#logging on here just reminds me of it is all. im trying to slowly ease back in but everything feels different

[isabelguerra]

I hope this isn’t weird… but have you been doing.. okay? Your posts have shifted a lot since you started posting again

i drafted about 4 different responses to this but none of them were right. thank you for asking, genuinely. im not.

[nakedmossy]

Cruel Summer - Part 1 [JJ x Reader]

[A/N: Hi again. I've missed you. It was time for something new. I found this story in a dream. Prepare for a mental trip, it's indicative of the year i've had. This is gonna go in a million different directions and I can't say i'm surprised. Ive written two chapters and i'm already like ...well, fuck it i'm posting it...I needed to get back into writing and this is what I got so enjoy. I have a playlist I used while writing, comment if you want it shared. As always, not that any of us need the reminder....but there will be adult content (whatever that means) and language and NSFW content so...keep me off your screen at the dinner table. Love y'all ...Mossy x]

You ease your car into park, your hand resting on the gear shift, the tires slowly rocking back and forth on the soft ground as the engine dies. Sunlight streams through your windshield as a cloud of dust and sand settles around the car, and you feel a trapped breath release from deep in your chest. The quiet, melodic hum of music relaxes your shoulders and through the trees you can see the water rhythmically hitting the shore.

You haven’t been here in a few weeks and you're starting to feel it; the tight and uncomfortable tensing in your muscles, the locked jaw, the flat expressions. The closer it gets to the anniversary the more you feel the need to visit. But the frequency of your visits is dictated by Her, and She keeps tabs on your whereabouts a lot these days. ‘Its not healthy to spend so much time there’ She would say to you, while pulling a Valium out of her bag to slide towards you. She has your therapist on speed dial on the landline. And she blames you for living in the past. Ironic.

You pull your keys out of the ignition, unbuckle your seatbelt, and let your muscle memory guide you out of the car and through the trees to the edge of the embankment where the sand and the sea grass take over. Flashes of Lacey running down the beach in front of you, looking back over her shoulder and laughing, are burned into your eyelids when you blink. She was everywhere here, every corner of this beach belonged to her. Her towel spread out on the sand at your feet, books with water damaged pages scattered across it, her bag tossed lazily to the side. Her board perched against the log you used to dry out your wetsuits. Her camera.

You close your eyes and listen to the wind move through the grass, her laugh echoing off the rocks. Come on! She would laugh with an outstretched arm. Come take a picture with me.

Her lips were supple and her nose was sun kissed, her hair bleached and tousled from the saltwater. She would motion for you to come over and you would go, because you always did, to fit into the frame next to her, cramming yourself in wherever you could after she found her best angle. She would hold up the camera and wrap her arm around you tightly, the smell of her tanning oil and sweat floating around you in a heady cloud, and at the last moment she would press her lips to your cheek and whisper cheese.

You blink and look at the water again, a seagull squawking as it flies over the empty beach. Reaching into your jeans pocket and feeling for the photo, you pull it out and look down, the moment she clicked the button frozen in time on the paper in your hand. Her side profile was radiant, the wind blowing her hair around her lips which were pressed to your face, you looked straight at the camera with a shy smile, a hidden smile, a quiet smile. An honest smile.

You run your thumb across the picture reflexively before sighing and putting the picture back in your pocket, it was one of the last photos you had together and it was one of the only ones you could clearly make out your own face. That always bothered you. Now you’ll never forget how happy we were today. I love you. She shook the polaroid until it was developed, then pressed it into your chest and winked, waiting for you to grab ahold of it, before turning on her heal and running towards the water.

Your chest burns for a moment before you straighten up and set your jaw. You feel good today, closer to her than usual. Today might be the day. You follow the path through the dunes towards the water and concentrate on the tide, watching the foam and the water snake along the shoreline. It’s windy, but not as windy as it usually is this time of day. The sky, clear and clean of any clouds, is the colour of blue that reminds you what happiness is. Or was, you know, before all the shit happened. When life was something you had the ability to process, sometimes even enjoy.

Now or never. Your head whips up at the sound of her voice and you see her, standing in the water. You feel the blood rush to your face, your core warming. There she is, running a hand up her stomach towards her chest and smiling at you, the kind of smile that would get good people into bad situations.

Slowly you slide your sneakers off and kick them aside, wiggling the sand between your toes. You’re not wearing a bikini but the beach is empty, so you close your eyes and listen to Lacey laughing from the water, come on scaredy cat, nobodies looking, as you peel your top off and drop it into the sand beside your shoes. You unbutton your shorts next and let them slide down your legs, stepping out of them hesitantly.

Lacey walks out of the water, so you keep your eyes closed, knowing if you open them she will be gone, and you wait for her to bite her lip and smile at you. There. Look at your body. You’re beautiful. Come on. She guides you towards the water with nothing but her own bare skin and confidence, nothing could ever touch her. You know its only a few steps until your feet are in the water, you should open your eyes and look around to make sure nobody is watching, but you don’t get to see her often anymore between the Valium and the other stuff, so you forgo it for a few more seconds. Today is the day, you have to do it. Time is running out. She’s all but told you as much.

“I miss you” You say, but your voice sounds foreign and it breaks and scatters into the wind.

Im right here. Lacey smiles at you like she always did, her crooked dimpled grin, her perfectly straight white teeth, her eyes shining. Now shut up and get in the water.

You feel the warm dry sand turn to wet firm sand beneath your feet, you know you’re close. It’s ours, all of it. The water. Just let go and let the Ocean carry you. You’re weightless. Isn’t it perfect?

Your breathing is shallow and your palms are clammy. There’s a tingling sensation in your thighs and you feel dizzy. You have to open your eyes. No, don’t. Not yet. Stay with me.

The water touches your toes and your eyes shoot open, you recoil and lose your footing, falling backwards. You crab crawl away from the water until the tide retreats and you feel your vision tunnelling as Lacey fades into the sunbeam above the water.

You scramble back to your clothes and pull your shorts above your sand stained underwear, your shirt smoothing your hair down as it settles back over your shoulders. You take a few deep breaths until your heart rate slows down. A tear springs up and sits in your eye for a few moments before falling and drying on your cheek. The beach is the best place to cry. The ocean is loud so nobody hears you, and the sun is hot so the tears dry fast.

You don’t want to turn around and look back at the water, you know she won’t be there. You’re alone, properly alone, just like she said you would be, psychic bitch. If she hadn’t been so charismatic and beautiful and conveniently wealthy, people would have outcasted her for being a freak a long time ago. What with all the tealeaves and palm readings and ‘gut feelings’. But they never did, her family had more money than the Kennedys and she looked like she walked runways for fun on the weekends, so she was untouchable. Your stomach starts to turn as you think about it so you blink the ground in front of you back into focus and start walking.

You have a few minutes of freedom left before She starts calling and asking where you are, so you walk slow to savour it. Who knows when you would be allowed out long enough again to go back.

You emerge from the tree cover into the parking area, pondering how many different routes you can take to get home to elongate the drive, when you hear a car door close. You look up, pulled from your thoughts, and squint to see through the bright sun.

“‘Scuse me!” A voice says, deep and friendly. A silhouette is moving towards you, so you bring your hand up to block the sun from your eyes. “Hey, sorry, do you live around here?”

You blink a few times as the silhouette gets closer and make out the figure of a tall man with wispy hair and baggy shorts.

“Sorry?” You reply, still trying to get a clear image.

“Im just trying to find the Marina but I have taken at least 5 of these side roads and all I keep finding is empty damn parking lots.” The man stops a few feet from you, close enough that you can make out a tan face with a toothy grin, and blonde hair. “First one with a pretty girl though, so I must be going the right way.” He smiles at you confidently, shielding his own eyes from the sun, but still squinting.

You look back over your shoulder to the beach, confirming Lacey is gone. You turn and look at the man who is watching you intently, hopefully, and smile quietly.

“Yeah, it’s uh…its just back on the main road, go 3 clicks south and take a right at the fork. You’ll see a fancy sign for a beach club, it’s just past that.” You look past him to the old Ford truck with rusted wheel wells and smile to yourself. “Assuming you’re not going to the beach club.”

The man laughs and smiles, looking over your shoulder at the beach before his eyes settle back on you. “Nope. Never been to one of those…legally.” He winks and backs up a few steps, then nods and says “Thanks” before turning and walking back towards his truck. He slows as he reaches it and stops, then turns back and pivots before jogging back to you.

You wait and watch, curious. He stops a few steps away and stretches out his hand.

“Sorry. That was rude of me. Im JJ.”

[desiraypark]

Earth Angel

Continuation of SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL Characters: Flip Zimmerman x Mae (OC - Blk/F) Content: Fluffy/romantic; then a nasty lil’ quickie (PIV sex; FeedFlipSomeTiddies1975) Inspiration: Me telling some friends that this photoshoot (particularly the shirtless with hand in pocket photo) gave me “fuck you in the back of a Volkswagen on the way to Woodstock” energy lol

January 2, 1975 Dear Mae, I hope you had a good New Year’s Eve. And day. Also hope these letters haven’t been too much. I just think about you a lot I just enjoy talking to you. But anyway, I was thinking about my New Year’s resolutions. I’ve never really been big on them but thought 1975 would be the year I give one or two a try. Before I knew it, I got the crazy idea to go on a road trip. From Colorado Springs to Miami, perhaps? Shouldn’t take more than a few days--depending on how often we stop. Before I start stalling and using up this entire sheet to talk about bullshit, I’m going to come right on out and ask if you’d like to join me. I know it sounds crazy. But it would be nice to have some companionship and I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to see the country with. Let me know. Call me a fucking fool if needed.  Best Regards, Flip _____________________ January 16, 1975

Flip Honey, 

I’m definitely going to call you a fucking fool. You ARE a fucking fool. But God looks out for babies and fools, or however that phrase goes. I thought long and hard when I got your letter and you’ve got your answer: yes. I’d love to go on a road trip with you. Because I’m a fool, too. Spend a little change and call me when you get this, honey. You know the number. Better Regards, Mae

FEBRUARY 1975 Flip flew Mae out to Colorado Springs--her first plane ride. He’d temporarily exchanged his truck for a friend’s Volkswagen Transporter and filled it with supplies, dry foods, and toiletries. 

He was like an excited kid at the airport, waiting for Mae to walk through--and boy, did she! She wore a heavy red coat with some kind of fur at the collar and had her hair pinned up like a Park Avenue socialite. She had on a navy skirt or a dress, and some black high-heeled boots. “Look at you!” she said, meeting him halfway.  “Look at you,” he responded, wrapping his arms around her. “Looking great, as always.” It was about 4:30 when she and Flip arrived to his house. They’d picked up a pizza, sat in front of the television with it, and talked until they fell asleep. Eventually, they moved to the bedroom.  “No funny business, now,” Mae had said. Flip laughed. “You’d be too tired to keep up.” But they didn’t try a thing. Even with Mae’s perfect ass against him, and Flip’s strong arm holding her close, they didn’t try a thing. They slept through the night and hit the road for St. Louis (and whatever was in between) at 6:00AM on the dot. They got to St. Louis at about seven in the evening and stopped at a diner. 

“Thank you for saying yes to this, Mae,” Flip said before biting into a crispy chicken sandwich. She nodded.  “Thank you for askin’, Flip.” The lamp above them was dusty, but it made Mae look like an angel. Flip looked over her face. Every inch of it. And Mae felt him staring. The blood rushed to her cheeks and she looked down at her seasoned fries. “Why are you acting shy?” he asked. Mae shrugged. “Because you’re lookin’ at me all...I don’t know...”  Flip’s chest bounced, but no sound came out. Only a grin formed on his face--he was slightly amused by the sight. A woman who’d bounced up and down on him every night in Miami, suddenly blushing and averting her eyes over dinner. But he knew what had her blushing. They both knew that the air was different between them. And it wasn’t just because of the St. Louis cookin’. 

They finished off their food, got some gas, and found a motel to stay in. Even though they both know good and well they wanted to fuck each other’s brains out, the ride had worn them down a little. Especially Flip. Once again, they climbed in bed (well, on top of the bed, because Mae didn’t trust the sheets), and drifted off. ____________________ The Next Morning Flip and Mae hit the road just before sunrise. The road was empty and as much as Mae wanted to see the beautiful morning sky, she fell back asleep. Eventually, Flip turned the car radio on and hummed the songs to himself. Soon, the disk jockey decided to take him back about twenty years--when he was a tall, lanky kid who had nothing to get into but trouble. “Eaaarth angel, earth angel...will you be miiiine...my darling dear, love you all the ti-ime...” Flip perked up, turned the volume up and sang quietly to himself. He even tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you...” he sang along. He glanced in Mae’s direction. She was slumped in the seat, the top of her head facing him. One of the buttons of her flannel shirt had popped open because her tits were so damned big. He looked back at the road and shook his head at his own self. He knew what was happening. Passion rushed his veins. His brain was foggy with adulation. Then, he looked gave her one more glance. She looked so good. Flip scanned every road sign he drove by for the next few miles--hoping for an indication of a truck stop or something. And there it was--a park en route! He followed the signs to the public park and drove through in search of a place to park. It took little time for him to find the park’s most discreet area--a wide open circle of dirt adjacent to a seemingly endless forest. 

It was early in the morning. No one else was there. Just the birds and insects that flitted and flew from tree to tree. Flip parked the van and tapped Mae’s thigh. Her eyes popped open quickly. “Mae?” “Yeah?” she asked yawning. “What’s wrong?!” “If I don’t get your tits in my mouth right now, I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.” _____________________ Mae was nothing but nerves as her and Flip climbed into one of the back seats. Mae started undoing her pants, but Flip grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying. “Flip!” she cried. He grunted and pushed the cups of her bra up--causing her breasts to spill out. Then, he wrapped his lips around her left nipple, massaging the entire breast in the process. Mae ran her fingers through his hair, and watched him feast like a starving man. He held onto her breast as though it were going to run away from him, and moved his mouth to the other one--also giving the nipple a hard suck.  “Shit, Flip,” Mae whispered. “I missed you so much...” “Me, too Babygirl. Me, too...” he mumbled. 

He devoured her breasts for a few minutes before removing his belt and undoing his jeans. Mae lifted her leg--pulling it closer to her, and unzipped her boot. Flip grabbed the heel and pulled it off. They repeated the process on her other boot--which was hanging over the back of the seat. As Mae worked at her own jeans--pushing the denim and her panties down to the floor simultaneously--Flip pulled out his wallet, yanked out a condom and slid it on. He sucked his index and middle finger and shoved it into Mae’s pussy. She let out quiet moans as he worked her open, preparing her for him.  “I want you to get on top. You think you can handle that?” he asked.  “You know I can.” Flip bit his bottom lip and pulled his fingers out. Jeans stuck around his knees, he sat up and pressed his ass down on the leather seats. Mae sat up, straddled him, and gave him a hot, wet kiss. Flip held her hips and slowly--carefully--eased her down onto his rock-hard length. “Fuck...” they both groaned. Mae worked over him a little--trying to find comfort as he split her open like a log for firewood. Then, she began to bounce. He grabbed her hips and stared at her face. He couldn’t stare into her eyes--she had then squeezed shut, and was biting her lip.  “There you go, beautiful,” he mumbled. He gave her ass a slap.  “Mmph!” she hummed. She rested against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck--groaning and clenching her teeth every time his tip hit the right spot. “Are you holding your moans in?” he asked. She was. But she wasn’t conscious of it until he asked. Suddenly, she realized the van was also bouncing and squeaking. Her eyes popped open and she scanned their surroundings. “There’s nobody out here,” Flip said, moving his hands directly onto her ass. He guided her up and down, and up and down--harder and faster. “Shit!” she shouted. “That’s right. Make all the noise you need to. Don’t hold that shit in. Didn’t I tell you in Florida?” he asked, his gruff voice booming so close to her ear that it made her temporal lobes feel like they were vibrating. “I’m gonna make you scream my name every time.” He smacked her ass hard. “Every...time.” “Oh, God...” Mae moaned. She fell against his chest again and closed her eyes--temporarily removing her own sense of sight so that touch was enhanced. She felt Flip’s chest moving up and down under hers; the calloused flesh of his large palms holding and kneading her ass cheeks; his dick dragging along her walls. Then, a hand moved away from her ass. He shoved it into the tight space between them and found her clit.  “Fuck!” Mae shouted. She sat up and stared into his dilated pupils. Her breasts smacked his chin until he stuck his tongue out and was able to capture one her nipples again.  Mae’s bouncing slowed down. She leaned across him once more, lifted her lower body just before the head of his dick came out of her, and expertly slid back down. Flip let go of her breast to let out an expletive.  “Do that shit again,” he said, throwing his head back and staring up at her. She did as requested--lifting off of him almost completely, then sliding back down. She did it one more time, and before she could lift a fourth time, Flip wrapped his arms around her waist, kept her down, and began to thrust up into her. “Aaah!” she cried. He dug deep inside of her, making her feel every pulse and every drag against her velvety walls--reminding her of what she hadn’t been getting for months. His pace was moderate, but each thrust was deep. He abruptly paused his stroke, grabbed her hair, and tilted his chin up. “You feel that dick deep inside of you, baby?” he whispered freakishly low. He pressed into her deeper. Deeper than she realized was possible. “Yes...” she squealed. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck. “Does it feel good?”  “Yes, Flip, yes...” she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief. Flip gripped her scalp and banged into her one hard time. “Can’t hear you...” he said, his voice going above a whisper. “YES! FUCK!” she began to grind into him. “I wanna come, Flip. Please, make me come. Please!” Mae pleaded. Flip picked up his pace again, and Mae met his thrusts.  “Lean back and let me see you rub that pretty clit,” he said. “I’ve got you.” Mae leaned back and Flip held her with a palm against her lower back--making sure she didn’t fall backward. As she bounced her squelching pussy on his length, she rubbed her clit with the pads of her fingers. In no time, the heat began to build up in her belly. She tightened around him, and worked herself toward her release, screaming to the van’s ceiling. As she came, he drilled into her hard. “Fliiiiip! Yesssssssss!” she squealed, breasts bouncing all over the place. “Fffuuuuck!”

Flip began pumping shallow thrusts up into her--surrendering to the rush that soon fell over him. Mae looked down with a sweet (and pleased) smile as she rode out her wave--enjoying the spurt of warmth that filled her up. She could tell that it was a lot, too. Only a thin layer of protection keeping their sweet saps from merging and creating something more. 

Flip pulled her back to him and devoured her mouth. Then, they took a few minutes to catch their breath. Soon, they put their clothes back on. Mae had to dig in her suitcase for another shirt. Despite the place still being empty, Flip discreetly tossed his condom in a large garbage bin nearby. He climbed into the van and looked over at Mae. She returned the glance and burst into laughter, and he did the same. 

“Need me to drive, big boy?” she asked smirking.  “No. You just sit back and look pretty for me,” Flip said. He slapped her thigh and started the Volkswagen back up. 

They left the park warm and satisfied, and made their way down to Tennessee. 

____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless @tsarinastorm If you’d like to be on any of my tag lists, please leave a comment on my Tag List Request post!

[patheticnugbaby]

Healer’s Hands

Continuation of Blood and Sand, just a little patching up session by the fire, introducing a random human scout named Russell Clarke, a Fereldan boy who hasn’t even seen twenty summers yet.

Hope you like it, reminder that you can send prompts to my inbox and I’ll type them up so long as they’re SFW

The scouts came racing up to them as soon as they spotted the group. Adahla only woke because of the sound of shouting.

“Inquisitor!”

“The inquisitor is hurt!”

“Inquisitor Lavellan!” Her eyes opened slowly, blinking the sand out of them as a stocky human scout approached them. “Inquisitor Lavellan, are you hurt?”

“I’ll be alright,” She croaked, then patted Solas’s arm, “I think I wan walk.”

“I’d prefer not to risk it, Inquisitor,” His tone was cool and professional as he stepped past the scout. “We need to rest.”

She huffed and folded her arms, ignoring the sudden bloom of pain when she touched the bruised area. He brought her to a cot laid out by the fire, setting her down before he started to rifle through the satchel next to it, a healer’s satchel.

The scout who’d come up earlier cautiously circled around around to her other side, adding a few small logs to their fire. He took a seat next to the cot, stirring the fire with a stick. He was young, too young to be out on the Hissing Wastes.

A sharp, medicinal scent suddenly stung her nose and she looked down to Solas, grinding some herbs in a mortar and pestle, “What’re you doing, Solas?”

“The camp’s healer is assisting elsewhere, Inquisitor. I intend on dressing your wound,”

“That can wait until morning. Solas, you look exhausted,” There were bags under his eyes, they looks a little red with fatigue. If she looked a little harder she might say she could see a slight tremor in his arms.

“It is no matter,” He insisted with a sharpness to his tone that made her drop the subject.

Adahla searched for her other companions, she hadn’t checked with them since she came too. Cassandra was over by the tents, going over the journal with one of the older looking scouts. Cole she could barely make out at the outskirts of the camp, seeming to be calming their mounts. She leaned back on her hands, listening to the soft sound of stone grinding on stone, broken by the low crackle of the fire. To her right the scout still sat near her cot, stirring the fire with his stick.

“What’s your name?”

He jumped up, dropping his stick in the fire, “Me, your worship?”

“Yes, you,” She smiled a little, trying to ease his discomfort.

“Clarke, Ma’am, Russell Clarke,” The boy spoke with a heavy Fereldan accent, his voice quavered like he was afraid.

“You can sit back down, Clarke, I won’t bite you,” She gestured to his seat by the fire, which he hurriedly took, a dark red blooming on his cheeks.

“‘Course not, M’lady Inquisitor,” He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, poking the fire with a new stick.

“How’s a Fereldan boy like you end up in the ass end of Orlais?” She asked gently, trying to coax the poor lad into something of a more comfortable mood.

“‘Ow’d you? Oh. My accent, right,” Clarke poked the fire some more, looking out at the wide expanse of sand and rock, “Really is the ass end, innit?”

Adahla started to chuckle, then hissed, clutching her side. Solas shot her a glare, emptying the herbs into what looked like a small iron pot, using a pair of long tongs to set the container in the coals. He then stood, shrugging off his coat to wrap it around her shoulders.

She suddenly realized that from the waist up she wasn’t wearing much aside from the shredded remnants of a shirt and her breast band. She quickly put her arms through the sleeves and covered herself, hoping the warmth on her cheeks was from her proximity to the fire, not a mortified blush.

“Can I ask what happened, your worship?” Clarke seemed comfortable enough to actually meet her gaze now, probably something to do with her wearing clothes again, “All the stories I ‘ear talk about ‘ow you ‘aven’t come back wounded since Haven.”

Adahla grimaced. That was true, after she dropped a mountain on her own head she’d taken great care not to injure herself too severely. After meeting, seeing what she had been really up against she knew she couldn’t afford to lose her life. If she did it would mean the end of Thedas as they knew it. Tevinter, Old Tevinter would rise up and swallow it all whole. Her people would be swept up as demon fodder, red lyrium coming out of the ground like world eating trees. She shook the image out of her head, lightly touching her side with her left hand.

“I was not careful like I should’ve been and it very nearly cost me my life,” Without looking, she reached to gently touch Solas’s hand, “If not for Solas I’m sure that it would have.”

“I would never allow that to happen, Inquisitor,” He took the small pot from the coals, his arms trembled slightly before he set it on the sand.

She looked back at Clarke, finding him staring pensively into the fire, “You didn’t answer how you got out here, Clarke.”

“Same as everyone else, I reckon. I joined up and I was ordered to come out here, help man a camp for a while,” He sunk his toes into the sand, scooting back to stretch out his legs a little more, “Lot less exciting than I though’ it was gonna be.”

Adahla frowned a little, her voice solemn, “Be careful about wishing for excitement, Clarke, it most often comes with broken skin and shattered bones.”

The boy swallowed hard and nodded, “Yes, your worship.”

They sat in the quiet for a time, beside her Solas worked away at whatever medicine he insisted on being made tonight. Cassandra approached, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, Inquisitor?”

“I’ll be fine, Cassandra. It’ll be a little bit of time before I can fight again but it shouldn’t be more than a few days,” She smiled back at the Seeker, trying to look reassuring.

Cassandra gently thumped her right shoulder with her first before she retired to the tent she didn’t have to share. Cole never slept. Adahla gathered her borrowed coat around her shoulders, burying her face in the collar. Beneath the smell of blood, smoke, and sand it smelled very much like him. She could barely scent it beneath the acrid smell of the medicine he was making beside her. She managed to stick her fingers out of the too-long sleeves, warming them in front of the fire.

“Clarke,” She said, looking at the boy again, “when did you join the Inquisition?”

“Didn’t at first. Came up to Haven to help after the disaster, really just looking for my father.” He answered almost gruffly, drawing his knees up again.

“I’m sorry-”

“Nah, don’t apologize, he was a bastard. Jus’ went looking ‘cause it didn’t feel right not to give ‘im a funeral. A real one with ‘is body an’ everything.” The boy stirred the coals with his stick again, “After I didn’t find ‘im I decided to join up. ‘Earing all the stories comin’ out of Haven ‘bout you and Skyhold and fixin’ the world I thought I wanted to be part o’ somethin’ great like that.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t find him, Clarke. Even if he was a bastard,” She said, casting her eyes back to the fire, trying without success to not think of Haven. The people she failed.

“It’s alright, your worship.”

She vividly still remembered Haven. The blighted dragon swooping onto the town, red lyrium flying everywhere. Buildings, catapults shattered and people burning. Red templars, monsters flooding the field, leaping over the walls and tearing people apart. Which face belongs to man Clarke was looking for? Was it the bearded man, shot through the back of his skull by a small dagger of red lyrium? Was it the man buried alive in a burning house? Was it-

A warm hand settled on her right shoulder, a little voice, feather soft in her head, “Haven wasn’t your fault. You did well to save as many as you did. You can’t save everyone but it matters that you tried. That you always try, it is what makes you you. Like helping makes me me.”

Adahla took a long breath before she looked at Cole, sitting on the cot next to her, tattered remnants of her armor still in his hands, “Thank you, Cole. I’ll be alright now.”

“Yes, you will.”

She looked at Solas, his eyebrows were creased with worry, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” She gave him a little smile and turned towards him a little more, “What did you say before?”

“I need to see the wound again, Inquisitor,” He said it slowly, softer than he usually would.

Adahla nodded, shrugging her left arm out of the coat and raising it over her head, hissing at the sudden sting in her muscles.

“Turn, so I can see your back,”

She turned, pulling the coat aside a little to bare most of her back. His fingers were surprisingly cool and gentle, even though when he touched her bruised flesh it brought out a kind of tender ache. He brushed her hair aside and she bundled it up in her hands, out of the way. His hands left her skin briefly, only to start spreading a kind of warm paste over her back. It started warm, then gradually felt like a pleasant chill was seeping in below her skin. She sighed softly.

“Turn back to me, Inquisitor,”

She turned to face him, noting that he was spreading a pale, greenish paste over her bruises. She couldn’t read his expression, he looked nothing but professional, only muttering a small apology whenever she hissed or squirmed on the rare occasion that he pressed just a little too firmly into the wound.

When he finished he wiped his hands on the flap that held the healer’s satchel closed. It looked like the healer also had the habit of wiping their hands on the satchel if the dark stains of what looked to be dried blood and plant matter were any indication. He pulled out a long roll of padded cloth, several pins sticking out of the top of it.

“I need you to take off the coat, Inquisitor,”

Her cheeks felt a little warmer but she shrugged it off, carefully setting it on the cot beside her. For good measure she shed the remaining tatters of her ruined shirt as well.

Solas removed the pins, holding them in his teeth as he moved to sit next to her on the cot. She held her arms up, carefully bundling her hair in her hands to keep it from getting tangled in the bandage. He unwound the cloth, starting to wrap it around the highest point where the bruise started, just under her breast. He pulled the bandage tight, but not too tight. He ended up wrapping almost all the way past her navel. Every now and then his fingers ghosted over her skin and she giggled at the ticklish sensation.

He cut the bandage, pinning it together before he rolled up the rest and put it back in the satchel, “After a few days we’ll see how you’re healing. If it feels overly itchy, or if it burns, tell me.”

“Yes, Hahren,” She grinned at him, then took his hand in hers, “ma serranas.”

“It is nothing, Inquisitor,” He smiled, just a little bit but it was a tired smile.

“Come,” She stood, still grasping his hand, “we’ve both earned some sleep.”

He nodded, grabbing the jacket to set it around her shoulders again. She put her arms through it, pulling it closed before she trotted back to their tent. Adahla held the tent flap open for him and followed him inside.

It was pitch dark but she found her bedroll easily enough. She kicked off her boots and snuggled herself into it, careful not to lay on her left side. She usually slept on her left side which made her face the wall of the tent. Now she faced Solas, who looked like he’d crawled into his bedroll and gone straight to sleep.

Creators he looked tired. She wanted to reach out and trace the bags under his eyes, the dimple in his chin up to the scar on his forehead. There were a few stray flecks of blood on his cheek, she could barely even see them in the dark.

“I can feel you staring, vhenan,” He didn’t open his eyes but she thought his lips had quirked into a little smile.

“Sorry,” She felt herself blush a little at being caught, “not used to sleeping on my right side.”

“Would it help if I faced away from you?”

“No,” She giggled a little, “I’d probably just end up staring at your ears.”

He laughed, opening his eyes to look at her. He reached for her, setting a hand on her cheek, long fingers tangling in her hair.

“How can I help?”

She bit her lip a little and shook her head, “Just sleep, Solas, I’ll figure it out.”

“Adahla,” There was a stern edge to his voice that made her meet his eyes.

“Could you,” She paused, then huffed, “Would you hug me for a little while?”

“Ma nuvenin,” He scooted over to her a little, lifting her head to rest on one of his arms, the other wrapping delicately around her waist, “Does this suit you?”

“I, ah, yes, this suits me just fine,” She buried her face in the hollow of his neck, one arm reaching to wrap around his back, “Are you-?”

“I am quite comfortable, ma vhenan,” She felt him press his lips into her hair, “Sleep.”

Adahla burrowed a little further into his chest and breathed in his scent. When she closed her eyes she didn’t even remember falling asleep.