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dreamingofmilk · 4 years

Text

Do You Remember?

Synopsis: You and Gerald reminisce about conceiving your first child

Word count - 2,341

Warnings: smut, cursing, aggressive sex

Enjoy you guys!!

You jerked up out of bed and waddled to the bathroom as quickly as you could. Damn morning sickness always came at the worst times. The sour taste at the back of your throat only made you move that much faster.

Geralt woke up as soon as you got up and followed you. He rushed to grab your hair and rub your back while you retched into the toilet.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly while he pulled your hair into a ponytail.

"Are you alright?" You mocked. "Splendid, just casually puking my guts out for the fifth time today. It's a wonder there's anything left in my stomach."

"Hmm." Geralt didn't even bother hiding his smile. You were pregnant with his child and he couldn't be happier. Finally he can right the wrongs of his parents and raise a child with the woman he loved. He couldn't shake the thought of a little girl with white hair and your eyes who'd call him Papa and play with Roach.

You could feel how smug he was, and it just pissed you off more. Three months you'd been carrying this child and it's already taken a toll on you. You were constantly sick and you were showing far more than a typical woman would at this stage. Fuck Geralt and his big ass baby genes. You had no idea how you were going to make it through 6 more months of this. The baby might kick and rupture an organ. Damn Witcher.

You got back on your feet and went to rinse your mouth. You could feel Geralt rubbing your stomach the entire time. He was pretty much always touching your stomach nowadays. Equal parts love and fascination on his face as he studied all the ways your belly has changed to make room for his baby. It was a side of him you hadn't seen until recently. Geralt always seemed aloof, unbothered by everything and everyone.

After you cleaned yourself up, he helped you back to the bed and spooned you. This was one of the only positions you could handle without getting sick.

You shuffled around to find a comfortable spot and once you found it you groaned with relief. Finally you could get some sleep. Geralt couldn't hold back a small chuckle at your dramatics.

"You sound very comfortable." You could feel the vibration of his chest against your back, the small breeze of his breath on the back of your neck. It was honestly one of the most comforting things you've ever known.

You turned just enough for him to see you raise your middle finger, but your eyes remained closed. "Fuck you, Witcher."

That only made him laugh harder. "Hmm. That's what got us here in the first place." Cocky bastard is really enjoying this. "Do you remember the day we made this child?" He asked with his face buried in your hair.

Of course, you remembered. Consequences aside, it was some of the best damn sex you've ever had in your life, by a longshot. You clenched your thighs together to try to ease the heat you felt rush to your core.

"Fuck, you do remember. I can smell you" Geralt started running his huge hands down your body starting at your chest, pausing at your belly, then down to where you wanted him the most. "You were so damn hot for me that day. Couldn't even wait to get home."

He was right. You thought back to that day and remembered that you had been horny pretty much the whole day. Geralt had hunted a particularly nasty monster. He definitely got his ass kicked. That thing really threw him around, but he eventually got the upper hand and cut its heart right out of its chest. Then he grabbed it and crushed it with his bare hands to make sure it couldn't revive itself. Maybe you were a little messed up but something about watching him squeeze the organ until it gave out was sexy as fuck. Blood spattered over his face and all the way up to his arm. He looked like a savage, and you could’ve really used some savage dick at that moment.

You and Geralt had been messing around casually a bit at the time, actually, it was pretty much a daily thing at that point. There was never a time he wasn’t inside of you when you two were alone, and... sometimes not alone. You both were addicted to the crazy, rough, animalistic fucking that you could only get from each other. It honestly was a surprise he ever had time to hunt any monsters. The two of you were insatiable.

After watching his ruthless display of strength you were ready to fuck. He could worry about the rest of the mission later, he had more important things to take care of right now. He caught your eye and smirked once he realized your current state.

"You really are fucked up Y/N. What woman gets turned on by death and gore?" His chuckle shot straight through you.

You shrugged and walked close enough to run your hands down his chest, making sure to touch all of your favorite parts. "I'm no average woman, Geralt."

He scoffed, "You're a crazy one though."

You smiled brightly. You couldn't even argue that. You leaned even closer and whispered in his ear, after licking a bit of his blood off his cheek. "A crazy bitch with crazy good pussy."

He groaned, "Fucking right."

Nothing else needed to be said. In seconds your clothes were ripped and you were on your hands and knees. Your back formed that perfect arch and his huge dick was pounding into you. You two didn't need much foreplay, watching him kill the beast with the great display of strength was more than enough. He drove you crazy, hell his dick drove you crazy. It was like he was actually trying to destroy your pussy. And although his strokes were rough, you sucked it up and took it like a champ.

"Fuck, you feel so good. That’s it Y/N. Take it." He grunted right in your ear. "Always so fucking tight!"

He grabbed the back of your neck and pushed it to the ground, his body towering over yours. You could feel the mud on your cheeks but you didn't give a damn. Geralt leaned over your body and clamped his teeth into your throat and bit just hard enough to break skin. You scream and clenched around him.

"Shit! Geralt! Fuck, I can’t-"

His teeth released your neck, but he just replaced it with his hands, pushing your face further into the mud. "Shut up and take it! You always take me so fucking well." His thrust was harsh and pleasurable.

You couldn't do anything but clench around him. Your body became so weak as your orgasm approached. You tried to pull his hand from the back of your neck but his grip only tightened. You hiss in response, your body humming in pleasure. After a moment, he grew tired of your hands trying to move his, so he grabbed both of your wrists in his hands and yanked them backward.

“Stop fucking moving.” He groaned out.

The new position allowed him to use your hands like handlebars and his thrust only felt as if they were hitting deeper and deeper! It was honestly too much, even a bad bitch has their limits. You tried to inch forward a bit to relieve the pressure on your g spot, but Geralt had other ideas. He let go of your hands and wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers circling your clit. The pleasure became too much. His thrust was much rougher, the extra amount of force pushed you to the ground again. Geralt’s fingers remained on your clit, his other hand regained its position on the back of your neck holding you down. His thumb made its way between your lips for you to suck.

Geralt smiled at you in the new position.

“Seems like the bad bitch can’t handle it. Are those tears I see.” Geralt mocked you, the wetness between your legs causing loud lewd sounds in the air. You wiggles your hips in an attempt to remove some of the pressure off your clit. “I told you to stop fucking moving.

He grunted, "Seems like you can't follow basic fucking instructions so I've got something for you." He pulled you up by your hair so you were kneeling and started pounding into you again. He wrapped both of his arms around your torso and bounced you up and down like a rag doll. It felt like he grew even bigger in this position and you couldn't handle it.

You started screaming. Loud. Obscene curse words mixed with gibberish Poured from your lips. To bystanders, it might have sounded like you were being attacked. But you knew the truth. Your pussy clamped down so hard he almost had trouble pulling his dick out. His strokes faltering from your wet hot tightness.

You squirted. Continuously. All over the place. Your body shaking wildly, and this crazy deranged fucking beast didnt miss a beat. He kept the same pace and hummed. Fucking hummed. You couldn't stop cumming and your stomach was starting to cramp from the onslaught but you couldn't escape his hold. Your body was jerking and twisting, trying to get away from the man who was making you crazy. Stars exploded across your vision. You couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing through your head. All you could do was cum and cum and cum.

After what felt like a lifetime of constant orgasms his thrusts became sloppy, and you could feel his dick twitching inside you. Usually he cums on your chest or your face since he loved to see you painted in his cum. His words, not yours. You prepared yourself for him to pull out and douse you.

"Fuck, gonna cum. Gonna cum so fucking hard Y/N."

You wrestled one of your arms free and started to fondle his balls. "Give it to me. Cum all over me."

He bit into your shoulder and moaned. "No, gonna cum in you. Gonna flood your shit.” He smiled blissfully. “I'm gonna cum so fucking hard in you you'll be leaking for days."

You clenched even harder on him. Your pussy was down with that. But there was one thing he was forgetting. "Geralt, wait.” You tried to catch your breath. “Mmphm. I'll be pregnant if you come inside me."

He shifted positions again. He laid you on your back and spread your legs as wide as they would go. He started making deep lunges in your pussy and you could feel him bottoming out and hitting the back of your pussy.

A wicked smile fell across his face as he looked up at you. You could see the predatory glint in his eyes. "Exactly. I'm gonna knock you up. You're gonna have our baby. You want that right? You want to have my baby?"

Where the hell did this come from? You couldn't contain the shock on your face. "I didn't know you wanted a baby. You don't exactly like children."

He was shaking his head before you finished. "We've been doing this for years Y/N. Did you really think I'd waste that kind of time with someone I didn't see a future with? You are important to me. I want to have a family with you. I want you to stay by my side."

Geralt's thrust had slowed to a conversational pace. And though it still stirred something in you, you couldn’t help but want to finish the conversation.

You would be lying if you said you weren't in love with him. You just figured he wasn't interested in that kind of relationship so you took what you could get. Your heart fluttered at the chance of a real relationship with Geralt. If he was ready to have a child, then so were you. You two would be the best parents in the world. You both grew up with terrible parents so you would make sure the child would get all the love and attention you two never did.

You grabbed his face gently and looked into his eyes. "Yes, I want to have your baby. I love you, Geralt."

He thrust one, two, three more times and exploded. You couldn't help but come again at the feeling of him filling you up.

He nuzzled your neck, "I love you too Y/N."

He pumped into you until he was spent, then rolled over and pulled you onto his chest. You both laid there in silence while your breathing slowed.

You broke the silence first. "Well that was something."

He chuckled, "Definitely something. I meant what I said, Y/N. I want a baby with you. If I didn't knock you up just then, then I'm gonna keep going until I do."

You laughed aloud at the memory. "First time was the charm I guess."

Geralt nuzzled even closer to you, hands absently rubbing your belly. "I still had to give insurance." The humor was very apparent in his voice.

You shook your head, a goofy smile on your face, "Of course you did."

He hummed, the vibration calmed you instantly. "I love you Y/N. You and our baby."

You smiled and rested your hands on top of his. Over the child you were growing. The child that would be a perfect mix of you and him. The child you loved and would protect with your life already.

Both of you started dozing off, relaxed now that your morning sickness seems to have passed for a while. But you made sure to answer him before sleep claimed you completely.

"I love you too. You and your big headed baby."

#witcher geraltxreader milkyfics geraltofrivia #witcher #geraltxreader #witcher fic #milky fics

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huphilpuffs · 5 years

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flares

chapter: 25/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3065 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: a huge thanks goes to @obsessivelymoody for beta reading this for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Dan wakes up on Thursday to a heaviness in his chest.

He groans before he even opens his eyes. His face is squished against a pillow, his ribs pressed too harshly against the mattress. Stabs of pain burst between them, make his muscles spasm and send his breath escaping in a stutter. He has to count, one, two, three, four to keep it from happening a second time.

It eases some when he rolls onto his back.

And he tries to comfort himself further by counting out how long it’s been since he’s been able to sleep on his stomach. Too long, probably.

He’s been getting better, though. Even staring at the bedroom ceiling through his tears, Dan knows that. Knows the he’s helped Phil with dinner the last few nights, and managed to handle the curtains being open for a few hours yesterday.

His hand smoothes across his sternum, and he pokes at the painful spots in his sides until the sharpness dulls.

It’s enough to let Dan sit up, then stand on shaky knees. He tosses Phil’s pillow back to where it belongs and tucks the duvet into place to prove the voice in his head, wondering why he’s suddenly worse again, that he’s fine.

And to ignore the second voice, telling him it’s anxiety that causes your pain, over and over again.

His appointment is in a day.

Dan’s hardly slept for three.

He tries to swallow back a sigh. Whatever rush of adrenaline had dragged him out of bed has faded, left fatigue settling heavy in his bones again. He could drag himself to the lounge, curl up in his blankets and continue his new daily routine of watching people on YouTube for hours.

But his body aches and his eyes burn, and he crawls back into bed instead.

The voice in his head grows louder.

Dan grabs Phil’s pillow, clutches it ot his chest and presses his face against the fabric, breathing deeply.

It smells like Phil.

He holds it until he falls back asleep.

---

The afternoon drags.

It’s past two when Dan wakes up again. The flat is still empty, the bed unmade again. He crawls out without bothering to fix it, makes himself a sandwich, and settles back on the sofa, where he can rest his head against the cushions and ignore the tightness around his heart.

Every time he turns on his phone, it’s too a notification reminding him he has an appointment tomorrow that has his muscles seizing, making it ache to breathe.

And to a reminder he half regrets setting, since he’s ignored it for days.

Call mum.

There’s only a few hours to follow through with it now.

He glances back at the clock that tells him it’s just ticking past three. Twenty-five hours left, says the voice in his head. It sounds like the last GP he saw, who looked him in the eyes and told him to try acting like he had more energy, who told him it would help.

You should try it, his mum had said afterwards. You never know unless you do.

Dan’s thumb swipes across the screen. He finds her contact, sucks in a breath, and hits the call button.

He doesn’t breathe again until she picks up on the third ring.

“Hi, Dan,” she says.

He hasn’t heard her voice since he decided to stay here. It feels like a lifetime ago, suddenly.

“Hi, mum.”

There’s silence for a long moment. He can hear her breathing over the line, low and steady, and wonders if she can hear the shakiness in his.

“How are you?” she asks

“I’m okay,” he says. “I, uh, have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

He swallows, nodding even though she can’t see him. “Just with my new GP, but I’m hoping he might be able to help me,” he says. “With, well, you know.”

“I hope he can.”

She sounds sad. It’s been a long time since Dan’s heard that.

“Me too,” he says. And then, because he can’t handle the silence: “But, uh, I was hoping you could maybe help me figure out my medical history, to prepare? I don’t remember all of it from when I first got sick.”

Back when she was responsible for it, he doesn’t say. Back when anyone could keep track of all of it.

“I’ll text it to you, okay?” she says. “I know your memory isn’t always the best, and your wrists tend to ache from writing.”

“Really?” He slams his mouth shut, the click of his teeth probably audible over the phone. “I mean, thanks.”

She chuckles, quiet, distant, like he can hear the miles between them. “I’m not always heartless, you know,” she says.

Dan’s breath comes out in a rush. Guilt bursts in its place, painful, bringing tears to his eyes. And he wants to tell her he never thought she was, but he can’t. She knows he can’t. He doesn’t even know what he thinks about her now, crying, hands shaking as he clutches his phone too tightly.

“Can I ask you something?” she says. “Without you getting mad?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you doing?” she says. “I know you don’t think your problems are with your mental health, and I’m not implying they are–” the not this time goes unspoken “–but I know you’ve had bad experiences with doctors and you’re my son.”

His breath catches. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his hand.

This is his first appointment without her, he realizes. The first one in six years that she’s not driving him to, waiting outside or sitting next to him for the length of it. The first time she won’t smooth his hand over his knee in the waiting room, telling him it’ll be okay, that doctors can be trusted, even though they’d been proving otherwise for so long.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Phil’s coming with me.”

“That’s good,” she says, like she means it. “I am glad you have him, you know.”

He almost reminds her what she thought of him living with Phil last time they spoke, but his heart aches and his eyes are stinging and he doesn’t want to fight, not this time.

“Me too,” he says. “He’s the best, mum.”

She sounds like she’s smiling when she says: “I’d love to meet him, one day.”

Dan swallows. He can hardly picture it, bringing Phil back to a house filled with terrible memories and people he still doesn’t trust entirely. And yet there’s a tug in his chest, a bittersweet image forming in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t say anything.

Neither does she, for a while.

“I should get going,” is what she ends up saying. “As long as you’re okay? I’ll text you your medical information in a little bit.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

She hums. “And Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“You should call your grandma. She misses her sofa buddy.”

He chuckles. It aches. Suddenly, he’s exhausted again. “Okay. I will,” he promises. “And mum?”

“Yeah?”

“No news is good news, okay? If I don’t call you after the appointment, I mean.”

“Okay,” she says. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead.

His head falls back against the cushion and his phone drops onto the sofa. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, and he’s not entirely sure he knows why.

Or maybe he just can’t untangle all the many, many reasons.

---

Phil’s quiet when he gets home.

He takes the smoothie Dan didn’t touch and sets it on the coffee table before dropping onto the empty cushion. His arm is draped across the back of the cushion, his hip just inches from Dan’s, as he turns his gaze to the open laptop, lit up with another Smosh video.

Dan’s been watching them mindlessly since his tears dried on his cheeks.

“This is a good one,” says Phil.

It’s an older one, the production value a little cheaper and humour a tad outdated. Probably more similar to what Phil had watched back at uni, Dan thinks. He tries to imagine it, a younger version of Phil, one with longer hair and a slightly narrower frame, sitting in a uni room like the one Dan moved out of before coming here.

He hardly can. Maybe because his mind is still muddled, hanging onto words he said during the phone call, onto all the things he should have said but didn’t.

“It is,” he says, just as the video ends.

He doesn’t start a new one.

Phil’s fingers sweep across his shoulder. In Dan’s peripheral, he can see Phil turn to look at him, but he doesn’t look back.

“Are you okay?” asks Phil.

Dan swallows. There’s a lump in his throat, a pressure behind his eyes so harsh it aches.

“Didn’t sleep very well,” he says.

Phil squeezes his shoulder. “I know.”

That makes the corner of his mouth quirk up. Of course Phil knows. He was there, arms wrapped around Dan as he fidgeted, tossed, and turned. His hands had combed through Dan’s hair, and his quiet questions about if Dan was okay were mumbled against his shoulder, his reassurance felt in his touch.

Phil usually falls asleep pretty quickly, Dan’s learned. Last night, he didn’t.

The hand at his shoulder tightens. Dan finally turns to face Phil.

“Is that all that’s bothering you?”

His eyes are soft, almost sad, as his hand rubs gentle circles against Dan’s skin. He knows. He must know something’s up. Dan has to remind himself that Phil’s seen him after countless sleepless nights, curled up in soft blankets on the sofa and dozing when his mind gets too tired to keep racing.

Today isn’t like that.

Dan reaches out to rest a hand on Phil’s knee, needing to feel grounded, as the first tear rolls down his cheek. Phil draws him closer, so Dan’s head is by his shoulder, his tears dripping down onto the fabric of Phil’s shirt.

There’s no pressure, none but the weight of Phil’s hand on his shoulder, when Dan says:

“I called my mum.”

Phil goes tense. “Oh,” he say. “How did that go?”

Dan swallows. “I don’t know.”

He really doesn’t. His chest feels too full with contradictions, the weight of past accusations crashing up against her understanding tone and he doesn’t know what to think anymore. He’s never been sure how to exist around her, not since pain first settled in his bones and she told him it was growing pains, it would pass, it would get better.

And it never did.

“I haven’t talked to her since I told her I was staying in Manchester,” he says, maybe as an afterthought, maybe because it’s felt heavy on his shoulders since he answered the phone.

“Was she nicer this time?”

He nods. Another tear falls. “She’s texting me my medical history,” says Dan. “She offered, because she– she knew I had trouble writing and remembering.”

Phil hums. His breath has gone even again. His mouth is close to the top of Dan’s head. He sounds hesitant when he speaks. “It sounds like she cares.”

Dan feels that, sharp and painful in his gut. Another tear rolls down his cheek, and his breath catches, and Phil holds him tighter like he’s scared Dan will fall apart.

Maybe he will.

It’s been so long,

He’s been so that sure she doesn’t actually care.

Now, he doesn’t know what to think.

---

His mum texts him.

Dan almost cries. His teeth dig into his lip and his ribs ache and he stares, wide-eyed, at the list of diagnoses and unexplained symptoms he’s had over the years. There’s the migraines they never treated at the beginning, the lightheadedness it took them four years to explain, the instructions to do more exercise that dot the whole six years that he’s been ill.

The first time he went to therapy, and the antidepressants they put him on, and the second time he went to therapy.

And every time he told his doctor he was still sick after that.

Phil’s hand lands on his wrist, gently pushing the phone from Dan’s line of sight. His voice is barely a whisper when he says: “Are you okay?”

Dan swallows. His throat aches.

Laid out like this, it doesn’t look that bad, a distant voice in his head that’s haunted him for too long tries to remind him that maybe he’s just making it all up. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. But Dan can remember the A&E doctor who turned him away because it was growing pains. Can remember the so many times his blood pressure was low before anyone bothered to point it out.

The time his doctor looked at him and said–

“Can we do something?” says Dan. “I want to– I need a distraction.”

Phil nods. In Dan’s peripheral, his phone screen goes black. The knot in his chest loosens, just a bit.

“Wanna play video games?” says Phil.

He shakes his head. “Wanna go out. It’s been too long.”

Phil’s brows furrow, like he’s about to point out that there’s a reason it’s been so long, about to warn Dan that he doesn’t want to make himself sick before such an important day.

Except part of Dan does. He’s done it before, forced himself to be in pain because maybe that way the doctors would actually see that he wasn’t lying. Not that it’s ever worked.

“Please?” he says.

Phil squeezes his wrist. “Okay.” His thumb drifts across Dan’s, careful and comforting. “Where do you want to go?”

---

Dan squeezes into his skinny jeans, even though the fabric burns his legs. He pulls a shirt over his head for what feels like the first time in forever. Though his knees are shaky, he bends down to tie his own laces, as Phil watches from where he’s leaning against the door.

“Are you sure about this?”

He reaches out, without a word, to help Dan stand again.

“I’m sure,” says Dan. “And don’t worry, you won’t need to take me to A&E this time.”

The corner of Phil’s mouth quirks up, and Dan knows he’s forcing it. He can feel his worry in the too-tight clench of Phil’s hand around his, the way his gaze trips over Dan legs when he wobbles as he stands.

He squeezes Phil’s fingers, forcing a smile of his own, as he opens the door.

It’s warm outside. The sky’s going purple as the sun sinks below the city. Dan realizes, staring up at it, that he hasn’t left the flat since he trip to A&E, hasn’t enjoyed being outside in far too long.

If his joints would let him, he’d suggest they walk around a bit. Instead, he stares up at the clouds and reminds himself to spend more evenings, when the sun won’t burn his eyes, on their little balcony, just to feel the wind against his cheeks again.

Phil tugs on his hand when the cab pulls up in front of them. They pile in, side by side in the back seat. Dan doesn’t put on his seatbelt. He can’t be bothered to deal with the harsh rub of fabric against his ribs.

His chest is still tight, the quiet buzz of anxiety at the back of his mind growing louder. He can still feel his phone, heavy in his pocket, can still imagine the text he hasn’t yet responded to. He can remember their last movie night, laughing and gasping and falling asleep with Phil’s hands trying to massage the pain away.

They hadn’t even gone out last time.

Dan stares out the window and hopes he can keep his promise that it’ll be okay this time.

They slip out of the car at the cinema. Phil pays the driver. Dan leans against the wall as he waits, wondering if the lines inside are long. It’s been so long since he’s been to the cinema, he can hardly imagine it anymore. The screens usually hurt his eyes and the audio gives him a headache and he doesn’t care today.

“You okay?”

Phil’s smiling at him, standing by the door. He holds it open for Dan, and buys their tickets for a random comedy neither of them particularly wanted to see. He lets Dan go find a seat as he buys them popcorn, soda, and a chocolate bar to share. He hands it over, in the darkness of the theatre, with a smile.

Between them, their knees bump together as the film starts.

---

They’re holding hands when it ends.

Dan’s eyes are starting to burn and his chest aches from laughing, but the voices in his head have dulled just enough that he can breathe a little easier. He doesn’t think about the appointment he needs to show up to tomorrow, or the doctor he hasn’t met yet who might dash his hopes all over again.

He stares at their joined hands as the cinema empties, smiling.

“You ready to go home?” says Phil.

Dan shrugs. He probably should give his spine a break by sinking into the sofa again, close his eyes against the bright lights of the city before a headache wells in his temples. But he doesn’t want to sit in the dark and wait until tomorrow, letting his fears return.

“Can we get pizza?”

“You up to walk?”

He nods. Phil helps him to his feet and leads him out of the cinema. He knows Manchester better than Dan does, and tells a story about coming to watch movies with Ian when he was younger as they find the nearest pizza place. Dan listens, maybe more attentively than he needs to, to keep his mind from going hazy as the city moves around him.

There’s still a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dan wonders if him of a few years ago would have believed that he’d end up here.

The restaurant they end up in is small and quiet, and they slide into a booth in the corner of the room. Dan sinks back against the cushion, realizing that Phil’s smiling, too.

His chest feels warm. His fingers twist in the tablecloth, because part of him misses holding Phil’s hand.

“Thanks for tonight,” says Dan. “I had fun.”

Under the table, Phil knocks their feet together.

“I did too,” he says.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #flares #callie writes words #sorry I haven't been online much #turns out when irl is going either better or worse than just fine i don't find much tumblr time

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collectionofdestiel · 6 years

Text

Silver Ring

“Dean?” A small voice called out through the darkness. There was no sound thrown back at him, no echo or reply. All that clouded his vision and thoughts were silence. An impending silence that caged his heart and froze his fingertips.

“Please, Dean, come back.” The words he were speaking weren’t coming from his mouth, his lips werent moving. But it was his voice, his voice laced in a distant memory. For the first time since Castiel had laid his eyes on Dean Winchester, he was numb.

“Dean, we can work this out. Don’t walk out that door.” Again his voice crackled through the darkness in heartbroken static. He didnt know where he was, how he had gotten here, but he did know that he was dying.

“Please.” This time his voice was softer, more crackled and weak. Like the last word spoken from a soul that was giving up.

“Dean.” Castiel closed his eyes, or tried to only to be met with the same darkness surrounding him.

For a split second he thought he saw a spark of green, felt the comfort of a familiar heartbeat, before he heard his savior whisper, “Cas”, and then even the darkness faded away.

“Mornin’.” Dean spoke leisurely as he strolled into the kitchen of the bunker. The mask he had perfected over a lifetime of misery fit perfectly across his aging features. “We gotta hunt?”

Sam didnt move. He didn’t set down his paper or even pretend to acknowledge his brother. Instead he sipped at his coffee and kept his eyes low.

Shrugging, Dean poured himself a cup of breakfast and took a seat across from his younger brother. The lack of sleep and trace of tears were clouding his vision and making pretending everything was okay almost impossible for him. But he bit it back. He bit back all the longing and heartbreak and guilt and misery. Just like he always has.

“I’m thinking about taking a trip to see Jody and the kiddos.” Roughness lined his voice as Dean eyed his brother carefully. “Get outta the bunker and get some fresh air.”

“Don’t.” Sam’s voice was dangerously low, catching Dean offguard. “Don’t sit there and talk to me like it’s another day. You know what you did.”

“Sammy-”

Sam slammed his mug onto the table, coffee spraying as the glass shattered. “Dont, Dean!”

Both brothers stared at each other, neither quite knowing where this was going. For a long couple minutes they both seemed to communicate the disaster that was filling the air of the bunker.

Finally Dean broke. “I had to do it.”

Shaking his head, Sam chuckled darkly. “No, asshole, you didn’t.”

“It’s over! It should have never started!” All the rage and sadness finally broke through the surface of Dean’s facade. Shooting up from his chair Dean paced the kitchen with his face in his hands. “He doesnt love me, Sam! Hell, i mean, maybe before there was a shot that he did but you know what he’s been doing! Disappearing all the time! Barely speaking to me let alone touching me! For fuck’s sake what was a i supposed to do? Let him end it! Wait around like some… like some lovestruck puppy that got kicked in the face?”

Taking a deep breath, Sam stood from his seat. He didnt speak until Dean caught his eyes. “He wasnt cheating on you. And he sure as hell didn’t fall out of love with you.”

“Then what, huh?” Voice cracking, Dean felt the tears start to surface, felt the bile build in the back of his throat. “Then why wasn’t he loving me?”

“He bought a ring.” Sam didn’t want to say it, to let the secret he was entrusted with slip, but he couldn’t stand to see this unfold. He knew that the two of them were stubborn and shitty at showing how much they truly cared. “He was nervous, had doubts, was trying to work up the nerve to ask you.”

“What?” Dean’s chest started to inflate until he thought he would burst. Looking into his brother’s eyes he saw only the truth. “He bought a ring?”

Nodding, Sam peered down at his destroyed mug. “Couple months ago.”

Staring at nothing in particular, Dean traced back when his boyfriend had started to grow distant. He started to analyze every exchange they had. “Fuck.” The word left his lips in a breath. “Fuck!” His feet carried him before his mind quite caught up.

Sam shook his head and started for the paper towels. He prayed it wasn’t too late.

The darkness subsided as the hours passed. Upon opening his eyes he was greeted with the ceiling of a motel room. Not any ceiling, but the ceiling he saw after the first night he made love to Dean. It was stained, beat down, and almost ironically ruined.

Breathing came back to him a while after that. Stale air, oxygen he didn’t want to inhale. Of all the movies and pop culture references of heartbreak he had learned over the years, Cas wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the way his whole world was suddenly meaningless. As if he had jumped off of life and was standing still somewhere outside of time.

Maybe someday he would get up. Maybe someday he wouldn’t open his eyes and forget that Dean Winchester would never be sleeping on the pillow beside him. Maybe… but not today.

Today he planned on simply existing. Even that seemed like a chore but it was the bare minimum he could accomplish. Maybe he would go back to heaven, maybe he would walk the earth. The more maybes he conjured up the more tears ate at his eyes.

What was that one saying? “There are plenty of ways to die, but only love can kill you and keep you alive to feel it”? Was that how it went? Castiel thought it was just in this moment. He felt dead, he felt as though his life stopped, and yet he was still blinking away the hell that the hole in his heart left for him.

“CAS?!” Dean’s raw voice pierced through the chilled evening. It had been weeks since he walked out on his angel, weeks since he had been searching and clawing at hints to find him and bring him home.

“Cas! Please, sweetheart!” The tears had dried up a while ago, only leaving him with empty sobs. Defeat was starting to rip at his heart.

His mouth couldn’t stand to open anymore. Dropping to his knees, Dean succumbed to the darkness.

Castiel was walking about the motel room now, picking things up before dropping them. There was no weight to anything anymore. For a while it seemed that life had lost its dimensions.

Then it came. Something he hadn’t heard in so long he almost forgot to listen for it. A prayer.

“Please, Cas, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I need you. I was stupid and fucking wrong and, shit, I can’t believe that I did this. I didn’t know… about the ring. I thought that you were separating from me because you didn’t want me anymore.” Even in Dean’s head his voice was hoarse. “I mean, you’re a perfect angel, always have been and always will be, and i know that I need to work on my self confidence but when you started to get distant I freaked out. I freaked out because the thought of you breaking up with me… it destroyed every good thing I had built for myself. I’m sorry, Cas. Please. Please come home.”

Castiel’s eyes widened as the prayer dissolved. The ring was warm from its place in his breast pocket. Still there, after all this time. Taking a deep breath, Castiel closed his eyes and pictured the only home he had ever had.

The sound of fluttering wings only made Dean pinch his eyes tighter shut. From his position curled under a mountain of blankets in his bed, he had been going crazy over the idea of Cas coming back to him. For hours he has heard that sound and looked up onto to see nothing. As if his mind wanted to torture him.

The stillness in the room only made breathing under the blankets more unbearable. But he didn’t plan on moving. He would continue his search for his angel later. Maybe they just needed some time. Dean kept repeating that line, over and over until it hurt his head. He couldn’t believe that it was over. Not yet. Not until he scoured the earth.

“I bought the silver band.” Cas’ rough voice made Dean tense up completely. “They kept trying to push gold on me. They kept repeating that that was what a wedding band should look like for a man. I didn’t tell them then that I wasnt buying a ring for just a man. I was buying a ring for a hero, a hunter, my Dean. I bought the silver because it suited you. I had sigils etched around the inside, all of which are enochian. Their meaning is that I, alone, will always watch over you. I, alone, will be there through all the horrors and joys and never leave your side.

“It didn’t occur to me when I had those etched that I would go back on that promise before I even gifted you the ring.” The bed dipped as Castiel let a sigh slip. “I should have stayed. I should have made you listen to me when you left. But I thought that I had failed you. I didn’t know that you were so upset about my distance, I didn’t even quite realize I was so distant. I had planning to do, people to contact. I traveled to Heaven and asked Bobby his permission to marry you. I called Jody and Garth. I was so busy planning, taking all the steps to ask you to be mine, that I lost track of us.”

Dean tried to sit up, but the confession brought back the tears he thought were all gone. Instead he sucked in his sobs and grimaced at the waves of hurt and relief barreling through him.

“If you do not want to be my husband, I will understand. I would never force your hand on such a matter.” The weight lifted from the bed, followed by careful footsteps. They stopped on the side of the bed Dean was curled on. “Dean?”

With as much strength as he could muster, Dean peeked out from the blankets to meet the bloodshot eyes of his angel. There was no preparing him for how much he had missed that sight. Staring at each other, Castiel lifted a plain black box between them.

“Dean Winchester, will you marry me?”

Opening his mouth to reply, he found that it was too sore to speak. Instead, Dean lunged from his haven into the arms of his angel. His sobs answered the question as his head nodded repeatedly.

Castiel smiled, feeling the weight of life back in his arms.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #im BACK!#got a new tablet and im finally at a place in life where i have the time and space to write #hopefully more will be coming back out #prompts still accepted #cant wait to get back into the flow #sorry this was so angsty #happy ending tho of course

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kennethherrerablog · 5 years

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Thinx, Flex, and Other Period Alternatives: Are They Worth It?

Although more than half the world’s population has to deal with them on a monthly basis, menstrual periods aren’t often discussed — nor is their effect on menstruators’ wallets. Purchasing pads, tampons and other flow-absorbing devices is a financial burden most men don’t have to worry about, and those expenses can really add up over time.

What’s worse, since they’re considered “luxury” products, pads and tampons are ineligible for the tax-exempt status granted to most other necessities, like groceries, in the majority of the United States. And while average expenditure estimates on period products vary significantly, it’s not hard to see that menstruating is, under this model, pretty darn expensive.

Let’s say you buy one box of tampons every two months at $7 a box. Let’s also say you menstruate for 40 years, between the ages of 12 and 52. The math doesn’t lie: $7 a box x 6 boxes a year x 40 years = $1,680 over a lifetime. And since most people rely on a variety of different menstruation fixes — pads and liners in addition to tampons, for example — the figure is a bare minimum.

Not to mention the fact that pads and tampons create an incredible amount of waste, which is less than less than ideal for our planet. Case in point: The average consumer will use between 12,000 and 16,000 disposable period products over the course of a lifetime, per reusable pad company Gladrags. (That’s at an estimated cost of between $2,333 and $3,111.)

There’s gotta be a better way. Right?

Thinx and Other Period-Friendly Panties: The Way of the Future?

One way to ditch the extra expense and waste of traditional pads and tampons? Build their absorbency right into the undergarments usually worn with them. That’s the idea behind THINX, a period underwear company started in 2014 — and a host of other brands like Dear Kate and Knix Leakproof.

For this article, we’ll focus primarily on THINX, one of the most popular options on the burgeoning period-panty market. THINX products start at $24 and go up to $39 per pair, allegedly holding anywhere between one-half and two tampons’ worth of fluid. The company also sells other period-friendly garments at higher prices, like training shorts ($65) and leotards ($60).

So: They’re not cheap. But considering the cost of the pads and tampons we’re throwing away almost immediately, they could be worth it.

But do they actually work? And are they comfortable? Will they hold up to multiple menstrual periods without getting smelly or stained?

We spoke to a variety of THINX users to find out.

These Folks Tried THINX, and Here’s What They… Think

We’ll start with the good news: All of our correspondents reported that their THINX were useful, reliable, odor-free, and that they held up well in the wash — even when they ignored the instructions to hand wash and tossed them in a regular cycle.

And the bad news, you ask? THINX might not be viable as a total period product replacement. It all depends on your body, of course, but most of our sources seemed skeptical about using them without any other flow-blocking measures.

So period panties might not be able to totally offset the expense of disposables. But they can still serve some very valuable purposes, penny-pinching included.

Here’s how.

They Control Leaks — and Stop Stains from Breaking Your Budget

Clinical psychologist Allison He Glickman, 29, of San Francisco was sick and tired of trashing perfectly good underwear, pajama, and bedsheets “as a result of “the exuberance of [her] menses.”

“I thought that Thinx panties could provide a backup to my other hardworking menstrual products,” she writes in an email.

After all, trashing all those stained items cost her tons over time. She estimates she was spending about $136 per year on pads and tampons, and an additional $50 or so per year on underwear replacements.

So she made a one-time purchase of $42 on two pairs of THINX — and was delighted when the company sent her four pairs by accident. Although she doesn’t use the panties as a total replacement for pads and tampons, they do relieve her anxiety about ruining her underwear and sheets.

Dietitian Karen Neunzig also thanks her THINX for keeping her primary panties pretty — and helping her keep her chill about stains while she’s at work or at yoga practicing downward dog.

Depending on where she is in her cycle, she might use them alone or in conjunction with a tampon. Either way, she says, they’re “worth every penny. I actually bought some for my sister and best friend too!”

They Can Make Transitioning Easier

THINX markets their products towards “people with periods” — language that piqued the interest of menstruating transgender person Zo Dikitsas, 25, who received their first pair of THINX as a Christmas present from a friend and found the product immensely helpful.

“Tampons make me feel more dysphoric and also hurt a little bit once I started to take testosterone,” says Dikitsas, who lives in Columbus, Ohio. “Pads didn’t work out so well because they slide around in my boxer briefs and didn’t effectively catch the blood from my period.”

Plus, transitioning meant that Dikitsas’ public bathroom options weren’t usually equipped with tampon machines — and that dose of testosterone meant the bleeding was unpredictable. “I would realize I was on my period and try to improvise with toilet paper,” Dikitsas says, before “driving around bleeding trying to run and go get some tampons last minute.”

They’re Great for Sleeping In

Photographer Amanda Shields, 31, originally purchased THINX so she wouldn’t have to sleep with uncomfortable pads. She estimates she was spending about $300 per year on disposable devices.

As it turned out, the underwear worked for her not just overnight, but all the time. “They are super comfortable,” the Michigan woman says, reporting that they stay dry and feel like normal underwear. And unlike most of our other sources, Shields finds she’s often able to use them on their own. “I think they work as well, if not better, than advertised,” she says. “I can usually get away with mine all day even on a moderate flow day with no other products.”

Thinking Twice? Try Other Period Alternatives

While it’s clear that THINX can be a helpful tool, they may not be right for you. But there are a variety of other period-product alternatives that may be more cost-effective, eco-friendly or comfortable.

The Diva Cup and Other Menstrual Cups

The Diva Cup, and other menstrual cups like it, is one well-known device that promises monetary savings as well as waste reduction. Many consumers swear by them. But some people — myself included — find them hard to properly place or uncomfortable, and having to boil the cup to clean it can be inconvenient and awkward.

The Penny Hoarder staffer Carson Kohler thought the cup-cleaning process sounded like a hassle, and she wasn’t convinced that period panties wouldn’t feel like pads. But she was frustrated by the amount she was spending on tampons and panty liners and conscious of how those disposables were piling up in a landfill.

Menstrual Discs, Including Flex

So when an ad (and discount trial code) for Flex menstrual discs popped up on her social-media feed, she decided to give them a shot. And while they’re actually more expensive than her previous period solution, she hasn’t looked back since.

Before starting with Flex, she estimates she spent about $84 per year on tampons alone, not counting other expenses associated with her period. After her discounted trial box, she signed up for a 24-pack quarterly subscription, which costs $35 a shipment, or $140 per year.

Despite the added expense, Kohler writes, “It’s worth it.” The Flex product is much more eco-friendly, only requires two daily changes, and — best of all — comes with the convenience of delivery.

“It comes to my door every three months,” Kohler says, “so I don’t worry about… rush[ing] to CVS late at night because I have no supplies.” Because it’s… well, flexible enough to move with the body and not as drying as tampons, Flex says the cup may help those with serious cramps and chronic infections feel more comfortable during menstruation.

Finally, don’t forget that the lowest-tech option can also be one of the best in terms of both monetary and planetary saving. Although newfangled options like GladRags and Lunapads have flooded the menstrual market, reusable cloth pads have been used for centuries — and maybe washing bloody fabric is better than dumping $1,700 or more in the trash.

Jamie Cattanach is a freelance writer whose work has been featured by Fodor’s, Yahoo, Self, The Motley Fool, Roads & Kingdoms and other outlets. Wave hi to @jamiecattanach on Twitter, or learn more at www.jamiecattanach.com.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

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Thinx, Flex, and Other Period Alternatives: Are They Worth It? published first on https://justinbetreviews.tumblr.com/

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