developed naturally from there. It might not work to quell the rumors, of course, but it would at least provide a way to save face in public…Leave it to me.”

“Thank you, A-Yao,” Qin Su said quietly, and he smiled at her, pained.

“Just be happy,” he said to her, then looked at Jiang Cheng. “Treat her well.”

“I will,” Jiang Cheng promised, and took her by the hand. “I swear.”

-

It was a few years later. Nie Huaisang sat beside Jiang Cheng.

“I think he killed my brother,” he said, playing with his fan. “I’m going to destroy him.”

Jiang Cheng stared at the newest memorial tablet in the Lotus Pier, his hands clenched into fists with knuckles turned white.

“Good,” he said, voice savage. “I’ll help.”

[thebadboyfanclub]

Lamb For Slaughter (Aro Volturi x Reader)

So I finally found out how to put a tittle through my phone so we are back in business babies. This was requested by anon, Enjoy!

Bella and (Y/n) have been inseparable since she arrived in Forks, she was the one that helped her feel comfortable and welcomed the most out of everyone. She understood that Bella was not used to people taking into consideration how she felt or what she wanted, so (y/n) felt like it was necessary and helped her grow a bit of a backbone.

However, all her work went out the window when her boyfriend Edward left her. She became miserable, depressed and refused to heal from the heartache, (y/n) was a few years older than Bella so she had a grasp of how a break up at that age could make you feel lost and misunderstood so she remained a vague help in the shadows, trying to help Charlie in this process.

"Never in a million years I thought I would end up in this type of situation"

(Y/n) said to Alice as they walked towards the big entrance of where the "vampire royalty" lived. Alice gave her a ghost of a smile and it took no genius to see that she felt particularly nervous.

(Y/n) felt no empathy for her, especially now when in just a span of an hour she found out vampires existed, that they were vampires and apparently they were in trouble at the vampire police? She wished she was dreaming or joking yet they were no sight of cameras and she vividly remembered waking up from her nap hours ago.

As Alice effortlessly opened the big and what looked like quite a heavy door,only to be met by two tall strange men dressed in black, a shirtless Edward and a slightly disheveled Bella.

"Hello Demetri, Felix"

Alice greeted them as she took off her sunglasses. The two men looked at (y/n) with surprise before smiling.

"Another mortal, Aro won't be pleased"

"She has nothing to do with this"

Bella defended her as (y/n) tried to look confident under their gaze, she felt like she was under a microscope and most importantly that her life was at risk.

"Aro will be pleased, she is here for a reason"

"Am I? And if I am then what is the reason?" (Y/n) thought, still choosing to remain silent and observe the scene.

Before Alice could answer a young female voice was heard in the distance.

"Enough"

"Jane"

Edward was heard in a very shy and almost scared demeanor that made (y/n) hands get sweaty. As the extremely young girl approached and took off her hood you could see her red hues glistening that brought shivers in (y/n)'s spine.

"Aro send me to see what's taking so long"

At that they all silently followed the girl like sheep followed the leader. She could feel that something was not going to go well at the pit of her stomach yet she couldn't understand what would happen next.

As Jane opened the doors she was met with three men sitting in chairs a few steps higher than the marble floor, certifying their distance and higher standards than the others that walked in.

As soon as she walked in she felt tense and under a spell, the air felt stuffing like she could not take another breath or her lungs would explode.

"How wonderful, Bella is alive after all, isn't that wonderful? I love a happy ending, but they are so rare"

A man with long black hair and extremely fair complexion approached them, he seemed like the leader since his chair was more out front. He was firstly walking towards Edward but before he could fully stand in front of him the man froze. He had a strange aura surrounding him, made (y/n) get very hyper aware of her surroundings when they locked eyes.

"And… who is that?"

He asked in a high pitched yet kind of child like voice, it was disturbing to say the least. His entire presence resembles a lunatic to her yet he seemed very intrigued by her.

"That's (y/n) she is a friend"

"Friends, what an amazing bond to have. Allow me to introduce myself then dear (y/n)... I am Aro"

He said as he extended his arm to her. She gave him hers and he placed a slight kiss on her palm, his hands felt like solid ice against hers. Aro took a deep inhale of her scent that made him feel like his lungs were on fire and her blood was the antidote.

"Aaaaahh quel dolce profumo" (that sweet smell)

He said as she took her hand back in a swift motion. Bella was trying to understand what was happening while Edward felt torn between what was the right thing to do in this situation.

"I don't understand"

"Of course you don't dearest, do not be afraid of me, I want to protect you"

Aro reassured her yet she didn't feel relaxed, quite the opposite actually. As her eyebrows furrowed Alice pushed her a bit closer to Bella.

"What is going on?"

"Il mio cantante" (my singer)

"Can you stop with the Italian? And somebody please explain this to me"

She grew frustrated as her voice became louder. Alice decided that it was time someone helped (y/n), mostly because she felt bad, she saw what could happen if Aro saw her. She could help them survive 

"You are Aro's mate, like Bella is to Edward"

"Excuse me?"

She could not believe it. There was no way her fate would be this crazy man that stood before her, it was baffling to her.

"There must be a mistake here"

"I'm wounded dear, I could give you the world"

Aro said without showing a hint of emotion. In his mind this was the most marvelous news, there she stood, his true second in command and he was sure she would make a great one. Another diamond for his coven

"Edward, what is going on?"

"I'm afraid Alice is right (y/n)"

"No, I'm not going to stay here. I have a life of my own"

"Unfortunately dearest I can't possibly let you go now, you belong here"

"I belong where my heart wishes and trust me my heart wants to get out of here"

"That could be arranged"

The blonde hair man that sat in the back silently watching hissed at her. At this point (y/n) fell in survival mode and if it was this strange man who could be her punching back then so be it.

"I'm not talking to you fu-"

Alice did not allow her to finish her sentence. She clapped her hand over (y/n)s mouth and pulled her back for everybody's safety

"It's for your own good"

Alice whispered in her ear while Aro went into a laughing fit. Alice freed her one (y/n) looked a bit more calm and less dangerous.

"She has a fire in her, you will be one of my greatest additions"

(Y/n) hasn't felt this helpless in ages, she valued her free spirit and the need to feel alive by choosing her fate at her own time. Now she was standing on a dead end that others forced her in.

"You knew about this? That's why you brought me here? Like a lamb for slaughter"

She turned to Alice, the feeling of betrayal written all over (y/n)s face. She didn't understand why Alice insisted in her tagging along but now it all made sense, she was a simple sacrifice for her beloved brother.

"It's not like that-"

"Okay, explain then"

Alice started looking around as her scattered thoughts did not help her to come out with an explanation to justify her actions.

"I'll stay here, just let them go please"

(Y/n) stated as she focused on Aro. She could sense what her future meant for her, she would become like them, eternally young.

"The girl knows too much, she is a liability"

The blonde one threw his two cents in. Even though she was caught in this because of them she felt pity for them, she saw first hand how Bella had become because of Edwards absence. 

"Consider this as a deal, I won't put a fight on anything you need me to do but they will leave unharmed. Bella will become a vampire eventually"

"This is a rare occasion, however I feel charitable, take them away demetri. Would you like to say goodbye to your friends?"

Aro asked her. She felt he back tense up at those words, an ironic smirk painted her lips

"Friends? What a funny word."

Aro instructed Demetri to take them away with a simple hand motion while (y/n) felt tears cloud her eyes. As she heard them walk away Aro came closer to her and placed his hands on the sides of her face in a way to soothe her. His coldness reminded her for what's about to come, making her legs tremble.

"You'll be safe here dearest, you don't have to worry about anything"

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

For each member of the Cullens, what do you think it would take for them to realize the extent of how unhinged Edward is and what do you think they would do about it, if anything?

Well, we’re going dark places today, aren’t we?

Alice

Alice is already fully aware of what Edward is, she simply doesn’t care.

There are visions that Alice misses, Edward thinks Alice misses the vast majority of Biology due to being hyper focused on Jasper (and likely missed the school massacre that Edward was seriously planning) but there is a lot she doesn’t miss.

Every time Edward thinks about how great it’d be to smash Mike Newton’s head like a watermelon, every time he considers devouring Bella, every time he enters her room unannounced to stare at her while she sleeps unawares, the time Edward considers genocide of the Quileute Tribe because of Jake’s telling Bella a story he doesn’t even believe, Alice knows.

It changes nothing for her.

She roots for Edward and Bella’s relationship, not because she knows for a certainty it will work out, but because it might. And that slim might, where Bella Swan might survive and become Edward’s lover as well as her own Barbie is worth everything they put Bella through to get there.

Also damningly, Alice cares very little for how good Edward is for Bella just as she cares very little for Bella period. Bella is Alice’s excuse to party and a dress up toy, but Alice will cut contact with her to a) please Edward b) prove a point to Edward.

Worse, Alice will take Bella to Italy, a city where she knows Bella will be killed with a 90% chance upon entry, on the slim chance that they might prevent Edward’s suicide. Yes, she vaguely explains the risk Bella’s taking, but she doesn’t say it in clear terms nor does she waste much time arguing.

Edward is far more important to Alice than Bella.

What I’m getting at is, thanks to her gift, Alice is intimately aware of just what Edward is capable of. She doesn’t care. And yes, there’s something to be said that Edward, more often than not, does not act upon these futures and he shouldn’t be condemned for choices he does not make. However, he does make some of them, and Alice knows.

There’s nothing I think Edward could do to either inform her that she was gravely wrong in how she perceived him or drive her away. Alice would be disappointed he’s thrown the family into such disarray but most likely would try to steer him away from whatever choice would cause such a rift.

She would aid, abet, and enable him because that is what will keep the Cullens together. Which is something Alice very much wants.

Carlisle

Carlisle lives in a river in Egypt, the water is made of double think. There are strong hints that Carlisle’s family is not quite as gung ho or altruistic about the diet as he is. Instead of being appalled, Carlisle quietly lowers his standards, and gives enthusiastic applause when Edward does things like choose not to brutally murder the serial rapist who nearly raped Bella. This is big growth for Edward! He also takes measures like sending family members who have accidents to their victims funeral, in the hopes that something, maybe, might make them see humans as people worthy of life.

If you asked him though, he’d talk about how amazing his family and the Denali are for the diet, and how he’s so proud to be a part of this community that values human life. LOOK HOW MUCH THEY VALUE IT.

When it comes to Edward, I think Edward holds a special place in Carlisle’s heart. He was not only the first person he turned, but Edward left and came back, to Carlisle this signaled that he’d found meaning and purpose in preserving human life. More, Edward... is very good at hiding what he is and is desperate that Carlisle above all others never see it.

Rather than have a conscience, most of the time, what stops Edward from “you name horrific action” of the day is the thought of “What would Carlisle say?” 

My point being, from the outside, especially to Carlisle, Edward truly does look like a noble soul. There are... flags, but they’re easily ignored or written off as issues with Edward’s emotional maturity.

Where Carlisle starts getting concerned is with Bella. Edward leaves for Alaska, great, Carlisle’s proud he was able to make that decision and know his limits. ThEn EdWArd CoMeS BaCK.

Edward comes back, in a week, nothing has changed, and he refuses to leave. Carlisle talks to him, Edward’s thinking he’s better than Hamburger and he can’t let her win, what he actually says to Carlisle is something along the lines of “I can’t run from my fears” Carlisle does an upside down smiley face then says, “Yes, you can, please do” And Edward doesn’t.

Things with Edward and this girl get progressively weird, but Carlisle is very proud that Edward sees the value of human life and not murdering a girl for being nearly hit by a van (this is how low Carlisle’s standards have become), and then Alice goes, “Oh, by the way, Edward is in love with this girl!”

Carlisle just sits there, “Alright then” and quietly puts aside his dreams of moving to a town where Edward doesn’t eat Bella Swan.

But I’m getting off track, this isn’t about canon where Carlisle can explain Edward’s actions away as noble but extreme, emotionally immature, and misguided.

Eating Bella’s not enough. Carlisle will see this as a tragic accident, something he foresaw, but something he assumes will haunt Edward for eternity. And, as it will haunt Edward for eternity (though not for the reasons Carlisle assumes) there will be nothing to make Carlisle question Edward’s character. He was young and foolish to think his limits were endless, but this was a tragic accident.

And it’s something, that in canon, Carlisle is hoping won’t happen but expects with helplessness.

I think there are a number of things that could do it. Had Edward eaten Biology, had he decided to defy Volturi law by eating Saint Marcus’ Square, but staying closer to the realm of possibility...

Had Edward forcibly aborted Bella, murdering her and her child in the process, or else if Renesmee didn’t have her gift, and Edward murdered her after her birth (assuming Jake didn’t get to it first).

Those actions cannot be excused away nor cannot be seen as tragic accidents. They are premeditated and evil, and yes evil is a strong word, yet here we are. This is Carlisle staring in the face of madness.

And that’s what it will take.

If Edward cheats on Bella, then while Carlisle is sad and disappointed, affairs happen and passion fades. More, Edward and Bella married awfully young and barely knew each other, this perhaps isn’t surprising.

If Edward eats a human Bella on the day she’s supposed to be turned, in very suspicious circumstances right at the last minute. Carlisle will know, deep down, but never allow himself to believe it. He’ll think Edward is utterly devestated and had let his guard down on that last day in anticipation of Bella’s turning.

This though, there’s no denying this.

I don’t believe Carlisle can kill Edward. Murder is not in his nature, and more, Edward is so dear to him. And now that this has happened, Carlisle would blame himself in part because surely, the human Edward Masen would never have become this. 

He’d likely reach out to Aro. Eclipse has happened, but not Breaking Dawn, and more everything is in question. He has to know the truth from a man who has seen Edward’s very soul. He goes in person, likely tells Edward his plans, and Edward rages but that doesn’t stop Carlisle.

Rosalie (more on her below) would never forgive Edward, ever, she is done. She and Emmett likely go with Carlisle to Volterra to hear the truth of what Edward is. Esme stays behind with Edward, torn in half, but unable to leave his side in this time of crisis. With that, her and Carlisle’s marriage completely dissolves on the spot. Alice stays with Edward as well, which means Jasper does to, though this likely starts the gears in head and he begins to contemplate leaving his wife. Though I imagine he won’t act for some time.

By the time Emmett, Rosalie, and Carlisle reach Volterra the coven is broken.

If Bella survived, if Edward murdered Renesmee while she was out of commission for three days, then I imagine she too goes to Volterra. Not for truth, but so that Aro can murder her, because there’s no point in living anymore.

Emmett

It would have to be beyond the pale extreme because Emmett gets more hints than most of the family (i.e. Carlisle and Rosalie).

Edward doesn’t really confide in Emmett, per se, but he does say some pretty damning things on their hunting trip in New Moon and give off varying vibes of crazy. Rather than realize that Edward, perhaps, is dangerous, Emmett only gets the feeling that Edward might not be alright in the head. Mostly, Emmett doesn’t want to think about it.

So he gets to listen to Edward raving about how Bella could be crushed by a meteor, wondering why Edward even cares when two days ago he didn’t give a flying fuck about this rando tasty human.

To Emmett, Edward has been laughing madly to himself for days, is now a  paranoid wreck, and is starting to creep him out but... Maybe if he ignores it, Edward will go back to normal?

Not helping is that Emmett doesn’t care about human life. He’s constantly telling Edward to treat himself and eat Bella, in a manner that suggests he vicariously wants to live through the delicious experience (as well as get Edward to calm down). 

If Edward eats Bella, Emmett will slap him on the back and say “Good job, bro!” If Edward eats Bella after the whole “love” thing, well, that’s weird, but, uh, “Sorry, bro?” If Edward murders all of Biology...

Then Emmet might do a double take and think, you know, maybe something’s not right with Edward.

I think he’d suggest he and Rose take a very long vacation and wait for things to calm down. Hoping that, if he ignores this, it will go away and Edward will return to a... saneish person.

What Rose thinks is a different story.

Esme

There is nothing on this planet that could tear Esme away from Edward. Esme’s purpose in life, the thing that gives her joy each morning and each night, is her family which you can condense down to Edward: the best and brightest of all of us.

We see it in canon.

The day after Edward decides he’s in love he acts like a lunatic. The car smells like Bella, as he kidnapped her for a ride home (Bella did not realize she had, in fact, been abducted. Edward does for two seconds then says to himself, “No, no, this is--completely necessary. I’M A MONSTER”

Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett get to ride home in this Bella smelling car. Edward keeps laughing, like he’s in an opium den, it’s fucking weird. Edward offers no explanation, the car always smells like Bella, what are you talking about?

Edward then skips to the piano, giggling to himself, and sits down to compose. An action he hasn’t done in years. He’s still grinning and giggling to himself, by the way. Alice joins him at the piano, being equally cryptic and weird as usual. For some reason, Rosalie leaves the room in complete humiliation and shame. This is never explained to anyone watching.

Esme is sitting in the room, taking this all in, and thinks nothing. Instead she smiles, at beautiful Edward, and asks him to play the song he composed for her. She’s so glad to see him filled with joy again. She tells him that he is the best and brightest of all of them.

Esme later gives Edward her pretty much express permission to eat Bella if the girl is causing him such pain and misery. Luckily for Bella, Edward’s in love. So he passes on that and assures Esme the most wonderful thing has happened, he is in love.

My point being, Edward could drop the corpses of the students he murdered in Biology so he could more efficiently eat Bella at Esme’s feet and she wouldn’t blink. It wouldn’t even process for her. Esme would continue carrying on as Esme, nothing changing, while the rest of the family stares agog at the city Edward just murdered.

There is nothing Edward could do or say that would ever change Esme’s mind and she will always treat him as her favorite child.

Jasper

With his gift, I imagine Jasper suspects. Edward loathes Rosalie, despises him, and his feelings for others are... strange. He holds indifference and contempt for mankind and when it comes to Bella. Woof, what a cocktail.

He has no proof though, but I imagine if the smallest thing comes into his lap, that suspicion would become a certainty.

As for what he’d do, it’s hard to say.

I think, in most scenarios, he’d look the other way. Yes, Edward is a monater, but Jasper to is a monster if for different reasons, he has no room to judge. More, Edward is in many respects the heart of the Cullens, far more than Japser himself is. If Jasper goes causing strife, making accusations the others may or may not believe, then the coven could collapse.

This place, these people, are what Jasper thinks he’s been searching for all his life. For the first time, he knows peace, and is trying to live a life where he doesn’t persist in agony every time he succumbs to eating. Jasper is not going to risk that falling apart, even if he finds Edward unpleasant.

And if Edward keeps it to himself, or if the occasional human is the victim, then that’s a price Jasper is willing to pay.

Jasper might actually get concerned when it comes to Bella. For all Bella’s not very close with him, he holds her in very high regard. He nearly devoured Bella, and she forgave him, she forgave him his monstrously brutal past and has never flinched from him. She is a reminder of what humanity can be and why it’s important.

If he realized the threat Edward is to Bella, not just in eating her, but on a level much darker than that, then he might start to act and would probably try to get Bella to leave while she could. However, he also likely knows Bella would never listen, because she doesn’t see what Edward is and nothing would convince her otherwise. Not to mention, as soon as Jasper knows, Edward will plot against him so that no one in the family will ever listen to a word he says.

Not to mention that Alice, of course, must know and doesn’t care. That will be quite the blow to Jasper taking any action.

Barring extreme circumstances, Jasper does nothing, he just watches and waits to see what the others do.

Rosalie

For all that Edward doesn’t bother to be nice to Rosalie, and is ready to lay into her at a moment’s notice, he’s very dear to her. He is, in all regards, her brother and she cares for him deeply as she does the family as a whole.

Rosalie has no idea what he truly is and it would take a lot for her to accept it. More, unlike Carlisle, although she prizes human values and tries to hold herself to human standards her morals have slipped enough that she genuinely advocates murdering Bella Swan in her sleep so that Rosalie won’t have to move.

Murdering Bella won’t be enough, Rosalie will see it as the accident that could have been avoided if Edward hadn’t insisted on being a fool. 

I think, for Rosalie, the best way to drive it home would be a sexual crime. Had Edward forced Bella’s abortion in Breaking Dawn, that would have done it. First, it’d be such a messy, bloody, affair at that point and would look like a horror show (which means Edward’s more than likely to eat Bella in the process). Second, this would be Edward taking the child that Bella wanted, tearing it from her and murdering it, and performing the most vile action that Rosalie can likely even contemplate.

I don’t know what she’d do, I don’t think Rosalie’s capable of killing Edward, she cares for him too much, even after something like this. However, I think she would make an ultimatum to Carlisle “either he goes or I go” and then would never speak of Edward again, he’s dead to her.

[midoriyas-wifey]

HI! I have no idea how this works or anything but I guess I had an idea? I read your post about deku and Kacchan sharing a darling and essentially just dumbing her down lmaoo I don’t know why but I thought it was so cute and wholesome???? I have ✨issues✨ but can you write more of that? Like feeding her and baby talking her and praising as you would a child you know???omg I’m so sorry I’m asking this👁👄👁✌🏾

Darling there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed about, I can get much, much nastier than this. Thank you for giving me the excuse I needed to go apeshit. I’m gonna write this in second person this time. We’re on the same wavelength here, let’s get gross

YANDERE!BAKUDEKU X READER

BELOW THE CUT IS EXTREME AND DARK NSFW THEMES! PLEASE MIND THE TRIGGER WARNINGS! 18+ ONLY! I MEAN IT!

Warnings: tw age play, tw age regression, tw noncon, tw dumbification, tw abuse, tw drugs, mind break, mentions of past abuse, humiliation 

Ok so let me start out by saying that this shit is my jam. I feel a little background info is in order though.

They became obsessed with you, but not only because you were quirkless and the both of them obviously have a… thing about that but also because of how utterly stupid you were, a foolish little thing, in need of guidance and a firm hand for discipline. 

They both viewed you as helpless, unable to care for yourself. You were barely getting by in a bad neighbourhood, you very clearly were either too dumb or too naive and childish to realize the futility of trying to be independent. To be without them. What kind of heroes would they be if they were unwilling to care for such a pitiful, adorable stray such as yourself?

It’s around this point where the both of them realize they have the same end goal. You would never leave them, and they would make sure you didn’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything ever again. They both absolutely relish in your struggles to prove that you don’t need them. You were like a little baby, never learning and seeming incapable of following even the simplest of their directions.

That’s ok though, if there’s anything they enjoy more than your struggles, it’s having absolute power over every single aspect of your life. No- your entire existence. 

They know you’re too stupid to understand that they’re doing what’s best for you; so they don’t feel it necessary to explain their decisions. Not that they’d care about your feelings about it even if they thought you understood what was going on anyways.

When they first took you, turning to sedatives to keep their dumb little baby nice, soft, and compliant was their go-to. Watching your weak form drift in and out of consciousness was enough to have them hunched over you, fucking your plush thighs, maybe even slipping a few fingers in to your warmth.

You had a collar around your neck that chained you to the head board of the (unwillingly) shared bed. 

If you wanted anything, from going potty to asking for a sippy cup of juice before bed, you had to ask your daddies real real nice for it. Every time, no matter how much you dissociated, how much you let yourself regress, and how much you allowed yourself to babble and beg for the simplest of things, disgust would bolt through you, the rising bile unavoidable. 

Bakugou especially had a fondness for feeding you, or rather, over-feeding you. He was insistent that his little baby need all the nutrients they could get, and just to let daddy take care of it. You refused many times, at first turning your head away like a petulant child, before batting away the offered morsel being pushed against your lips. 

You continued to refuse until Bakugou decided to take you over his knee, One firm swat after another until you were a babbling mess; snot and saliva and tears coating your hot and puffy face. Your ass feeling like it’s on fire, no doubt because he used his quirk at some point. You make for an even more pathetic sight than you usually do in Bakugou’s humble opinion. Just how he liked you.

 He then pulls you to his chest, making you straddle his thigh and wriggle in discomfort at the pressure to your burning ass, crooning about how it was all your fault that it came to this, that you had this coming, that if you had just listened to your daddy like good little helpless babies are supposed to-

He doesn’t miss the squirming of arousal from his darling.

Midoriya decides to play good cop by running you a bath in the huge jacuzzi, but you knew him well enough to know that a simple bath is never in the plans. It starts innocent enough, it always does. However, before they can even rinse the suds fully off of you, they have the water in the tub sloshing everywhere from the pounding of their hips into your poor body.

They shamelessly pummel your insides, reaching into places they had no business being. Stuffed up to the gills with their fat dicks, there was nothing left in your mind other than gripping onto whoever -whatever- you could to survive. Climax after climax rips you apart, your whole body buzzing with unbearable pain and pleasure. You were on your way to meet the maker, you just knew it. 

You can tell by their breathing that they’re getting close to their climaxes. You’re blubbering fat tears and wailing for them to pull out, to please not cum inside you, that you can’t take any more. Your mind couldn’t take it if they came inside again. Just hearing your incoherent pleas for mercy had them completely disregarding your pointless protests. 

They wasted no time creaming inside you, your feeble little cries and whimpers of “No!” and “Please stop!” only making them dump their loads more intensely and with far more satisfaction inside you, groaning and growling like smug demons.

“Take it, take it, fucking take it, I know you can baby, we’ll make it fit, your daddies are gonna stuff you so full, we’re just getting started,”

The worst was when they taunted you for your own helplessness, absolutely ruthless and unrelenting in their goal to break you down into an infantile little thing they could coddle and spoil and fuck even more stupid than you already were. So they kept pushing. Pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing AND PUSHING AT YOUR SANITY-

What else could you do except fall apart at the seams?

[mssirey]

Hope (part 10 - finale)

Everything can now be read all together on AO3!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Kara went still.

Her face melted into a smooth, blank stare, and the sight of it invited icy tendrils to grip Lena’s exposed heart, squeezing until all she could do was gasp pitifully. Lena slammed the flat of her hand against the field that kept them apart, crackles dispersing around her skin, but Kara didn’t so much as blink.

It had taken every bit of her courage to put words to the tightness in her chest, to name the heaviness that beat against her ribs, to acknowledge the way gravity had turned against reason and her orbit circled one person. She had never let herself consider it, shrank away from it, welcomed darker thoughts in its place. Love was a fool’s game, after all, and Lena had long refused to play.

In the end, she was a fool and the universe proved its point in its ruthless fashion, her admission met with utter silence, not even a whisper to ease her doubts. Mercy was never meant for her.

Kara was lost—fallen out of reach—and Lena was ready to follow her, to sink beneath the tide of panic and be forgotten by the world. There was no telling what might surface, but she preferred not to see it.

The first break in the stillness was the soft flutter of Kara’s eyelashes and the well of tears that fell down marred cheeks, salted already weeping wounds. “No, no, no, no, Lena,” she whispered, syllables wet and slurred together. Her face cracked, her brow heavy with her devastation, her eyes stormy.

“Kara?” Lena didn’t dare hope, couldn’t survive being wrong, but her heart wished so deeply for it to be Kara—safe and whole.

Kara blinked, jarred from her sputtering, and her head cocked, her gaze distant, looking inward. “Yes,” she breathed, with a startled little laugh. “It’s me! Just me!”

Lena exhaled all the weight she harbored, sank back to sit fully on the floor, numb overtaking her limbs, closing in on the rest of her. “Fuck,” she panted and her body gave out as tension bled away, leaving her a boneless mess. She laid back, covered her face with her shaking hands, and willed her heart to steady.

There was relief, unquestionably, but there was also the sense that she had to answer for the hand she had in the course of events and she was tapped dry of courage. When she could feel her face again, she turned onto her side and lifted onto still trembling hands. She crawled until she felt her legs could support her and then set herself to task.

Kara called after her, her voice warbling and frantic. “Lena, where are you—”

“If Lex thinks I can’t break into a cell I designed, he only has his ego to blame,” she huffed, putting her hands to work rather than facing the continuation of their conversation. She didn’t aim for finesse as she pried the control panel open with ill-suited tools and in a matter of minutes, the door slid open.

Kara had gotten to her feet, and once freed, sidled out with her head hung and her gaze flitting between Lena’s face and the floor at her feet. “Lena, I, um… will you let me say something?”

Lena couldn’t summon the walls of her fortress fast enough, couldn’t contain her spilling heart, but for the first time, that wasn’t as terrifying as the thought of never trying to meet Kara. She nodded.

“I am sorry, Lena,” Kara said as she fidgeted, her hands each seeming to work to keep the other from reaching out. “I worried endlessly about what might happen if I told you—”

“For four years?” Lena was reluctant to press, afraid of what she would find when she opened that vein. Her lips were ready to drink from any cup offered—cracked and broken as they were—but she knew poison when it was fed to her.

Kara gave a pained nod. “I hold onto things too tightly— I always have.” She tried to force a smile, but it never quite stuck. “After everything I’ve lost, I…”

Lena’s stomach twisted, trapped in a vice with jagged teeth that rent her open, let the acid wash into her gut and devour her from within. “Kara, that’s not fair.” How was she supposed to justify her hurt when set against the backdrop of Kara’s loss?

Kara was floundering, lost and trembling. “No, I know, hang on— just, um, let me finish?”

Lena could only offer a stiff dip of her head. She watched Kara’s head lift, her eyes turned up towards the ceiling, her lips moving in a silent whisper—a prayer. When her gaze returned, she was steeled.

“I felt helpless… hopeless, that’s true, but instead of trusting what we had, I let my fears back me into every wrong choice.” All Lena heard was that Kara didn’t trust her and it punched straight into the hollow pit at her core—gave credence to the haunting whispers she argued so fervently against when alone with her thoughts. “I just… I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

It didn’t make sense and her mind screeched its alarm, telling her to run. “I was always there for you,” Lena reminded, her voice cracking under the strain of her withering composer, her knees degrading with the rest of her, ready to give out.

Kara chewed at her lip, but forced her chin to stay lifted, refusing to bend under her guilt. “You were,” she managed. “You’ve always made me feel so whole and I—” her eyes closed as tears streamed down her cheeks, “I didn’t let myself think about how little of me was present for you.” She exhaled shakily before she looked at Lena properly once more. “You deserved better from me, Lena.”

Lena’s doubts feasted, spun every word into another lie, mocked her with the awareness that there was no way to truly know if she was being spoon fed exactly what she wanted to hear. She needed something tangible to hold onto, and without thinking, found herself walking forward. Kara let her approach, watched with wide eyes, her uncertainty stiffening her back.

Lena stepped into Kara’s space and hesitantly reached out. Kara’s hands untangled and fell away from each other, affording Lena more room, and she took it. As soon as her arms encircled Kara, she sank forward, no longer able to deny needing to be held.

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” Kara whispered into her hair as she wrapped Lena up in the shelter of her embrace, cautious at first, but then shifting to pull Lena closer, taking the weight from her with sturdy hands.

Kara’s support allowed her to let go of her boxes, to let the seams of her wretched masks unravel, to fall apart and trust that she wouldn’t be alone to put herself back together. She buried her face in Kara’s neck and wept. Lena clutched tight to the fabric at her fingertips, secured the source of warmth that cushioned her fall. Kara made no mention of the tears that dampened her shirt, only soothed a hand along her back.

With the floodgates opened, her doubts spilled outward. “What did I do to—”

Kara shook her head and squeezed Lena tighter. “You didn’t do anything, Lena, I promise.”

“Then what were you afraid of?”

Kara’s chest expanded in her arms and Lena could feel the heaviness of her heart, the quickened thud against her cheek. “I was scared of letting you down.”

That struck a chord in Lena, plucked at the very strings that appeared in every arrangement she wrote. It was the undercurrent that steered her towards grand gestures and worse decisions, and why she tried so desperately to earn affection. She never felt worthy unless she compensated for every debt, and every misstep, and sometimes it was never enough.

For Kara it had been, or so she had been led to believe. She had bought into it blindly, unaware she was staking her heart until it was too late.

“Kara Danvers is not all of who I am, but she was who I wanted to be.” She tucked her head closer, as if to ensure that her words reached Lena’s ear. “She was important to you and I… I didn’t know how to give that up.”

Lena still couldn’t understand why she was singled out and it tightened her throat until she couldn’t swallow the reasoning.

Kara was important to everyone. She forged light out of her own darkness; she strived not only to be good, but to see good when others might turn away; she understood the power of kindness and empathy; she encouraged strength by way of example; she embodied hope, not in grandness, but in nuance. No one in her life would say different.

“Why me?”

Kara pulled back so abruptly that the air seemed to go with her and Lena’s lungs struggled to fill, but then warm, tender hands cupped her cheeks, and she melted into them. “Lena,” she breathed, her resolve beared down upon Lena with such intensity, her gaze unwavering, “it’s because I love you.”

That was one possibility Lena had never considered and it ripped up every logical foundation her doubts relied on. Her mind went quiet, slowly calibrating to the new way of framing events, wondering how the two of them could have been such fools.

“I’m sorry I let you think otherwise,” Kara said, her hands quivering, her courage wavering. “You are so, so important to me, Lena, and you always will be.”

Lena’s hands lifted to Kara’s wrists, fingers curled around them, wishing she could keep them there. “You promise?”

Kara nodded, relief mixing with eagerness in her eyes. “Yes! Yes, whatever the future brings, whatever we have to face out there,” her gaze flicked to the lab door before returning to Lena, “I’ll be here for you.”

Lena’s breath hitched, her lungs over-full, a spark of warmth igniting in her heart. Her shoulders were less burdened, or her spine sturdier, it was hard to be certain. Her tears didn’t sting the same, instead seemed like a welcome cleansing. Her smile didn’t need to be forced.

Perhaps that’s what hope felt like.

Lena didn’t mind it.

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

I absolutely LOVE how you write angst, I'm always looking forward to a bit of hurt lol How'd the guys(romanced) react to being hit by the berserk syringe and start attacking Sole but come back to their senses right before actually killing Sole!?

i can’t imagine any of my boys hurting sole. this is such a unique scenario and i’m absolutely here for it! i’m not proud of this but please enjoy! <3

*i’ll edit this in the morning cause a bitch is tired.

[ tw: depression/violence/blood/injuries!!! ]

-

never in a million years did they expect the only person they’ve ever trusted to be the reason for their death. well, not the main reason, as the berserk syringe was the cause, but the fact that they were the reason why sole had been helpless on the floor only added on. they towered over sole, who laid in their puddle of blood, gasping in immense pain as they tried to use the last of their strength to plead. sole let out soft sobs, watching as their other half pointed the pistol at their head with no sense of remorse. this wasnt the way they expected to go, not by the hands of the only person they found love in.

“st..op..” they cried, trying to find the power to reach out to him. all the memories flashed through their mind; memories of their life before the bombs dropped, the moments they spent in the wasteland, and the day they fatefully encountered one another. they refused to die this way. sole mewled out his name, begging for him to stop. and just like that, they hesitated and regained consciousness, taking a moment to ground themselves into the situation and realize the horror of it.

-

Danse:

this was everything he’s ever feared since sole had landed into his life. he had dreams - not many - but definitely a fair amount of his loved one dying in his arms and he feared it may have been an omen wading in the darkness waiting to come to life - and it did, just not in the way he visualized. the sight of sole bleeding out in front of him brought him to a whole new level of fear. “sole?” he choked out in disbelief, unable to move. it’d take him a minute to piece everything together as his eyes darted from the weapon in his hand, to his surroundings, then the syringe... and it hit him. “shit!” he cursed, making his way to sole hurriedly and carried them off the ground, running towards goodneighbor. he had no time to talk, to cry, nor to feel sorry for himself. sole could be seconds away from dying and it’d be the last damn thing he’ll let happen. once someone had taken sole into their care, he would absolutely refuse to leave the building without knowing their status.

danse would sit in the chair or stand impatiently for hours on end, all thoughts of doing basic human necessities, such as eating and sleeping, completely slipping his mind. the minute he was given the chance to see sole, he did nothing but that and finally let the tears spill into the palms of his hands as he sat near soles bedside. sole would take him into their arms, kissing his hair gently as they caressed his head. “it wasn’t your fault,” they repeated constantly as reassurance, “none of it was.” despite soles words, he’d continuously blame it on himself for not being more attentive and have constant nightmares about what had happened, often finding himself in tears as he jolted awake. he’d explain to sole how he didn’t deserve them and how he was afraid it might just happen out of the blue again. it would take a long while for danse to get over his actions and a lot of reassurance from sole, who was more than glad to help him through these rough times.

Deacon:

deacon had panicked many times in various situations; you name it, it’s probably happened. but this? this was a different type of panic. one that he couldn’t avoid no matter how much he tried, regardless of how many lies and jokes he told himself. he darted to sole, taking them into his arms in a panicked manner as his breathing began to release in irregular patterns. “i didn’t do this, right?” he tried to push everything away, run from the truth that obviously surrounded the two, “sole, you know i’d never hurt you, right?” his voice trembled, hands shaking as he tried to move the hair out of their face. his stained hands and clothing told him nothing but the truth- he was responsible for what happened and there was nothing he could do. when sole let out a small, “i know,” and proceeded to look up at him with a tired expression, he broke down and held them close to his body, burying his face into their neck. “i’m sorry,” he sobbed, “i’m so fucking sorry.”

once sole had made it back to hq, he practically begged carrington to do everything in his power to help them survive. it took multiple people to hold deacon back as he fought against them, not wanting to leave soles side as they were taken away to a separate room. once carrington had given him the go to visit sole, he found himself rushing to the room, nearly ripping the door open. without another word, he latched onto them, letting everything he’s ever wanted to say to them spill out within seconds. how much he loved them, how they had changed his life, and things he wouldn’t normally say on a daily basis. sole would notice how he’d become excessively clingy right after that fateful moment and notice his attempts to cheer them up through jokes or little things he did for them throughout the day. during nightfall, he’d hold them in his arms, muttering apologies to them as tears spilled from his eyes. he didn’t know if he could forgive himself.. at least not for a while.

Maccready:

he choked on his own breath, throwing the gun to the side as far as possible. memories of lucy began flooding his mind and the thought of him being alone once more with additional blood on his hands only heightened his panic. with a loud sob, he dropped to his knees and brought sole to his arms, shakily caressing their cheek. “sole, sole. hon, look at me,” he choked through his tears, trying to keep them awake. he stroked their cheek with his thumb, trying to comfort them through the pain with words, touches, anything. “don’t close your eyes. please don’t leave me.” despite the condition they were in, they opened their eyes obediently, staring up weakly at mac who continued to sob. his tears fell off his face and right onto soles cheek, washing away any blood that trailed down. “we’re gonna get you help and you’re gonna get better. you’re gonna come home with me, duncan, and shaun, okay?” his hand moved down to lock with theirs as he gave it a reassuring squeeze, “they’re waiting for us at home, remember?” sole began to tear up, intertwining fingers with mac, “tell them i love them, please.” something triggered in mac and he shook his head, lifting them from the ground and finding his way to the closest town he could find, yelling at anyone for help.

after their wounds had been treated properly, the doctor had led him to the room where he saw his other half lay in bed, all patched up and taken care of. “they will be okay. i advise letting them rest for a while and try to stray away from any physical activity until they show signs of improvement.” the man noticed how mac stared at them with tears in his eyes and he coughed, “i’ll give you a moment, sir.” the sound of the door closing behind him would ease the tension he had in his shoulders and he would lean down, pressing a kiss on soles forehead as they slept.“you hear that, hon? you’re gonna be okay.” as soon as sole made it back home with him, he’d do everything he can to ensure that sole would recover properly. mac would do all the dirty work sole usually did and checked up on them as much possible, visibly worrying to death about them. at night, he’d have a hard time sleeping with the guilt weighing on his shoulders but soles words and affection were more than enough to ease his worries.

Hancock:

to say he hated himself at that very moment was a huge understatement, this being the cherry on top of everything on his list. he knew he’d fuck it up someday, but he never expected himself to go this far. even knowing that it wasn’t his fault and the syringe was the reason why he started attacking, it didn’t change the fact that it was done by his hands. he dropped and tended to soles injuries as much as he could before taking them back to goodneighbor. hancock used everything sole possessed- stimpacks, med x, etc while whispering reassuring things to them, knowing that blaming himself won’t do anything good. when sole weakly grabs his wrist and stares at him with fear and shock, he feels all his intentions of being calm sink to the ground. “am i gonna die?” oh god. never once in their time spent together has he ever heard them say something so heartbreaking. even in the craziest situations, they would always remain hopeful. hancock dropped whatever he held and scrambled to take them into his arms, attempting to soothe their mind. “you’re not gonna die. i’m not gonna let that happen.” he reassured, “there’s no fucking way in hell i’m gonna lose you.” hancock entering goodneighbor with sole in his arms would automatically send a message to the rest of the town and they’d begin readying the medical rooms and collecting all the medical supplies that were available for dr. amaris use.

sole had been discharged eventually into hancock’s care and he’d dote on them 24/7, ensuring that all their needs were met and would go above and beyond with everything they requested. while sole slept, he’d release his anger and bottled up thoughts by taking chems or going out to shoot things to release some emotions. whenever they were awake, he’d trace the wounds with his fingers gently and kiss their skin, apologizing about his actions endlessly. “it fucking hurts to know i did this.” he mutters, “i’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you, not fucking doing the opposite.” sole would take his hand and brush their lips over his knuckles, “you’ve always protected me, none of this was on you,” hancock watched them with soft eyes, “we’ll get through this together, alright?” the mayor would nod, sending them a sad smile, “alright.”

Nick Valentine:

one of the many who refuses to say anything, but reacts quickly in response. he has no time for mourning or apologies right now and his main priority is to get sole help, even if it means kicking someone’s door down, then so fucking be it. he immediately wraps his coat around sole and carries them to the direction of diamond city, which was thankfully nearby. he whispered things he hoped they could hear despite their unresponsiveness, and silently begged that they’d be okay. when the doctor attempted to take sole into the emergency room, they had grabbed his wrist firmly, catching nicks full attention within seconds. “n-nick, don’t leave.” they pleaded weakly, tearing up when he looked down at them with grief and concern. nick rested a hand on their cheek, placing a soft kiss on their forehead. “sweetheart, i’m never gonna leave you. once you wake up, i’ll be here. i’ll always be here.” he whispered.

“promise?” sole whimpered, their hand still wrapped around nicks wrist. “i swear on it.” he looked up at doctor sun, who was assessing the injuries quietly, “we must act fast.” nick gave him a nod of approval, slowly feeling soles fingers slip away from his touch. as nick promised, he was there the minute sole had opened their eyes. he cupped their cheeks, leaning his forehead on theirs as he let out a shaky breath. “i’m so, so sorry.” they’d shake their head and remind him that it wasn’t his choice nor did they expect it to happen. nick decided to trust their words and though it did tend to lurk in the back of his mind often, he pushed it away as much as he could. he’d definitely become more cautious the next time they would hit the road and sole would notice that his paranoia reached to a whole new level.

Preston:

this seemed too familiar. the sight of his hands full of soles blood brought him back to when quincy was attacked by the gunners. it reminded him of how much people he couldn’t save back home and it surfaced emotions he yearned to forget, only this time.. it was way worse. “no, no, no.” he weeped, taking sole into his arms, “please, please tell me it’s a bad dream.” they had never seen preston so devastated in his life as loud sobs escaped his lips. sole weakly wrapped their fingers around prestons forearm, staring up at him through half lidded eyes. “it’s okay, preston.” their voice was strained and the color draining from their face only made his cries louder. “no, it’s not okay! i can’t lose you,” he said, “i lost everything in my life. i cant lose you sole, anything but you.” and without another word, he’d hold them in his arms as he ran to get help.

he wasn’t about to repeat the events that occurred at quincy and sole wasn’t gonna be another person he couldn’t save because of his careless actions. sole was the last person he wants to let go and there’s nothing that will stop him from ensuring their safety. he would fall back into his depression during soles recovery, knowing he was responsible for what happened to them and would find it absolutely difficult to ever forgive himself. even with sole reassuring him constantly that it was okay, he’d still deny it and cry as sole held him in their arms. just like deacon and danse, it would take nearly forever for preston to let go of what happened and it would eat him up inside and out every second of the day. it would take a lot of reassurance and self trust for him to understand that there was nothing they could’ve done.

Sturges:

he’s absolutely paralyzed, the gun falling out of his fingers unconsciously as he gazed at sole who desperately called out his name. sturges stared at his hands that were painted with that gut churning red and felt himself grow dizzy, hearing nothing but static fill his ears. he was so used to seeing that black/brown fluid paint his gloves that this contrast of red and black made him feel sick. this is why he didn’t step outside the comfort of his home and why he utterly refuses to hold a weapon. soles voice would break his train of thought and he’d immediately rush over to them, realizing that sole was on an unknown time limit. seeing their face so pale and lifeless scared the absolute shit out of him, and knew that there was nothing he could do at that moment to ease their pain. sturges grabbed their bag, searching for anything and everything that could possibly help them, eventually bringing out a stimpack and jammed it into their arm. when sole let out a pained whimper, he turned to face them and held their hand gently, his voice shaky as he spoke, “i’m here, sweetheart. i ain’t going no where.” he continued searching their bag and his eyes fell on the flare that was given to them when they had gotten recruited. that’s right, sanctuary wasn’t very far off from where they were, somebody was bound to see it one way or the other. quickly, he loaded it up and pointed it upwards, pulling the trigger.

once the bright flash appeared in the sky, he crawled over to sole and propped their head on his lap as he held them close. “helps comin’, sweetheart.” he whispered into their hair, “just hold on.” after those events he conspired and sole was given proper treatment and care, he’d be unable to focus on his tasks, his mind retreating back to those horrid memories he yearned to forget. he’d become more quiet and more inconsistent with his duties as the thoughts began to stick with him more. even the sight of a weapon would trigger him, immediately paralyzing sturges as the memories began flooding back. eventually, sole would have to confront him about what had happened to truly ease his mind off the tragedy, giving him some sense of comfort that whatever had happened was out of his control.

Gage:

one moment, he was shooting down gunners left and right and now, he was on his two feet, about to do the same with the only person who’s ever given a fuck about him. he should’ve killed the fucking bastard who shot that syringe at him- gut him clean with his knife and hang him up for display. none of that mattered now, the man was long gone and dead. the only thing that did though was sole. quickly, his hands traveled throughout their body where he could spot the visible injuries and pressed against them, as if it would halt any of the bleeding. “boss, can ya’ hear me?” he felt the fear surge through him the moment they remained unresponsive, eyes closed despite his small taps on their cheek. “fuck,” he breathed, “wake the fuck up.” his voice became more desperate as he attempted to shake them awake, but when sole showed no signs of opening their eyes anytime soon, his heart dropped. “don’t think you get to fuckin’ die on me. not now.” his voice was full of anger- not at sole, but at himself - as he carried sole in his arms to bring them to the nearest infirmary he could find. ‘not ever’, he thought, going as fast as his legs could take him, ignoring the growing pain in his limbs as he did so.

the infirmary he brought sole to informed him that they were not able to take them in due to the rooms being occupied and he pointed his gun at every single one of them, an angry expression painting his face. “now, if ya don’t take them in, i’ll be sure to take care each and every one of ya,” every worker in the building swallowed nervously, raising their hands in surrender, “i don’t make any empty threats, so get goin’ or things are gonna get dirty.” the doctors swallowed nervously, nodding in agreement as they hesitently took sole from his arms. once sole was treated and given time to recover, he’d properly confront them after days of thinking to himself. gage would give a proper and heartfelt apology, guilt wading in his eyes as he spoke. if sole tried to do anything that was against the doctors orders, he’d snap at them, annoyed at their stubbornness, “dang it boss, lay the fuck down.” he’d spit, eventually letting out a sigh as he turned his back at them, “i fuckin’ got it. just say the word and i’ll do it.” he’d feel himself flush, embarrassed at his temper as sole remained quiet, “i just,” he choked on his words, “i want ya to get better. i’m the reason why yer hurt and shit, so let me do this. please.”

[belettewrites]

Listen to the melody

In which Jaskier finds a puppy, immediately adopts him, and Geralt becomes the “dad didn’t want a dog//dad and the dog” meme. Oh, and some self-esteem issues from a certain white-haired witcher that lead to some hurt until they finally talk to each other. 

cw: the dog gets hurt but I promise he’s fine.

Around 8k words, link to AO3 here!

And a big thank you to @potatofu-art for giving the dog his name! Go check their blog, you won’t regret it (no seriously, do it, trust me)

Geralt and Jaskier had met again when the cold breeze had been replaced by a warmer one, when trees were starting to wear bright green leaves again and fields were blooming with small and fragile flowers.

A few months had past, spring leaving in favor of a warm summer, and they had not parted ways yet. It was something that they usually did, because sometimes Jaskier needed to go to a bardic competition that took place where Geralt would never be able to find a contract, or because Jaskier was requested to play somewhere Geralt would never be able to follow. It wasn’t really parting ways, actually it was more Jaskier leaving, but Geralt told himself that it was something he was fine with. The bard did find him again after, or Geralt did, and they would start traveling together again, Jaskier sharing gossips that Geralt pretended to care about.

He was… fond of Jaskier, and that was why when the bard stopped following the path that would lead straight to the village they had planned to spend the night in, Geralt stopped to wait for him.

The sun hadn’t set yet and wouldn’t for at least an hour, but cicadas were already singing around them, the luminosity dim even though night hadn’t fallen yet. They were just at the edge of the town, and so they had time.

Geralt turned around to see what Jaskier was doing; surely the bard had found a flower that he deemed worth picking, and- 

Jaskier wasn’t on the road anymore. He had jumped in the ditch by the side of the road, and was currently cooing at something. Now that Geralt thought of it, he could hear two heartbeats in that ditch.

“Jaskier?”

He didn’t draw his sword – there was no need – but readied himself for whatever he would find. He walked closer to the ditch, trusting Roach not to run away; the mare snorted but didn’t move.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s just – can you hold him for me while I get out of here?”

Geralt looked down. The ditch was quite deep, Jaskier would no doubt stain his doublet to get out of it, as he had his boots when he had jumped in it: a layer of mud covered the bottom of the ditch. But that was not the part that interested Geralt at the moment; not, what made him pause was what Jaskier was currently cradling to his chest – a puppy.

It was not a small one; his legs, covered in mud as the rest of his fur, showed that he would grow into a big dog, the kind that kept herds of sheep in the mountains – not the kind that was left alone in a ditch by the side of the road.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his tone impatient, and Geralt reached out without thinking about it, taking the puppy in his hands.

It squirmed a little but let itself be carried. Geralt put it on the ground next to him, and helped Jaskier to get out of the ditch.

“Thank you, dear,” Jaskier smiled, before his attention returned to the dog. He squatted down to take it in his arms. “The poor thing wasn’t even making a noise,” he said, his smile turning sad, “and he’s shaking. He must have been in here for hours – why would anyone do that?”

Geralt looked at the puppy. His long brown and black fur was in a poor state, hairs matted together by the mud.

“He’s missing a leg,” he stated, and Jaskier frowned.

“And?”

“And people don’t want dogs with only three legs,” Geralt shrugged. It was stupid, but humans often were.

Jaskier’s eyes somehow got even sadder, and Geralt felt helpless. He didn’t want Jaskier to be sad, but there wasn’t anything that he could do to make humans stop being prejudiced against things that weren’t how they expected them to be.

Then determination shone in Jaskier’s eyes and Geralt suddenly felt afraid of what he would say next.

“We’re keeping Butterscotch.”

“We are not keeping him- you gave him a name?”

Jaskier scratched the dog behind his ears, and the puppy closed his eyes.

“Well it’s not as if anyone was going to,” the bard replied, and Geralt suddenly felt extremely tired. “Besides, I found him. I get to name him.”

“We can’t keep him,” Geralt said again, because it was something that Jaskier needed to understand.

“But he’s helpless,” Jaskier almost pouted, “and you said it yourself: people won’t want him. I am not going to leave him here all alone, ready to be eaten by wolves.”

There weren’t any wolves in the area, but Geralt decided against saying it. And of course they wouldn’t abandon him like that.

“His previous humans didn’t want him,” he said instead, “we can find him another family.”

The puppy yawned, which was the most noise he had made since they had found him, and tried to lick Jaskier’s chin. The bard smiled at him, a fond thing, and Geralt suddenly couldn’t tell Jaskier that a young dog wouldn’t survive on the path for long and that they couldn’t exactly afford to feed a puppy on top of their needs.

“No,” Jaskier said, still holding the puppy in his arms. Fuck, but he was cute. The dog – Butterscotch – tried to lick him again, and Jaskier laughed.

Fuck.

They were now doing what he had no choice but to call puppy eyes at him.

This was a bad idea. There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea – a dog would need care and attention, and Jaskier’s life was chaotic enough as it was. And of course, dogs didn’t exactly like Geralt. Neither did other pets; cats avoided him like the plague. He didn’t want an animal to be near him all the time – that would cause it distress, and Geralt knew that Jaskier would choose to leave sooner than he usually did.

But one important thing that Geralt couldn’t push aside was that what he wanted most was Jaskier to be happy, be it by his side or on his own.

“He can stay,” he finally conceded, trying not to let it show that at this point there was nothing he would be able to refuse Jaskier. “For now,” he warned pointlessly, acutely aware that the dog would be with him on the path until Jaskier decided that he had had enough of following a witcher around.

He turned away, warmed up by the smile that was currently lighting up Jaskier’s face. He tried to hold onto that happiness when the thought that Jaskier would leave inevitably came. They started walking again, Geralt leading, Jaskier right next to him.

“We’re going to have so many adventures together,” the bard said to the dog that he was still holding in his arms, “and we’ll have a fantastic time. But for now, Butterscotch, let’s go back to the inn and get you a bath. I’m sorry to tell you, you poor thing, but you absolutely need it.”

***

Traveling with a dog wasn’t that much different. Butterscotch was a silent one, never barking at birds or other dogs, which was a relief; the last thing Geralt needed was a small animal broadcasting their location to every single monster around. Even if Butterscotch wasn’t exactly small anymore.

They had found another town and had decided to stay there; Jaskier had performed at the tavern, earning a fair amount of coin, and they had retired for the night when his set had been over.

Geralt was already under the covers, watching with half-opened eyes as Jaskier was getting ready to go to bed. His boots were already by the bed, his doublet folded nicely on the table. 

Butterscotch put his front leg on the bed, near Geralt’s face, and currently sniffed him. His whiskers were tickling Geralt’s nose, and he glared at the dog, who – tried to lick Geralt’s face. The witcher resisted the urge of hiding himself behind the cover.

"He's not sleeping on the bed,” he warned.

“Of course he is sleeping on the bed, we'll need the extra heat. And he's adorable, Geralt, how can you say no?”

The so-called adorable dog was currently making puppy eyes at Geralt, as if he had understood what was going on and was trying to convince him too.

“Because he'll get fur everywhere, and my pants and armor are already covered in them.”

Because that sounded petulant, he added.

“The inn will charge us double.”

Jaskier sighed, but Geralt knew he had to win this one. If he didn’t, then the dog would just take a bad habit, and they would end up regretting it when he would be fully grown. The puppy was already bigger than when Jaskier had got him and it seemed that he was not going to stop. He looked like a shepherd dog, and Geralt wondered how the fuck he had ended up in the small town in which they had found him.

In which Jaskier had found him. Butterscotch was Jaskier’s dog, not theirs.

“But he’ll get cold, and lonely, and he’ll think I don’t love him-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted his friend before it turned into a proper lamentation and it was too late, “the d- Butterscotch loves you already, he follows you everywhere. He won’t mind sleeping on the ground, especially since dogs like him are used to sleeping outside.”

“You’re- you’re right. And we’re right here, it’s not as if he’ll miss us!”

It’s not as if he’ll miss you, Geralt thought. I don’t think he cares much about me.

It was already a miracle that the dog could stand being near him. They usually ran the other way, but this one was surely soothed by Jaskier’s calming presence, always here to talk to him or pet him, or even carry him – Geralt had told Jaskier that he would regret it when the dog would be older, but the other man had ignored him.

“Hear that, Butterscotch? No sleeping on the bed for you. But you’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

He heard Jaskier whispering to the dog for a few minutes, and let himself smile, knowing that the other man would never see it. It was nice to see Jaskier so happy; Geralt had given him some coins so he would be able to buy a brush for the puppy, and the way Jaskier had smiled still haunted him.

He heard more than he saw Jaskier slipping under the cover, yawning.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he whispered, and Geralt hummed his reply.

He discovered in the morning that Butterscotch had slept on his bag, successfully shedding fur everywhere. Jaskier had gone downstairs to get them breakfast, so he allowed himself to say to the dog:

“You’re a menace, little one.”

Butterscotch wagged its tail and nudged Geralt’s hand. Well. You couldn’t win them all.

***

The wind was howling outside, the sky was getting darker, and people were hurrying to get inside before the night fully settled. However, Geralt and Jaskier were too busy arguing to notice that.

“I’m telling you, Jaskier, you have to stay here for this one. It’s too dangerous.”

They had been arguing – calmly discussing – for a good ten minutes about Geralt’s next hunt; the witcher didn’t want Jaskier to come with him because it was too dangerous, while the bard absolutely wanted to come because it would “make a great song”. Geralt tended to disagree – he couldn’t exactly see the appeal of songs describing him fighting against monsters.

Plus, the fight would take place in a forest, at night, so it wasn’t very likely that Jaskier would be able to see anything, and extremely likely that Geralt would have to end up running for his bard’s life, because the other man was too busy taking notes to notice his surroundings. Though the night would prevent him from taking any notes, as would the rain that the dark clouds were announcing. There really was no point for Jaskier to come with him.

“Well what I am telling you is that-”

Butterscotch whined, effectively interrupting Jaskier in whatever he was going to reply.

They both looked down at the dog who was laying at their feet, his ears back on his head. Jaskier squatted down to take him in his arms.

“You’re going to regret that when he’ll be older,” Geralt warned, as he did every time Jaskier went to hold the puppy. Jaskier was strong, but not strong enough to hold the eighty pounds that the puppy would one day weigh. Somehow, Geralt knew that he was going to have to hold the dog when he would want to, and the thought itself was enough to tire him.

“We’ll see,” Jaskier replied like he did every time. “He doesn’t like when we’re fighting,” he added, showing the puppy to Geralt, who barely resisted the urge to pet him. Butterscotch’s ears had perked up now that Jaskier was holding him, and he and the bard made quite an adorable sight, not that Geralt was ever going to say that out loud.

It didn’t seem like Jaskier was going to change his mind soon, if the way he was frowning was a good indication of it. If the wind, the rain threatening to fall, and his possible demise weren’t enough to deter Jaskier from following him, it was time to change tactics. Jaskier might be the bard between the two of them but Geralt too knew how to wield words, though he didn’t choose to do it often.

“We can’t let him here,” he said, shoulders open as a proof of sincerity. Because he did mean it.

“I’m sorry?”

“Butterscotch. You can’t leave him here all alone. He’s still… young, it’s too dangerous.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who felt like he needed to go on if he wanted Jaskier to actually yield.

“He might get injured, I won’t be able to defend the both of you.”

And between you and him, I would choose you. Even if you’d hate me for not saving your dog.

Jaskier’s face seemed to fall, but he nodded, reaffirming his hold on the dog.

“You’re- yes, it would be safer for him.”

“For you,” Geralt insisted, because it was something that he needed to say. Butterscotch was a means to an end here, a way for him to make Jaskier stay in their room instead of running to his doom. And if it meant protecting the puppy, well. It was as they said, with the birds and the stone.

Geralt clumsily patted Jaskier on the shoulder before turning around to check if he had all he needed. It was easier than to see how his friend was looking now, his eyes too sad for Geralt’s liking. But it was something that he would do again – Jaskier’s safety was more important to him than what the bard actually thought about him.

He glanced at his things, quickly scanning what was in his bag: potions, a shirt that Jaskier had insisted had to be there, the stick that Butterscotch had given to him – wait.

He took the stick out of his bag, deciding against throwing it away, not because it was something that Butterscotch had given to him, but because… because. He could feel his swords against his back, their light weight a reassurance that everything was going to be okay – that even if he didn’t make it for a reason or another, Jaskier and Butterscotch would be safe here.

“I’ll go now,” he said to Jaskier, who had put the puppy back on the ground and was currently taking his lute out of its case. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Be careful, dear,” Jaskier replied, barely taking his eyes away from his lute.

Butterscotch tried to follow Geralt as he walked towards the door, and the witcher had to quickly close it to prevent the dog from escaping. He heard a whine coming from inside the room and Jaskier’s soothing voice who tried to calm him.

Shaking his head, Geralt walked downstairs, ignoring the way hearing how sad the puppy was made his heart clench.

Jaskier was reading when Geralt came back, thankfully uninjured, though damp because of the rain that had finally started to fall. The bard was already under the covers, his lute safe in its case, papers safely tucked away in his bag. A single candle was lighting the room, and Geralt was left once again to wonder about Jaskier’s powers. Could he see in the dark? Maybe that was why he had wanted to come with him despite the night.

“You’re back,” Jaskier smiled at him, not closing his book. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Geralt grunted, putting his bag and swords down. He had already cleaned them, knowing that Jaskier would already be in bed and not wanting to disturb him.

He started to unbuckle his armor, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw what was currently sleeping on his side of the bed.

“Is Butterscotch-”

“Sleeping on the bed? Yes, I think he is. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Geralt sighed.

“I thought we had agreed not to let him sleep on the bed.”

“I know it’s going to teach him terrible habits, but you were away and he was looking so sad-”

“It’s unsanitary,” Geralt said, finally getting out of his armor. Quickly changing into a new shirt – one that wasn’t full of fur –, he woke the dog up by petting his head. “Hey,” he murmured, trying not to think too much about why he was so gentle with him, “get off the bed.”

Butterscotch slowly stood up, stretching and yawning, but finally jumped off the bed in one smooth motion. He immediately went near Geralt’s bag, curled up into a ball, and promptly fell back asleep.

“Hmm.”

“See? He listens, he’s well-educated,” Jaskier said, closing his book and putting it away.

“He was afraid of what I might do to him,” Geralt retorted while getting under the cover. “I don’t think that counts as listening.”

Jaskier blinked a few times, his face growing serious.

“Butterscotch isn’t afraid of you, Geralt.”

“He obeys me because he sees me as a predator. He’s afraid.”

“Is that- Geralt, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Didn’t you hear him when you left? He was sad because you were leaving without him.”

“You’re disillusioned, bard,” Geralt snarled before blowing out the candle. To think that a dog – that anyone, really – would miss him when he was gone was beyond stupid.

Jaskier stayed silent, the only sound in the room the deep breaths of the dog.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he finally said, his voice small.

Geralt didn’t reply, too busy hating himself to notice how Jaskier’s breaths became more irregular, how the air suddenly smelled like salt instead of them.

Butterscotch kept on sleeping, undisturbed.

***

Geralt hadn’t known how to apologize about that incident so he didn’t, and they kept on moving across the continent for a few weeks, Butterscotch still proudly walking beside them, following Jaskier or staying near Roach who, the traitor, seemed to like the dog just find, never minding when he walked near her.

Jaskier hadn’t mentioned the incident either, so Geralt simply thought that it had been forgotten. He hadn’t made any other remarks after that, and Jaskier hadn’t tried to pretend that the dog loved them both equally when they both knew it was a lie.

It didn’t stop Geralt from thinking back about that night and the day that had followed, how Jaskier had talked but not really talked, how it had seemed more like a defense mechanism than a true desire to share every thought that came across his mind.

Butterscotch hadn’t been allowed to sleep on the bed again after that night though he kept on trying, and Geralt was left to wonder how exactly the presence of a dog had changed their dynamics so much. Or maybe, he thought as he watched Jaskier braiding a flower into Roach’s mane, maybe it didn’t change them as much as it revealed that they had already changed. Jaskier was getting older, and though it didn’t show, Geralt knew that the time for him to finally settle down somewhere would come.

He had mentioned the coast, once, how he would have liked to go there when he would be older, and Geralt knew that it was only a matter of time before Jaskier would leave him, taking Butterscotch and all the happiness in Geralt’s life with him.

But it was not something Geralt had control over; still, he couldn’t help but think about it, about when Jaskier would eventually leave, when he would be all alone on the path once again. He had forgotten how it was to truly be alone. Even when he and Jaskier got separated during the year, he knew they would find each other again. But to know that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him anymore would change the colors of the path from bright and lively to dull.

It was difficult not to think about it right now. They were sleeping outside, in the woods, because the weather was nice and they were too far away from any villages anyway. They had set camp early and the night had just fallen on them. Jaskier and Butterscotch had left for a walk, as they always did on evenings, and Geralt had stayed behind, as he always – no. That was not true. He should stop thinking like that.

He added another log to the fire, and sighed. He could hear them still, Jaskier walking on twigs and Butterscotch running around, but he felt… lonely. Which was ridiculous. He never used to feel like that before.

They were coming back, just in time to eat the rabbits that Geralt had been cooking. He had made sure to add spices to Jaskier’s part.

Butterscotch ran straight to him, his lack of a front leg not deterring him. He stopped right by him, and Geralt petted his head. The dog had surely smelled the rabbits, which would explain why he was letting Geralt pet him. Or maybe – but no. Dogs didn’t like him.

“He whines when you’re not here, you know,” Jaskier said as he sat down next to Geralt. “Which was cute when he was small, but now – I swear, he’s always silent when you’re near but when you’re gone? Gods, the only way to soothe him is to give him one of your shirts.”

That would explain why he kept on having dog hair on his stuff even when they had been safely packed away in his bag.

"Hmm," he replied, trying to ignore the way the dog wagged his tail as he pet him. It meant nothing.

He stopped petting Butterscotch to take the rabbits out of the fire, and the dog nudged his arm.

“He didn’t like how you stopped petting him,” Jaskier remarked, an amused smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, but resumed his previous task. Butterscotch sat down and put his head on Geralt’s tight, who tried his best to refrain the wave of affection that overtook him. Maybe – maybe the dog trusted him, after all. Maybe Jaskier had been right, the other night, when –

He quickly glanced at his friend, who looked the other way when their eyes met. Great.

Geralt hated it, hated the way they were right now – but he couldn’t say anything. It was too late. He should have apologized right after his outburst. But Jaskier had acted as if everything was fine the next morning and it had been too easy to follow his lead, to not think about what he had said, how it might have hurt him.

“We should eat,” he said, if only to break the silence. “And maybe – you must have a song or two, for after,” he added hesitantly.

Jaskier’s face cleared up, a sparkle of mischief lighting up in his eyes. It made Geralt want to smile.

Instead, what he did was take his share of the food and eat it slowly, giving as discreetly as possible pieces of it to the dog that hadn’t left his side. If Jaskier saw him, he didn’t say anything; he was talking about the latest gossip in a court whose name Geralt had forgotten.

Listening to his laugh as he recounted the misfortune of some nobles made it a bit easier to forget that this, that them being together and sharing a meal, was not something that was meant to last. Jaskier played soft tunes that Butterscotch fell asleep to, laying down at Geralt’s side, and Geralt closed his eyes. He never wanted the moment to end.

***

The day had been nice; the weather had been kind to them, the sun warming the streets of the town they had decided to stay in because Geralt had taken a contract there and because the inn looked “just perfect for me to perform in, Geralt”. So they had rented a room, Jaskier had given the innkeeper his word that the big fluffy dog that was with them wouldn’t hurt anyone and would keep silent, and they had spent the rest of the day preparing for their respective evening activities.

The fight wasn’t one Geralt was worried about, and it went without much problems. Jaskier and Butterscotch had stayed behind, as they did most of the time now, and Geralt had tried not to think about it too much. Because that was what he had wanted, right? But he couldn’t help but feel as if it were a sign of Jaskier’s soon departure, a proof that Jaskier wasn’t interested in staying with him anymore. It scared him, and the fact that it scared him scared him even more.

He managed to refrain from sighing wearily as he opened the door. He was ready to eat whatever was left of supper and to go to bed, because hopefully his dreams wouldn’t be plagued by thoughts of Jaskier and Butterscotch leaving him.

“Geralt!”

His name, said with so much angst and worry, made Geralt almost drop everything he had been carrying – namely, his swords and his bag of potions. Eyes wide open, suddenly perfectly awake, he all but ran to Jaskier, worried out of his mind. The last time he had seen him, Jaskier had been working at the table of the room, happily humming, the dog laying at his feet, playing with one of Geralt's shirts.

Now Jaskier was standing beside the door, eyes full of tears, while Butterscotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Jaskier, breathe,” he said, as gently as he could manage. “What's going on?”

Jaskier grasped Geralt's arm, his grip almost painful.

“I- it's Butterscotch. He's- he's not doing well, I brought him to the town's apothecary and they said to come back with payment, but I don't think I have enough coins and I don't even know if he'll be okay and-”

Geralt put his bag down and gathered his friend into his arms – to ground him.

“-and I don't usually panic but you were late and- oh, Geralt, what if something happens to him?”

That was exactly why Geralt hadn't wanted the dog to stay with them. Not because he was a liability and another way to waste coin – but because this exact situation could happen. Because loving a being as fragile as Butterscotch was the best way to end up hurt. He tried not to think about Roach, and the Roach that had been there before.

That also was why he had tried his best not to attach himself to Jaskier. Because the bard would die one day, and it was easier not to have friends than to have to face the pain of losing them. Though that line of thought had been cut short when Jaskier had casually said that he couldn't exactly die, and though Geralt didn't exactly know how that particular thing had happened, he couldn't say that he didn't like it. Now the only thing that would stop him from being with Jaskier – as a friend − was the bard deciding that Geralt wasn't worth his time and affection anymore, which would hurt too, but Geralt comforted himself by thinking that at least Jaskier would be alive.

“I have money,” he said at last, not knowing how to comfort Jaskier who was crying in his arms. “We should go there, and listen to what they say.”

He had no idea what had happened to their dog, but it must have been bad if Jaskier was in such a state. The bard loved so freely, it was sometimes worrying.

“Yes,” Jaskier nodded, “Yes. Do you think- do you think we should bring him his shirt?” he added tentatively, sniffing.

“I don't know when my shirt became his, but yes,” Geralt tried to joke just to make Jaskier smile, to bring back the spark in his blue eyes.

It worked, somehow, Jaskier smiling thinly, eyes still brimmed with red. How long had he been crying, alone?

“Come on, Jask. No need to stay here when they need us there. I have enough money, take the shirt, and we'll see how our dog is doing. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Jaskier nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you're right, yes, I- I'll tell you what happened on the way.”

They left the room without looking back, and Geralt, worried about Jaskier and about the dog that had somehow forged a way into his heart, let Jaskier take his hand. He needed the comfort, Geralt thought, and it wasn't hurting anyone. And there was nothing that he could really refuse Jaskier – the mere presence of Butterscotch into their life was proof of that.

Their brown and black dog was in a poor state, his breaths laborious and his eyes glassy.

“I gave him something against the pain”, the apothecary explained, “but it's going to take a few more days until he'll be fine again.”

Geralt felt Jaskier squeeze his hand.

“But he is?” the bard asked, his voice hoarse, “Going to be fine, I mean.”

The apothecary smiled.

“Yes, worry not,” they assured. “Make sure he doesn't eat anything like this again, though.”

As Jaskier had explained to Geralt on the way to the edge of the village where the shop was, he had taken Butterscotch outside for a walk right before the night had fallen, because he had planned to spend the evening playing for the townsfolk and the day was just too beautiful to resist a short stroll.

Since the dog didn't need a leash, Jaskier had let him wander around, keeping an eye on him but not worried. Nothing bad had happened, but right as they were going back into their room, Butterscotch had eaten something that had been left right in front of their door, and had started whining soon after. Jaskier had dropped everything to run to the town’s apothecary, Butterscotch in his arms, worried out of his mind and not even thinking about who could have done it.

It made Geralt's blood boil with rage. He could understand people being prejudiced against him, not liking him and fearing him. But to think that someone had willingly tried to poison his dog – it made him feel furious and guilty. What if they had decided to hurt Jaskier instead? 

“We brought him something,” Jaskier said, taking out the black shirt that was covered in fur, “Can he have it?”

The apothecary sent a knowing look Geralt's way but smiled at them. Jaskier hadn't let Geralt's hand go.

“Of course. I can keep him here for a few days, if that's alright with you.”

Geralt could feel Jaskier's hesitation, though he didn't know what caused it.

“I have coin”, Geralt told them, and he felt Jaskier relax next to him. “It's not going to be a problem. Please just... make sure he doesn't suffer too much?”

Jaskier squeezed his hand again, and Geralt squeezed back to let him know that everything was going to be alright.

“I will,” they promised, “He's lucky to have people as loving as you two are.”

“He's... good,” Geralt said, not really knowing how to answer that. He glanced at Jaskier, only to find that the bard was already looking at him.

“Thank you for taking care of him so late in the evening,” Jaskier yawned, and oh, right, it was well into the night at this point. Geralt hadn't even realized. “We'll be on our way,” Jaskier added, and Geralt took it as his cue to give the apothecary the amount of money they had asked for. “Thank you for taking care of Butterscotch, we'll be back tomorrow to visit him.”

They bid their goodbyes and walked back to their room. Jaskier was silent on their way back to the inn, which was weird but understandable; he seemed to be thinking about something, his scent betraying his sadness and his anxiousness. And if Jaskier's hand found Geralt's again, well, neither of them was going to comment on that.

***

“It's weird, not having to tell him not to climb on the bed,” Geralt remarked a little while later, as they were both trying to sleep, candles blown out a few minutes ago.

When Jaskier didn't reply, he opened his eyes to look at him. Jaskier avoided his eyes, and Geralt frowned.

“I'm worried about him too,” he said, “but they said he was going to be okay. You should try to sleep, Jaskier. It won’t change anything if you stay awake.”

Jaskier sighed, a sigh so sad and so full of anguish that hearing it made Geralt's chest hurt.

“I know, it's just- you aren't going to leave him here, right? After he's well again? Because I know we're both just liabilities to you,” Jaskier went on without caring about Geralt's stunned silence, “But this was my fault and he shouldn't be punished like this – because between you and him I don't know which one I would be able to choose, because choosing you would mean losing him and I think I would hate you for that, but choosing him would mean losing you and I- I can't afford to lose you, Geralt.”

To say that Geralt didn't know what to fucking say would be an understatement; he went for the thing he was the most familiar with.

“What?”

Jaskier sat up and so did he. He cast Igni absentmindedly, thinking that it was a conversation for which they needed to see each other clearly and not in the darkness of an unlit room. It was a mistake, though, because seeing Jaskier's desperate look in the light made Geralt feel... he didn't know what the feeling was, but it was not a good one.

“I mean,” he tried again, “Why the fuck would I leave him here? He's our- I mean, your dog, and you love him, why would I- I would never do that, Jaskier, I-”

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, what do you mean you're both liabilities?”

“What I mean,” Jaskier said, “and don't you dare deny it, is that I know I don't bring much to you, and that Butterscotch at best amuses you sometimes. And-”

“I love him, Jask,” Geralt interrupted. And I love you, he didn't add.

“Oh,” Jaskier replied, clearly not expecting such an answer. “Well, that's-”

“And you’re not liabilities,” Geralt went on, because that was something that he needed to say, that he apparently should have said sooner if Jaskier was able to say it with so much confidence.

“Geralt, you need to feed him, I’m useless in a fight, and I mostly make you end in problems which you would have been able to stay away from if you had been alone.”

That was… true. Not that Geralt cared.

“Jaskier, you don’t- I was alone. And you decided to be my – friend,” he managed to say, trying not to show how much it scared him to say it out loud, lest Jaskier denied it, “and I don’t mind paying for your dog, or for our food, it’s- it’s how I can take care of you. So. I don’t mind.”

He was the one trying to avoid Jaskier’s gaze, now. The mutations made sure he wasn’t able to blush, but boy did he feel like he was. Eyes cast to the side, he tried to say the last thing he had on his mind, because it felt like it mattered.

“And I- I’m happy that you’re here. On the path with me, I mean. And you’ll be welcome for as long as you want. But you don’t have to feel- obliged to stay,” he choked out, because now that it had been said, Jaskier would surely leave, no matter what he had told before. Geralt thought of the coast, of a blue-eyed man laughing on a beach, throwing a stick for his dog to fetch. “I know you’ll want to leave, and when that time comes I’ll make sure to bring you to safety, not because I don’t think you couldn’t handle yourself but because I know I- I know I would want to- to travel with you one last time.”

Silence fell on the room, but not the right kind of silence. It was not a comforting one, not the kind of soothing silence that seemed to wrap you in a hug, the kind that felt like balm gently applied to a burn; no, it was an burning one, a silence so loud that it hurt, and Geralt found that it was hard for him to breathe. He had said his piece, and now Jaskier knew.

The flame flickered and shadows danced around them, and he found himself wishing that it had been a windy night, because at least that sound would have filled the silence that was suffocating him. Geralt was still waiting for Jaskier to reply something, anything, to yell at him or to let out a relieved smile that would mean Yes, finally, I am free, but Jaskier’s face was completely blank and Geralt didn’t know what that meant.

“Or- or if you don’t want that,” he scrambled to say, suddenly understanding why Jaskier was always talking to fill the silence, “I wouldn’t accompany you, I don’t want you to-”

“Is that why you’ve been so odd lately?” Jaskier interrupted him, frowning, his blue eyes clear despite the low luminosity. “Because you think I want to leave?”

“Yes,” Geralt admitted, not daring to speak too much when Jaskier was finally saying something – and wasn’t that ironic.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started, and the seriousness in his voice almost made Geralt shiver of anxiousness, “the only reason I would leave would be if I wasn’t wanted anymore. Which, if I’m being honest” he added, lips stretched in a bitter smile, “was what I was thinking was happening.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, and to Geralt’s horror he saw tears making their way down his face. He ached to tenderly wipe them out, but knew he couldn’t.

“Jaskier-” he said, suddenly desperate to get the words out, to make this right, to make them right again, “about the other night- when I snapped at you because you said that Butterscotch liked me- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

His friend sighed. It was a tired sigh, a weary one.

“That’s the thing, Geralt – you never mean it,” he smiled, but his smile was as happy as his sigh had been. “But whether you mean it or not, your words, the very few of them that I’m blessed enough to hear – they hurt.”

Geralt could only stare helplessly as Jaskier went on, tears still streaming down his face.

“You are my most precious friend, Geralt, and that’s why I have- why I didn’t say anything. Because you mean well, you’re a good person, and just being around you makes me – it makes me happy, Geralt, to be able to care for you, to give you the few things I have, because with you everything is just – better. And in the end,” he added, wiping out his tears with the back of his hand, “in the end the way I feel when I’m near you is worth the pain your words put me through. You are worth – everything, Geralt of Rivia.”

How had they arrived here? How, after years spent traveling together, could Geralt have been so blind about how he made Jaskier feel?

To learn that he had caused so much anguish and pain to the person he loved the most was making Geralt ache. His first reaction was to dismiss what Jaskier had just said about him, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? 

“I-,” Geralt tried, tried to be honest and to show more than just aggression for once, “I don’t think of myself that way, so it’s difficult for me to- to think that anyone would. Especially-” he gulped, fighting to get the words out because it felt like if he didn’t, he would lose Jaskier for good, “Especially someone as- as- perfect as you. And it was easier to just dismiss it and push you away than to think about how much – how much I care about you. Because caring about people is – dangerous. Gives them power over you, gives your enemies something to use against you.”

Jaskier was looking at him, hands on his tights; he wasn’t crying anymore, but tears were threatening to fall once again. Geralt hopped, prayed, that it wasn’t because he was hurting him again.

“But you have to know that-,” he started, then stopped because he didn’t know how to say it. “I- I don’t know how to tell you,” he finally admitted. “It’s- like- despite how dangerous it is, I- I let myself care about you, and I- I don’t regret it. I will never regret it, Jaskier, because you are – a blessing. You are a beautiful, perfect thing that my hands don’t know how to touch without breaking it.”

He ached to reach out, to take one the hand that he had been holding earlier.

“So it’s- it’s easier to-”

He had no choice but to say it, hadn’t he? He couldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore, he wouldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore – though was it a lie, to keep the truth silent? He was being a coward and he knew it, but being Jaskier’s friend was better than to confess and to lose his warmth entirely. Though he had been a bad friend to the bard, and – well.

“It was easier to act as if it meant nothing than to admit that I love you,” he mumbled rapidly, afraid that his courage would fail him.

Now that the truth was out in the air, he didn’t dare to glance at Jaskier. What would the look on his face be? Disgust? Pity? Or, somehow worse, just a blank look, synonym of the doom of their already fragile relationship?

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed out, and his voice sounded teary but the sadness from earlier had disappeared. “Is that how you’re thinking? That love is a – liability? That loving me is a liability?”

“That’s how I used to think,” Geralt corrected him, “before I realized that I was wrong. And that’s why – that’s why Butterscotch scares me. Because he’s young, but he will die, and I know that it’ll hurt and-”

“Darling,” Jaskier interrupted, moving on the bed to be sitting next to Geralt, their tights pressed together. Geralt could hear his heartbeat, knew that the other man was nervous, but the closeness felt like acceptance and maybe, maybe, requited love. A hand found his, and Geralt squeezed it without thinking. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, “Why do you focus so much on what is going to happen? It prevents you from enjoying life, darling. Butterscotch will die one day, yes, and I know that it will bring me pain, that it will hurt us both. But is that all that you’re thinking about when you see him playing in the dirt? When he sleeps soundly next to you? When you hear a song, darling, do you think about its last notes or do you listen to its melody?”

“I-”

“I’d be a hypocrite,” Jaskier’s voice dropped lower as if he was sharing a secret, “if I didn’t admit that when we meet up in spring, I can’t help but think about the day we’ll go on our separate ways, because it might be the last time I’ll see you. But then I- I force myself not to think about it, because at least six months of the year will be spent next to you, next to the man I love, and-”

“You love me?” Geralt interrupted him, turning his head to look at Jaskier. His red-rimmed blue eyes had never looked more beautiful.

“Of course I do, Geralt, how could I not?”

Jaskier dropped his head on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt didn’t know where their conversation was going, didn’t understand what had just happened – he had been this close to losing Jaskier, had felt the bard closing off, and now they were next to one another, Jaskier’s hair tickling his cheek.

“So that means I- you- forgive me?”

Jaskier stayed silent, but didn’t draw away.

“Yes,” he finally replied, and Geralt frowned slightly.

“I’m not sure I deserve your forgiveness,” he started, squeezing Jaskier’s hand when he felt that the other man was about to say something, “but I will do my best to deserve it. I will – I will be more careful with you, Julek,” he swore.

They stayed silent for a bit, but this time Geralt didn’t feel as though he couldn’t breathe. The room around them felt more welcoming, the orange light from the candle warmer than it had been earlier.

“What does that mean for us?” Jaskier asked, and he sounded – hesitant, but hopeful. It was a question easy for Geralt to answer, because he had always been better at acts than at words.

“It means that we’ll stay as long as Butterscotch needs us to, and then we’ll go on with our travels. Maybe we’ll stay near the coast, there are always villages that are in need of witchers there. Butterscotch will go play in the water and I’ll complain when he’ll shake himself, but I’ll give him treats when you won’t be looking.”

A pause, then.

“But he still won’t be allowed to sleep on the bed.”

Jaskier snorted, and Geralt felt relieved beyond measure.

“For now, though,” Geralt added, “I think we should sleep. I did just come back from a hunt, after all, and it is quite late in the night.”

“My poor, dear witcher,” Jaskier smiled, and Geralt tried not to let it show how much it pleased him to be called Jaskier’s until he remembered that actually showing how he felt was important, “you must be exhausted. No kiss for you, then, only resting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier who was looking at him, mirth lighting up his eyes.

“I’m not that tired,” he objected, and Jaskier chuckled.

“Aren’t you? Then I guess I could be convinced to kiss you goodnight.”

Their kiss wasn’t mind-blowing. It just – was. Jaskier’s cheeks were still damp from his crying and their kiss tasted a bit like salt and the angle was weird, but Jaskier sighed in his mouth, a happy sigh, and Geralt found out that he couldn’t wait to do that for the rest of their lives.

Soon they would leave this place and travel, and Geralt would get more injuries and Jaskier would write more songs; but he tried not to think about it, and found it not so difficult to focus on the moment when Jaskier kissed him again.

It was a short kiss, a chaste one; it was a promise for more to come, for sunny days spent in laughter and gloomy evenings spent next to each other, for arguments and reconciliations, and for a life in each other’s company. Just him, Jaskier, and their dog – and Roach. 

[tainted-wine]

(Snapped a pic because I lost the darn ask)

Thank you, anon! She didn’t exactly forget in this case, but bear with me. This crack is basically a happier ending to Spring Bird Survival Guide. It was supposed to be a couple sentences long. I don’t know how it turned into nearly 3,000 words. I...I wrote a whole fic.

....Enjoy?

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

(NSFW)

“Why did you stop taking them?” He sounds more confused than you’ve ever heard him, the slight shake in his voice betraying his fear.

You didn’t mean for him to catch you in his bathroom, positive pregnancy test still in your hands. Your plan was to figure out when would be the appropriate time to tell him, assuming that he didn’t catch on to the constant nausea added to your pains. At least this saves you the trouble of keeping secrets.

“Because…the Commission can go fuck themselves.” You take his hand and place it right above your womb, hearing his breath hitch. “Let’s start a family, Keigo.”

Hawks knew that this was beyond stupid. It was stupid of you to put yourself in this position, it was stupid of him to even be considering this, and it was stupid of both of you to attempt such a thing behind the Commission’s back.

But his birdbrain didn’t care about any of that right now.

He pulls you in for a suffocating kiss. “My little hen is about to become a mother hen.” He takes you to bed and claims you out of pure joy.

—————————————

That buzzfood article was frankly right. Mutant bodies didn’t make any sense, and what they could do to other people’s bodies made no friggin sense either. As time passed, not only was his seed growing inside of you at an alarming rate, something felt off. These weren’t the kicks of a single fetus, it felt akin to a strange cluster of objects crammed into your womb, shifting about in a way that sometimes made you shudder.

You haven’t been able to see a doctor at all—Hawks wanted you to stay in his house at all times and away from the public’s eye—so there was no way to properly check, but it didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me that I’d lay eggs!”

“I didn’t know!” Hawks swears that he didn’t hatch out of an egg himself and had no way of predicting this.

The development of the eggs only took about a month. When it was time to birth them…

“I hate you! God, I hate you so fucking much for putting me through this!” You screamed in pure agony as tears streamed down your face, using every ounce of strength in your body to keep pushing.

Hawks was kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs lovingly as he watched his offspring’s vessels emerge from your stretched hole. “I’m sorry, baby. You can chew me out all you want later, alright? Just keep pushing. You’re doing great.” Oh fuck him. Fuck him and all of his comfort, making you do this on his own bed, without the security of doctors who actually know how to do this properly. Squeezing out three baby-sized eggs was like a temporary vacation in hell.

Once the eggs were all brought into the world, Hawks wrapped them up in blankets and placed them under a lamp. He knew that there were actual incubators for couples like the two of you, but he’d rather keep them cozy with his personal belongings instead of some lifeless factory-made device.

“I’m not farming chickens that I’ll eat later. These are our kids.”

You’ve been too exhausted to argue, having lost a frightening portion of your body weight. Hawks was having a little too much fun in gorging you, trying to hand-feed you meats of all kinds.

Another month goes by, and you think something must be wrong because those eggs shouldn’t be cracking already, right? But amazingly, you watch as gooey newborns flail about until they have fully broken out of their protective shells. Hawks sadly missed the hatching, but when he comes home and sees his three sons for the first time, he cries.

Somehow, you’re still surprised when they grow quickly. It was concerning. Is that healthy? Three more months pass, and all three of them have fully feathered wings. Hawks teaches them how to fly and use their quirks, and they learn with carefree laughs and smiles on their faces. Healthy or not, you’re going to do everything you can to keep these little fledglings happy.

—————————————

“Let’s have more.”

Your eyes nearly pop out. “More? Already?”

You both sit on the roof of the house, your three boys chasing each other across the starry sky. Both of you have to always remind them to stay quiet and within Mommy and Daddy’s sight when they play outside.

Hawks places his hand over yours. “They could use some more siblings, don’t you think? I’ve got more than enough to provide for them.”

It sounds stupid. Doing any of this was stupid, honestly, and you’re not looking forward to carrying more of his eggs. Yet, a simpler part of your mind wanted this, to take as many of his children as possible, and you decided to listen to it.

“Alright.”

—————————————

The Commission was destined to find out sooner or later, though you’re not sure how. You were eventually fired after your long absence that you refused to give them an explanation for. It’s possible that they still managed to spot your kids while they were outdoors, despite you and Hawks’s many precautions.

You were watching your new clutch of eggs—four of them this time—when the winged hero arrived, the features on his face pressed into a tranquil fury that made you shiver.

“He wanted to take them,” he said lowly through gritted teeth. “He wanted to take our kids and turn them into heroes. Into fucking weapons.”

You held him, feeling his anger ebb with your soothing rubs across his back, right between the base of his wings. “What do we do? We can’t hide from them. You can’t talk them out of anything. Oh god, Keigo, what do we do?” You felt completely helpless, knowing that you couldn’t stop them if they decided to take your little angels away.

Hawks looked to the pile of sleeping boys, having worn themselves out after a hyper game of tag that required you to keep a close eye to ensure they didn’t break anything. At just a little less than a year old, they could be mistaken for being around the age of ten. “They’re really skilled fliers already, aren’t they? Even have great control of their feathers.” He nodded to himself, lost in his own head. “Yeah...I’ll show them weapons.”

The sinister air around him was scaring you. “Keigo?”

His face returned to a cheerful smile as he planted a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, mother hen. I’ve got this under control.”

“But what about the deputy? He’s going to come for our kids!”

You felt his whole body shake from his deep chuckle. “No he’s not.”

And that’s when you noticed it. The dried specks of reddish-brown on his jacket, almost like a splatter. Blood.

“I killed him.”

—————————————

It won’t be long before the Commission goes after Hawks for killing one of their own, so he wasn’t going to give them time to plan.

You didn’t appreciate him taking the kids behind your back, and you had no idea what danger he was putting them in until you heard the news.

The Hero Public Safety Commission HQ had been attacked and overwhelmed.

—————————————

By the time your second clutch hatched, Hawks already had full control of what was once the HPSC. He gave you a tour through the remodeled building, your kids roaming the halls excitedly as if they didn’t just overthrow an entire organization. Some of the employees greeted you warmly, some gave forced smiles. One of them bowed respectfully with a twitchy grin.

“I’m happy to be a part of the Hawks Hero Force, ma’am. We are going to make great changes.”

You...didn’t know what to say to that.

You stuck to raising your kids while Hawks did whatever diabolical shit he was doing, but it was hard to ignore the growing tension in the city. He and his kids have been holding off opposing heroes for weeks, all of them trying and failing to bring down the rising power of the number two hero. You saw the debates on television. People were arguing whether the dissolution of the Commission was for Japan’s benefit and that Hawks should be supported, or question if Hawks should be trusted at all for disposing of the very people that got him where he is today. What was even his game plan?

You didn’t care much yourself. The only insight Hawks has given you was that he was setting up a city that would be safe for all of his children. Sounds good enough to you.

In just a few more months, your other four kids were eager to join their father’s cause. You and Hawks no longer mention the rapid growth of your offspring...and the short lifespans they likely possess. There was no point in letting those fears resurface.

You hug them all, telling them to visit Mommy on weekends and always keep their feathers clean and sharp for battle.

“Don’t worry, Mommy! We’re gonna teach those heroes not to defy Dad!”

—————————————

The part of the HQ building Hawks led you to was like a bizarre fusion of a love hotel room and a nursery. It was such a strange setup, that you almost forgot to question the young lady that has been following him around.

He gives her a few pats on the shoulder. “This here is Hina, one of my most loyal followers. She’s been on my side since the beginning.” Hina gives a polite smile and bows in your direction.

And then Hawks lays it all on you. How he wants kids at a quicker rate, and his female supporters would be perfect for this...you’re dumbstruck. Your belly was already swelling with his potent seed for the third time, and somehow that wasn’t enough?

“I promise you there’s nothing else to it. Isn’t that right, Hina?”

The woman stood tall and nodded. “I’m only here to help Hawks in his cause.”

Hawks gave her an approving smile before turning back to you. “And if you’re not convinced, just stick around. I welcome the audience.”

The suggestion catches you so off-guard that you agree to it. You take a seat on one of the beds (holy shit this was a goddamn breeding room) and watch him and Hina settle on one right next to you.

“All fours, missy.” Hina obeys his command and prepares herself on her hands and knees.

You watch. You watch Hawks rub her moistened folds while stroking himself until fully erect. You watch him slowly push in, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Hina. He stays at a moderate pace, holding her hips and gently rocking her with his thrusts. It’s…odd, watching the men you’ve had seven (so far) children with take another woman to bear more.

The girl that was a complete stranger to you was sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but that still wasn’t enough to hold back her moans. Still, it was hard to pay attention to her, because Hawks’s eyes were locked onto yours. Even as his breaths and movements quickened, even as Hina began to shake and collapse onto her elbows as she reached her climax, he never tore his gaze away from you. He finally did when his eyes shut tightly as he buried himself balls-deep into his dear follower, blessing her with several spurts of his sperm into her welcoming womb.

You couldn’t help but rub your own belly at the sight.

He unfolded the sheets and helped the dazed woman get settled into the bed. “You should get cleaned up later, but for now, just rest.” He said softly.

Hina mumbled nonsense, already half-asleep.

Hawks straightened himself out before walking over to you, excited to rub the stomach that cradled his chicks. “I’m gonna give you all the children you could ever want, baby. And remember,” he gave you a kiss of pure love and passion. “I’ll always only have eyes for you.”

You smiled and hugged him tightly. All of the children in the world…Keigo’s children. “Sounds perfect.”

“Soon, I’ll have all of these beds filled.”

—————————————

Hawks and his children have amazingly lowered Fukuoka’s crime rate by a significant amount. You never imagined living in such a peaceful time. You didn’t understand the interviews and articles, the ones that expressed fear and outrage over being attacked by winged individuals for doing anything that can be perceived as villainous. There were heroes still trying to destroy the Hawks Hero Force, creating alliances of their own to face this new dominating power. They were usually taken care of pretty quickly—all it takes is a flurry of sharp feathers from several pairs of wings to crush the foolish rebels.

You don’t understand why they resisted so much. All they had to do to avoid Hawks’s wrath was be a law-abiding citizen, and also not harm his kids. Oh yeah, anyone—hero or not—that made the mistake of injuring you and your man’s angels had this weird habit of…disappearing.

You had about fifty of them by now. Fifty winged beauties that keep the peace with proud and innocent smiles. Not all of them were yours—they had many mothers now—but you treated them all like your own.

One would expect Hawks to start losing track of his precious eyases, but he remembers every single one of them like they hatched yesterday. Each name…every voice…every face…he didn’t forget any of them, and loved them all equally. When they weren’t enforcing laws, they were cuddling and playing with their father or mothers.

You wandered through the incubation room, looking over the many nests that held your future. The mothers-in-the-making were resting in their beds next door, their bellies growing each day.

This is what paradise looked like.

—————————————

3 years later...

Buzzfood.com

(NOTICE: Buzzfood would like to remind citizens that next Saturday is Skewer Saturday of this month. Please be prepared to offer a chicken skewer to any descendants of Hawks that are currently residing in your neighborhood. If you need help searching for the best skewers to purchase in your area, take a look at our recommended restaurants here. Citizens that do not participate in Skewer Saturday will be taken in by the Hawks Hero Force and punished accordingly. Show your appreciation for our crime-free country!)

Great Hawks Celebrates His 1000th Child

By Yuki Burushito

Another great day in Fukuoka! But this day in particular just might be the greatest day yet! Why, you ask? Our beloved leader Hawks has brought his thousandth child into the world! A public ceremony was held to welcome this beautiful girl on this earth and, more importantly, this blessed country. Hawks and his wife were in tears, and I must say, seeing this vulnerability from such a powerful man moved me like nothing else. May your precious daughter one day join her brothers and sisters in the eternal battle of keeping the peace!

Speaking of peace, we must not forget that even though Japan is enjoying its best years in history, our peace is still being threatened every day. There are villain groups lurking in your city’s slimy cracks, plotting to destroy everything Hawks has worked so hard to create. They even have the audacity to call themselves heroes. We all know that the only heroes needed today are the noble winged ones that fight to keep us safe and comfortable. One group in particular insists on giving Hawks a hard time whenever they can: the One For All Alliance. The majority of the members in this gang are former students and teachers from the now-defunct U.A. High School. Their influence may be spreading, but our love and support for Hawks will always smother their poisonous lies!

We must do our part in ensuring that Japan retains its place as the World’s Paradise!

—————————————

You find him on the roof of his house, watching your three eldest boys fly freely as the orange dawn painted the city’s skyline. Only three years old, yet their bodies were strong and hardened, one of them sporting facial hair similar to their father’s.

He of course panics and scolds you when he spots you trying to climb with your bulging stomach. You only roll your eyes as he helps you up. You’ve gone through this reproductive process more than enough times to know your body’s limits.

“They wanted to reminisce for a while,” Hawks explains, back to watching the playful flights. “They make three years sound like it was ages ago. Then again…” His proud gleam twisted into something sadder, his mind entering that dark pit he tries so hard to avoid.

You cover one of his hands with yours. “No matter how long they have, we’re going to keep working to make sure they enjoy every minute of their life. You’ve given so much to all of your children. Be proud of how great of a father you are.”

The smile he gives is soft and warm. You’ve been seeing those more than his cocky smirks lately.

The sun continues to rise as you both kiss under its morning rays, lost in each other’s love. He only pulls back to speak again. “How about we gather some of the youngsters for a trip to the amusement park? It’s been a while.”

You can’t hide your worry at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Villains love to strike when you’re not active.

He gave a smug grin. Ah, there’s the old him. “They do, and they still get their asses kicked. My kids can handle it. I’ve got all the free time in the world, my little hen.” He holds you close and you both return to watching your darlings fly.

“More free time than I know what to do with.”

[teamfreewill2pointo]

Sam’s Emotional Arc 1/3

I hated the finale immediately, but I’ve spent some time with it and talked to friends who loved it. I can see now what it was about, and I’ve come to appreciate the story they were trying to tell, even if I think it didn’t land right.

I’ve been told that my meta on this has helped other people come to terms with the finale, so I thought I’d compile it in one place from across various discord channels and twitter posts. If you are struggling with the finale, I hope it helps you.

Part of this actually started with a shit post. I was making a joke about Sam being psychic since he was scared of clowns when Dean died by one. I realized that may have been deliberate. I dug into the story more and now I’m convinced it was. Then I came across some excellent meta that fit with the themes I was finding and opened up the series even more for me.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it. First, Sam’s journey. 

Clowns pop up in s15 before the barn scene. In 15.01, which was written by Dabb, Sam is injured by a clown. Castiel is able to save Sam and heal his injury. The clown keeps coming after Sam, with Sam having fight scenes with the clown, while others attack the other ghosts. The clown is kicking the shit out of Sam again, and Castiel saves him once more. Sam is unable to fight off the clown on his own both times.

They run until they are able to escape outside a magical barrier. Sam turns to the clown and says, “shut up”. 

This is literally Sam running from his fears. On top of that, this isn’t just any clown, but the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, from an episode also written by Dabb.

Dean: A serial killer clown. I mean, this is, like, the best/worst thing that’s ever happened to you, you know, ‘cause you love serial killers, but – but you hate clowns.

Sam gets nervous and struggles with the lighter before he’s able to get rid of the clown, for now.

I believe this is a metaphor for hunting in general: it’s both the best of Sam’s life and also the worst. The clowns symbolize his relationship with Dean.

Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie was co-written by Dabb (see the pattern?). Sam’s fear of clowns was known since season 2. In season 7, Dabb explored where this fear came from.

On the surface, Sam’s fear is just because he found them creepy, but the episode explains that they actually come from Sam’s fear of being left behind by Dean.

This episode comes directly after an episode where Sam worried that Dean would get himself killed

Sam: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... It almost got you killed. Now, I don't care how you deal. I really, really don't. But just don't – don't get killed. Dean: I'll do what I can. Sam: Well, what's that supposed to mean? Dean: It means I'll do what I can. All right? You can shut up about it.

Sam is dealing with Hallucifer at this moment, but Hallucifer doesn’t really scare him. Losing Dean does.

Sam has a conversation with an employee about greatest fears.

Recognize the actress? She came back for s15 in 15.06. I don’t believe this was a coincidence. 15.06 featured Castiel helping a parent find their lost child in a season that features Castiel worried about losing Jack. Through his experience with her, Castiel confronts his fears and doubts and then returns to join in the fight against God. [I’ll touch on Castiel’s journey more in his chapter]

Sam’s greatest fear is losing Dean. There’s a lot in the series about how Sam felt lonely and abandoned for much of his childhood. A whole episode, Just My Imagination, centers around this. Sam hated when Dean went off on hunts without him.

source In The Chitters, Sam tells Dean how his fear of losing his family paralyzed him as child. It’s a story where an older brother dies and the younger brother never recovers from it until he’s able to lay him to rest (sound familiar???)

Sam: You know, whenever you and Dad used to leave me to go hunting, and I-and I wouldn’t hear from y’all for a while, I, um, I was always sure that some vamp or rugaru, or take your pick, I always figured one of them finally got ya. I tried to think what to do, you know, the next step to take. I was just lost. Dean: We came back, though, every time.

You might naturally think, “Wait a minute! Sam left Dean multiple times!” Honestly, this was something I had a huge issue with when watching through the show the first time. I didn’t understand Sam and hated him leaving Dean in s8. I was completely on Dean’s side at first. But, on multiple rewatches and talking to others, I’ve realized that when Sam left Dean, he was running from his fear. In this TV Guide interview, Jared perfectly sums up why Sam left in season 1; he couldn’t stand to see his family die. Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon along with a comic that explains why Sam left in detail. While the comic isn’t official canon, it shows Dabb’s thought process. In it, Sam sees his family as running towards a horrible end and can’t handle dealing with that.

Dean: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it? Sam: No. Not normal. Safe.

There are many more points in the series where we learn about Sam’s fear of Dean dying. This would be 3948573945 pages long if I wrote them all out, so I’m going to focus on the key moments that loop back to this ending, but there’s so much more there.

If you are struggling with this and need more, please let me know and I can do a deeper dive into that subject. We first see Sam’s inability to let Dean go in season 1 when Sam refuses to let Dean die in Faith.

Dean: You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you? Sam: I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going.

Sam’s whole arc in s3 is him being unable to handle Dean dying. He wants to save Dean, but Dean won’t let himself be saved. This was what Gabriel was trying to teach him in Mystery Spot.

Trickster: This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.

This is how Ruby gets under Sam’s skin and what gets him to start working with her. Everything Sam did was to save Dean. In s4, Sam’s arc is about him sacrificing himself in order to save Dean. He’s gutted from being unable to save Dean. In 4.12, Sam decides to drink demon blood in order to save Dean

Dean: [says that they will die early] Sam: Maybe we'll be different, Dean. Dean: What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life. Sam: What if we could win?Dean: "Win"?Sam: If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it.

When Sam breaks out of the panic room, he’s suicidal. He’s determined to save Dean with his life as the cost he’s willing to pay. He didn’t think he would survive killing Lilith. He was committing suicide in that moment. The reason why Sam is so willing to sacrifice himself in s5 is because he has low self esteem. He blames himself for everything that goes wrong. In Sam, Interrupted 5.11, also by Dabb, Sam has a breakdown under the weight of his guilt. He hates himself and he feels his rage is out of control. In season 6, we see soulless Sam and, unlike souled Sam, he has no rage. Yes, he’ll kill when necessary, but he’s not angry. It was Sam’s fear driving his rage. He felt out of control of his life and let it lead him down a dark path. In season 7, he sees Dean heading down a dark path and he feels helpless to stop it. He worries about dragging Dean down and tells Dean to let him go. But, at the same time, he’s developing coping techniques. He’s starting to face his fears. 

And then Dean disappears and Sam completely falls apart. Sam didn’t have a healthy relationship with Amelia. They were two broken people clinging to each other. Sam and Dean struggle to reconnect after their time apart. There’s a lot of text addressing the horror of a partner dying and people trying to escape from it.

Mrs Holmes: He could see the end of my days were at hand, and... He had lived centuries all alone, but I don't think he could bear the thought of life without me. That's why he drove off that bridge. You must think I'm a monster.

In Hunteri Heroica written by GUESS WHO!?!? Sam finally acknowledges that he was living in a dream world with Amelia. He was running from his past. We see a flash back with Sam pressing on his scar, which he did to help himself distinguish fantasy from reality.

The episode is about a man refusing to engage in reality and harming those around him. Sam has a big confrontation with him

Sam: Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend... all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. [CASTIEL appears to be taking Sam’s words to heart.] It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!

Likewise, when Sam was with Jessica, he wasn’t honest about himself. He was hiding from his family and his past. Running to avoid pain. Sam is avoidant in general. Not just in his relationship with Dean. When he talks with Rowena in 13.12 Various & Sundry Villains about his fears of Lucifer, he admits that he could talk about it with Dean, but he can’t bring himself to.

Sam: I’ve seen it too. What he really looks like behind – behind whatever vessel. It… Yeah, still keeps me up at night. Rowena: How do you deal with it? Sam: I guess I don’t deal with it. Not really. I mean, I pushed it down and, um, the world kept almost ending, so I keep pushing it down, and I don’t know. [stammering] I really don’t talk about it, not even with Dean. I mean, I could. You know, he’d listen, but… That’s not something I really know how to share.

In 15.20, Sam’s past is front and center. Literally. I know a lot of people found the Winchester family portrait odd and upsetting, but it symbolizes something I’ll get to in a bit. Instead of trying to avoid his grief, Sam has moments where he lets it wash over him. He goes and sits in the car. He’s no longer avoidant. He’s no longer running away. He’s letting his grief move through him. He’s literally sitting with it.

Soulless Puppy pointed out that the characters emotional arcs is similar to DBT. Please look through their awesome meta here.

Personally, I see them as similar to the therapy I do called ACT. Both are forms of therapy where instead of fighting against them, you accept painful emotions and allow yourself to feel them. If you don’t do that work, then you can’t stop feeling them and your fears/ghosts will always haunt you.  In Swan Song, Chuck tells us that “Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.”  In 15.20, Sam initially didn’t want to let Dean go. He’s been refusing to do this since season 1. When he’s separated from Dean he lives a fake life or destroys himself/the world trying to get Dean back. There’s a moment in 15.20 where Sam looks at Dean’s guns. He wants to commit suicide, but he makes the choice to live. For the time in Sam’s life, he let Dean go and lived with his pain. He no longer ran from it. After Swan Song, Dean was unable to let Sam go. He wanted him back. After Carry On, Sam is able to do what Dean couldn’t do. He lives a life outside of Dean. What’s more, Sam has reconciled himself with his past and his family. It’s clumsy and I wish it were better shown, but having the family portrait and their parents in heaven isn’t meant to excuse the way Sam and Dean were raised. In order to move past the trauma of his relationship with his parents, Sam fully integrates them into his life. In Lebanon, Sam was able to confront and forgive his father. In doing so, he can also forgive himself. Mary asks for forgiveness too, and he grants it to her. He doesn’t forget what happened, but he’s able to move forward and leave the intergenerational cycle of violence. He’s able to raise his son, Dean, the way his brother should have been raised.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it.

I can see why people see Sam’s life after Dean as unhappy. I hated it so much because I saw it as horrible and sad the first time through. I had to sit with myself and my emotions first. I think it’s because we’ve been told by society that we have to get rid of our grief in order to be happy. The finale was showing us that it’s possible to do the opposite. [Personally I think it would’ve been better had they showed more overtly happy memories, but many of my friends saw this straight away] When I began therapy, one of the first things I learned was that there aren’t “negative” emotions. When working with our kids, we call them Big emotions. In DBT/ACT, all emotions are treated as normal and natural. Grief, anger, sadness, etc, these are all normal parts of the human existence. We don’t need to run from them in order to have happiness. We can live with them. As interstitial said in our chats, “you can't change the past, you can only change your relationship to it. To accept that your past contained both love and heartache, to miss it, but also know you can do better; that's actual recovery, as good as it gets.” As Soulless-Puppy explained to me, Sam lived in duality. Dean was dead, but Sam lived. Sam was happy, but he grieved. Dean was with him in the watch and the car and his son, but Dean also waited for him in heaven. I hated the finale the first time I saw it, then next watched it with my boyfriend who loved it. As we were watching together and discussing it, I realized that Dean’s death scene wasn’t just about him, but about the show itself. 

Dean promising Sam that he will be with Sam in Sam’s heart is also the show promising us that they will never leave it. That’s why Alex kept posting “The end has no end.” Just as Sam carried Dean with him in his heart, we will carry the show with us. I hope this helps. It’s a terrible thing to feel upset about an ending and thinking of the show this way, recognizing these patterns, is bringing me peace. I still have issues with how it was written, but now that I see what they were doing, I wish all the more that they had the chance to do it right. Please share your thoughts and experiences. I love hearing different opinions. Next up, Dean. Then Castiel.

[panharmonium]

@bloomiii asked: Hey!  Do you think merlin actually hates Mordred?

Heya!  I’m assuming this is a follow-up question to the ask that @once-and-future-gay​​ sent me the other day, and I gotta say, I love this question just as much as I did that one, so thank you!  :D  It’s a great ask - relevant one, definitely, for Season 5. 

I have kind of a lot to say about it, so I’m going to put most of this reply under a cut, but the short answer is this:

No, absolutely not.  I don’t think Merlin hates Mordred.

I think Merlin hates himself.

I wrote in the previous post on this topic (which I think this ask is a response to) about the actual reasons why Merlin is in conflict with Mordred, none of which are based on personal dislike and all of which come back to Merlin knowing that he has to prevent Mordred from killing Arthur, not out of a selfish personal desire to keep Arthur safe, but because Arthur’s survival is supposed to be the thing that is going to bring peace to the land and liberate the magical world.

But Merlin, as I said in that post, does not want to be in conflict with Mordred.  He likes Mordred.  He says as much, to Gaius.  He cares about Mordred as someone who shares his oppression, as shown in the beginning of the Disir.  He agrees to keep Kara a secret from Arthur, at the beginning of 5.11.  And Mordred’s philosophy - “the love that binds us is more important than the power we wield” - is literally as close to Merlin’s own as it can be.  That is exactly how Merlin, at his core, sees the world.

Everything Merlin does to Mordred, he does for no other reason than that he thinks he has to.  (And I discussed in that other piece how Merlin is not foolish or mistaken for thinking so, either - important to keep in mind.)  But all of the things he has to do go completely against his nature, and by the time we hit the end of 5.11, I really feel that Merlin has descended into a pit of self-loathing that the show, because its ending is so poorly constructed, never allows him to climb out of.  

Every decision Merlin is forced to make about Mordred makes him hate himself a little more.  The decision to let Mordred die in 5.05 is visibly traumatizing for him.  He takes no pleasure in leaving Mordred behind for Morgana in 5.10.  And 5.11 is the ugliest, most soul-killing situation Merlin has been confronted with yet - he is torn between doing what he truly wants to do and what he feels like he has to do, when Kara comes into the picture.  He initially tries to hide Kara from Arthur, because there is no part of him that wants a Druid to be captured and harmed, even if she was with Morgana’s forces.  Mordred tells Merlin, “she’s one of us,” and Merlin agrees.  “Your secret is safe with me,” he says (and those are sacred words for Merlin; they’re exactly what Lancelot says to him in 1.05; this is not something Merlin would ever promise lightly).  He doesn’t betray Mordred’s secret, and when Kara is captured (through no fault of Merlin’s own) Merlin is the one who originally urges mercy, telling Arthur, “you’re breaking his heart/you’ll lose his trust” when Arthur claims he has no choice but to pursue execution.

However, after that, when Merlin learns that Mordred plans to escape with Kara, he boomerangs back to “he’s going to run to Morgana and then he’s going to kill Arthur and I am not allowed to let that happen/magical and godly forces have all told me that the entire fate of Albion and the future of magic all depends on me preventing Mordred from killing Arthur.”  And so he tells Arthur that Mordred is planning to escape, ultimately leading to Mordred and Kara’s recapture.

But THEN, after THAT, when they’re back in custody -  Merlin urges mercy yet again.  He tells Arthur to “free them both.”  He says, “How will one more death bring about the peace we long for?”  Merlin does not want Kara to be killed.  He does not want Mordred to suffer.  He does not want any of this to have happened; he did not rat Mordred out because he wanted to; he did it because he truly believed (for legitimate reasons) that he had no choice.  Like I talked about in that previous post - Merlin, at this point in the show, feels that his life has no purpose beyond the fulfillment of the destiny that has been prophesied.  He has come to see himself as a tool, with no intrinsic worth or value beyond what he can do to ensure Arthur’s survival (and thus the establishment of peace for all people).  He hates the things he’s supposed to do, but he literally cannot see an escape for himself.  This is just what he was “born” to do.

Even as far back as Season 3 we see this helplessness growing in him:

You feel trapped.  Like your whole life has been planned out for you, and you've got no control over anything, and sometimes you don't even know if what destiny has decided is really the best thing at all.

Merlin, in 5.11, doesn’t feel like what destiny has decided is the best thing.  But he also has reached a point where he feels like he has to do what he was told.  He’s seen the future.  He’s been told by multiple magical and divine sources that Arthur is the Once and Future King who is going to build the “the world we dream of.”  And so he does things that he thinks will enable that future to arrive (like preventing Mordred from running away with Kara), but because these things go so completely against his nature and cause him such pain, he then whips around and says, “Don’t kill her.  Let them go.”  He can’t help himself from slipping back into the kind of person he truly is on the inside.

He is trapped between his true self and what he feels is an inescapable duty.  And every step he takes away from his true nature makes him hate himself more.

Kara’s interview with Arthur, where she refuses to repent her “crimes” in exchange for her life, has one of the most telling, devastating shots in the show, when she says, “It is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.”  The camera, in that moment, is trained on Merlin’s face, not hers:

That is done on purpose.  The cinematography is trying to say something.  It wants us to look at Merlin and listen to Kara’s word’s and hear the contradiction.  It wants us to recognize that Merlin is dying inside.  The absolute MISERY locked down in his expression here!  He has been forced to do things that seem to work against the very goal he’s been told he’s trying to achieve (to have the right to be who he is), and it’s been going on for so long that it’s shattered his soul.  He listens to Kara being able to say that, proudly, without fear, and he hates himself for not being like her.

But he can’t see any way to escape the things he knows he’s supposed to do.  So ultimately, at the very end, he does nothing, and Kara’s execution proceeds.

He despises himself for it, and when Mordred escapes and runs to Morgana, Merlin’s only reaction is a dull, hollow resignation.  He doesn’t blame Mordred for whatever’s going to happen next.  

He blames himself.

This is, yet again, another reason why the Merlin finale is garbage storytelling.

It makes no narrative sense for the show to give us 5.11, which ends with Merlin in quite possibly the darkest and most miserable, conflicted spot he has ever been in, and to then start the next episode with him having a raucous good time at the tavern.  Merlin, after what happens with Kara and Mordred, is not going to be out laughing and cheering, playing dice, and making casual, tongue-in-cheek, meta jokes about his secret like it isn’t the most painful and soul-destroying burden he’s ever had to carry (“Ah, I knew you’d discover my secret in the end.  There is just no fooling you, my lord!”).  It is inconceivable for him to be out partying, after the previous episode.  It’s insulting to me as a viewer, that the writers thought they could show this to me as if it’s an even remotely rational direction for the story to go, as if I’m not going ask “what the HECK is going on???” when I see Merlin gleefully stumbling home like a drunken frat boy, without a care or concern in the world.

There is ZERO tonal consistency between the end of 5.11 and the beginning of 5.12.  It’s horrendous writing, and it’s why I continuously say that Merlin BBC does not actually end, it just STOPS - abruptly cut off after 5.11, with a slapdash two-episode finale tacked on, one which does not actually resolve anyone’s arcs, or address any of the central questions of the show, or follow where the narrative was naturally heading prior to that point.

Merlin’s arc with Mordred is what finally takes him to a place where he is irrevocably, inescapably confronted with the conflict that he has been struggling with from day one - how is he supposed to justify the things that Destiny is asking him to do, when what it’s asking him to do seems to be hurting the very people he’s trying to help?  How is he supposed to reconcile his responsibility to his people (and HIMSELF) with an externally-imposed responsibility to protect Arthur?  He’s been wrestling with this cognitive dissonance for years, and 5.11 is the inevitable crisis point - Kara is dead, Mordred has defected to Morgana, Merlin’s secret is OUT, and Merlin has never hated or doubted himself more.  It makes no sense for the beginning of the next episode to show us Merlin living it up at the tavern.  Merlin is tortured, at the end of 5.11.  He’s dying inside.  The next episode was supposed to be a natural progression from that moment, meaning Merlin should have had the chance to finally confront his conflict head-on, rather than having it all completely wiped away by the pile of garbage that was the finale.

The correct fallout from Mordred’s “turn” should have been a reckoning.  Merlin never wanted to be in conflict with Mordred in the first place; he hated himself for everything he had to do, and I really think the end of 5.11 took us to a place where Merlin had finally been pushed over the edge; it was the last straw.  The only correct progression from that point would have been change, and Merlin was finally desperate enough to do what he needed to do to find himself again and make things right, but we never got to see it, because the people in charge decided to completely abandon every complicated question they’d been pursuing, in favor of “actually Arthur’s the good guy and we’re gonna pretend we didn’t just spend an entire episode reminding people how Camelot is still an unjust place.”

I don’t understand it.  The same people created 5.11, too.  They wrote Kara’s righteous speech.  They framed her execution as an evil, and they framed Mordred’s flight as something Merlin and Arthur brought upon themselves.  

And then they did a 180 and dumped every ethical question they ever raised.  They never let Merlin find his feet or hold his head up high, and I’m honestly never going to forgive them for that.

[solicuttle]

Omg,,, the expiration fic,, made me cry :'(((( it's been a while since i've read angst fics and that one- my heart(´;︵;`) idk If you would take this request but I was thinking maybe if you could write something angst like that for kaido, akechi and hairo?? if not it's totally okay nd I just wanted to pass by and say that you are an awesome writer!

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Maybe I’m a bad person for being happy that the fic made you upset but thank you so much! I can totally do this, sorry for the wait. It’s nice knowing you liked it.

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Termination

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: Major Angst, Death (Reader), No Happy Ending

Characters: Kaidou Shun, Akechi Touma, Hairo Kineshi

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Death is inevitable. You could never escape it. 

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Kaidou Shun

He’s the worst superhero in the universe. Kaidou knows he has to be the shittiest person to have ever lived. What sort of hero can’t even protect their S/O? Can he really call himself the Jet-Black Wings when your death will forever haunt him?

Kaidou had rejected you outright when you’d asked to go to the forest. Wouldn’t it better to play games together, indoors? But you’d pleaded with him – one glance at your “downcast” expression had both of trekking to the forest. If only he’d been more resolute, if only he had refused to even go into the forsaken forest. Kaidou hadn’t.

It’s a long trek. Your boyfriend complains the entire way there, and you’re no better yourself. The walk is punctuated with both of your laughter, Kaidou pulling out terrible jokes every few seconds.

“Let’s build another hideout,” and Kaidou had perked up at that, gleeful with the idea that you were both going to make a secret base together! It was much harder without Kuboyasu there to do the dirty work, but to Kaidou a private date between the two of you made it worth it. It was the last date both of you would ever sure.

Good things never last forever. The volcano erupts. Kaidou definitely doesn’t shriek because shrieking is for cowards and Kaidou’s not scared. At all. Kaidou turns to face you – suddenly you’re keening over and he’s rushing to catch you. Kaidou fails. Your body lands on the floor with a thump, Kaidou racing to pull you up.

“Are you okay?” You don’t respond. You never will. Kaidou flips your body over, eyes widening at the gaping hole in your chest. He vomits. Not on you, but to the side of where your dead body lays. Kaidou retches up his heart, his breakfast and his will to continue. He’s sobbing uselessly; it’s messy, disgusting – you will never see that. That’s technically good news? Right.

The world becomes way too large all at once, and everything’s spinning. Kaidou doesn’t know what to do.

There’s nothing he can do.

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Hairo Kineshi

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For someone so strong and resilient, Hairo had to give up on you. It hurts to say, hurts to think about, but Hairo will spend the rest of his life wondering what could’ve happened if he was strong enough, if he was fast enough to save you.

Hairo had been the fool to bring it up. What’s better than an exciting hike through the forest with his lovely S/O? Nothing! This isn’t the first time your boyfriend had basically whisked you off on an “adventure” of sorts. Last week, he’d tried to take you on a walk-through town. Which wouldn’t have been bad if Hairo hadn’t wanted to frog hop the entire way.

You loved your boyfriend for exactly who he is; you didn’t mind (much) his sudden desire to do sports at any given moment. It was one of his many ways of sharing affections with you.

If he’d stayed still for once, decided to spend the day with you in his arms, maybe you would’ve gone home together.

The forest is exactly what Hairo wants. And in his excitement, he’d barreled forward, already sweating from sheer willpower. He’s fast and sturdy, fast enough to leave you a bit behind. But he always comes back to cheer you up, to encourage you to finish this with him.

It’s another one of these scenarios. Hairo’s running through the woods when the ground shakes. Hairo knows what to do immediately – but do you? You could be worried and on your own! Turning back, he runs to meet you, ready to comfort you.

Hairo’s not ready to see your dead body. Your neck is tilted at an awkward angle – and even if you could survive that, you couldn’t survive the rock impaled into your bleeding heart. But—Hairo knows he can save you; he’s saved countless people countless times! It should be easy; it should be perfect!

It’s not. You’re dead. And for once in his life, Hairo’s helpless.

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Akechi Touma

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A nice picnic in the forest is a perfect date idea. The internet says so; Akechi’s done enough research for it to be exactly flawless. You’re going to have the best date ever! Hopefully, it is the best date ever because it’s the last date you’re ever going to enjoy. Might as well go out with a bang.

Akechi tries to surprise you. Covering your eyes, the whole shebang. It’s fruitless, because he’d gushed about it when he thought you couldn’t hear him. Still, you humor your boyfriend, laughing the whole way there.

Akechi should’ve never surprised you. He should’ve been happy enough to just have you in his arms, should’ve been content enough to stow you away in his house and maybe then you’d still be alive. Still be here with him.

The volcano shouldn’t have erupted. Akechi had done his research, it’s been dormant for years. It should’ve stayed dormant. That’s why he’d been confident enough to set your picnic at the foot of the volcano. It’s a nice view, having something so massive dwarfing you. Volcanoes remind people that they’re tiny in comparison to the world.

Akechi takes a bite out of a sandwich. It’s not the best sandwich ever, but you had both slaved over it. He loves it. “I really like the sandwich—” and Akechi doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The volcano explodes; Akechi screams but you can’t hear him, the sound of the explosion deafening.

It’s ash and dust and Akechi can’t see. Can’t see you. And then he does. You’re motionless, and Akechi’s brain thinks, you’re dead. But he doesn’t want to believe that. A weak hand grasps yours. Your arm is still warm, but there’s no pulse. You died instantly. A clean, painless death.

But that thought doesn’t make the tears pouring down Akechi’s face disappear. It doesn’t bring him any peace. He’s in shock. Akechi can’t think. Shaking your hand does nothing, you don’t miraculously wake up and shout “it’s a prank!”. It’s an awful prank.

Maybe he should call an ambulance. And they’ll confirm your death. But if he doesn’t call them… Akechi can still cling to the sliver of hope that you’re still alive.

Somehow.

[iamnightduchess]

Hi Queen ❤

I love your headcanons so much and I don’t know if you’ve ever done one of these, but I’d really like to imagine what it would be like if Mikasa and Reiner fell in love after the end of the manga, what this discovery would be like and how they would deal with this!

(Forgive me for my lousy english hahaha)

Hello dear, thank you for the Ask! 💖 It really helps me to envision a more ideal post-ending universe because the potential ending right now does not look promising that both of them will somehow survive (together) because I am foreseeing one of them voluntarily dies to save another person. I hope i'm wrong! 😢 I've only done a tiny snippet of ReiKasa in this Post-Rumbling HC AU. But, here's what I envision how it could possibly be IF they survive & they happen:

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Post-Rumbling AU (Gen) Headcanon #16

Before we delve into Post-Rumbling period, it's interesting to observe the tiny moments where the seeds of trust and possibly, love between these two former enemies turned allies might have possibly begun sprouting.

The Rumbling

We've seen the way Reiner had implied on the plane in ch.133, how Eren might want to be stopped by someone. Reiner was using himself as a pretext; an example. If HE was the one with the FT & somehow finding himself unable to control it, he'd want to be stopped by someone he knows is capable of doing so (someone more powerful & stronger than he is) When he said that sentence, he was gazing at Mikasa.

There are 2 implications here, i) He is indirectly admitting in front of everyone that Mikasa is his weakness, like a failsafe. The one he knows who can take him down if he's the one with this enormous power & he's losing control, ii) Because to him, ever since they were younger, Eren is her family & a sensitive subject to her. Him voicing out his opinion and indirectly hinting that Eren is beyond the path of no return will hurt Mikasa's feelings & emotional state.

During the Paths Intermission, the moment Eren basically told the alliance to go fuck themselves, that he will keep moving forward for his freedom, while the alliance members are free to fight him if that is what they want; Reiner was horrified to know that Eren basically confirmed his deduction & how much pain and devastation Mikasa would be in upon receiving the awful truth from Eren himself. Even after pleading to Eren to let her share the burden of his sins, which as direct as it could have been to "I don't want to be so far from you. I want to be with you through both light & darkness inside of you. Please come back to us." Mikasa still believed that the previous Eren that she knew is still there somewhere, which is no longer the case.

The shock-induced tears in Mikasa's eyes - seeing her in pain, hurts Reiner too. He'd knew how heartbroken she would be.

In Ch.135, when everyone was on the verge of dying as they're losing the battle with the raised forms of past titan shifters, Mikasa reached her breaking point & Reiner felt helpless, because he was at his last limit & Mikasa was planning to make herself the primary target just to buy the rest a little bit more time.

There's this woman who's fighting towards an expected death in front of him - any man would be an idiot for not seeing how foolish yet selfless and brave this last female warrior of Paradis was. She's always been a fearless woman who has their backs and protects their fronts. He has never stopped respecting this woman. This might have been the starting point for that seed to have sprouted inside Reiner.

If Annie's timely rescue never came and they truly met their end there, the only regret Reiner has was he couldn't do anything else but watch this woman's final moments without being able to do anything to support her before his own ensuing end.

When Levi, Jean and Connie all collectively & firmly agrees that killing Eren is the only thing that stands between the world's survival, Reiner was silent the whole time. He believed he has no right to say anything, but he saw the vulnerable look on her face the moment Jean reiterated their ultimatum: "We need to kill Eren."

Reiner did what he does best: he took charge. When Reiner told her, "You go help Armin." He was indirectly telling her, "You do what you can. I will shoulder your burden with Jean. Let me be the strength for you to do what needs to be done." This was Reiner's way of telling her, he will carry her burden for her and shelter her from an unbearable pain. Just like how she told Eren much earlier in Paths. Reiner's indirectly telling Mikasa that she's important to him too.

This was the moment that the seed had sprouted within her heart. She realized that Reiner's communicating to her in the way only she would understand. How much she feels for Eren, Reiner feels for her in the same way because you can't give a reason why you care for or love someone. You just do. It just happened without signs. Annie, however, was able to catch that short but impactful interchange between them.

Post-Rumbling

They barely survive the last stand against Eren's final form but they did with Ymir's divine intervention in Humanity's New Dawn.

Reiner sustains extremely heavy injuries on his physical body. Mikasa is emotionally & psychologically affected by Eren's true death.

The remaining humanity struggles to rebuild from the ashes of destruction. It was beyond devastation. The world is almost completely annihilated but hope is a powerful energy. Hope persists.

Reiner sees her grieving - like a pair of wheels suspended in motion - trapped while the rest of the world moves around her. She refuses to eat, she barely sleeps but when she does, she would toss and turn around restlessly. Annie tells him in passing that when Mikasa sleeps, her body contorts and freezes simultaneously like she's in a lot of pain.

Seeing her drifting through the days like a soulless vessel pains him a lot. No one could humanly survived what she had to go through without serious ramifications towards her emotional and psychological state. Mikasa becomes withdrawn and sullen.

Yet, he retains his distance like he always does & watch silently from the sides as Annie, Armin & Jean tried to reach out to her to no avail. Reiner himself is haunted by his failed attempt to hold the Founder's original form down that, in a way, had forced Mikasa to do what needs to be done. He feels responsible that he couldn't prevent her from having to go through those painful yet pivotal moments of securing humanity's survival. The day the alliance managed to save the world, well, the world that she built for Eren inside her heart was destroyed in return.

One day, she mysteriously disappears without trace. A panicking Armin searches on his own but Annie tells Reiner that Mikasa's missing, nowhere to be found. Reiner and Armin later found her at the crater where Eren's last resting place had been. The exact same location where she had to slay him with her own two blades.

Mikasa says that she just feels lost and empty. Like there's a huge dark void inside her body that she can't escape from. She just sits there amongst the dust and debris, staring blankly at a makeshift, unmarked grave. She confides that she's terrified of falling asleep because she sees Eren's face in her nightmares.

Armin wants to console her but Annie holds him back as she notices Reiner already making his way forward and settles himself next to her. Armin understands what Annie was trying to do.

Reiner only tells Mikasa, "You don't have to do this alone...Lean on us." He offers his hand, despite knowing she wouldn't even touch him. "When you feel that you can no longer breathe, I'll breathe for you. If you feel like you're drifting, I will hold you."

It takes her a while but she accepts his hand and he holds it tight in his. Reassuring her that he is here to stay for as long as she needs him to be.

Little either of them know that it would possibly be forever.

It is Annie who helps to bridge these two together with Armin's help.

Ever since the day they talked, Mikasa slowly finds herself regaining an ounce of strength. Reiner talks a lot to her and offers his silent company as they go for walks together so she does not feel alone.

Reiner makes sure that he'll check in with Mikasa from time to time when he's not supporting the remaining forces with rebuilding, too frequent not to be noticed by everyone close to them in the survivor's settlement. However, none of them questions him about it. It is an understood, unspoken notion that Reiner cares a lot about Mikasa, and her for him eventhough she's being subtle about it. Armin could see Mikasa's eyes lit up whenever Reiner is nearby.

Mikasa shares a living space with Annie and Pieck. When her night terrors get too much that Mikasa thrashes around, screaming in pain despite being in a deep sleep, the two former shifters know that they couldn't possibly restrain the Ackerman girl physically on their own. They called for Armin, Jean and Reiner for help. When Armin and Jean hesitate to hold her down, it is Reiner who holds her tight even when Mikasa's unconsciously trying to struggle against him. They could see Reiner's face holding back his own physical pain from fighting against the immense resistance coming from her. But he'd never released his hold until she eventually wakes up and calms down. He stayed with her until the break of dawn.

After that night, however, Reiner seems to be pulling himself away from Mikasa as he couldn't get over his guilt and his helplessnesss as he also didn't want Mikasa to think that he's trying to take advantage of her vulnerability. The problem is, when he avoids Mikasa, she reverts back to the darkness she's slowly overcoming with Reiner's help and he's becoming miserable himself.

This frustrates Armin, Annie, Jean, Levi and even Pieck because it was fairly obvious to everyone but the two people in question that both Reiner and Mikasa are self-sabotaging and self-punishing themselves from pursuing something more than friendship despite their beating hearts calling out for each other.

Mikasa feels she's betraying her memories of Eren and she's afraid of moving on lest she would forget about him. Reiner feels he has no right to offer Mikasa anything more than friendship because she deserves someone better than him.

Mother's Intuition

Reiner's mother, Karina, finds herself naturally drawn to this young woman who seems to have her son's attention, even when he's trying very hard not to be obvious about it. She catches Reiner staring (longingly, she dare say) at the female warrior of Paradis from afar.

Apart from Mr. Leonhardt's daughter, she too, helps to bring her son and Mikasa closer. Karina has witnessed this woman's bravery and have heard from both Gabi and Reiner of her selflessness when she had saved both her son and her niece's lives. Through Reiner's story, Karina sympathizes with the pain this young woman is going through.

Reiner tells her that he feels helpless that he isn't able to help Mikasa and that she hasn't been eating well. Therefore, Karina brings her homemade meal and visits the young woman, wanting to get to know her better. Mikasa doesn't want to be impolite and relents to having the sudden company.

However, the moment Karina holds her hands to offer her comfort, Mikasa breaks down. She had lost 3 mothers/maternal figures in her life: her own, Carla & Hange. For some odd reason, she feels grateful to have an opportunity to be held by a mother again, even if it wasn't her own.

Karina finds herself growing fond of this young woman and deep inside believes that Mikasa and her son are meant for each other.

It is Karina who advises Reiner to fight for his own happiness and her mother's intuition tells her that his feelings isn't as one-sided as he thinks. Karina urges her son to tell Mikasa how he really feels and after all the years of fighting wars for Marley, Reiner needs to fight one last war: the one within his own heart and to win the heart of the one woman who had conquered his.

However, the relief entourage that arrives from Hizuru, led by Kiyomi Azumabito prevents him from telling Mikasa how he truly feels. He knows that she is destined to become the new empress of Hizuru and that her future would be brighter without him being in her way.

Mikasa tells him of her decision to ascend the imperial throne and Reiner feigns happiness for her decision, reassuring her that she will make a great empress and that she would have a better future there. Mikasa takes Reiner's words as him indirectly telling her to move on with her life without him in it.

Reluctantly, Mikasa leaves for Hizuru. Karina is upset that her son is still sacrificing himself & his own feelings even after being relieved of his Titan powers and its curse.

Karina tells him, "You've lived your life for me and for our family, Reiner. Now it's time for you to live for yourself."

Reiner thinks he's lost the only chance he still has left as Mikasa is already en route to the East Sea country. It is Armin who tells him that the Azumabito's ship is still docked at the nearest harbor because Armin has suspicions that Reiner will change his mind.

When Reiner, Armin, Jean and Annie reach the harbor, the sun is almost setting and Reiner finally revives his dwindling courage to tell her how he truly feels about her and he would like to remain by her side if she'd allow it.

Kiyomi forewarns Reiner that if he is serious about her kin, then he would have to sacrifice his newly-found freedom from being a soldier and titan shifter to become prince consort to their new imperial monarch.

Reiner only says, "I am as good as dead without Mikasa and my freedom means nothing if I'm spending the rest of my life without her."

In the sunset of the New World built from ashes, the two young loves finally seize the courage to pledge their hearts to one another with a kiss; the first of the many in their life together, which is only beginning.

*Continues in Pt. II

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Thank you once again for the beautiful Ask! I truly enjoyed working on this ❤ Also, please don't ever feel that you need to apologize to another ESL speaker/writer for the language. We're always learning 💖 Take care! xoxo