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death-and-other-myths · 1 year

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Ghost Story

A short story

The Ghost

I’ve been dead for at least a hundred years.

Maybe several hundred years. Or days. Time is extraneous here. It’s as elusive and slippery as it is in life, and your soul tends to drift. Not just through time, but through place.

I think if I had to call myself anything, it’s energy.

Today, I’m standing beside a tombstone in an aging graveyard in Central Portland. There are some people over there— living ones— gathered in droves and sitting on the grass under an array of brightly colored banners. Some are standing, but most are sitting, watching the standing ones shout and make bombastic gestures in odd clothing. Ah, I get it. Acting. It’s a play. I haven’t seen one of those in centuries. Or years. Or days. I don’t know.

I’m a ghost.

I don’t know what I look like. I could look human. Or I could be a floating wisp of light. Perhaps I’m invisible. Secretly, I hope I’m a floating sheet with two holes cut out for eyes.

I know I died young, so if I look like a person, I suppose I’d look somewhere in my twenties. Green eyed and sandy-haired and clothes dirtied from dusty roads. I’m male, by the way, not that it matters in this state. It’s pointless to speculate. I can’t exactly look myself in the mirror. And I’ve never seen another ghost in my afterlife. I know they’re there though. I feel them.

Energy.

A graveyard seems like an odd place to hold a play, but then again, we humans have never been known for predictable behavior. I watch passively, observing the world around me like drifting in and out of a daydream. There are periods of focus— like watching an epic sword fight between two men reciting Shakespeare— followed by moments where time slides. Sometimes I blink and weeks have passed.

Living people look the same. And somehow different.

In some ways, their clothes look as outrageous and ridiculous as the actors, now shouting even louder than they were before. One of them is writhing on the ground with a wooden sword beneath his armpit. I smile— if I can even call it that. I don’t know if I have lips to smile with, but I do. And then something catches my eye.

A girl. Or a young woman. In her late teens or maybe twenties. She sits quietly on a green blanket in the audience, hands comfortably clasped over her legs and hugging them close to her chest. She has dark golden hair and a pair of clear emerald eyes.

And she is looking right at me.

Megan

I am looking at a ghost.

It has to be. I’ve been watching him for a while now trying to wrap my mind around this. My body bobs back and forth on the blanket, trying to get a different perspective, but it doesn’t change. I’m afraid to look away. I’m afraid that if I blink, he’ll vanish. I’m just plain afraid.

It’s smoky, but solid. Definitely a he. I don’t see legs but I see a torso beneath a white shirt. It’s glowing. Faint, like a mirage. And he’s looking at me. Though that’s hard to tell, because he doesn’t have eyes. They’re more like deep, round, perfectly circular craters. But he’s staring at me. I know it.

I slap the leg of my friend beside me with a little more force than I intended. “Ow! What?” she whispers.

“Carly,” I say in full volume.

A few audience members and even some actors turn my way, but she is already shushing me. “Megan. Shut up.”

“Look!” I point, wrist flailing in the direction of the ghost.

“Shh,” she urges again. “What?”

“Can you see it? Over there?” Her hand is on my arm, hauling me to my feet. Carly pulls me, stumbling down the path and away from the play, which was boring anyway, otherwise I wouldn’t have been aimlessly scanning the graveyard. When we walk far enough away from the production to speak normally, my roommate releases me.

“Oh my god, what is with you?” She's embarrassed, maybe even a little angry, but can’t help but crack a smile when she sees my frazzled eyes bounce around. I hide behind her, putting her between myself and the ghost, which was roughly fifty yards away.

“There’s— don’t turn around!— But there’s a ghost behind you.” I peek out from behind her shoulder. “Okay wait, no, turn around.”

A long silence rolls between us.

“I’m going back,” she says flatly.

“Carly!”

“Megan, I really like this guy okay? Come and sit down. It’s almost over,” she pleads. We’ve been roommates for two years now and I’ve never seen her date a guy. I think she’s too picky. She thinks the good ones are all taken. At least she thought so, until a strapping young drama major sauntered into Calc I last week. He invited us to see this production of Macbeth in the Lone Fir Cemetery, where he plays the part of Manteith, who has maybe four lines in the whole performance. But he’s been sure to shout as loudly as he can and roll his r’s even when there are no r’s to roll.

As she walks away, I remain frozen. Eyes still locked with the dead thing.

When she sees me stall, she sounds an exasperated ugh and goes on without me. I feel naked without her shield, standing there on the dark asphalt path, knees shaking. For a moment, I look back to the audience sitting on multicolored blankets in the clearing. I contemplate returning to Carly’s side and pretending this never happened. But when I look back, he is still there— just the same as I left him. Still, white, and with cavernous eyeholes.

What is it doing there? What does it want with me?

What the fuck is going on?

The Ghost

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

Pardon my language, but this has definitely never happened before.

And believe me, I have been around for a long time and observed many humans, and not one of them has ever been aware of my presence. I know she can see me because she looks absolutely terrified. I would be too. I have no idea what form my soul has taken in the afterlife, but by the way she trembles I assume the worst. Perhaps I am a projection of the current state of my body, which I can imagine is nothing short of horrific. I must be a skeleton.

She’s coming over here.

I can’t help but feel nervous. It’s such a foreign feeling. I haven’t experienced it in ages. The urge bubbles up to drift— to run away in a slow exhale and let a few years slip by. Anything to relieve me from her frightened and disgusted gaze. No man likes to be looked at that way, even if it is completely justified.

The girl is hiding behind a tombstone. It’s large and pointy and does little to conceal her, but she peeks out from behind it and utters, “hello?”

I watch her.

After a few minutes she comes out from behind her perch and begins a slow approach. She’s wringing her hands, trying to control the emotions on her face. It’s as if she’s trying to remind herself to be polite. Don’t stare. As if the floating corpse skeleton might be offended. It strikes me then that she must be a kind person.

“Hello,” she says again, directly meeting my gaze.

Oh thank God. At least I have eyes.

“Can you—um,” the girl puts a strand of hair behind her ear, “hear me? Hello?”

Hello!

Drat. I didn’t say that out loud, did I?

Hello! Yes I can hear you.

Damn it all. I’ve forgotten how to speak.

She breathes, clenching and unclenching her fists as she comes in for a closer inspection. She’s circling me now. For a moment I lose sight of her, then she resurfaces again on my right. I no longer feel nervous. Instead I’m fascinated and absolutely vibrating with anticipation. I have made a connection with the living. I have made a connection with something for the first time in hundreds of years. It isn’t until now I realize how lonely I’ve been. How quiet and dismal the afterlife is, speaking to no one. Not a soul.

The natural peace of death quiets this instinct, but I remember it so suddenly now. Lonely. I’m lonely.

The pretty living girl wrinkles a brow. “Are you a ghost?”

Yes.

Drat. Do I even have lips and a vocal cord?

She sneaks a nervous glance back to her green blanket and the companion that sits upon it. Then, turning back, stretches out a hand. She maintains eye contact with me while she does this, inching closer and closer until her nimble fingers pass into my chest. The thrill is like lightning. I don’t feel a thing, but I know it’s happening. She is touching me. The living girl is touching me.

She yelps and jumps back, wriggling her wrist. For a moment, I worry that I’ve hurt her, but then I realize she comes up smiling. “It’s so cold.” She almost laughs. I want to laugh too. I’m learning so much from her. I wonder what she’ll do next.

Her green eyes bounce back and forth for a moment in contemplation. “Is there something you want from me?” She puts a hand on her chest. “Do I need to— help you with something? So you can go on to your afterlife?”

She doesn’t realize that this is the afterlife. My human consciousness, like hers will be someday, has been absorbed back into the universe. I suppose she believes I have intentionally sought her out, as if she possesses some kind of ability that can help me. Help me do what? Reconnect with a loved one? They’re all dead and have been for quite some time. They most likely exist on a similar plain of existence, unable to speak, unable to do anything else but simply be.

“Is this your tombstone?” She looks to my right. “Mary Ackerman. That’s not you. Your lover, perhaps?”

No. I just drifted here. I don’t know why I end up in the places I do. I died in Louisiana.

“1834 to 41. No, Mary was seven years old.” The living girl sighs.

She has the suspicious, self-scrutinizing gaze of someone who realizes they have been talking to themselves. Another glance is lost to the distant play, where drum and flute sounds surface. When she turns back, she says, “I— I’m leaving now.”

No, don’t. Not yet. I have so much to ask you.

“But before I go—” She removes a small rectangular lantern from her pants pocket. I’m not quite sure how to describe it. It’s about the size of her hand and glows in brilliant, multi-colored fire. But it’s flat like a stone.

She turns her back to me and holds it out a full arm’s length. It makes a small chirping sound, then she lowers it. The human girl pouts at the object, seeming disappointed. “Goodbye.” She says abruptly.

Wait!

I can’t move. I can’t speak. Am I truly good for nothing else short of standing here and observing? She’s getting further and further away, sneaking periodic glances at me over her shoulder. I feel as if I’m shaking. Frustration and anger and a sense of unfairness surge within me— things I haven’t felt since my adolescent life among the living. Just moments ago, I felt content with my place in the energy of the cosmos, but now I am panicked. I long for more time spent among the living. I long for conversation. For emotion. For feeling. I had a taste of it and now I’m desperate.

Even more terrifying than not having it is the fear of going back to not needing it. To not even know its absence.

She’s getting farther away now. Her feet are almost back to the concrete path.

I search myself for that deeply repressed muscle memory— the one I can access without any muscle at all. The feeling of lips moving. The vibration of vocal cords that aren’t there. I take a deep, unnecessary breath and bellow, “WAIT!”

The girl jolts as if electricity has struck her, and she whirls back with an awestruck expression. I look from her to my hands. I have hands! I’m not a skeleton after all, thank goodness. She is approaching me again, cautiously. “Did you just—?”

“Hello!” I say as happily and non-threateningly as I can. Is that what my voice sounds like? I haven’t heard it in so long. Keep talking so she doesn’t run away. “Please don’t go just yet.”

She smiles in an astonished sort of way. “You talked. Oh my god, you can talk.” She covers her mouth, “Is this real? Shit.” She’s moving around now. I wish she wouldn’t move around so much. I’m not sure I’ve gotten that part down yet. She looks like she has a million questions, and so do I. But at that moment only one comes to mind, and it is the most prudent to ask.

“What is your name?”

“Megan.” She laughs. “What’s yours?”

“James,” I say mechanically. I hadn’t called myself anything in years. The response was purely reflex.

Megan is holding a beautiful, fleshy hand out toward me. The gesture of a handshake. I look at my milky, transparent fingertips for a moment before hesitantly reaching for hers. Perhaps she’s thinking the same thing I am. This probably won’t work. She’ll pass right through me like she did moments ago. But the formality of a greeting, and the human warmth of pleasantries is too appealing to ignore.

“Well James, it’s nice to meet—.”

As our hands touch, we’re interrupted by clapping. The play must be over. The clapping grows louder, rising like thunder until I can feel it in my chest. Why is it so loud? In a jolt of white-hot light, the world rotates. Gravity is thrown off its axis and I am sideways. I am falling. I’m powerless against the vacuum I’m being sucked into. I flail in an instinctive panic that’s worthless, I know, but I don’t know what else to do. Death was nothing like this. Nothing in the afterlife is so violent. For a moment, I think I’m dying— which is utter nonsense. But then it quiets.

The earth rights itself and slips back into position.

I’m still in the graveyard, and I’m standing stupidly with my hand out. Absently, I look at it. With its peachy porcelain skin, silver ring, and freshly manicured nails. A small bracelet strung with plastic pearls hangs delicately from my wrist.

I stare at my hand.

And it’s shaking.

Megan

When I was in the third grade, I accidentally locked my legs at choir practice and passed out. This is a lot like that.

Coming-to presently, I see the world on its side. Grass to my left. Sky to my right. I try to get up, but I can’t. Then the fear sets in.

What’s going on? What’s happening to me? Help. I can’t get up. I scream, I cry, I wail. But I don’t hear anything. No words come from my mouth. I’m paralyzed, laying there on the ground. In the distance, I can see the play concluding. The actors are taking a bow. Thank God. Carly will come over here and find me. I just have to stay calm.

But I scream instead.

It’s a strange, foreign noise. The voice is my own but it didn’t come from my lips. I didn’t initiate it. My eyes swing to the source of the sound, and to my complete horror I find that I am looking at myself. Doubled over, staring at my hands, and screaming at them in a high-pitched shriek I didn’t think myself capable of. All I can do is keep taking breaths and screaming. This goes on for several seconds before Carly and a few others rush over.

But they don’t run to the Me on the ground. They run to the Me standing, grabbing my shoulders and urging me to calm down. Over the soothing words and condolences of strangers, I hear Carly hiss, “why do you not want me to be happy?”

I can’t feel anything. I know I’m lying on the grass, but I can’t feel the blades. Or the wind in my hair or the air in my lungs. There is only complete, peaceful stillness and it is creeping me out. I’m having an out of body experience, but I’m still conscious. I’m talking to people.

I watch myself say, “I’m fine.”

But I’m not fine. I couldn’t be further from fine. I watch, helplessly, as I walk away.

The Ghost

There’s a hand in my hand, and the feeling of skin against skin is thrilling. It’s a beautiful, intoxicating sensation I can’t get enough of and simultaneously feel overwhelmed by. Unfortunately, that hand is attached to someone who is currently yelling at me— about what, I’m not sure— but I can’t be bothered by that. Instead I focus on the fact that I am feeling something.

I can feel the warmth of a hand and the pressure of a grip. I feel air flooding my lungs and the pleasant, involuntary flutter of my eyes blinking. I’m heavy. Gravity presses on me, and my twiggy legs stumble under the pressure of bones, skin, and organs.

When we pass beneath the cemetery sign, I jerk my shoulder to release my hand from the angry woman, and stumble a few feet away to promptly vomit in the grass.

“Great.” Her hands are on her hips. “Just great. Do you make it a daily goal to embarrass me? I should be talking to Derrick right now.”

Shaking, I grip the black iron gate and try to compose myself. It’s all very familiar, but at the same time, foreign. I close my eyes and try to find a rhythm— breathing, quieting my very present stomach, finding my balance. The angry woman is behind me again, this time softer. “Hey, seriously though. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say again. This mantra I’ve been repeating for several minutes now.

Through the gates, I look out into the cemetery. I think of all the people beneath those tombstones. I think of Mary Ackerman and the rest of its tenants that exist on a plane I can no longer see. For reasons I cannot fathom, I am alive. Looking at my dainty, trembling hands, I realize I am also a woman. But one can’t be picky. And as I mentioned earlier, identifiers are useless in matters of the soul.

I walk alongside the angry woman, and she says more angry things but I’m not listening. My eyes scan the crowd, taking in the theatergoers and eavesdropping on their conversations. I could listen to humans talk for hours. The couple beside me is deciding on where to go for dinner. The woman is clearly ravenous, but when she asks her husband he only shrugs and says, “I could eat.” The gentleman to my right comments on Lady Macbeth’s rack. While I try to discern this vernacular, I must be making a face because they stop mid-sentence and look at me.

This, I am not used to. I must remember that I am solid now. I’m visible.

The angry woman leads me to an apartment building— simple, gray, and humble. She barks at me only once when I almost go the wrong way, then snaps again when I stupidly stare at the door. While she groans and fishes in her purse for the keys, I slap my hand against the wood. I’m solid. Beautifully solid. I do this several more times before she slaps my hand away and opens the door with more force than necessary.

I take a deep breath and stand in the living room, taking in the cream walls, the patch-work couch, and the tender glow of orange lamps. It smells like vanilla. It smells like a home.

“I just don’t get you sometimes, Meg.” Her voice permeates my inner monologue, but only for a second. It is succeeded by the slam of cabinets and the pop of a wine cork.

I run my fingers along objects I am not familiar with. A slim pane of black glass sits upon the dresser. It’s large and intrusive and I scrutinize its purpose. There’s a slab of metal on the coffee table— brushed smooth and heavy. I run my nails over the white polished symbol of a fruit. It opens like a clamshell, revealing yet another pane of black glass. Sitting on the couch, the thought strikes me. A small rectangular lantern is sitting on the table to my right, connected by a white line that deposits into the wall. I pick it up, turning its smooth surface to and fro before it unexpectedly lights up. I drop it before it can burn me.

This does not please the angry brunette in the kitchen. “Oh my god, what were you doing on my phone?”

She hurries to my side, slamming the wine bottle on the coffee table and racing to the floor to retrieve the device. “Is it broken?” she says. “No. Thank god. But what the fuck, Megan?”

“I’m fine,” I say. The rectangle glows brightly in her hands with no consequence. She is miraculously unharmed.

“No you’re not, you’re being super weird.” The woman reaches for the bottle on the table. “You need to talk to me.”

She continues to speak, absently pointing a small wooden block toward the large pane of glass, and it too comes to life with a burst of fire. The sound and sudden shower of light startles me, and I visibly jolt. Dimly I realize I’ve knocked the bottle of wine from her hand, soaking us both, but this uncomfortable sensation is nothing compared to the beauty unfolding before me.

There are images behind the glass— glowing and moving and changing from second to second. I see faces and places and they’re flying by so rapidly I can hardly keep up. It is radiance beyond measure. I’m looking at some kind of magic, surely, and I’m too dazzled to realize she is screaming.

The glass loses its glow in an instant. It returns to its darkened state and I am begrudgingly returned to myself. The woman says more things and then stomps into another room. It’s not until then that I remember I am covered in wine, so I stand to find a washroom. When I peek into the bedroom, it is dark. I feel around for a lamp, but I can’t find one. And just as well, I have no matches. Luckily when I enter the bathroom, the lights come on automatically, and I feel at once alone with myself.

I slip the sweater up and over my head. Then the shirt. I step out of my pants, which are tight and uncomfortable, but even discomfort is entertaining to me at this moment. I stretch and paw at the brassiere. There has got to be an easier way to get out of this thing. I ponder this while I try and fail at slipping it over my shoulders, a move that pins my right arm against my ribs. Oh hell, now I’m stuck.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Someone screams. I’m startled to find that this is not my angry roommate, but a voice coming from inside the bathroom— merely feet away.

When I see it, I jump, slamming into the door and knocking the full-length mirror off its mount. When it clatters to the floor, I spill onto the counter, knocking over several bottles. A great frightful thing is leering over me. A human soul— white and foggy, it is a suspended torso with a face. Most of a face. The eyes are missing and that’s deeply unpleasant. Despite the loss of that predominant feature, I recognize her as the nice girl from the graveyard.

“Megan,” I say, then go back to struggling at my pinned arms. How in blazes do women get in and out of this contraption?

“No,” says the ghost. “I said no! Stop it. Do not take that off!” Megan demands while I spin in circles. I’ve got my right arm free. Now if I can just get the strap over my head. “Gross!” she goes on. “Get out of my body right now!”

“Megan?” says the roommate from behind the door. “Derrick is coming over, so— I think you should just go.”

“Carly,” Megan cries. “Carly it’s me! Can you hear me?”

“Yes I can hear you, you fucking weirdo. Seriously, he’s on his way, so if you could just be cool and give me the apartment for the next few hours, I’ll forget all about you being on— whatever it is you’re on right now— and we can just get on with our lives. Okay?”

I manage to rip the thing up and over my nose, which hurts a great deal, but I’m finally free. “Yes!” I exclaim. I take a minute to regard my naked self in the mirror, spare for the bottom undergarment. As I mentioned, I’ve outgrown the need for sexual identifiers in the afterlife. Such preferences, both personal and external, are superfluous to the dead. But it has definitely been a while since I’ve seen a pair of these.

“Oh my god, don’t poke them,” Megan screams into my ear. She’s swiping at my head, screeching and flailing her arms. “Stop touching them. Don’t even look at them!” I giggle. When she touches me, it’s like a cold blast of air. The sensation is exhilarating. I’ve always been speculative about life, death, and the existence beyond, and now I’m learning so much.

A loud pound erupts from the other side of the door. “Megan. Get out and leave, please!”

“What did you do to me?” Megan levels with me.

I try hard to pay attention to her, but I’m just so fascinated. Seeing her is otherworldly. She’s somewhat opaque, but there are moments in which she is invisible. She is an illusion. A marvel. I peer into the two deep black holes in her face, studying.

“Answer me!” she shouts. There is more pounding from outside, this time softer.

“Oh shit, he’s here.” The one called Carly hisses, “You know what? Just stay in there and pretend you don’t exist. I’m moving out tomorrow, I swear to god.” There are a few loud stomps followed by a sing-songy, “Derriiick. Hi!”

“I don’t know,” I can feel a smile spreading across my face. It spreads uncontrollably. I can barely suppress my glee. “This has never happened before.”

“Well make it un-happen.” Megan looks at her shaking white fingers. “I’m dead!”

Outside, Carly laughs nervously, “She’s having some kind of nervous breakdown. Ignore her.”

“I know,” I giggle, “I’m alive.”

“This is definitely not okay,” Megan bellows. “Change me back right now. Give me my body back right now.” She shoves her hand in my face, stretched out and vertical— like a handshake. I stare at it, suddenly very careful not to touch her. When I don’t move or speak for several minutes, she takes a dive toward my hand. I spill across the counter to avoid her, sending toothbrushes, oils, and salves chiming against the tile. She pounces at me again, so I run into the shower. The curtain comes down with a bang, but Megan moves right through it. Her fingertips just graze the tips of mine when I slam into the door, completely forgetting that I can no longer move through it, then fumble to turn the knob.

Megan tries to tackle me, so I duck, flailing into the apartment and hitting the floor.

It hurts.

I’ve hit my elbow and scraped my knee.

It hurts so badly, I can’t believe it.

I am so entranced by the sight of red on my kneecap that I don’t even notice the screaming voices in the room. When I touch my fingers to it, it stings even more. I remember this. I remember this burn from long, long ago. I remember being small and scared and crying. The memories, not the pain, cause my eyes to burn too. It really hurts.

My blurry view of the room reveals the Carly girl shrieking, moving to rip a blanket off the couch and throw it over me. Megan is screaming too, but I don’t think anyone can see her. A man inches toward the door, sliding into the hallway before breaking into a run.

In addition to the blanket, more things are thrown at me. A pair of pants. A shirt. A bag. A coat. Some shoes. And now she’s pulling me, hauling me to my feet and opening the front door. From there I am thrown, stumbling over my own wobbly feet and careening into the opposite wall— blanket, clothes, and shoes in-hand. This hurts too, and for a long time I lay on the ground simply stunned.

Megan comes through the wall and looks at me, I think in disgust, judging by the bend of her eyebrows. “Get up.” She says, “stop crying and get dressed.” I’m sad, and pain isn’t a very pleasant sensation, but even this emotion is captivating. I decide I rather like crying. I take a deep breath and see if I can cry even harder. As it turns out, I can.

Megan

I am sobbing.

I am laying on the floor, in a public hallway— naked— and I’m sobbing.

And that’s not even the strangest part of my day. I’m privy to this horrific display because my soul has been expelled from my body— taken over by this asshole, James, who seems determined to get me institutionalized.

It took me forever to figure out how to move in the graveyard. It took me forever just to focus. It’s like coming out of a nap or like that particularly strong pot brownie I had at Jessie’s party. My mind wanted to slip away from the present. I felt at one with the universe and yet, completely alone. This was something that I was oddly okay with, though. I wasn’t startled by this notion, at least, until I remembered that I am not supposed to be feeling this. I am not supposed to be here. I am not supposed to be dead.

With a little time and a lot of mental acrobatics, I managed to get myself upright. When I tried even harder, I managed to move. I walked— floated— whatever, home and found myself sitting on the couch. It didn’t take long to put two and two together. I had been possessed. That’s not really the right word for it, though. Evicted. That’s closer.

It took a long time trying to talk. I sat behind a cloak of invisibility, screaming with no mouth. Begging with no vocal cords. It wasn’t until I watched that sick freak undress me that I managed to break through that barrier. Seeing him now, it’s hard to picture him as a demon, or some kind of deviant spirit. Right now, he just looks really, really pathetic.

“Hey look, calm down, okay?” I try to say nicely.

James lifts a finger to cover up his left nostril and blows. Snot explodes down my face, which he wipes on his arm and then stares at.

“Okay, that’s just gross!” I yell, “you are awful.” I slap him, even though I know it’s futile. “Get the fuck up. Put on your clothes. Talk to me like a man.”

“Okay,” he agrees, moving to slip the shirt over his head. He sniffles, evidently done with the tantrum. He stays on his back, wriggling into the jeans just as Miss Thatcher and her son walk by. She’s a sweet single mom and I always wave to her waddling three-year old when I see them. But she gasps and covers his eyes, shielding the boy from the apparent drunken mess squirming in the hallway. I can only sigh.

“Are you done?” I ask.

“I think so.” James stands up.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s go somewhere so people don’t see me talking to myself.” I float near the exit, hoping to coax him away from my home. Or what used to be my home. I wouldn’t blame Carly if she changed the locks.

James smells my wine-soaked hair, following obediently. Absently. Like he is barely even listening. That jerk. This bastard holds all the cards. I don’t know why he targeted me in the graveyard, or why he chose the body of a twenty-two-year-old female to colonize, but he clearly had malicious intent. Why else would he shake my hand?

He seems dazed enough— too intoxicated with life to pay attention— so maybe I can trick him into shaking my hand again. Maybe I can reason with him.

We step onto the sidewalk, and I take a breath. “Okay, look. We need to talk about this. Hey—!” he had taken a hard right and started down the street without me. “Where are you going?” I catch up to him.

“I just remembered.” He looks at me wildly. A goofy expression lights up my— his— features. “Food.”

“What?” I fumble. “No! Let’s go somewhere private to talk. Hey. Stop!” I hate this. Panic and hopelessness rise within me, threatening hysterics, but I stay calm. I have to. I have to reason with him.

I follow him down the street to a restaurant called Jam, which is fairly empty at this hour and on the verge of closing. Without stopping or talking to anybody, he finds a booth and sits down, prompting a bewildered waitress to take notice. Halfway through her “what can I get you to drink?” speech, James says, “food please.” When she asks what he would like, he says to bring him whatever she has. When the confused woman leaves, she passes halfway through my shoulder.

“Listen,” I say, sitting across from him. “You said this has never happened before, right?” I point at my hand for added effect.

James makes a conscious effort to duck his hands beneath the table. “That’s right.”

“Why me, James? Why did you choose my body to take?”

“I didn’t,” he starts to say before he’s interrupted. The waitress manifests with what must have been a pre-made sandwich and cup of soup.

I watch my eyes grow wide— staring at the double-bacon BLT with such awe and surprise, the waitress scoots away without a word. He looks like he doesn’t even know what to do with the thing.

“You’ve probably been dead for a long time, but surely you remember the difference between right and wrong. Stealing is wrong. Kidnapping is wrong.” He looks at me briefly, chewing thoughtfully with a mouth full of bacon. I have his attention now. I think I’m getting through. “It’s not fair for you to take control of my body because you already got to live your life. I’m just beginning mine. I still want to finish college. I want to meet someone and fall in love— you know, the things you probably got to do when you were alive? Don’t I deserve that chance?”

The Ghost

Food is, without a doubt, the most inspiring, pleasurable, and euphoric experience I have ever had. I don’t recall eating during my living existence, which indicates it must have been an inconsequential, mundane occurrence I took for granted. Or perhaps I just never ate food like this. Thank god I’m sitting down. If I weren’t, I think I might melt.

“Kidnapping is wrong,” says the ghostly apparition of Megan across from me. I had almost forgotten she was there. This sandwich is heavenly! I must have nodded blearily because she continues to speak, though I can’t hear her over my chewing. It’s quite loud. Was it always that loud?

“I still want to finish college,” I hear her say between gulps.

Oh, sweet glorious universe— dipping the bread into the soup is even better. What is this? Some kind of red soup. Tomato-based perhaps? I’m delighted to find that I am remembering and recognizing tastes. This is tomato and that was most certainly bacon.

“Don’t I deserve that chance?” she asks, so I nod. This seems to make her happy. The ghost with no eyes beams a brilliant smile and extends a hand toward me, prompting me to immediately suck my hands beneath the table.

“Shake my hand, James,” Megan insists. I shake my head, so she stabs it toward me further. “Shake it and do the right thing, you dick.”

I shake my head again, pausing only to pop the past bit of sandwich into my mouth, which seems to only make her angrier. “Did you not listen to a word I just said?” She roars, “are you a man or a demon? Why did you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?” Ghosts don’t cry. Without the need for complex living emotions, or at the very least, tear ducts, the occurrence is rare if not impossible. But Megan manages it.

And seeing it breaks my heart.

“I’m sorry,” I offer. “I didn’t mean to.”

She sniffles, which is also extraordinary without the ability to produce mucus. “What?”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know it would,” I admit, because it has only just dawned on me that she does not realize this. She must think I’m some kind of deviant. A body snatcher. “In all my afterlife, I’ve never spoken to or touched a living person. I was just as surprised to see you in the graveyard today.”

What I hoped would comfort her only seems to have left her deflated. Even with two chasm-like eyeholes, she looks positively crestfallen— something which resonates deeply in my own newly-acquired sense of empathy. I extend my slender, feminine hand toward her. It has been a fun ride. I’ve greatly enjoyed this beautiful mistake. I hope she doesn’t think ill of me when she goes on, eating and crying and living.

Megan flashes a smile. And she takes my hand.

And nothing happens.

We sit and flail our palms for a minute, trying at every which angle only to reap the same result. Her hand keeps passing through mine.

“What the fuck?” Megan screams loudly, because she can. The people around us, those who are not close to her, cannot seem to hear her. Secretly, I’m relieved this gesture didn’t work. I’m elated at the opportunity to continue this experiment a little longer. I hope there’s more bacon.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” she says over and over again. I think maybe we should leave this place. She’s ruining my good meal.

Suddenly, it dawns on me exactly where we should go. “The graveyard?” I propose.

Megan

I’m staring at my powder white hand in shock. Absolute shock.

Why isn’t this working? We’ve tried it a thousand times. Standing in the exact same spot we were this evening, and I am still body-less. The only other solution I can think of is coming back tomorrow and trying to shake hands at the precise hour and minute we did today, but I can’t really recall what time that was. Shit. Maybe while I’m at it, I should ask the entire Shakespeare ensemble to come reenact their performance too. For a moment, my internal thoughts become external. “This is hopeless!” I crumple down.

Cynical, negative thoughts invade my mind. Maybe you should just stay here, Megan. You are a ghost, after all. Maybe James will take good care of your body and pass your psych finals for you. Maybe he’ll meet a nice boy and have that wedding outdoors like you always wanted. You just stay here and be a good little one-with-the-universe beam of energy.

These thoughts are unpleasant, but they’re one of the few things keeping me tethered to this world right now. I can feel it creeping in the back of my mind even now. That comforting, warm contentment. The seductive harmony of feeling everything all at once and yet, not at all. If I were to let go just a little, I know there would be only peace. No sadness. No fear. No mortal instinct to pursue happiness. It would be so lovely, and I know it.

My hatred for this unforgivable asshat is what’s keeping me alive. Or dead. Whatever.

“It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it?” he asks me in my voice, which continues to be unnerving. He must have noticed me staring. He must have seen the brief flit of my featureless face as I contemplated letting go.

“It’s terrible,” I snap.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But we’ll never know the difference.”

“How long have you been like this?” I can’t help but ask, “how old are you?”

“Twenty-five? Twenty-six?” His eyes find the sky, “I don’t know how long I’ve been twenty-five or twenty-six, though.”

“Do you remember your life?”

“A little,” he says. “It comes in flashes.”

“What do you remember? How did you die?” This is rude, but I don’t care. He doesn’t seem to either.

“Tuberculosis. In Louisiana,” James replies. Random. His accent is faint, but I didn’t peg it for southern. “I remember the dirt roads. I remember my grandmother and pennies beneath the bed. The smell of sage. Endless rows of trees.”

“Cars?” I pry. “Do you remember cars?”

But he shakes his head and says instead, “I remember horses.”

“Wow.” My eyebrows raise. “You’re pretty old.”

I watch myself yawn, then appear delighted with this. James tries to duplicate the phenomenon for several moments before getting the hang of it. Now he can’t stop yawning. Great. He’s tired. I didn’t even think of that in my current state, but it must be nearing midnight now. Crap. And after that embarrassing spectacle at the apartment, I doubt Carly would open the door.

I don’t have any money for a hotel. The only reason we got out of the restaurant without paying is because the staff thought I was in some kind of distress. When the waitress announced that dinner was on the house, she did so in a slow, gentle tone.

I have friends I could call I suppose, though I’m not keen on ruining any more friendships tonight. James has already made me homeless. I don’t trust him to make a good impression on the few acquaintances I’ve made in college so far. And just as well, I don’t know anyone’s phone number. They’re all auto saved on my phone, which is in my apartment.

I only know two numbers by heart: One is my folks’ up in Washington. The other is stained into my memory after weeks of seeing it in the corner of study guides, tests, and agendas. I never put it into my phone for fear of someone finding it.

“Come on,” I say to James, who is swaying on his feet. “We need to find a good Samaritan and ask to use their cell phone.”

The Ghost

Although Megan has reassured me multiple times that the smooth stone lantern will not burn my fingers, I’m still cautious. I can’t feel any heat, but I make my interactions with it brief and delicate. She tells me the numbers to push, then urges me to hold it to my ear.

“No, higher,” she says. “There. Right there. Do you hear anything, yet?”

“No,” I say. “Just chirping.” I’m only dimly aware of the nice couple we stopped looking at me strangely. I wonder instead what kind of bird noise is coming from this thing.

“Just say what I tell you, okay? The first thing you’ll say is hello.” Megan looks nervous too. Maybe it is dangerous, after all.

“Hello?” the chirping turns into a voice.

“Hello,” I repeat as instructed.

“Megan, I haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s up?” says the voice of a man.

“Hello,” I say again.

“Tell him it’s Megan,” the ghost beside me urges.

“It’s Megan,” I tell the voice.

“Yes.” He chuckles, “I know. What are you up to, baby?”

“Tell him you need a place to stay tonight. You’ll explain when you get there,” Megan says.

“You need a place to stay tonight,” I begin, then notice her frantic arm-flapping, “Oh. I need a place to stay tonight. I will explain when we get there.”

“We?” asks the man in the lantern. “Who are you with?”

“Megan,” I reply.

“Yes, but who are you with?” the male voice asks.

I don’t know how to reply to this, so I decide to play it safe. “Hello.”

“What are you doing?” Megan stands beside me, fidgeting as if in pain. “What did he say?”

But the male voice simply laughs again. “It’s fine. Come on over. I just opened a bottle of wine.”

I hold the contraption away from my face and nod to Megan, who instructs me to push the red circle. Again, I remain unscathed by the stone that shines with multicolored light. The couple we stopped seems relieved to continue walking, and Megan explains that we need to do the same.

This day has been nothing short of thrilling and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. But at this moment, I do not enjoy being tired. I feel heavy and lethargic, and my knees and elbows still hurt from earlier. It’s hard to think and even harder to walk, especially with Megan leading and prodding me down the unfamiliar streets of this massive city. She is talking most of the time, but I can barely listen. All I can focus on is how awful I feel and how badly I’d like to stop moving right now.

“He’s kind of like a boyfriend. Or what would the historical equivalent be to you— a suitor?” She shakes her head. I hate how much energy she has. “No. He’s more like a friend. We’ve never even been on a date. I wonder what you called ‘hooking up’.”

Mercifully, we arrive. It is a massive building, the likes of which I’ve seen in drifting but never actually entered. It looks unthinkably large and made from brick, which is odd since Megan explained that this place was called the Pearl District. The inside is warm, bright, and welcoming. She leads me to a metal door and instructs me to push a button on the wall. When I do so, the door opens and reveals a small closet. This seems pretty counter-intuitive if we intend on meeting someone, but I do as she says and get in.

Another button causes the room to shake. This movement stops abruptly when the doors open again. And then I can’t help it. I scream.

It’s like I’ve drifted. But I haven’t. I’m awake and most certainly living right now, so that’s not possible. Though, this is definitely a different room from before. Megan pleads with me to be quiet, so I try to stifle my shock, stepping out of the closet and into a hallway that was not there moments ago. There is so much that I don’t understand about the world. It makes me question if I ever understood it. Or if being dead brings you any closer to ever grasping it, which I’m beginning to fear is not the case.

She leads me to a door at the end of the hall, fussing and bothering me all the while to straighten my sweater and run my fingers through my hair and adjust my boobs. But when I move to do that, she changes her mind and screams at me to stop. She’s the one who needs to be quiet, not me. I’m starting to get annoyed with her when the door in front of us opens.

A man waits there with two glasses of red wine. He’s taller than me with a handsome face, dark hair, and a matching, well-groomed beard. He says some words of welcome, but I can’t hear him over Megan snapping, “his name is Dane. Don’t be weird, okay? Say hi.”

“Hi Dane,” I say mechanically, then take the wine because it is presented to me.

He invites me into his home, which is quite large. It strikes me as very clean, very sharp, and somewhat scarce. It’s completely unlike Megan’s home, in which every wall was covered in color and clutter and things. This one seems somehow empty— almost unfinished. Poor Dane must not be very wealthy.

“I’d ask how you like the wine, but it seems you’ve already gotten started without me.” The man called Dane is touching my hair, which was dyed purple in the accident and smells worse than it did a few hours ago. I stare at him for a moment before looking past his shoulder. His walls are positively twinkling— no, they’re not walls. They’re windows.

I nearly knock him over, rushing to place my hands on the glass and regard the beautiful sight. We’ve drifted somehow high. I am floored— overwhelmed by the majesty of this city from an elevated view. It moves and twinkles and shines in the dark. A bustling metropolis. I’ve been to cities before, but never from this perspective. I’ve never witnessed anything so remarkable in my life or afterlife. I think I might cry again.

“James.” Megan is beside me, urging. “He’s talking to you. Say something! Say you’re really tired and want to go to sleep.”

“Are you alright, Meg?” While he was hospitable before, now Dane seems worried. He’s close enough for me to notice the streaks of silver in his peaked brows.

“I’m fine,” I say, peeling my gaze away from the window. “I’m just tired.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a rough night.” He motioned to the couch. “Come on. Sit. Tell me about it.”

“James, no.” Megan demands, “tell him you don’t want to talk.”

But I’m not ready to walk away from this view, and I most certainly do want to talk. The only person I’ve spoken to all day is Megan and she hardly seems interested in my discoveries. After joining him on the couch, he asks me to tell him what’s wrong.

“I saw a girl today in the graveyard— or rather, for the first time ever, she saw me. I couldn’t believe it. And now, somehow, I am alive,” I explain.

“You feel alive?” he chuckles.

“No, I am. For the first time in centuries!” I can’t stop talking. This is thrilling, having someone listen to you. “I forgot how incredible this feels. Air in my lungs. Weight on my knees. This,” I touch his hand. “This is particularly nice. I’ve touched a lot of things today, but skin is by far my favorite.”

“Well—” Dane raises his eyebrows.

But I interrupt. “And food. Dane, I ate food. Bacon. Can you believe I forgot what bacon was? I can’t. And I never will again.” This man looks stretched between entertainment and confusion— probably because I’m shouting. It’s impossible to get a word out around Megan, who has been screaming since we arrived.

Dane pauses for a minute before bursting out in laughter. The sight of it makes me smile— instantly contagious. As it turns out, laughing is the same kind of cathartic release as crying, and I am instantly hooked. I give it a test for several moments, alternating between snickering, giggling, and howling. When I wipe the tears from my eyes, I can’t help but find that funny too. There is a very thin line between sobbing and laughing.

I look at Megan, but she doesn’t seem amused. In fact, she has retreated into some kind of stunned silence, which is refreshing.

“Um.” Dane chuckles a bit more, though it sounds forced. “Well you’ve certainly had an interesting one. So, at what point did this happen?” He moves to touch my scraped knee, which until then had faded into a dull ache.

“Oh that? I fell down. That is most certainly one thing I do not miss. Pain is my least favorite feeling.”

“Hold on a minute.” When he disappears into the kitchen, I swirl the glass in my hand and take a sip. It’s sour, and bitter, and part of me doesn’t like it. Regardless, I down the whole glass in one gulp and find Megan staring at me, aghast.

“What the hell?” she bellows. “Would you slow down? And could you also stop cackling like a crazy person? Go to bed!”

“Okay so— you fell down in a graveyard.” Dane returns with a smile on his face, holding a little box.

“No, that was later,” I say while he fiddles with its contents, withdrawing a cotton ball and inverting a brown bottle over it. “In her home when everyone was screaming.”

Dane chuckles. “I don’t doubt it with that roommate of yours. She’s a high-strung kid. Probably won’t make it another semester. She’s nearly failing out of my Behavioral Psych class.” He touches my knee. “This might sting a bit.”

When he touches the cotton ball to my knee, it hurts. It hurts worse than before and a thousand times over. It frightens me so badly, I shatter the wine glass on the floor and nearly crawl up the couch. I just got done explaining to Dane how much I dislike pain, so this sends me into a whirlwind. Did he do this intentionally? I don’t know what to do with this information. My heart is pounding. I think perhaps I should run. Or hit him. I should hit him and then run. “Hey, hey.” His hand is on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

While I concentrate on breathing, he seems to be getting closer. “Don’t worry about the glass.” Dane puts a strand of hair behind my ear. “You okay? Yeah?” Just this morning I hadn’t seen a human in quite some time. Presently, I am certain I’ve never seen one so close. “I’ll make it better.”

“I think—” I manage, but I am silenced by his lips pressing against mine.

Megan

I am without words.

Stuck in some sort of nightmarish out-of-body experience— only in this reality, I am being kissed by Dane and all I can do is sit there like a dead fish. I mean look at him. He isn’t even closing his eyes. Just looking around the room as if considering the feeling. Weighing his options. I don’t know what’s worse. That, or when he finally does close them and gets into it.

God damnit. Damn it all. Screaming at him does nothing. All I can do is pace wildly for a moment, unable to watch this disgusting spectacle. I want to cry. Try to cry— but find that I can’t. I can only mime the noises when all I really want is a good hard cry. This impulse passes quickly, as I discover you don’t need bodily functions to feel white hot rage.

When I turn around again, they are horizontal. Rubbing and grinding and moaning all over the couch. I feel so angry I could burst. Exploding into a string of incoherent curses, I stomp across the room— which is saying something for a ghost with no feet— rear back and punch James square in my face.

To my complete surprise, this shocks them both.

They pull back, and Dane stares at me (my body) in bewilderment. Meanwhile, James looks at me (my spirit) with a similar surprise. I pant, still holding up my fist— emboldened by a glimmer of hope that I have made contact with the physical world.

But then Dane pulls him closer. “Baby. You’re freezing.”

“I am.” James touches my face.

“I think you’re going into shock,” he kids, scooping my body off the couch and spinning down the hallway. “We better warm you up!”

“Okay!”

“Wait,” I sputter, chasing them into the bedroom. “James. No. Wait!”

My body is thrown upon the mattress with the same playful cadence that should have my stomach doing backflips right now. I watch myself giggle like I normally would, delighted with the sensation of feeling weightless and desired. Only knowing it is James experiencing this special moment with Dane makes my stomach twist. I reach to pull at the sheets, but my hands go right through them. I close what I think are my eyes and try to muster my concentration, summoning the same power from before, but nothing works. Clothes start coming off.

And it’s not like being embarrassed in front of Carly.

It’s not like being ignored while he enjoyed the experience of eating.

I’m completely invisible. Powerless as I watch my bra fall to the floor.

The Ghost

If holding hands felt like lightning, this is on an entirely different level.

I remember kissing. It was buried, like any other recollection of my earthly desires, deep in my memory with the other things that don’t matter in the grand scheme of the cosmos. Oh, but it matters now. Does it ever. It comes rushing back to me like a flood of nostalgia. A flutter of the heart. The intoxicating adrenaline of feeling wanted— needed. Wanting and needing in return. It’s all so exterior and foreign and yet, familiar.

The breasts are new, though.

Definitely not something I recall being a part of the equation during my time among the living. At least not experiencing them firsthand— while I watch in fascination as Dane strays from my mouth to my navel. I close my eyes and enjoy it— finding myself more preoccupied with unearthed memories than the present act itself. I remember accompanying my grandmother to Sunday mass. I remember spotting a brown-eyed girl across the aisle. I remember the course texture of the sheets. The soft, flickering glow of candlelight and a pair of creamy legs. Not knowing where one appendage ended nor where I began— and being swallowed up, wholly, in the moment. Much like now, where I have trouble discerning fantasy from reality. Hallucination from sensation. Where was I now? Louisiana. No, Portland. Who is this? Margery— no. Dane.

And there’s good old Megan. Screaming at me. Not much has changed since I last paid the present a visit.

But it’s then I realize, along with the revelation that my pants have been removed, that Megan is not screaming. She is sobbing. I tilt my head and ask her earnestly, “what’s wrong?”

But she can barely form words. “Please stop,” she cries. “This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. You’re in my body. I don’t want this.”

I remember Margery pushing against my chest. I can feel her fingerprints— burning, clear as day. Stabbing to my core the same as they did all those days— hours— centuries ago.

And I see my spread hand pushing against Dane, perfectly manicured and adorned with too many bracelets for my taste. I say, “Dane. No.”

“What?” he breathes.

I look at Megan, who seems stunned. Then I look back to him. “The lady would rather you wouldn’t.”

Dane pauses for a moment, then his bearded face bursts into a grin. “What’s this? Do you want to be my lady?”

“Sir.” I press more firmly this time, not taking my eyes off of Megan— whose sunken eye sockets don’t denote much— but in this moment I can sense her absolute misery, and perhaps even a burgeoning optimism. “The lady has asked you to stop. So, we will stop now. Do you understand?”

The man called Dane laughs again and dips his head to nibble on my neck. “I like it, baby. It’s weird, but I like it.”

“Dane.” I warn once more. “Remove yourself right now.”

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters into my neck. And before I can say any more, I am interrupted by a shooting pain in my groin. A hurt like you wouldn’t believe. It takes me back to only moments prior, when he injured my knee. The urge to hurt him or flee bubbles up again and stays only for an instant. It takes just that long for me to decide what I want to do.

My fist cracks against his ear with all the force I can gather. Then I hit him again, this time in the jaw.

When Dane rolls off the bed, taking the covers and sheets with him, I stand up and begin collecting my clothes. He says several things, none of which are particularly pleasant, but they sound vaguely violent, so I close my hands into fists once again and tell him, “stay down, sir.”

“What the fuck?”

“I said stay down,” I repeat slowly, fumbling with the stretchy piece of fabric in my other hand. “Brassieres complicated,” I say, sticking my head through what I believe is the head hole. Turns out it’s not. “This may take a moment.”

“Forget it,” Megan snaps.

“Alright, I will forget it,” I announce, looping it around my shoulder instead then snatching my pants, shirt, and cardigan from the floor. “I am leaving now.”

Dane shouts more things while I take my leave, pausing only to rip the covers off his body because I recall it being chilly outside. The force of my tug flips him over and slams his teeth into the ground.

Moments later, we are in the hallway, and Megan talks me through fitting myself with the brassiere. It is a process that begins with untangling it from my shoulder and ribs. Next comes the shirt, pants, and cardigan. She even tries to pull the blouse over my head, although her hands go right through it. Whereas moments ago, she was sobbing, now it seems she is smiling. It’s a small smirk though. Shy and relieved.

“Thank you,” she says.

Megan

I end up sleeping on a park bench outside of Portland University.

And by I, I mean my body. I, my spirit, spent the remaining early morning hours watching him— my body— sleep. He was so exhausted, he barely stirred whenever a bus went by. He dozed through rowdy students making their sleepy way back to their apartments. He slept through a car alarm going off on Holladay for a solid twenty minutes. I suppose he had a big day… being and hurting and eating and fucking. It makes me wonder how I ever did it. Being in this state is eerily easier. Infinitely simpler. I am filled with only calm while I watch him— James. Myself. Sleeping peacefully on the wooden bench outside of the administrative building.

The temptation to drift presents itself in the early dawn hours, but I ignore it.

I think of the measure of a life and what makes it meaningful. I think of my family, but not in a sad way. I should have called them more, but that’s okay. I hope they know I meant it when I said I loved them. Even if it was hasty and mumbled and callous because Carly was listening. I think of my schoolwork, which matters even less now. Especially now. I think of what I could have been after college. I think of my cat at home in Vancouver. God I miss my cat.

I perch myself above my body and watch the sky transform from a deep, midnight blue to periwinkle, then pink. It’s gorgeous— watching the stars brighten, then fade. Hearing the silence climb to the distant roar of cars and footsteps. To the sway of trees. To the subtle electricity, the undercurrent of energy that ignites when millions of people join the waking world.

I don’t know how I missed it before.

I press myself to ever— ever recall a sunrise.

But I can’t.

This may be my first.

I look down at James, who begins to stir— rubbing his eyes and lifting his head from the rough surface of the steel armrest.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hello,” he replies.

“Sleep well?” I can’t help it. A little bit of bitterness seeps through.

“No, not really.” He sits up, rubbing my eyes. “I had dreams?”

“You had dreams.”

“I suppose so.” He frowned. “They are very disconcerting.”

“They can be if you’re not used to them. What happened in them?” I smile. I think. I’m never really sure in this state where I can’t feel anything. But I try to, because I’m done yelling. I’m done.

“I don’t remember.” He stretches— popping my neck. When he rubs his aching joints, he looks at me with the same lost look I wore every day of my life, once. I know what he’s thinking before he even says it. “What now?”

I smile, probably, and shrug. “We could go to class.”

James turns his head to look at me, and asks genuinely without a shred of sarcasm in his voice— because I don’t think he could dredge it up if he tried. “Am I you now?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Do you want to be? You don’t have to. You can be anyone you want. But clearly, I’m never getting my body back.”

And I’m oddly okay with that, I mean to say. But I don’t.

The Ghost

I don’t understand. She’s been so vocal up until now. But now she’s eerily silent. Perhaps resolved is a better word? Seeing Megan in any other state than screaming should be a relief, but I don’t like it.

I don’t like it as much as the prospect of carrying out a life that is not my own. I had my fun. I had my time. Especially in the past twelve hours, but before that. Hundreds of hours— and hundreds of thousands before that— I was done. And this is not fair to her. It never was.

I hold my hand out to her, feeling the resolved furrowing of my brows. Megan regards this, and her gaze moves from my hand to my eyes.

“I think I understand a little more, now,” she says, “about life. And death. And the way our energy navigates the universe. It was scary at first, but now—.”

“I’m sorry.” I continue to offer my hand. “I didn’t plan on any of this happening.”

“It’s okay. None of us do.” Megan says, “James? I have a question.”

“Anything. Then please, just shake my hand,” I press her.

“Is it lonely?”

I pause. For some reason it is becoming harder and harder to relate to the apparition I was just a day ago. It’s an easier task for me to recall the feeling of skinned knees, the crisp crunch of dead grass, or the savory melting sensation of eating anything with butter. But somewhere beyond all of that, I am able to recall my afterlife. I remember the calmness she feels now. The contentment. There was a pleasant, peaceful numbness, but I was most certainly alone.

“I suppose—” I answer before I’m ready, the words spilling from my lips, “a little. Even if I wasn’t entirely aware of it.” I realize my arm is dropping so I shove my hand toward hers again. “That doesn’t matter, now. You have a life to live. And a class to attend. And bacon sandwiches to eat. And Danes to kiss or punch.”

Megan smiles. “You’ve been a trip, James. Whatever happens, I hope the afterlife isn’t all blissful isolation. I hope— maybe someday— I’ll see you out there. Come find me, yeah?”

I’m a bit taken off guard by her words. She is a little mistaken in her understanding of the afterlife and how it works, but her sentiment is sweet nonetheless. I am reminded all over again of the frightened young woman I saw in the graveyard just hours prior. I am reminded that she is kind.

Megan takes my warm, fleshy hand in her chilly, vaporous one— and I close my eyes while the world falls askew. My equilibrium tips and my ears ring. My stomach drops and then settles, fading into numbness. All sensation falls away.

I open the eyes I cannot feel and find myself staring at Megan.

Not the ghostly wisp of a soul’s reflection, but the flesh and bones— beautiful— Megan.

Megan

I am alive.

My heart is beating, hammering, actually. My neck hurts. I smell like the floor of a frat house, but I’m here. I’m alive. I’m real. And I’m laughing— no, crying. James is looking at me like he’s a little miffed he never got to experience that combination, but he’s smiling nonetheless.

Through some kind of cosmic hiccup, James and I crossed paths. And in the span of twelve hours, he completely changed my life. All it took was ending it. Who knew?

It took dying for me to realize I was wasting my life. I wasn’t drifting as a ghost. I was drifting as a person. I can’t believe I ever tolerated a roommate as horrible as Carly. Or a lover as disgusting and creepy as Dane. The second I retrieve my phone from the pile of belongings Carly is probably stacking on the sidewalk, I’ll delete his number.

This was a mistake.

This was a miracle.

This is what I needed, all along.

The Ghost

I will miss her. This girl from the graveyard. I hope she knows I’m sorry for causing any trouble.

There’s more I want to say, but I already feel the pull. The bittersweet numbness and comforting lull of the beyond. I wonder where I will drift to next. I wonder if I will remember any of this. I wonder what the heck that sound is.

It’s loud and drowning out my pleasant, final moments of watching Megan gleefully twirl around the bus stop.

I think she says something like, “I’m alive!” before she is struck by a very large, extremely fast-moving carriage.

Megan

I am laying in the road outside of my college campus.

The bus screeches to a halt with a strangled hiss, and the driver practically spills out of it already in tears. Her trembling fingers drop her cell phone. She wails incoherently. Sobs about a girl coming out of nowhere. Jumped out right in front of her. Right into the street. She can’t seem to stop crying while passersby rush over.

I’ve been having an out of body experience for half a day now, so I don’t know why I’m shocked.

The blood is a little hard to look at, I guess.

The Ghost

We stand over her body.

I wasn’t exactly an ace at conversation before, but believe me when I say that words have escaped me.

Megan

“Um,” says a voice. “Are you okay?” James looks the same as he did yesterday. That vaporous shape of a young man— only now, he looks even more dopey. A ghost worrying over a ghost.

“No James,” I say. “I don’t think I am.”

We watch while more people arrive— some passing through us. All shouting. Some frantically waving at my classmates to stop taking pictures and call an ambulance. It’s utter chaos, and the longer I stare at my unblinking eyes the more reality sets in. I can feel James beside me, which is a feat, because I thought ghosts weren’t supposed to be able to feel. And it’s not touch like human touch. It’s something warmer. Fleeting, but definitely there. And somehow more calming.

Energy.

“I wish,” I say slowly, “I had chosen better last words.”

James pauses before asking, “would you like to know what mine were?”

“Sure.”

“‘It’s just a cough.’”

I smile, I think. I must be, because he smiles back. And then I hold my hand out to him. He stares at it, this soft, translucent mirage of a shape.

My mind is already moving elsewhere. Time is slipping, and the place is changing. I look out beyond the chaos in front of the bus to notice the brilliance of the sunrise. Pale, incandescent rays fall on a city just thrumming to life.

My palm is still extended toward him.

James doesn’t hesitate any longer.

He links his fingers in mine, and we walk.

END

#fiction #short fiction #creative writing #writing #my writing #writers #writers on tumblr #ghost #supernatural #comedy #humor #portland #oregon #graveyards #writing life

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malachaiparkerimagines · 3 years

Text

drizzle

word count: about 2.2k

warnings: heavy smut - public sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms etc etc, not proof read

summary: the rain was so pretty, but kai thought you were prettier.

requested by @slut4kai

The air was still warm despite the sun having been long gone for at least an hour, you had somehow managed to drag Kai out to a look-out point not far from town to watch the sunset. The sky had drifted from the bright pinks and oranges to black and the stars glimmered above you, a soft rumbling could be heard in the distance but any chances of a storm wasn’t visible from the view.

“It’s definitely going to start raining soon,” Kai stated but made no effort to move from the bench you’d been sat at for at least two hours. You glanced at him briefly, it was difficult not to ogle him as he stretched his arms out and looked back at the storm that was rolling in from behind you.

“Can’t you do a spell and stop it from raining?” you giggled bringing his attention back to you, he rolled his eyes and a smile pulled at his lips at your enquiry.

His hands roamed your waist pulling you from your seat next to him and turning you so you could straddle his lap. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

The way his hands rested against your waist and the playful glint that shone in his eyes made you completely forget the rumbling storm that was quickly getting closer. Kai had a way of doing that to you, making you forget the world around you and focus entirely on him in a way that you’d never experienced before, he could make you a flustered mess just by smiling at you from across the room.

“What? You don’t think I’m funny?” you pouted, hitting his shoulder softly, his hand coming up to grab your wrist so he could intertwine his fingers with yours. A small grin plastered on his face to match the bashful smile on yours as a result of his actions.

He laughed lightly and leaned forward for a moment to press a soft peck against your lips eliciting a warm heat onto your cheeks. Soft raindrops began to fall when he pulled away causing both of you to look up and see the storm rolling in above you.

“Sorry baby, but I don’t have a spell to stop rain.” he mumbled, his hands massaging your waist as the rain fell onto you both, “C’mon, let’s go home.” Your hand came up to his chest to stop him, a smile playing on your lips and Kai eased back into the wooden bench.

“I’ve always loved the rain, it’s pretty,” you glanced at the sky but Kai’s gaze never left your face, his heart fluttering at the childlike joy shining in your eyes. The warm air contrasted the cold water that had begun to sink into your skin but you couldn’t have cared less. Your gaze returned to Kai, his eyes glazed with adoration, the reflection of your own eyes evident in his blown-out pupils. “Almost as pretty as you.”

HIs face flushed pink at your admission, he didn’t get shy often but somehow, you’d figured out how to make his insides go to mush and get his brain to stop functioning. You called him out on his blush with a giggle and it only flustered him more, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, burying his head between your neck and shoulder to hide his burning cheeks.

The rain was coming down quicker now, soaking through your clothes and leaving goosebumps across your skin. “We should really go home; I don’t need you getting a cold.” he mumbled against your neck, his warm lips leaving a soft kiss against your cold skin. You whined softly at the prospect of leaving the haven you were in and a soft chuckle escaped from Kai at your response.

“I have another idea.” you claimed and moved yourself from his lap, he raised his eyebrows in confusion but you gave little indication of your thoughts until you kneeled on the wet grass just across from his crotch. The rain clouded your vision but the soft grunt from above you meant he enjoyed this idea just as much as you did, your hands gently pulled the sweatpants from his waist tugging at his boxers at the same time.

He hissed as the cold rain hit his semi-hard cock, his eyes were hooded and his breath was heavy when your hands wrapped around his cock pumping it softly, the rain making the movement smooth. “Gotta keep this warm,” you mumbled, it wouldn’t have been audible if his hearing wasn’t superhuman but before he could question you, he understood, the warmth of your mouth surrounded his hard cock and he cursed at the feeling.

Your hair was now soaking wet from the rain but his hands managed to hold it in a ponytail at the back of your head, guiding your head slightly and pushing your head to take him further. Soft curses were drowned out by the rain hitting the ground but the occasional groan met your ears and spurred you on further. “Fuck, such a good girl for me, taking my cock so well.” His words stirred in your lower stomach and you could feel your panties getting damp despite the rain having soaked into them already.

A rustle from the woods around you caught your attention and you abruptly stopped your movements, fear of being caught washing over you. Kai’s grip on your hair grew tighter as he continued to push your head onto his cock. “Invisique,” he grunted out, “don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Almost immediately you continued bobbing your head, your eyes brimming with tears as his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. A car drove past on a nearby road and a shiver ran down your spine at the prospect of getting if you weren’t cloaked, a small moan escaping you at the idea.

The noise set something off in Kai and almost instantly, he pulled your mouth off his cock and dragged you up by your hair until you were straddling him. “Was so close to cumming in your mouth baby, bet you would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you?” You nodded desperately, grinding your covered crotch onto his exposed cock. The rain had started to calm, a soft drizzle coming from above but the rain was the least of your concerns.

“Need you to ride me, can you do that?” he asked, his voice gruff and demanding. Although phrased like a question, you knew he wasn’t asking and it only became more obvious when he ripped through your wet leggings and pushed your damp underwear to the side. His fingers slid into your folds and you could feel yourself dripping onto his rough fingers. “So wet from just sucking my cock, such a good little whore.”

Whimpers escaped you faster than you could stop them, his fingers pushed themselves inside of you, his other hand steadying you with a hand on your waist and encouraging you grind against his fingers. The wet noises from your pussy grinding against his fingers almost blended into the background of the rain but Kai’s cock still throbbed beneath you from the sound.

“Cum all over my fingers baby, want you to make a mess before I fuck you,” he grunted, the hand on your waist held you still as he thrusted his fingers up into you faster. The pressure built quickly in your abdomen; your hands reached up to Kai’s shoulders to steady yourself when your body began to shake from the intensity of the pleasure. “Atta girl.”

After a few moments, your body began to recover and your whimpers dissolved into the air but Kai didn’t let up for long. His lips attached to your neck, both hands now resting on your waist and pulling your bare pussy to rest on his cock. You hissed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, Kai began to rock his hips slightly whilst sucking and biting at your neck.

“K-Kai,” you mewled, “fuck me, please.”

He pulled away from your neck, admiring the bruise that had bloomed from his action and smirked at your neediness. “So desperate for my cock, so fucking sexy.”

Before you could muster up a response his cock slipped inside of your sopping pussy, you gasped at the sensation of being so full. Kai’s head fell forward for a moment, his eyes scanning where your bodies met and his cock throbbed at the sight of your pussy dripping onto his already wet skin.

You began to move your hips against him, starting in small circles just to relieve yourself of the tension that had built between your thighs. Your hands on Kai’s shoulders gave you the leverage you needed to start bouncing on his cock, your arousal made his cock slide in and out of you with ease.

The cool rain did nothing to cool your burning skin which was only made worse when Kai pulled you back into him and carried on harshly sucking and nibbling at the skin of your neck. Moans died in your throat and your legs began to shake and your pussy throbbed and clenched around his cock.

Your movements slowed as your thighs burned from your relentless bouncing as the pleasure grew in intensity, Kai picked up the pace. He gripped your hips and his fingertips were sure to leave bruises in their place and thrusted up into you, hard. Your head flew forward and your hands gripped his back, desperate for something to grab onto and settling for the material of his t-shirt.

“This pussy is all mine, fuck, you’re all mine, my girl.” he mumbled, his words muddled with his thrusts and the sound of skin slapping against skin. His thrusts were harsh against your sensitive pussy and all you could manage in response was loud whimpers and curses.

Before you could say how close you were to cumming, Kai manoeuvred his hand from your hip to circle your clit, the way he played with your clit was delicate compared to the way his cock slammed into your pussy. “Cum on my cock baby, you can take it, fucking cum.”

That was all it took to have you writhing against him, your body shook and you almost ripped his shirt from how tightly you were grabbing it, your mouth fell open on his shoulder and you were sure if his shirt wasn’t already wet, he would’ve felt the spit that dribbled from the side of your mouth.

“There you go, feels so fuckin’ good.” he grunted, his thrusts had slowed to help you come down from your high but you could still feel his hard cock throbbing inside of you.

Your hips started to move on their own accord, desperate to feel him fill you regardless of your pussy hurting from the overstimulation. “Want your cum inside me, want you to fill me up.” Kai groaned, his own orgasm chasing him and he started to mercilessly thrust his cock into your pussy, your pussy was still clenching from your past orgasm and it only spurred him on more. “Want it so bad, please baby.”

It was just a few more moments until Kai threw his head back in pleasure, his warm cum spilled into you and left you feeling even fuller. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he sputtered out, his thrusts coming to a stop as his cock twitched against your sensitive walls.

His cum dripped out of you from the sides of his cock and you reached down between you, your fingers brushed against his softening cock and his eyes snapped to you, your brought your fingers to your mouth, sucking off the warm liquid. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head at the sight and you could only giggle at the reaction.

You lifted yourself off his cock, his cum dribbling out of you and down the side of your thighs, he quickly pulled your panties over your pussy and he collected the cum from your thighs on his fingers and pushed his fingers into your mouth. “Mm, perfect.” he grinned, pulling his sweatpants and boxers back over his cock.

“You ripped my leggings.” you grumbled, attempting to move off of him on shaky legs. Before you could stand or sit next to him, you were pulled into his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he smiled, standing slowly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Next time, don’t try and fuck me in public and this wouldn’t be a problem.”

You pulled your head back to look at him, “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” Any attempt of his to hide a smile was foiled when he saw the smirk that graced your lips.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, a smile playing on his features that was joined by a blush when you threw your head back in a laugh, “let’s get you home.”

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rere-the-writer · 3 years

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Can, I have a one-shot where Mother Nature(Elizabeth Reaser) brings Henrik back to life after a month the Mikealsons become Vampires.

To become the first, and only one of his kind a hybrid of a hellhound, and witch. He is a guardian of the supernatural world, and it's his duty to make sure the supernatural world remains a secret to the mortal world by Mother Nature.

So, Henrik realizes he can't back to his family because they will react negatively to his resurrection.

Henrik travels around the world for a thousand years during his duty becoming a legend, and myth to the supernatural world.

So, Mother Nature sends Henrik to New Orleans to take a break from his duty, and relax from serving her faithfully for a thousand years.

Knowing, his family is in New Orleans.

The Mikealsons call him Henrik but his full name is Y/n Henrik Mikealson.

Let's go boys!

Warnings: Fluff, death, Reader being protective big brother, Mikaelsons being protective

A/N: I had too much fun writing this and I think I would do more Mikaelson sibling reader fics. I had so so many ideas for this I apologize for taking so long on this

It was cruel and heartbreaking with the hand you got as you told your younger twin brother that he and Klaus shouldn't see the wolves. But Henrik wanted to as he always loved being around Klaus as he was closest to Kol, Klaus and Rebekah while you were closer to Elijah.

You were the oldest twin of 20 minutes, you were more responsible while Henrik was care free. You were worried so you followed after always taking care of your younger twin as you always looked after Henrik.

"Isn't this great Y/N!?" Henrik said looking in awe of the city as you drove though New Orleans as you got a much needed break. Harbingers of death was what you and Henrik became when Mother Nature brought you both back finding it unfair with how young you both were when you both died.

Over a thousand years you both served Mother Nature faithfully while Henrik wanted to find your siblings. You had to remind him that they might not take it well that you both are alive.

"Yes now Henrik try to stay out of trouble."

"I always do bro." Henrik tells you as you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really? Because I swear there is Hellhound/witch that always have to save his twin Banshee brother because he gets hisself into danger."

"Okay okay I get." Henrik laughed as you drove smiling glad that Henrik was happy after one mission was a little rough on him. Then again being kidnapped by witches that tried to drain his magic you didn't think Henrik would bounce back so quickly.

"So many supernatural creatures."

"Yeah....careful the witches will be our biggest problem." You say pulling up to a townhouse you both would be staying in during your little get away.

It took a only a day for Henrik to get into some form of trouble as you both went out to get a few drinks. You were keeping an eye on Henrik as he played pool while you sat at the bar flirting with a vampire named Josh.

"So you always dressed like you are from the 20s?" Josh asked lightly teasing you making you laugh.

"I fell in love with the style." You tell him with a smirk when your ears picked up Henrik's whistle. You and Henrik made up single's to give one another if the other was in danger most of yours was whistle base.

"I need to go." You say rushing out the door leaving behind a confused Josh who followed after you. You found Henrik in an alley about to be bitten by a vampire when you tore his heart out.

"What hell?!"

"Hello gents, I'm Y/N and you have made the mistake of attacking my baby brother."

"Hey! I am not a baby." Henrik said from behind you as your eye glowed red looking at the vampires as they attacked you. The last vampire dropped dead as you stood cleaning your hands with a handkerchief then looked at Henrik.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks bro." Henrik says as you made sure he was alright before taking him home. It didn't take long for word to get out about dead vampires missing hearts and nearly burnt.

"Niklaus, I swear your paranoia is going to get you killed." Elijah said watching the hybrid paced as the others came in annoyed that Klaus had called them while they were busy.

"There is a new threat."

"We don't know that for sure. All we know is the vampires had clearly attacked something stronger."

"Yes and that something is a threat to this family." Klaus tells Elijah who rolled his eyes as the others agreed that Klaus was being paranoid. While they had heard of what happened to the vampires, Elijah was more worried about witches as they were chatting than something big was coming with help of the Ancestors.

"Wouldn't said threat come after us by now?"

"Do not mock me, Rebekah." Klaus growled looking at his siblings as the others still just brushed it off as him be paranoid and focused on the witches.

You walked though the autumn festival watching Henrik closely as he ran ahead looking at all of the stalls. You kept an ear out listening as you didn't trust none of the witches and the vampires were getting on your bad list for attacking Henrik the other night.

Elijah stopped walking when a familiar scent reached his nose one he hadn't smelled in centuries and looked stopping as he felt the air leave him. Elijah felt his eyes water when he saw both you and Henrik and couldn't help but felt like the witches was pulling some kind of trick.

Elijah noted you both hadn't really aged a day and planned to go the witches for answers as he couldn't believe that his baby brothers were alive. Elijah was snapped out of his thoughts when Hayley grabbed his hand.

"Elijah, you okay?" Hayley asked as Elijah looked back finding you and Henrik gone as if you both weren't there in the first place.

"Yes."

You panted having grabbing Henrik when you saw Elijah that he noticed you both which you were quick to grab Henrik to run.

"Why can't we see Elijah? You and he was so close."

"Henrik, I already told you why. They think we are dead and to show up like 'Hello, we are your long dead siblings.' is a bad idea."

"But..."

"Henrik no." You told your brother trying to ignore the pain on Henrik's face and you sighed looking at him. You gave him a soft smile pulling him in a hug feeling Henrik hug back.

"You know I love you right? I just want to keep you safe."

"I know....love you too brother."

That night was chilly as you and Henrik had dinner then headed for bed when you woke to a scream and quickly headed for Henrik's room.

"Fuck." You growled seeing the bed empty then quickly headed to find your brother. You heard another scream and ran killed the vampire that almost touched Henrik.

"Henrik?" You panted kneeling next to him looking seeing a dead body then focused by on Henrik.

"Y/N....where ar....."

"And you said my paranoia was unfounded Elijah." Henrik was cut off by Klaus and you muttered fuck under your breath looking seeing Klaus and Elijah standing there. It happened in a blur making Henrik call out your name when Klaus had attacked you grabbing you by your thoat.

"Who are you?" Klaus growled lowly as your eyes flashed red growling back throwing Klaus back then placed yourself between Henrik and Elijah.

"Don't touch him."

"Y/N....it's okay."

"No Henrik it is not. You saw an omen and not we have to explain to them how we are alive." You tell Henrik as both Elijah and Klaus sucked in breath surprised.

Your older brothers had mixed feelings see you and Henrik alive but all they knew was that their baby brothers were alive. You sighed running your fingers though your hair as Elijah caught a glimpse of the family Crest tattoo on your wrist.

"What did you see Hen?"

"Dad....he tried to kill me. Dad was saying became a monster and was blaming Nik." Henrik tells you making you freeze as you knew of Mikael's need to kill their children thanks to Mother Nature as she made sure that you two stayed out of Mikael's line of slight.

"Y/N?" Elijah whispered his hand on your shoulder as Klaus picked up Henrik see how he was only out dressed in pajamas. You looked up at your older brother seeing his mocha eyes soft filled with worry.

"I can't believe this! Not are our brothers are alive but Mikael as well?!" Rebekah shouted pacing as Elijah was treating the wounds on Henrik's feet while you groaned already annoyed.

"It seems the Ancestors made a deal with our homicidal father." Klaus says pouring a drink as Freya was doing a locater spell to find Mikael.

"I just wanted a vacation not this." You huffed as Henrik frowned looking at you as Hayley came walking in carrying Hope with Jackson close behind.

"What is this I hear that Mikael is alive?"

"Hayley meet our baby brothers Henrik and Y/N." Klaus says ignoring her question as Henrik smiled at her while you had your head back giving her a two finger wave.

"Klaus answer my question!"

"Yes. Not like you could do anything." You said getting Hayley's attention as she passed Hope to Rebekah her eyes flashing.

"I am a hybrid stronger than you witch."

"Hellhound stronger than hybrid." You say not bothered still annoyed as Klaus smirked sipping his drink as Elijah sighed. Hayley huffed sitting down as everyone made a plan to take out Mikael.

After the Mikael mess that leaded to an Esther mess you all headed back to the Abattoir to relax. Henrik sat with Rebekah and Kol telling a story of one of your missions you both went on.

"Yeah Y/N came in and like took out 20 vampires."

"Hen it was only 10." You said eyes closed laying on the couch head in Elijah's lap feeling him run his fingers though your hair much like when you were younger.

"Y/N is being humble about it." Henrik said smiling making you huff as Elijah chuckled still running his fingers through your hair lulling you to sleep.

"Maybe I should take on our baby brother to see if he really is that strong."

"Bring it Nik. I'll beat your ass." You mumbled eyes feeling heavy as Klaus laughed lightly as Elijah smiled gently moving his fingers slower. Henrik yawned feeling tired seeing you fall asleep.

"How about a movie now that everything is calm?"

"Go ahead Freya." Elijah says softly as everyone settled in getting comfortable. The family was together again, finally whole again as Elijah looked to Klaus both silently promised to be sure they wouldn't lose the youngest Mikaelsons again.

#rere's stories #mikaelson family x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years

Text

Humans are Weird: Soldier without a war. Part I

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“You sure the speks don’t patrol there?”

“If they did do you really think I’d bring this rust bucket along for a job?”

Melp strapped himself into the copilot’s chair and looked over the console readings one last time. All systems were showing minimal operational capacity which normally would have been setting off alarm bells but with how things had been going for him and his captain lately it was the best they could ask for.

Melp was part of the salvage company “Outlying Star”, co-owner in fact with his partner and current captain Galem. When the war against humanity had started the two had thought it was the best idea to make a fortune with all the wrecks floating between star systems from fleet combat and had went all in on a converted freighter to pick through the bones and sell what they could.

At first Melp and Galem had made a killing, bringing in semi functional sub space drives and salvaged fully automated hard shell loaders from human ships. They made enough to fund a fleet of five ships and live the good life back on Valfha without a care in the world; for a little while at least.

Galem thought it was because of the government’s restrictions on salvageable items that had hampered their business but Melp believed it was because they were just too good at it that and had inspired countless others to take up the salvage game. Soon markets, both legal and black, became flooded with salvaged goods and people willing to undercut each other to make a quick buck. Neutron cannon went from 3.5 billion credits in value to just under 300 million credits in the span of six months. As a side effect of the sudden influx of salvage parts the government began taking notice and cracked down hard. Salvagers were called “Scavies” and deemed criminals by the government and the military would all too happily fire on any scavy ship they spotted. Seems they weren’t too happy about people rummaging through the wrecks of ships that once held their friends and the government would turn a blind eye if a scavy ship was destroyed during “Live Fire Exercises”.

Soon the jobs became even riskier and Outlying Star lost three ships after they were caught and destroyed. Another had to be sold for parts and salvage and now the final ship, the Morning Gale, was the last hope for Galem and Melp to make back some money.

“How do you even know this site hasn’t been picked clean already?” Melp asked over his shoulder as Galem entered the cockpit and locked the door behind him. “We could be wasting our time on a fantasy.” Galem shook his head which did little to ease Melp’s concerns.

“I got it from a reliable source that there was a big fight in the Glipi Cluster that we lost to the humans.” Galem began as he took the controls and slowly pulled back on the engine throttle as the ship ascended. “It was so embarrassing that the navy wiped all records of the battle and said the destroyed ships were lost in a freak transition from sub space into a rogue comet cluster.”

“If the data was wiped how does your source know about it?” Melp quipped as the ship breached upper atmosphere and exited the travel lanes for the jump point.

Galem smirked as he engaged the sub space drive.

“They were there.”

As the salvage ship exited sub space Melp let out a gasp. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes yet when he opened them all he could see was a shroud of purple. Galem saw Melp’s confused expression and chuckled.

“It’s the color of the gas filtering through this entire cluster.” He said calmly as he flicked on several scanners and filter units. “Try looking now.”

Melp looked again as the shades of purple faded away and let out a startled gasp. Upon gazing out of the cockpit window he could see why the navy had wanted to cover up this place so badly.

Floating around them were dozens of lifeless wrecks of Mibari warships ranging from light destroyers to several cruisers. Compared to their tiny ship it was as if Melp and Galem had entered the realm of giants. Melp was transfixed by the wrecks and became utterly enthralled when a massive shadow draped across their vessel.

“Is that what I think it is?” Melp spoke sheepishly as his blue hands trembled and changed to a soft orange color. Galem leaned forward in his seat to look out the window and whistled as his eyes caught sight of what had terrified Melp.

“A galaxy class troop carrier.”

The massive ship spun slowly in place like a top that refused to stop spinning, the metal interior exposed in several places from weapons revealing a dark interior of metal supports and long dead hallways. Melp looked towards the front of the ship as the command deck slowly spun into view and he was surprised to see the name of the ship had survived the damage it had taken.

“The Vault of Ohya…” Melp softly spoke. He reached out with an arm and shook Galem who was smiling like a hatchling on birthing day. “That’s the Vault of Ohya!”

“A piece of her hull to the right collector would be enough to refurbish this little dingy,” Galem said as he playfully smacked the command console, “into one hell of a floating casino.”

The two of them broke down into fits of laughter as if they had just been driven mad by their findings; but it was not of madness that now drove them but the sheer joy of their discovery.

These dozen ships floating lifelessly in the cluster were more than enough to bring the two of them back into the life of luxury they once held and keep them there until their dying days.

Melp was still star gazing at the shattered troop carrier when something else suddenly grabbed his attention.

“What’s that?”

Melp tore his gaze away from the Ohya and saw what Galem was looking at.

A new vessel slowly drifted out of the shadow of the troop carrier and came into view. It was clearly a human vessel of some kind; the lack luster design a clear give away. The body of the ship was missing sections of itself, but rather than appearing as if it had been damaged in the battle it looked more as if the ship had not finished being built. Sections of the body were lacking armor showing a complex network of pipes and corridors. The hull was painted in a soft grey color that stood out sharply among the ever shifting gas cloud surrounding it. Rows of gun ports ran along the sides, their openings revealing nothing of the pitch black interior giving them the appearance of small gaping mouths ready to consume Melp and his ship.

The more Melp looked at the ship the more he felt something was just wrong with it. Galem must have felt something as well as he pulled up the virtual display and began interacting with it.

“Not sure what that thing is but it’s not listed in the records.” He said as he closed the display and leaned over the controls to get a better view of it. The tingling feeling at the bottom of Melp’s three stomachs was starting to grow stronger as his uneasiness did not subside.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there’s no record of that ship variant from the entire war with humanity on any recorded file.” He popped open the virtual display again and flicked it over so it was hovering in front of Melp to view while he fiddled with the controls again. “Which means it’s worth a whole lot more than anything here.”

“How do you figure that?” As a response to Melp’s question he waved his arm across the scattered wrecks.

“Out of all the ships here the human ones are all clustered around that one as if they meant to protect it.” Galem said as he began moving the ship closer to the strange human ship.

“They could have bugged out and ran, but instead they all fought and died just to protect that thing; which means something on it must’ve been worth defending.”

Melp knew what Galem had some merit, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still very wrong; but before he could raise his concerns though a loud shudder ran through the scavenger ship.

“Get your suit on,” Galem said as he exited out of the cockpit, “let’s go find us some treasure.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If the exterior of the ship had uneased Melp, the interior down right terrified him.

No sooner had the airlock door opened the two scavengers leaped back in shock. Standing at the entrance was a humanoid looking figure. Galem screamed and grabbed hold of a nearby cutting tool and swung it at the figure before Melp could even say anything.

A shower of sparks eradiated off the figure’s body as the plasma torch cut into it, all the while Galem was continuing to scream, and cut a decent size hole through the beings torso.

“Shut it!” Melp shouted at Galem, forcing the scared halfwit to calm down some while Melp inched closer and retrieved the still burning plasma torch. The figure had not moved and inch even as the torch had melted away his exterior and as Melp moved closer still he noticed why.

“It’s an automated drone you idiot.”

Melp motioned him forward and the two of them inspected the machine.

It was human shaped but it was entirely of metal and wires, a mindless drone used for menial tasks such as inventory handling or maintenance. It wore a human uniform for some reason which clashed with its blank reflective visor face.

“Why’s it standing here?” Galem asked as he nervously tapped the drone. The touch pushed it off the ground and the dead drone slowly lifted off the ground in the zero-g environment and floated back into the ship, bouncing off the back wall before continuing to silently float away.

“Maybe it’s here to greet us?” Melp chuckled as he activated his mag locks and his feet latched on to the metallic floor. Galem followed suit and the two began entering the derelict ship.

“Can’t be,” Galem began as they reached the airlock secondary doors and began slowly opening them, “these tin cans would run out of power in a day and it’s been years since this tussle went down.”

With several loud grunts as the two strained with the manual release the inner airlock to the human ship finally cracked open. The two entered slowly, not knowing what to expect, and took stock of their surroundings.

They entered a long hallway that seemed to stretch out far into the distance passed the reach of their head lamps. Melp could see side corridors scattered every few dozen feet no doubt leading to other sections of the ship, but likewise they too were pitch black.

Something about Melp’s comment made him pull out his data scroll and do a quick scan. The device beeped rapidly as the scan commenced before ending with a loud “DING” and displaying a waterfall of information.

Melp read the data as the two continued to hover by the airlock entrance.

“It says here that somethings still giving off a power signature here.” Melp commented as he ran he scan again to be sure.

“Give it here,” Galem said as he turned to Melp with his hand outstretched, “you must be reading it-“

When Galem didn’t finish his sentence Melp looked up and saw something akin to a mixture of fear and surprise on his face. He was staring at something over his shoulder so Melp slowly turned in place , his magnetic feet latching heavily to the decking with each step like two magnets smashing together.

When he finally turned around he let out a yelp of surprise and tried to jump back, but his magnetic feet kept him firmly locked to the floor leaving him in an almost comical off balance state.

Standing directly behind him was another of the drones, this one dressed in what appeared to be some sort of security uniform even including an empty weapon holster at his side.

Neither of the scavengers knew how the thing got there as it most certainly hadn’t been standing there a moment ago. Before either of them could respond the drone’s visor lit up and displayed a pixelated face. The visor was damaged with a deep crack running the length of it making the display flicker in and out on half the screen giving it an eerily ghost like visage.

“The captain,” the drone began as it stepped to one side of the hallway and extended a hand into the darkness, “requests your presence on the bridge.”

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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lostmyshadesanon · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Felix 🎂🎁 🎉🎊

@teyvat-writer

🦊 - Anon here!!! It's finally the day. I hope.

I have no idea what time zone you live in so I'm posting this a bit early just in case!

If it's still the 28th when you see this. Don't open it!

Let the anticipation build!

This should be the last part for our poor hydro archon, but I'm sure the most anticipated. Let's hope we can do it justice.

Mindbroken?Hydro!Archon!Male!Reader x FoulLegacy!Childe

Wouldn't it be funny if I put a rickroll here?

Or just an error message, lol.

But anyway moving on.

You feebly twitched as you felt Childe fuck you with his entire fist in your gaping hole. Leisurely opening and closing his hand as he ground his knuckles into your swollen prostate, and commented idly on your puffy rim.

By this point you could barely even feel when another orgasm was ripped from your soiled body, and your cock jerked underneath you.

Childe had been at this for hours. He hadn't been inside you or orgasmed since the first round, but he seemed determined to be able to shove both of his fists in your aching hole regardless of how long it took.

When you had the capacity to think between orgasms you wondered why your guards had not coming looking for you after all this time, and hoped that if the Fatui had restrained them that they hadn't died, but just been incapacitated.

Though you were never able to think long before another orgasm was dragged out of you. Combined with the saccharine sweet voice mockingly praising you. Your head was almost completely empty and body numb to the pleasure you were being put through.

You could only gurgle faintly when Childe finally got his way and stretched you enough that both his balled up fists could fit into your gaping hole. He didn't remain there for long quickly pulling both his hands free, as be grinned in glee at your ruined hole.

"I think you're finally ready, my darling patron!" He crowed, lightly petting your back as if you were a prized pet who had completed a new trick.

Staring at him through dazed and bleary eyes you wondered. "Ready for what? What more could you do to ruin me?"

He must have the ability to read your mind, or long ago you had lost the stoic control you had over your facial expression. Childe bared his fangs in a mean smile. "Though I made sure the preparation was pleasurable you've barely reacted! That's quite unfair considering how many orgasms you've had compared to me.", The demon masquerading as a man pouted. "So to make sure you're still paying attention I've brought this!"

Childe brought out a potion bottle with some unknown blue liquid inside. With a loud pop he uncorked it, tilted your hips high enough up to send sparks of pain through your spine, and promptly shoved it inside you so it could empty unhindered into your defenseless body.

There was only a moment where you felt the strange liquid mix with the remnants of your favored's cum were you debated on the odd sensation reminded you of, before it felt like it ignited inside you, and you screamed.

It was like liquid fire had been poured into you. The disassociation you had been able to reach banished like morning fog, as your nerves lit up like a livewire. You start to moan like a bitch in heat drool leaking from your mouth as the fire spread across your body. Making you feel every pulse of your insides and cock, your hole desperately grasping at the bottle inside it, but it was too small!

What had Childe done to you?! That something the size of a wine bottle would feel too small??? As your body desperately begged for something bigger, something warmer, and the aching need to cum.

That shouldn't be possible. You shouldn't even be able to come at this point considering how many orgasms had been forced upon you?!?! You could only cry out in delight eyes rolling when Childe's hands skimmed over your cock, and tugged teasingly at the bottle in your ass.

"Ah, already begging for more, my dear patron?" Childe stated teasingly. "Dottore did say this was strong but I didn't think it'd be this strong."

Barely leaving you room to breath. Childe ripped the bottle from your grasping insides sending you screaming into orgasm. You were barely aware of your begging as you sobbed at the empty feeling inside you.

"Oh, darling don't worry you'll be full very soon. I have to make sure to claim you in a way that NO ONE will ever be able to satisfy you again. That way both you and the world know you're MINE." Childe whispered the words confidently into the small of your back before dragging sharp canines growing steadily into fangs down to the swell of your ass.

"Prepare yourself!" He cautioned before sneering over your begging form and rolling eyes, "If you still have the capacity too." Before he slid his fangs deep into the small of your back a glowing riptide mark spreading out like ink over your skin as electricity started to coat his own.

Spine arched from the conflicting flashes of pain and pleasure you felt more than saw the transformation happening behind you.

Cool hands grew massive claws as they clutched at your hips drawing hints of blood from where they pressed. The cracking of electricity and bone as you were hoisted off the ground jerkily from your current partner's growth in height and size. The fangs in your back sliding smoothly out and a smooth texture replaced it almost like being pressed up against marble. You could feel fur tickling your back as you twisted to see what kind of horrors awaited you.

He was massive, he was intimidating, he was gorgeous. The feral boy who had struggled to survive in the abyss had not only tamed it but made it part of his strength in this new form. Massive blood red horns sprouted from his mask, and a cape seemingly made of stars and space.

Dragging your eyes down you froze. Childe's cock had already been awe inspiring as a human, but in this form...

It was terrifying. It seemed to emerge from some kind of protective slit. The shape was as inhuman as his current form, and a size to match. He was easily double if not closer to triple your height and his cock fit his current form. Easily the size of one of your thighs if not bigger. You now understood the need for hours of stretching. It was ribbed increasing it's girth though it did not have a bulbous head which made you weary. That implied that whatever Childe had turned into was a creature built for egg laying. You couldn't see any kind of testes but knew he was fertile considering the steady drip of pre cum from the swollen tip. You could also see a slight pouch towards the base of his member which you knew meant he probably had a knot too.

You were horrified when your body shivered in pleasure at the sight and smell of the crime against nature before you. You desperately were trying to convince yourself that the utter wanton lust inside you was based on whatever mysterious liquid Childe had forced you to consume.

A rolling purr vibrated through you from the creature before you as you chocked on your own drool unable to take your eyes off the cock before you, but Childe didn't allow you to stare for much longer.

Raising your body up as if it weighed no more than a toy, and similarly treating you no better than a ragdoll, Childe positioned you over his monstrosity of a cock.

Desperately you were muttering no over and over again as you pawed uselessly at his shoulders trying to climb away as you were lowered closer and closer to the leaking member. You knew you'd never recover from this once you got a taste of what was about to penetrate you you'd never be the same, and only be able to thirst and be filled by this monstrous thing.

A deep chuckle pressed near your ear as Childe bent so that his face was near yours still lowering and positioning you for his cock. "You did say on your honor as an Archon you'd take me. So take me!"

Before sheathing himself inside you in one smooth motion. Your nerves screamed with you. You could feel ever rib as they caressed your swollen insides and invaded your body. You could do nothing but cry and take it, as he used your body like nothing more then a sex toy to masturbate himself with.

Grunts and growls joined your screams and begging as he furiously bounced you on his dick. Whispering praises and croons near your head while your eyes crossed and tongue hung uselessly from your mouth. Though his tip wasn't shaped like a human man's it did its job of digging into your prostate so that pleasure was dragged from your willing body, and your unwilling submission from your mind.

You're going to break! 💙

You're going to brEAK! 💙💙

You'RE GoING To BrEAK! 💙💙💙

You screamed until your voice broke, eyes becoming fully unfocused, as your body spasmed uselessly through orgasm grasping desperately at the welcome intruder making itself home inside you.

Gleeful claws dug deeper into your hips drawing blood when Childe felt you completely relax no longer even a token struggle being put up by his patron. No his love. Now he could just TAKE.

Claws delicately crawled up your torso to carefully grasp and pull at your swollen teats intent on tugging and bruising them until they were swollen enough to be mistaken for small tits and the idea of covering up would be laughable due to sensitivity.

He watches in delight as you could only moan, and get out enough syllables to beg while he drove you far past overstimulation. Your pupils not even attempting to track anything occuring around you.

Though all good things must come to an end and Childe could feel the tightening in his gut and stir in his knot that this round was drawing to a close.

You could only sob and thrash in utter pleasure as Childe continued to stimulate your chest. Nipples bruised and swollen a cherry red easily the size of the tip of a person's thumb, before feeling the man, monster, behind you still with a deep groan.

Your animal hind brain could only gasp in relief thinking this trial of endurance was finally over. But you should stop under estimating your favored he loves to exceed expectations.

You could only twitch weakly, pinned to his crotch, as you were suspended in the air, when you felt his knot start to inflate. Your cock dripped a steady flow of pre cum from Childe's tip being ground against your probably bruised and weeping prostate, as you both waited for his knot to fully inflate.

But the worst had still yet to come. Finally after what felt like minutes and a few micro orgasms you felt Childe move. A twitch in his stomach before a lurch in his cock. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before taking a ragged gasp.

Something solid was moving through the member nestled deep inside you. Stretching you out further to accommodate it. You could only sob as it worked further into you.

Childe dragged a clawed hand up to your cheek lightly caressing you. "You're doing so well pet. You'll make such a good incubator and brood mother. All for my lovely eggs." Childe sneered delighted at your faint moaned denials and twitches. He loved that even now you were attempting to fight him. Pleasure broken as you were.

Childe ground into you lightly tugging at your rim with his knot to hear you gasp and cry before leaning forward as if to hear you better. "What was that my love? I couldn't have heard you denying to be my broodmare after all you promised to take all of me. I'm only making sure you follow through. After all you'll look so pretty full of my eggs."

Childe's hand on your face dragged your chin down to look at your ever filling stomach. During your conversation he had been quick to fill you. You were so bloated at this point you could easily see the faint shape of the eggs inside you.

A ragged gasp left your lips as the next egg pressed sharply against your prostate finally sending you over the edge and into orgasm. You wailed as your eyes rolled grasping desperately at your ever increasing stomach. Unable to come down from orgasm as each egg made a pass over your prostate.

This seemed to delight your captor. Childe's voice deepened in mockery, "You try to keep your pride and make denials that you're not a whore who loves the idea of being fucked and filled constantly and yet you can't stop continuously orgasming on my cock like some desperate slit." Childe wickedly continued micro thrusting to fuck you with his knot as his eggs kept your orgasm from truly ending.

Over time Childe felt his eggs slow to a stop and his knot start to deflate. Carefully he lowered himself and you to the floor as he let his transformation peel away to show his human form keeping his still sizeable cock plugging you full.

Placing you delicately in his lap so you could continue to cockwarm him Childe hummed a jaunty tune. Waving a hand in front of your face his tune picked up in beat at the lack of reaction or recognition in his darlings eyes. He had finally broken you for now. He expected you'd pull yourself together eventually, but it should be long enough he can bundle you away, and sedate your now human form, for the long trip to Sneznaya.

After all his family had been inquiring when he would take a partner, but knew he'd had his eyes only on one. After all one day he'd been King of everything and he needed a capable partner at his side. Placing a kiss on your temple Childe continued humming as he watched his agents enter the room and prepare for their swift getaway.

He grinned your first mistake was truly saving his life and putting him in debt to you. After all he always keeps his promises and pays his debts.

I think that's it. That was hard to figure out how to end. 🤔

Hopefully you liked it Felix! After I did all that hype for this chapter.

Happy birthday again. 🎉🎉😆😆

From 🦊 Anon!

#finally done #minimal editing #i apologize for spelling mistakes or things like that #i was on a roll #hopefully i hit all your kinks felix #i tried to include most of what i saw from your thirsts on your blog

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mgg-theprettiestboy · 3 years

Text

my girls

matthew gray gubler x fem!reader

request: REQUEST FOR FLUFFY DAD MATTHEW HEHE!! you and matthew are in bed cuddled up in the morning and just talking, then your 4 year old(imma name her adria but you can change it!!) daughter comes running in the room and throws herself on the bed with you two. matthew grabs her and starts tickling her and is all around being the BEST dad. matthew and adria go and start breakfast while you shower. when you come and go into the kitchen they are singing and dancing, matthew is doing most of the cooking but lets adria put in the chocolate chips for the pancakes. Yall have a wonderful morning together and at the end maybe you tell matthew that you want another baby but a boy this time and he’s like okay! as soon as yall get adira down for her nap matthew carries you to your guys room and says “baby time now.”

FLUFF!

in which matthew is the dad of the year

warnings: insinuation of sex, getting a little handsy ;)

the best feeling in the world, and you would argue this until you died, was waking up in matthew’s arms. your head tucked under his, with both your arms wrapped around him, and his around you, while your legs were tangled together; it was perfect.

you heard him yawn softly, so you hummed and nuzzled your face into his neck, “morning.”

“hmm, morning,” he mumbled. his morning voice made you feel things.

“how much longer do you think we have until we’re interrupted?” you asked, and matthew smiled, “give it ten minutes. any longer than that and somethings up.”

you nodded in agreement, sighing happily as your husband traced patterns on your back lightly with his finger. his voice broke the peaceful silence, his voice dreamy, “you’re so pretty.”

you pulled your face out of his neck to look up at him, meeting his gaze as he smiled softly at you, “and don’t you dare try deny it. you’re the prettiest woman in the whole world, bubba.”

“hmm, and what about adria?” you asked, propping yourself up with your elbow. he moved his hand that was on your back to your side, humming, “she’s the prettiest girl.”

“good answer,” you laughed, and he grinned.

“i know,” he said, before pushing you back down on the bed, hovering over you as you giggled. your giggles quickly turned to soft moans as he began to kiss down your neck, sucking at those sensitive spots that drove you insane.

“tickle fight?” adria’s voice came from the door, and matthew slowly moved his face back from your neck, before smiling at your daughter, “sure is. and daddy won.”

you gasped, “that’s not fair, you’re stronger than me. i didn’t stand a chance!”

“save mommy!” adria yelled, before letting out a battle cry as she barrelled towards the bed. you didn’t know how a four year old could move so fast, but she was a miracle of movement, your daughter.

next thing you knew, she had jumped on top of matthew at the end of the bed and was trying to tickle him, but instead was screaming with delight as her father tickled her instead.

“mommy, help me!” she cried out, and you quickly scooped your daughter into your arms and sat back up at the top of the bed, laughing as you wrapped your arms around her, “i got you, baby.”

matthew pouted, “you stole my princess.”

adria stuck her tongue out, making matthew gasp dramatically, which made her giggle. you patted your daughter’s back, “okay, up you go addy, mommy’s gotta go for a shower.”

“momma,” she whined, wrapping her little arms around your neck, “stay.”

you gave matthew a pleading look, but he was one step ahead of you, standing up beside the bed, “ok, i’m going to start making the pancakes then.”

“pancakes?” adria’s head turned to her father, and you grinned. he was the best dad, and he always knew exactly what to do. you were one lucky woman. matthew nodded, “mhm. i’m going to put something extra special in them too.”

“blueberries?” she whispered, mesmerised by the mystery of the pancakes that her father was creating. he shook his head, “even better.”

“what is it daddy? can you tell me?” she asked, standing up on the bed to stand beside her dad, her eyes wide. he nodded, leaning down and whispering something in her ear as you watched with amusement. she gasped and covered her mouth, as matthew nodded. she moved her hands away to whisper, but you could hear her as she spoke, “can we surprise mommy?”

“sure thing, sweetheart. you wanna help me make breakfast? that means whenever mommy’s done in the shower, the surprise pancakes will be ready to eat,” he said, and she nodded, her little brown ponytails bouncing, “yes yes yes! smart daddy!”

he chuckled and lifted her into his arms, before looking to you, “we shall see you after you shower.”

“sower momma!” adria grinned, and you laughed and nodded in agreement. you stood, kissing adria’s forehead, before kissing matthew, and then heading to the bathroom.

after a quick shower, you opted to put on leggings and one of matthew’s sweaters, before heading downstairs. you could hear your husband and daughter from upstairs, grinning at hearing them singing.

you peaked your head into the kitchen, to see matthew doing a very dramatic rendition of ‘part of that world’ from the little mermaid, and adria clapping her hands as she sang along from the counter. he used a wooden spoon as a microphone, pretending to pass it over to adria as she sang off-key.

“mommy!” she squealed when she saw you, hopping off the counter. you gasped as you began to move, but matthew was closer, and quicker. he managed to catch her with one hand, the other hand holding the bowl of pancake batter. he let out a sigh of relief as adria ran over to you, clearly unbothered. you lifted her up, sighing softly as well as you hugged her, “you have to be careful addy, you almost hurt yourself there! what if daddy didn’t catch you? you’d have a bump on your head.”

she pouted, before turning to face matthew, “thank you for catching me dadda.”

matthew smiled softly, walking over to both of you before squishing both of adria’s cheeks with one of his hands, “that’s okay addy. next time, just ask for help, okay?”

“mkay,” she said, giggling as her cheeks were squished. she turned her face to look up at you, “watch a movie, mommy?”

“which movie?” you asked, and smiled as you watched her tap her chin in thought. she was such little drama queen. she definitely took after her father.

“lil mermaid!” she yelled, before squirming until you set her down again. you smiled as you watched her sprint into the living room, smile widening when you felt matthew hug you from behind, “why don’t you two go watch the movie while i finish up breakfast?”

“sounds good. i love you,” you hummed, leaning your head back to kiss him softly. he returned this kiss happily, murmuring against your lips, “i love you too.”

you smiled as he moved his hands to your hips, pecking his lips once more. you gasped as you felt his hand squeeze you ass, whacking his arm as he grinned.

you rolled your eyes, smiling as you walked into the living room to see your daughter standing in front of the tv, gripping the remote with both her hands and pressing buttons while she tried, and failed, to find the movie.

she perked up as she saw you, holding out the remote, “mommy! help pease?”

you smiled, nodding as you took the remote, before scooping her up in your arms as she giggled in delight. you sat down on the sofa, adria in your lap, as you turned on the movie for her. it kept her attention for five minutes, before she jumped off of your lap and ran to one of the many baskets of toys in your house, beginning to pick out toys to play with.

matthew walked in with two plates, and adria dropped her toys as she ran and jumped onto the sofa. he laughed, handing a plate to you and a plate to your daughter, “chocolate chip pancakes for my two favourite girls.”

you pretended to gasp, looking to adria, “chocolate chip?”

adria nodded excitedly, “yes! daddy’s idea, and i and i and– i got to put them in!”

“wow! good job addy,” you smiled, beginning to eat your pancakes. matthew went back into the kitchen to get his own plate, before joining you both on the sofa as you all ate. adria went back to her toys after she ate, running around the sofa as she sang along with the movie, as she swung her dolls around. matthew moved the plates to the side, before pulling you close as you both cuddled together, chatting as you half-watched the movie.

“we made a cute kid,” you mumbled, smiling softly as you watched adria play. he smiled as well, nodding in agreement, “we really did.”

“maybe we should make some more,” you said, glancing up at him. he looked to you, before his smile widened, “yeah?”

“yeah,” you nodded, and he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly, “i like the sound of that.”

you grinned, before moving to nuzzled your face into his neck as his hand began to rub your back. after a while, you felt him move before chuckling, and you moved your head to see what he was looking at. adria was sitting down and playing with her dolls, but her eyes were closed.

“are you tired baby?” matthew asked, and adria shook her head. you had to bite back a laugh, “you wanna come here and cuddle with mom and dad?”

she nodded, dropping and dolls and rubbing her eyes, before standing and waddling over to you guys. you both pulled her up to you and wrapped your arms around her, as she whined softly, cuddling into her parents. matthew moved to lift her so she was against his chest, pulling back slowly before walking upstairs with her. you turned off the tv, tidying up a little before following them up the stairs.

you reached adria’s room just in time to see matthew tuck her into bed, kissing her head softly and ticking her hair behind her ear, “daddy loves you so much, baby girl.”

“love you too,” she mumbled out, before closing her eyes completely and rolling over in the bed. he smiled, kissing her head once more before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. you smiled up at him, “you’re such a good dad.”

he shrugged, smiling bashfully, “it’s not always so easy.”

“don’t i know it. she can make it hard sometimes,” you laughed. you took a step back as matthew took a step towards you, and did it again, until he had you pinned against a wall. you bit your lip, before gasping as matthew picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. you laughed, shaking your head as he took you back to your bedroom and making sure to close the door behind him.

“we’ve got a few hours now. i figured we could get a head start on the baby making,” matthew said as he threw you back on the bed, making you grin and nod, “i want a baby boy this time.”

“i’ll try my hardest,” he joked, making you laugh, before leaning down and kissing you deeply.

–

i’m soft

taglist: @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @fallinallinmendes @beyonces-breastmilk @spencerlikesapplejuice @pastathighs @gcblers @hushfakebitches @ijustcomeheretoread

#mgg #spencer reid #mgg angst #mgg fanfiction #mgg fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fic #mgg gifs #mgg x y/n #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg imagine

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

Text

always and tomorrow [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested: Hey! Could you do a JJ imagine where the reader is a famous author who an unsub is targeting but the team doesn't know that the reader is infact dating JJ? The reader is upset that she won't tell the team and thinks JJ is ashamed of her but it's all fluff once jj saves them from the unsub?

*not my gif*

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth- Oscar Wilde

“Y/N?” you turned around from where you were standing.

You looked at the blonde girl who has invaded your heart, a smile grazing over your face. The rest of her team right behind her, “Guys, you know Y/N Y/L/N,”

Hotch extended his hand out, “Yes we’ve met a couple times,”

“Hello, Aaron,” you gave him a small nod, before sitting on the edge of the signing table for your new book, “To what do I owe the great pleasure of my favorite government team?”

“We think you’re being targeted,” Reid speaks up and you cross your arms over your chest and nod.

“The unsub is targeting people who look exactly like you, around the same age. And they have been using your quotes from your books, along with murdering them the same way your serial killer in your story has been doing,” Emily continued further explanation.

You nodded, “So I’m assuming, I’m heading down to Quantico to stay protected,” All of them nodded, “Alright, but I’m expecting lunch,”

Back at the bureau, the rest of the team was scouting for where the unsub may strike next, but JJ was talking to you in her office, to see if she could get any information.

“So you have no idea who this could be,” the blonde asked and you shook your head.

“I’ve seen a lot of people at these book signings, none of them really screamed serial killer to me,” you explained and she looked stressed out.

So you did what you always did when you were over at her house and she was stressed. You walked over to her and placed your hands on her cheeks, rubbing soothing circles on them. But she immediately pulled away and you let out a sigh, already knowing what this meant.

“You still haven’t told them?” you asked, dropping your hands down to your side.

“No, I haven’t found the right time,” she tried to make up some lousy excuse, usually you’d let it slide, but not today.

“The right time?! JJ, we’ve been dating for almost a year now! When will it ever be the right time?” you flailed your hands up in the air and she let out a sigh, “Look, I know your divorce with Will was rough and I know this is new to you, but if you’re so ashamed to the point where you won’t even tell your second family, then- I don’t know if I could do this much longer,”

You start to walk out of her office, “Where are you going? You can’t leave!” she called out.

“I just need air,” you told her before walking out of the bureau.

The air was a bad idea because all of a sudden you couldn’t breathe. Not because you were so angry or because you were crying so much, but because someone threw a bag over your head and hit you out cold.

“Where’s Y/N?” JJ asked, looking around the room. It had been quite some time since she went to get air.

As if on cue, Morgan comes running in, “I found her ID on the floor outside, I think the unsub has gotten to her,” JJ’s heart dropped, but she threw on her professional look as her and the team got to work.

You awoke in a dark place which looked like a place ripped right out of your novel. The man was sitting there, patiently, reading over your infamous new book.

“Oh good morning sleepy head,” he said with a cheerful smile on his face, “I love your new book!”

You scrambled in fear, shaking your head, “Please, please don’t hurt me,” you begged.

“Sweetheart, why would I hurt you? I know how you feel about me and I feel the same way about you. We’re meant to be,” he told you, caressing your hair soothingly.

“What makes you think that?” you asked him, trying to remember all the tips JJ would bombard you with when you went on a book tour and would run into creeps like this.

He pulls out another book from his bookshelf, the familiar binding and cover of the first ever book you wrote, “Because you wrote this darling, don’t you remember?”

To: Marcus

Spread love, always and forever

“So I’m spreading your love, no our love, to the rest of the world. By recreating all the iconic scenes in your book,” he told you and you shrunk in your seat.

What have you done?

JJ’s leg was bouncing up and down as they drove as quickly as possible to the unsub’s house. Emily and Derek picked up on it quickly.

“Alright JJ, you’ve been bouncing your leg like you’re Reid about to participate in any sport, ever. What’s going on?” he asked.

JJ let out a sniffle, “She said forever and I just pushed her away, I ran,” she mumbled, but it was clear as day.

“Who said forever?” Emily asked.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with her for almost a year now. And I never told anyone and the last thing she thought of me was that I was ashamed of us,” she whispered.

That’s all it took for Derek to step on the gas.

Marcus Green, the unsub, was just sitting and reading the book to you. As you were tied up and the rope burned your wrists at the slightest movement. You heard the door bust open and he looked up from his seat.

“What was that?” he asked with his teeth gritted. He grabbed you from your seat, hiding underneath the staircase. A gun pointed at your head.

You could hear soft patters, come down the stairs, and the unsub steps out from the shadows, clearing his throat. You could feel the gun shake in his hand, your eyes landed on JJ’s and you just shook your head.

“No,” you pleaded, but your cries were muffled by the rag he kept in your mouth.

JJ turned with her gun pointed right at him. Her eyes slightly red and watery at the sight of you. You weren’t in too bad shape, but she never wanted to see you in this position.

“Marcus Green, put the gun down,” she ordered and you heard more patters come down the stairs. The rest of the team had him surrounded.

He shook his head, “No, we’re in love. You can’t take that away from me!” he yelled.

“Look at her,” JJ said to him, “You’re hurting her,”

“No, I’m not! Am I hurting you?” he asked and you looked at JJ who gave you a subtle nod. You nodded frantically, he looked taken aback by your answer, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry,”

“I know you don’t want to hurt her Marcus. So you’ve got to let her go,” she told him, “We don’t mean to hurt the one’s we love, but we do and it sucks. But at the end of the day deep down you both know your love for each other and that’s all that matters,”

Marcus was fighting a constant battle in his head, crying to himself softly before letting you go. You automatically ran over towards where Spencer was and he immediately brought you upstairs to be checked by the paramedics.

JJ quickly followed suit as Hotch arrested him. She ran up to where you were sitting at the edge of the ambulance. She looked at you with a smile before sitting down next to you.

“She doesn’t have too bad of injuries, just a couple rope burns around her wrists and a concussion, but she’s fine,” the paramedic told JJ and she nodded thanking him.

You rested your head on JJ’s shoulder before immediately retracting it, remembering that she doesn’t want anyone to know. But she intertwined your fingers together.

“Come back here,” she whispered.

You placed your head back on the place you find yourself safest in, “Why didn’t you want to tell anyone?” you asked her.

“Because it would’ve made it all the more real and I was scared. I mean my relationship with Will didn’t work out and everyone I’ve loved has either left or died. But I don’t want to love you afraid, constantly thinking that my heart’s gonna break. So if forever is just tomorrow, then tomorrow I’ll love you always,” she told you.

You looked up at her with teary eyes and a small smile, before placing a kiss on her lips softly.

“When did that happen?” Spencer ask.

Rossi looked at him incredulously, “You’re a profiler and you had no idea?” he asked and Reid just looked at him confused. Rossi smacked the back of his head, “Idiots,”

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #jj criminal minds #criminal minds #jj x reader #jj criminal minds imagines #jennifer jareau imagines #jennifer jareau x reader

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falling-pages · 3 years

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Solara: TamaKyo

Honestly I have no excuse for this except that I just wanted some Tamakyo.

Synopsis: Tamaki and Kyoya finally agree on a name for their unborn child.

Ships: Tamaki Suoh x Kyoya Ootori

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

btw, Reiko is their surrogate <3

Golden rays bounced off the water as the sun dipped beneath the end of the world. Kyoya had always had an odd fascination with sunsets, especially at the beach, when it appeared the star was swallowed by the ocean, only to rise again the next morning. How it died to itself each night before rising into a new day fresh and bright and alive. He knew that wasn’t how it worked--perspectives and optical illusions and all that--but he still found it enticing, how the light could disappear, its only reason for coming again was to bring light and life to the solar system.

He sat in the sand, knees propped up to his chest. His forearms burned with the exertion of keeping them close, but he groaned into the stretch, rolling his neck and arching his back. Vacation was the only time he truly felt relaxed, at the beach especially so--be it because Tamaki’s shirtless body roaming the water or sipping pina coladas while reading a good book, he couldn’t tell.

Crunching sand behind him alerted him of his beloved’s approach. Tamaki never could be subtle, despite his charisma and heavy charm, even less so at the beach, when his long legs sprawled across the uneven ground like a newborn deer.

“The sand is cold, my love,” Tamaki said as he squatted down. “Allow me to warm you up.”

It was a bold-face lie--Fiji in June meant warm sand even in the evenings--but, recognizing his old tricks, Kyoya smirked and allowed Tamaki to settle down behind him, pulling Kyoya between his stretched-out legs and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Kyoya sighed and rested his head against Tamaki’s shoulder, relaxing in his hold. Marrying the Suoh heir meant he had to quickly come to terms with physical affection, a challenge he was never presented with growing up, but Tamaki’s hands on him soon drove away that aversion, replacing the unfamiliarity with a craving need akin to that of a child who needs a stuffed animal to keep the nightmares away.

Given the opportunity, Tamaki turned and attacked Kyoya’s neck and cheek with kisses. He laved his tongue and lips across the skin, so sticky with salt and sand. The air was heavy with pheromones and the scent of flowers, the two of them lost in their tropical paradise. Citrus smells burned his nose, but he just continued to bury his face in Kyoya’s shoulder. A maid had forgotten to pack Kyoya’s cologne, but he didn’t quite mind; he smelled like the soft sheets of their bedroom, the vanilla incense in the meditation room, the eucalyptus in his body wash.

“Sniff any harder and your nose might fall off,” Kyoya teased.

Jerked from his reverie, Tamaki responded with another dramatic inhale, clutching his husband even tighter to his chest. “‘S not my fault,” he whispered, nibbling on his neck, “that you smell so good.” The bite turned harsher. “Good enough to eat.”

Kyoya wiggled away far enough to see his face and placated him with a kiss. “Not on the sand, my darling. That is a mess I do not wish to clean up.”

They laughed, and Tamaki cuddled him tighter, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Kyoya returned his eyes to the sun, now nearly sunk beneath the sea. It struck a chord in him, a reminder of what he had been meaning to share. He opened his mouth but closed it just as fast.

He didn’t know why he felt so nervous; Tamaki would like it, and even if he didn’t, he would be gracious about it.

“Tamaki,” he whispered, and felt him stir behind him.

“Yes, my dear?”

His mouth felt like cotton; licking his lips did little good. “I’ve been thinking...of names.”

Tamaki perked right up, squeaking out a little sound of excitement at the news. He scooted back, just enough to see Kyoya as he turned his head. His eyes blazed in excitement, lavender, like the slowly dying sky. “You have?”

“Yes. And I was thinking…” Kyoya gestured to the sunset. “Solara.”

“Solara.” An unusual name, to be sure, but classy, and wealthy, and beautiful.

“I know it’s neither Japanese nor French, as we were discussing,” Kyoya resumed with haste, “but I know how much you like nature names, and since Reiko is due in August, I thought it might--”

Tamaki cut him off, grabbing his face and kissing him, more teeth than lips as they smiled, clutching close in joy and anticipation. “Kyo--” he kissed him again-- “Kyo, I love it. I love it.”

Kyoya chuckled as his glasses were knocked askew, but even without them he could see his lover’s brilliant smile and glassy eyes. “I know you really wanted something French, but this is Latin, so it might be close--”

He was interrupted, again, by Tamaki’s kisses, and this time he just determined to stay silent and enjoy the moment, enjoy their clashing noses and teeth and laughter in a way he was never allowed to growing up--a way he only could with Tamaki.

Once Tamaki finished laughing, burying his head between Kyoya’s shoulders, he began to cry so severely that Kyoya dug out his head and cradled his cheeks, wiping away the glistening tears rolling down his warm pink skin. He hiccuped, as Kyoya tried to ask what was wrong, his eyes reflected that beautiful sunset.

“We’re…” his brain stopped functioning, and there were no thoughts behind those eyes. Finding Japanese too difficult at the moment, he switched to French: “We’re having a baby.”

“Oui,” Kyoya said, catching one stray crystalline tear on his jaw. “We’re having a baby.”

“Her name is Solara…”

“Yes.”

“Like the sunset…”

Kyoya shifted away, pressing his back against Tamaki’s chest, so together they faced the night sky. He took his husband’s hand and traced the faint remaining streaks of orange against the midnight blue canvas. The scattered remains until the world comes to life again.

“No, my darling,” he whispered. “Like the sunrise.”

#ouran high school host club #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #tamaki x kyoya #tamakyo #kyotama #ohshc #tamaki suoh x kyoya ootori

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 3 years

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Soft

A/N: This is for both the @spnfanficpond's S14 Weekly Episode Challenge, week 20, and also this month's Alpha Reader Program with @deanwinchesterswitch! Kym is a great Alpha reader, putting up with so much babbling of ideas with me!!

Summary: Chuck is depowered, Jack de-poofed Eileen and Y/N, and they all rescued Cas from the Empty. (The finale never happened fight me.) Now, with no more Big Bads on the horizon, Dean needs to figure out what his happily ever after looks like. Once he does, then he needs to go get it.

Pairing: Destiel x reader

Warnings: Pining. Idjits in love. Canon-divergent after 15x19. Fluff.

Word count: 4311 words

Prompt: "I'll stop talking." "Probably a good idea."

Dean watches her throw her arms around Cas’s waist and really snuggle into his embrace. It’s done. Chuck is depowered, Jack is in charge, Y/N is back, and now Cas is back. Everything is as it should be. Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, meeting his gaze with a smile he can feel is strained, locks eyes for a second with Y/N, and heads towards his room via the drink trolley. A little time resting in the only soft thing he’s ever been allowed to keep is definitely in order.

Sitting on his bed, back propped against the headboard and whiskey bottle in hand, he forces himself to consider everything he’s been trying not to think about for far too long. Cas will want to talk at some point, and Dean knows he can’t get it wrong. Well, no, he actually could get it all very disastrously wrong, but this time, he doesn’t want to.

And he has so very much to think about if he wants any chance to get this right. First, he needs to decide what “right” looks like.

If you’d asked him a few years ago what a good life looked like, he would have denied Cas’s place in it. There were just so many reasons why Cas couldn’t be a part of any picture he’d have painted back then. That was before, though. Before Cas told him, unequivocally, that he loved Dean in a way he thought he couldn’t have.

Maybe a year ago, if Cas had said those same words, Dean would have jumped into his arms and kissed the hell out of him. At that point, he’d finally admitted to himself that Cas was more to him. That Cas meant more than Dean’s fear of someone thinking he liked dick. Cas meant more than his hang-ups about how sex worked with a dude. Cas was more than a guy, and not simply because he wasn’t human. Angel or not, Cas was Dean’s person.

That was before, though. Before Mary died. Before Chuck had his little hissy fit. Before Dean acted like an ass… again. Before Y/N.

Now, Dean sits on his bed, not drinking the whiskey in his hand because he knows it won’t help. He needs to think clearly. He needs to decide how he feels. He’s loved Cas for years. But he’s beginning to think that maybe he loves her, too.

She appeared with the army of hunters that had arrived when Chuck opened Hell. She was relatively new to hunting, so when her partner died early on, she needed an experienced partner. With Dean barely speaking to him, Cas needed something to focus on, and he took her under his wing, so to speak. Which meant Dean barely spoke to her, either, outside of barking orders.

He was just so angry at the time, and it spilled onto her. Dean didn’t want Cas around him, but then he didn’t want Cas focusing on her, either. Or giving her that squinty head tilt. Hugging her while she grieved her partner. Talking to her about lore and weapons and sigils.

With Jack and Rowena dead, Y/N filled the fourth seat in the Impala just a little too quickly for Dean’s liking. And it had nothing to do with how fondly Cas looked at her when she fell asleep on his shoulder. Yeah, he understood that she needed training and experience, but there were a million other hunters fighting ghosts and zombies with them that she could have joined.

Dean was so mad, Cas left. And she went with him. And no, Dean did not spend several sleepless nights wondering about the sexual orientation of angels.

She and Cas were hunting partners for a while, but then Cas went to Heaven, so she moved into the bunker and never left. Dean tried not to dump his shit on her, knowing that it was his shit and not hers and he was being a dick, but she was everywhere—cooking in the kitchen, beating up the heavy bag in the gym, shooting curse words into the paper targets in the range. Dean didn’t want to laugh when she slapped one on his chest that read “DICK” as she walked out the door. He also didn’t want to deck Fancypants Dean from the other world when he asked her to go with them to Rio and then kissed her, dipped her like a 50’s heroine and everything, right in front of him!

And he definitely didn’t want to miss her when she left again with Cas. They were gone, again. Alone. Soon, he realized that he missed the smell of her cooking. He stared at the taped-over hole she left in the heavy bag when she tried attacking it while wearing heels. He tried to forget how lethal she was in the gun range. He failed to stop wondering how many beds were in the motel room they were sharing each night.

He got better about not being a dick to her when they returned. He even shared his pie. The first time she gave him one of her hundred-watt smiles, he nearly melted. She offered to help wash Baby, and he accepted. Not being a dick got easier as they became friends.

Then Chuck killed her. Just poofed her into nothing. A finger snap and Dean felt like he was back on the rack, a knife slicing into his heart. Why? Watching Cas mourn her was almost as hard as admitting that he felt the same way. He shouldn’t feel this way. They were friends. But the pain and grief in Cas’s eyes were mirrored in his chest. Not that he could say that to anyone. She was Cas’s… something.

Yet, before the Shadow swallowed him and Billie whole, Cas still said that his moment of complete happiness was loving Dean.

After Cas was gone, Dean sat on the floor in the dungeon and wondered at the complete lack of black goo anywhere. It had seemed to be everywhere but had left no trace. His mind bounced against the image of Cas getting swallowed whole and ricocheted into the image of Y/N poofing into thin air. Sam’s face when he picked up Eileen’s car keys, phone, and wallet. Jack’s face burning brightly when Chuck killed him in the graveyard. Mom’s face when he wrapped a shroud around the body that wasn’t hers. Charlie’s face as she lay in that awful motel bathtub. Bobby’s face as he called them idjits one last time. Dad’s face when the doctors tried to revive him, but he was already long gone.

Dean went on autopilot. He got up from the floor, drove to Sam and Jack, and then, he … did what needed to be done. On the drive away from Chuck’s defeat, Dean tried to imagine the life ahead of him without Chuck’s influence. Just him and Sam and Jack. He pictured them in the bunker, all in black and white like the old photos of the Men of Letters in the archives. Nothing big to fight, only little hunts. Maybe there would be the occasional trip to Hell to visit Rowena. Maybe Rowena could use a hand down there? Hell sounded nice, this time of year. You know, when everyone else is dead….

Dean didn’t let himself complete that thought. He still had Sam.

Then Jack brought back Y/N and Eileen. Color returned to Dean’s world. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than Heaven or Hell. With Y/N in his arms, all he could think about was Cas. Dean needed Cas back, even if it meant watching them ride off into the sunset together. When Jack said he couldn’t get Cas as easily as he’d gotten Y/N and Eileen, she ended up crying in Dean’s arms, letting him comfort her. She comforted him. They comforted each other.

Before the big rescue, Dean decided that if Cas and Y/N chose to go off and live a happy life together, he’d wish them well, even if it meant drowning himself in whiskey.

But now they’re both here. When their departure was hypothetical, it was easy to convince himself that he could be supportive. Now that he was up against the reality of it, he could barely breathe. Yes, the two of them alive and happy together without him is better than the two of them dead, but….

Dean puts down the whiskey and grabs an open bottle of what is probably very stale water off his desk. He drinks it down and then stares at the whiskey bottle. He tries to breathe through the pain in his chest caused by the prospect of visiting Cas and Y/N in their little country cottage with the white picket fence and beehives in the backyard. Oh, how he wants to drink something stronger than water and make this pain stop.

No. He needs to say this to himself completely sober.

“I want them,” he announces to the room, quietly enough that no one outside could hear, but the words still echo in his ears. “No, I don’t just want them. I want a bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions and a slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream on top. I need them. I need Cas, and I need her, and I need to stop acting like I don’t.”

Picturing the little country cottage once more, he shakes his head. “I have to try. Cas said he loved me. Y/N at least doesn’t think I’m a dick. I can’t do nothing, anymore. I have to try. I have to tell them both and at least ask them to give me a chance.”

Dean pulls at his hair and sighs. “But that’s not how the world works. I can’t have them both. I need to decide who to talk to first. I need to choose.”

The angel that literally saved him from Hell but wears a vessel Dean doesn’t know how to handle, or the woman who would be the complete package if he weren’t already in love with Cas.

“How do I choose?”

And that’s all assuming that either of them even (still) wants him. Cas may have changed his mind after Dean stood there stupidly and said freaking nothing while the Empty swallowed him whole. And she’s never really indicated that she wanted anyone but Cas. And Cas has always seemed perfectly happy to indulge her attentions. Hell, maybe they will go off together to that cottage in the country and leave him alone. After the way he’s acted, it’s the least he deserves.

“If I even have a choice, I can’t choose.”

Pacing the room, he kneads the problem in his mind like a baker would knead dough. After only a couple of minutes, he tires of rolling around a thousand “what ifs” in his head and stops in front of his bedroom door, hand almost grabbing the knob to turn it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asks himself, trying to give himself the courage to move. “They both say they don’t want me, they only want each other, and I’m left alone, like I’ve always been. Nothing changes for me.”

Swallowing down the blast of grief that idea causes, he takes a deep breath and watches from outside of his body as he turns the doorknob and walks down the hallway.

He hears her voice coming from her room long before he reaches it, but he’s almost in the doorway before he can make out the words she’s saying. She’s chattering in that way she does when she’s excited or nervous about something, and his heart clenches as he wonders what’s got her so jittery.

“It’s just that there’s so much to consider and so many possibilities and I’ve been waiting until now to think about it and oh god now I’m rambling and we really need to come up with a better phrase for that now that Chuck’s not in power andfuckinghellIthinkI’llstoptalking.”

Dean watches her put a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words and can’t stop his smile. She’s adorable.

Cas sees Dean in the doorway, gives her a gentle smile, and says, “That’s probably a good idea.” He nods his head towards Dean, and she turns to look at him. They’re both sitting on the side of the bed, one of her hands is encased in both of his, and Dean feels his heart wrench at what that might mean.

He tries to read their expressions, get a feel for what’s happening in the room, but his own feelings are overwhelming him. They’re both right here, staring at him, while he’s staring at them, and no one is saying anything!

“Uh,” he starts —oh, you’re doing great there, Dean, so eloquent— before clearing his throat and taking a steadying breath, “I don’t want to interrupt you guys?”

Cas smiles, but Y/N gulps and shakes her head.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says in that way that always makes Dean feel warm inside. “It’s okay. What do you need?”

Dean tries again to read their expressions, but all he can feel is tension. Is it coming from him? “I, uh, need you,” he says to both of them, bouncing his gaze back and forth between them.

Cas stands up, letting go of Y/N’s hands, and pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll let you guys have some time alone. We can finish this later, right?”

Y/N nods, but Dean stops Cas from leaving the room with a hand on his arm. “No, Cas, I mean both of you.” Wishing that he could simply snap his fingers and have both of them automatically understand, he stares into Cas’s eyes like he’s done so many times before, trying to will his jumble of thoughts into the angel’s head.

Cas must only get static, though, because he smiles his same old fond smile, puts his hand on Dean’s left shoulder like he always does, and replies, “Of course, Dean. I’m always here when you need me. How can I help?”

Dean groans, wiping down his face with his hand while his shoulders droop. “Fuck, this is hard,” he mutters, then leads Cas back to where he’d been sitting on the bed, drags over the desk chair, and sits facing them both. “Look, I don’t do chick flick stuff, and you guys both know that, so bear with me, okay?”

Cas and Y/N both nod, and Dean wishes he had the whiskey bottle with him. Maybe a little in vino veritas would help him get through this. Staring at the two of them, he doesn’t even know where to start. He looks back and forth at each of them again, noting that they’re holding hands once more, and focuses on that.

“Look, guys, I know you two are,” he waves a hand around trying to indicate what he means, “together? Involved? Whatever you want to call it since we’re not in high school and we’ve all worked to derail an apocalypse or two. And I don’t want to mess with that. Well, not exactly. Wait, that’s not what I meant.” He takes a steadying breath and mutters, “Fuck, this is hard,” yet again.

He looks up and finally notices that both Cas and Y/N are now considerably less relaxed than they were a minute ago. Both sit stiff-backed, trying to look at anything but each other, and their hands are no longer linked.

“Wait, you guys are together, right?” Dean asks, suddenly questioning every moment he’s ever seen between them.

Y/N clears her throat and replies, “Well, that’s kind of what I was trying to talk to Cas about when you came in.” Her eyes bounce between Cas and Dean nervously and she shifts her position on the bed a little so she’s facing towards Cas a little more. “Cas, part of what I was trying to say is that I have, you know, feelings for you, that are, well, more than friendship.” Her words rush faster and faster until she gets to the end. “I held it in for so long, and then I was dead, and you were dead, and it was all awful, but now we’re back, and we’re here, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel what I feel.” She ends with a small gasp of much-needed air and then stares fearfully at the angel while she carefully exhales.

Cas tilts his head and squints, and Y/N slowly deflates a little bit more with every moment Cas takes to reply. Dean had no idea what he was walking into but somehow feels a little better knowing he’s not the only one feeling the need to put things on the table. The only concern now is that he might be watching the two people he wants so very much get together right in front of him, without him. Well, I’ll always have Sammy and visits to Rowena in Hell, he thinks.

“Cas? Please say something,” Y/N pleads, the panic becoming clear to Dean as her breathing quickens and her hands fumble in her lap.

“I thought you were in love with Dean?” Cas blurts out, leaving all three of them exchanging looks between them.

Dean sits up straighter and glances between Cas and Y/N, but focuses more on Y/N. “Really?” He can’t stop the word from leaving his mouth. He’s too excited by the possibility. Doing the math in his head, his heart starts to race happily. Half a chance Cas really loves him like he said, half a chance Y/N loves him like Cas said, that equals a whole chance he might actually get at least half of what he wants.

Completely ignorant to the social graces surrounding admitting other people’s feelings for other people to those other people, Cas just keeps going, turning to Dean. “Yes. I’ve noticed her engaging in some of the social actions that usually indicate romantic affection towards you. I assumed that meant she had feelings for you.”

Dean looks at Cas, then throws his hands up in the air. “Well, I’ve been watching the two of you cuddle up together all the time like two peas in a damn pod, so I knew she had feelings for you! And you’ve been cuddling right back, so I figured that meant the two of you were a thing, no matter what you said!”

Face glowing a bright red, Y/N interrupted the staring contest between the two men. “Well, I’ve been watching all the eye-fucking between you two since day one, so I thought you two were a thing! I mean, seriously, you two need to kiss or fuck or something so the rest of us can breathe clear air, again!”

Both Dean and Cas turn to stare at Y/N.

“What? You two had no problem talking about my feelings! Turnabout’s fair play!”

Cas takes hold of Y/N’s hand to ground her and says, “So, you have romantic feelings for both of us, then?”

Fear washes over her face as she nods, nervously glancing between the two of them.

Cas smiles. “And I have romantic feelings for both of you,” he states. The two of them smile at each other for a moment and then turn to Dean in unison. Their hands are clutched together, knuckles white with tension.

With two pairs of striking eyes staring at him, Dean squirms.

“Dean, we would very much appreciate you telling us what you’re thinking and feeling, right now,” Cas said, using his calmest and most caring voice. “I believe the phrase is, ‘this is a safe space.’”

Dean takes a steadying breath, looks at each of them individually, and decides there’s no use running now. He’s here. He knows there will be a soft landing when he jumps. He’s jumped into worse with less and come out winning. He can do this.

Dean takes Y/N’s free hand in one of his and squeezes it while he decides what words to use. She relaxes, her shoulders dropping, but Dean notices Cas stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Dean stiffens right along with him, bringing his eyes up just in time to see the flash of disappointment in Cas’s eyes before it disappears.

Fuck, he’s screwing this all up, already.

Words are still foreign things he can’t seem to grasp, so he decides to act instead. Still holding Y/N’s hand, he reaches with his other hand to grasp Cas’s neck and pull him in.

The kiss is awkward as hell. Cas’s eyes are wide open when Dean closes his, and then teeth clash, and Cas stays frozen while Dean tries to gently kiss some life into him. Right before Dean is about to pull away and question all his life choices, Cas melts. Cas’s hand is suddenly in Dean’s hair, pulling Dean closer as the kiss turns into the warmest, loveliest kiss Dean’s ever experienced. Cas’s lips are as soft as Dean ever imagined, the little bit of rough stubble a new but not awful feeling, and Dean’s pretty sure he could do this for hours and never come up for air. Maybe it would kill him, but he’d be okay dying this way.

Eventually, the kiss turns to little nibbles, and then they simply sit there for a moment, foreheads together and eyes closed, feeling the warmth of each other.

“I didn’t think you could feel what I feel,” Dean whispered. “And then you said you could, and you did, and then you were gone, and it was too late.” He shifts only enough to press his lips to Cas’s again one more time. “You can have everything you want, angel,” he says, pulling back enough to look Cas in the eyes.

Cas’s smile is as wide and happy as Dean’s ever seen it. They stare at each other for another one of those long moments where Dean swears Cas must be able to freeze time. Cas’s eyes shift away from Dean, and he’s reminded that he’s staring at only half of his happiness.

The other half is still holding his hand, watching him and Cas with wide eyes and a shy smile. With nothing left to lose, Dean leans in and feels the rest of his world click into place as his lips settle perfectly on hers. The kiss with her is different, and yet also the same in how right it feels. She opens her mouth a little, and their tongues slide together like they’ve done this a hundred times before. When they finally break apart, he doesn’t know what to say, so he just lets his smile loose. She smiles back, and he knows she understands.

Everything in him wants to keep going back and forth, kissing them both, but there’s always that little voice inside his head —which sounds a bit like Chuck, these days— that tells him that this isn’t real. It makes him slow down a bit, lean back in his chair, and enjoy looking at the two people in front of him. He watches the two of them kiss and is surprised when his gut doesn’t churn with jealousy this time.

Each time he had imagined what they did behind closed doors, he was miserable. Yet, here he is, watching them kiss, feeling happy. The part of him that was jealous and hurt now knows that they both want him, too. He’s not on the outside looking in, anymore.

The little voice that sounds like Chuck gets a little louder. ‘What is this, a three-way roll in the hay like with the Doublemint twins back before Hell, or those triplets with Lee? Yeah, this isn’t how real life works, pal.’

Cas and Y/N finally pull away from each other but continue to stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Now, Dean knows how other people have felt while he’s stared at Cas in the past. Part of him wants to laugh at that, but that evil little voice has convinced him that this is temporary. They’re all holding hands, now, like some kind of hippie prayer circle or Zen meditation thing, grinning like idiots at each other, and it can’t last.

Dean’s smile falters, and he looks down at their hands, trying to memorize this moment before it all comes crashing down. Before he has to choose. Before they have to choose. Before he loses everything.

Cas lets go of his hand and uses it to lift Dean’s chin so he sees Cas’s face again. “You can have this, Dean. We can have this, exactly like this. We don’t have to choose. It won’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is, right?” Cas’s hand drops down and grasps his hand, again. “Polyamory is not unheard of and is accepted in many cultures.”

Dean looks back and forth between Cas and Y/N, gauging their feelings about this from their expressions.

Y/N giggles and shrugs when Dean looks at her, questions in his eyes. “I’m game to try if you are. I’m guessing it’s going to involve a lot of honesty and talking, but I could never choose between you.”

Dean’s shoulders relax and he takes what feels like the first deep breath of his life. He’s fallen, hard and fast, expecting the pain of a crash landing, but found a safety net instead. It’s thrilling, it’s scary, and his heart wants to burst out of his chest, but it’s all good.

Squeezing both of their hands, he grins. “Let’s do this, then.”

Later, when he and Y/N are curled into Cas in bed, who’s reading a book because he doesn’t sleep, Dean squeezes her hand on the broad chest between them and smiles when she squeezes back. When he’s asleep and dreaming about hunts and fights and beating the Devil, for the first time, when he falls, he lands softly.

#pond s14 weekly challenge #alpha reader program #mrswhozeewhatsis writes #incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis #destiel x reader #dean x reader #destiel fluff #dean fluff

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