#that happened tonight a few times in a row but it kept trying to turn back on. turns off. tries to turn back on

[visdiefje]

Pour one out for my 18 or so (maybe more) year old second monitor. She went out with a bang (caused my apartment's first power surge during my time here and then stopped working for good)

[kidney9-9]

Mixing Things Up - Yamada Hizashi

Hi hope you enjoy :) thank you! I'll be back pretty soon I hope. Also lmao I have no idea if his quirk would be able to do this but I'm pretending it does. Requests are open

Hizashi x Reader [Smut] Warnings: Smut, face sitting, cursing Word Count: 1.4k

-

Hizashi answered the call for his radio show, not thinking their question would be something so inappropriate for a live show. “Hello, you’re now on with Present Mic, Yugo. What’s your question for the day?” Hizashi asked, drumming his fingers against his desk.

The person on the other line stumbled over their words, “Uh, hi! So, my girlfriend and I wanted to mix things up a bit by using our quirks – if you know what I mean.”

Hizashi scrunched his nose up in confusion, “No, I don’t follow?”

The person laughed, “Right, right. Anyway, my question to you is have you and your girlfriend ever use a quirk during sex? Doesn’t your voice cause at least some vibrations when used in a controlled way? Why not use it on someone?”

Hizashi’s eyes widened, “Woah! Okay, I’m stopping you right there. This show is live and family friendly.” He quickly looked over to the audio techs, scrambling to cut the phone call now. They quickly did, and Hizashi blew out a sigh of relief.

“Wow, okay folks, time to get this party going with some new music out by a few popular bands.” He quickly moved onto another subject.

By the time the show ended, Hizashi kept thinking about the question that he was asked earlier. Was his quirk able to do that? He thought deeply about it. Technically, it should be able to do something like that. All Hizashi had to do was activate his quirk while he was whispering, and that would send a very mini version of the pressure pushed out. If he did it a few times in a row, then yeah, it would feel like vibrations.

He blew out a sigh, wondering if you’d even like to try that kind of thing. He’d figure he’d ask tonight when he got home. He was up to try it at least.

-

You were in the shower when he got home. He smiled softly to himself, looking in the fridge and noticing the extra food. He warmed it up in the microwave and sat down to eat it. Once he was done eating, he heard the shower turn off, and he quickly put the plate away and walked towards the bathroom.

“Hey sweetheart.” He called out, waiting for you to get out of the bathroom. You did, with a towel wrapped around your body. You smiled softly at him, happy to see him.

“Hi Hiz, how was work? I listened for a few hours but had to do some work.” You asked, walking towards him. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged, he hugged you back, groaning as some water dripped on him.

“It was great! Mostly…, hey you got me all wet.” He chuckled, pulling away at the feeling of wetness on his clothes.

“Mostly? What happened?” You ignored his joke, pouting at him.

He sighed, feeling a bit weird even bringing it up like this, but for some reason he was stuck on it. “Did you hear about the caller that asked about quirk use during sex?”

Your eyes widened and a surprised laugh came from your lips, “Mm, wow, that must’ve been surprising. I didn’t hear it.”

“Okay! Yeah, just something he said really made me think about something.” He paused and laughed, scratching his head.

“He said my quirk could cause sensations, like vibrations – and well, would you be interested in trying something out?” His words tumbled out and he watched as your smile widened and you nodded to him, causing him to laugh in relief.

“You were acting so nervous, I was worried!” You laughed, “Baby if you wanted to do that, we can. How would you wanna do it?” His eyes widened, realizing you meant right now. Damn, he was down for that too, why not?

“Mm, you know I love when you sit on my face.” He responded and you gave him a suggestive look as you dropped your towel. His eyes dropped down to your body and gulped as he watched some of the water drip down your breasts and down to your stomach, leading towards your hips. He sighed as he watched the water drip down your bare legs, and you walked over to the bedroom, signaling him to follow.

He settled down against the bed and motioned for you to get up on the bed with him. “I’ll tap you twice on your leg if I need to get up.” He spoke and pulled you close to him. He gave you a kiss on the lips, which turned heated as one of his hands drifted to your breasts.

He squeezed and massaged one of them and then started to pinch your nipple. You gasped into the kiss and leaned into him even more, which led him to slipping his tongue into your mouth, curling around your tongue and your mouth.

He groaned into the kiss as you started to grind against him. You wished he was naked, so you could feel more of his bare skin, and you slipped away from the kiss, panting, “Baby, I wanna feel you, take your clothes off.”

“Mm, of course, then I want you to sit on my face, pretty girl.” He murmured back to you, making you shiver in excitement. You pulled back and sat, helping him pull his shirt off. He grinned at you, and you smiled back, loving how attractive he was, with his hair down and smiling.

“You’re so handsome.” You let out, causing Hizashi to laugh and smile even more at you. He kissed your lips slightly, then scooted back to take his pants off. Once he was done, he gestured for you to come over to him.

He laid his head down on one of the pillows and you put one leg on one side of his head and the other on the other side. “You ready?” You asked, gazing down at him. He nodded back to you with a wide grin, excited for you to sit on his face. It was one of his favorite positions after all.

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He responded with a blush forming on his face, as he gazed up to your pussy. You slowly lowered yourself onto his face, and he blew out some air just before you settled down against him, causing you to shiver slightly.

Just as soon as you sat down on his face, he gave a big smooch to your pussy, chuckling when you shuddered again. He started off with smoothing his tongue slowly all up and down your pussy. He groaned at the taste, enjoying the sweetness of it.

“Ohhh, Hiz…” You trailed off, moaning as he started to circle around your clit. He usually focused on your clit, just as you liked and continued to press his tongue against your bud with more and more pressure.

He gripped your legs tightly, pushing you down further causing you to gasp loudly. You pushed your hands into his hair, pulling his face up closer against your pussy.

He grinned before he activated his quirk, to the very smallest set – extremely quiet, not a whisper but loud enough for you both to hear his words as the vibrations rolled straight into your clit, causing you to shake like crazy.

“How do you like it?” He asked, with his quirk activated.

You whimpered loudly, “Fuck, fuck, Hizashi.” Your voice carried out his name, and he shuddered at the sound of it. He loved hearing you moan his name, especially like that. It made him feel so important and lustful for you.

“Hmm, keep moaning for me, baby girl. I love it when you do that.” His voice came out, quirk activated with vibrations rolling out throughout your pussy. Your grip on his hair tightened and you shook against him, about to come undone.

“I’m so close, fuck, please, keep doing that, oh god, please!” You begged him loudly, not caring that your neighbors might hear.

He continued going on the lowest activation of his quirk, muttering dirty things to you, “Go ahead baby, cum for me, I want your juices to cover my face. You taste so sweet, so good, fuck, baby girl, you’re so fucking good.”

That drew you over the edge with the vibrations curling over your clit relentlessly. Your orgasm pushed out of you, cum pouring out of your pussy, spreading over Hizashi’s face. He lapped it all up with his tongue, circling over your clit again, making you shudder once more.

“Baby, holy fuck, that was amazing.” He groaned as you slowly moved yourself off of his face. Your lower body was trembling as you moved away, and you laid next to him, breathing deeply.

“Yeah, it was. Can’t believe we didn’t think about that ourselves.” You chuckled back breathlessly. You pulled close to him and gave him a small peck to his lips.

He grinned happily, “We’re doing that again for sure. I’ve got to thank that caller.”

[unreliablesnake]

The Boogeyman (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x reader)

Summary: Kyle's daughter is afraid of the Boogeyman.

Note: Don't look at me, I'm watching The Boogeyman and I had to write this.

A high-pitched, bone chilling scream came from your daughter's room way after her bedtime, the sound alarming Kyle who wasn't used to this. He seemingly switched into soldier mode after experiencing pure terror for a moment, his hand already held up to stop you as he reached for the knife he held in the nightstand's top drawer.

"I'll see what's going on, stay here," he said as he made his way towards the door.

You let out a sigh before going after him. "The Boogeyman," you informed him in a flat tone once you gently curled your fingers around his hand that held the knife.

"The Boogeyman?" When you nodded, he put the knife back where it belonged and returned to you with raised eyebrows. "Come on, what's going on? You don't even seem surprised."

"She thinks the Boogeyman is in her closet," you began to explain to him. "It started a few weeks before you came back. I'm planning on taking her to a child psychologist if it keeps happening."

Kyle gently kissed your forehead before pulling you into a hug. "I'll talk to her," he whispered to you while his hand massaged your back along your spine.

When he pulled away, you nodded with a smile and watched as he headed towards your daughter's bedroom, cautiously opening the door so he wouldn't scare her. You went after him, stopping in the door and watching as he sat on the edge of her bed and swept a strand of hair behind the girl's ear.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked her, but when she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, he knew that wasn't the answer. "The Boogeyman?"

He could feel her nod against his body, so he kissed the top of her head and kept her close to himself. When he looked over at you, you shrugged and leaned your head against the doorframe. Kyle hated to see this, his daughter being so scared of something that she couldn't even talk about it. And the worst part was the fact he couldn't protect her from her own imagination.

"It's okay, honey, there's no one else in the room aside from the three of us. It's just you, me, and Mom," he said, although he knew halfway through that it wouldn't work.

And just as expected, his little girl who was still fighting her tears leaned back and pointed at the closet across the room. It was open a little, but he could imagine how terrifying even that could be now. The monster in her head could have easily slipped through that crack, so he let out a sigh and peeled her off himself.

Kyle stood up and walked over there, slowly opening the door and turning on the light inside to show her there was nothing there. His daughter was hugging her teddy bear tightly to her chest, but she shook her head as if she didn't believe him.

"You wanna sleep with us tonight?" you asked from the door before stepping inside and standing next to your husband.

She nodded a few times in a row, which turned out to be the green light for Kyle who picked her up and signaled you to go back to the master bedroom. "It's okay, sweetheart, you're safe now," he whispered to her once she was settled between the two of you.

He kissed the top of her head and watched as she turned on her side and snuggled up to you with the toy tucked under her arm. You began to stroke her hair on the back of her head while your eyes were locked on Kyle. "I love you," you mouthed to him with a smile.

"I love you too," he said quietly before instinctively turning off the lamp on the nightstand. That's when he realized something. "Is it okay if we sleep in the dark? Or should I keep the light on?" he asked his daughter as he patted her shoulder to get her attention.

She turned her head towards him and said, "Can we keep it on?"

"Sure," was all he told her in response before turning on the light. "Now try to sleep, princess."

[the-moon-in-the-gutter]

Twice as Many Stars

A/N: If you follow my main blog (@silks-up-my-sleeve for a shameless self-promo), you will know I'm absolutely obsessed with the calf, Deux Face, who was born in Louisiana. She inspired this collection of thoughts and now here I am to throw it into something fic length for you all! A special thank you to @sovaghoul for encouraging me to think more about these ghouls!! And another special thank you to @spillways-of-your-soul for lisening to my idea when it originally hit!! <3

Word Count: 1,424

It's spring calving season and Ivy's had his eye on a few cows in his heard, expecting a fair number of calves to be born over the course of the week. However, his sights are on one particular cow. Early that afternoon he had moved her into the barn to hopefully hurry along the process of birthing, a stall filled with fresh hay and the safety of indoors was typically enough to convince even his most stubborn of cattle to birth.

The earth ghoul carries on with his duties of the afternoon and evening, keeping a close eye on the time as she would most likely birth that night or in the early morning hours. Instinct screaming at the ghoul that he should spend the night in the barn, just in case something were to go awry. As the ghoul settles in for dinner with his pack, he turns to Pebble who also shares that knowing look. That deep concern for what may be to come with one of the calves to be born that week.

"You heading to the barn after dinner?" Pebble inquires, noting how his closest companion is sat as if he's ready to spring into action at any moment. The anxiety rolling off the larger earth ghoul in waves, almost palpable.

"Yeah, I just have an odd feeling about this calf. I want to be there in case something happens" Ivy shrugs, trying to turn his attention to the plate he was picking around "But if she doesn't end up birthing tonight then at least I get to enjoy a sleep in the hay loft."

The hay loft in the barn was expanded months ago to provide adequate storage for the square bales the ghouls had been producing that fall, lending Ivy a warm spot to sleep on chilly winter nights when he's watching over a sick goat or cow. The earth ghoul was heavily prepared to spend the night in the hay loft, a makeshift bed was created early that morning. All the ghoul needed was to gather a few flannel blankets to take to the barn with him, the early spring nights still holding potentials for another frost. The only frivolty he would bring with him would be a few tea bags, the cistern was full from the recent deluge of rain. An old tea kettle was left behind, the earth ghoul using it to boil water on the small woodstove that only threw heat a few feet in the winter.

As the meal drew to a close, the earth ghouls retreated to their shared room. Ivy set about gathering his wares, carefully rolling the old flannel blankets to fit into a small pack when he took notice of Pebble. The small earth ghoul was dressing to follow his companion to the barn, attempting to cram wool-socked feet into poorly loosened work boots. "You don't have to stay out there with me if you dont want to" Ivy reassured the ghoul who had finally given into loosing the laces of his boots the rest of the way.

"I want to," Pebble sighs in relief as he finally slips into one of his boots, glancing up at his counterpart "besides Delta's being weirdly prophetic again and I don't think Omega and Alpha want me crawling into their bed a third night in a row."

Ivy laughed at the image of the small ghoul sneaking into their room, wedging himself in between the two large ghouls who have grown to accept his presence. Something akin to a small dog bullying a larger dog from their bed. Pebble was an easy ghoul to share a bed with, at least when he was content. The past few nights he had tried to sleep with Delta, but the vivid dreams and nightmares that plague the quintessence ghoul had kept him awake. Startling the earth ghoul from his slumber and causing him to sneak from the room, seeking shelter with those who bring forth a sense of safety he can't often find in Delta anymore.

"It's always good to have another set of hands when I need them, instead of having to race down here to wake you myself" Ivy shrugged, gathering an extra set of blankets for his companion.

It was 3am when their little calf was brought into the world, the pair of earth ghouls having to aid in the delivery for an incredibly rare reason. Something that occurs in 1 and 400 million births happened that night in the barn on the Ministry's property. A two headed calf was alive that night, cradled in the arms of two earth ghouls. A pair who had existed in the Pit together, and when the smaller was summoned, he had dragged the larger ghoul to the surface with him. The earth ghouls were a bonded pair, perfect foils of the other who always advocated and protected the other.

Now held between them, staining their work wear with amniotic fluids, was a freak of nature. Not unlike them.

It was Pebble who broke the silence, counting out the number of eyes and mouths the creature bore. He knew she may not have much time on this earth, but death was never an option with Ivy as a caretaker. The larger earth ghoul made a quick assessment of her health, nothing else was abnormal aside from the two working mouths and four working eyes. While the calf could not stand yet, the weight of her head making it difficult, she still was capable of lowing. Ivy had turned towards the cow, who was lovingly cleaning her fresh calf that was cradled in the bed of straw.

"I'm going to attempt to milk so I can get some feed into the calf," Ivy said, before turning towards his counterpart "Go wake the pack. They need to see our little miracle"

That sent Pebble racing from the barn and down the hillside, bursting into the den in record time. He was met by Delta at the back door, the quintessence ghoul not yet having went to bed, mind heavy with prophecy. "Two-headed calf, help me wake the others" Pebble said quickly, turning down the long corridor to wake as many ghouls as he could on his own.

Soon the whole pack was crammed into the barn, many still wiping sleep from their eyes when it dawns on them what is laying in the larger earth ghoul's lap. Pebble had taken ahold to the bottle to save Ivy the trouble of nursing the second mouth. Stunned silence hung in the air around the ghouls as they looked on at the scene before them, a cosmic blessing had found the ghouls a second time. First with the summoning of Pebble and Ivy, and now with the birth of this rarity who did not want to take "no" for an answer.

Delta, who found himself in the doorway of the barn was watching the night sky. Impresssive clarity for such a cold night, one that the weather forecasters was sure to bring the final snow of the season. Yet the sky was clear, no clouds hanging in the way of the silver and black tapestry that hung above them. The whistle of the wind that tore through the eaves of the barn blended with the soft lowing of the calf and her mother. It wasn't until Omega had joined him in the doorway that the quintessence ghoul found clarity in the murky waters of his mind. The quintessence ghouls stood side by side watching the sky; mentor and protege, hero and villian, god and false prophet.

"Twice as many stars as usual, I haven't seen a night sky quite this active since their summoning" Omega spoke, a careful hand coming to rest upon Delta's shoulder.

When the pack had opted to take their leave from the barn, the calf resting between her caretakers. The pair of earth ghouls who managed to find a way to keep a hand resting on the other, much like they slept together in the Pits. Delta glanced back at the ghouls, the mother cow settling in at their feet as if she had three babies to protect. The quintessence ghoul only turned to take his leave when he felt a tug through the pack bond, a beckoning to return home. A feeling that was rare for the ghoul, one that sent him running to catch up with the others where he was wrapped in a warmth he hadn't felt from them in what felt like eons.

[sydsaint]

A little Max content 😌

Summary: The reader and Renee hang out. And Renee discovers the reader's crush on Max.

It's a hot summer night and Rampage is running one of its rare Live shows on a Friday night. While the show is running you're sat backstage with Renee waiting for your turn out in the ring.

"I'm serious, Renee. You have got to let me borrow that top. It's super cute." You chat with Renee.

"Anytime, Y/N." Renee giggles. "How have you been? We haven't talked in a while." She asks you.

You shrug, a casual smile plastered on your face. "Ah, I've been alright, Renee. Just trying to take it easy and focus on work."

"Really? All work and no play, huh?" Renee replies. "That doesn't sound like any fun. You're young! You should be out there having fun and making memories when you're not working. It's Friday night, what are you doing after the show?" She asks you.

"I was just going to go back to the hotel." You shrug. "With Kris still out on injury and Ana still pissed off at me for the whole JAS thing, I'm all out of girlfriends to hang out with." You inform Renee.

Renee nods, remembering that you told her about your huge fight with Ana Jay a few months ago. "Well, what about the guys?" Renee presses you. "Surely there's got to be someone around here your age that you could go out with?"

You shrug again and Renee frowns. You'd been out on a few dates with Angelo Parker before. But again, the whole Ana situation has kept you away from him. Renee forces you to wrack your brain for at least one viable name to hang out and have some fun with tonight. But you fail to come up with anyone.

However, when all hope seems lost and Renee is about to give up. MJF happens around the corner.

"Well, what do we have here?" Max rolls up to you and Renee with a smug smile on his face. "Y/N, don't tell me that they stuck a pretty thing like you with a loser like Moxxley's wife." He eyes you up, completely disregarding Renee.

"Maxwell." You eye the champion up with a hand on your hip. "What brings you out of your locker room? Run out of sparkling water in there or something?" You snark at him.

Max chuckles and licks his lips, obviously eyeing you up right back. "So snarky tonight, Y/N." He comments. "If only you could transfer all that fire to the ring. Remind me, how many matches in a row have you lost these past few weeks?"

"Oh, that's big talk coming from the guy that runs his mouth for a living." You quip right back with a smile on your face. "Remind me, when was the last time you were even in a wrestling ring, Max?"

Friedman falls silent and a staring contest ensues. Neither of you is willing to be the one to break first. Renee has to be the one to break it up by stepping between the two of you.

"As much as I hate to break this up." Renee turns to face you, blocking your view of Max. "You're on in five minutes, Y/N." She reminds you.

"Right, thanks, Renee." You nod and turn sharply away from Max with her at your side.

As you walk away you hear Max chuckle in amusement. "Good luck out there, sweetheart!" He calls after you.

"Dickhead." You mumble to yourself as you walk off with an amused smile on your face.

"Oh my gosh!" Renee grabs your arm excitedly. "You have a thing for him!" She boldly claims.

You pull your arm away from the blonde with a sneer. "What? I do not!" You protest.

"Oh, you most definitely do!" Renee teases you.

You roll your eyes and leave Renee at the tunnel entrance since it's time for your match against Toni Storm.

You fight hard in your match and actually end up winning this time. After a short celebration with some fans at ringside, you head backstage and find Renee waiting for you.

"Don't start." You warn Renee when she walks over to you. "I so do not have a thing for MJF." You fake a gag to emphasize your point.

"You are such a liar." Renee laughs. "And speak of the devil, here he comes now." She nods to the other side of the room just as Max comes into view.

You roll your eyes and watch Max approach you with that same smug smile from earlier. "Back so soon?" You quip. "What? Did you come up with some more half-baked attempts at insulting me?"

"Nice work out there, sweetheart." Max compliments your work in the ring. "For an amateur." He adds.

"Of course." You scoff. "What do you want, Friedman?" You ask him.

"Okay, so you're not terrible in the ring," Max replies. "And, you're at least like top 5 hottest girls that work for this company." He adds. "So I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me?"

You let out a small laugh. "Wow, you make it sound so worthwhile. Such a charmer, Max." You roll your eyes again. "What makes you think I'd even want to get drinks with some egotistical dick like you?" You ask him.

"Come on, Y/N," Max replies with a grin. "You can cut the act, sweetheart. I know that you're into me. So just say yes so we can go out and have some fun." He insists.

You go to tell Friedman and his huge ego off, your own ego getting in the way. But Renee cuts in and saves you from ruining a perfect Friday night out. "She'll meet you out in the parking lot in half an hour." She smiles at Max and is quick to usher you away.

"Renee!" You confront her once you are far enough away from Max.

"What?" Renee giggles once again. "Oh come on, Y/N. You like him!" She insists again. "Just go out and have a few drinks with the kid. Live a little. What harm can it do, anyway?"

You cross your arm in a pout. But even you have to admit that drinks do sound nice. Even if it is with Max. "Fine." You whine. "But if I end up having a bad time, I'm blaming you." You warn her.

"You won't," Renee replies. "Now come on! Let's go get you cleaned up before you're late." She urges you forward.

[wildfluwer]

Kinktober Day 11

Xu Minghao (���호) – Accidental Stimulation

Word Count: 622

Warnings: established relationship, teasing, brief mention of dumbification, mention of punishment,

Weekly, or at least fortnightly, the members all held a game night or movie night at one of the dorms. It entailed a night full of board games, losing video games to Wonwoo and watching a movie that often became background noise due to your constant chatter.

Tonight was no different; you and Minghao were sat on the couch beside Chan and Seungkwan, you on his lap as you all play monopoly for the third time in a row. You were getting bored of the game having played it twice already, but Soonyoung is determined to win this time after losing every game so far.

You started talking to Jeonghan who was also getting quite bored, giggling about something one of the members did a few days go. Subsequently, you were moving quite a lot on your boyfriends lap, leaning back as you laugh, wiggling to get more comfortable.

Your ass was awakening his cock as he bites his lip in an attempt to will his hard on away. It didn’t seem much use though as you kept on moving around.

You might as well be grinding on him at this point, so engrossed in your innocent conversation that you don’t notice his hands grasp your waist. His fingers are digging into your skin as he holds himself back from moaning.

He’s completely forgotten about the game, head full with trying not to alert everyone to his boner. “Sit still!” He hisses into your ear but it’s loud enough for Jeonghan to hear and he’s smirking at you with a knowing look.

“I didn’t even do anything,” You pout, turning your head to get a look at his flushed face. It’s only now that you feel something hard pressing against your ass. “Oh….” You realize, putting two and two together.

He watches as an evil smirks forms on your face, hands holding onto your waist a little bit tighter. You experimentally shift a little, seeing as he bites his lip a harder, giving you a look of warning.

You know that if you continue, you’ll get punished when you go home but right now, that’s exactly what you want. You want to go home so he can fuck you. You can feel yourself get wet at the feeling on his hard cock pressed against you and the look of ‘I dare you’ on his face.

And you do dare. Inconspicuously, you do absolutely everything to have an excuse to move on his lap, wiggling your hips to get comfy, readjusting yourself, leaning back to whisper ‘strategies to him’ as you play another game. It’s all to wind him up, get him so horny that he’ll take you home and fuck you dumb.

It works, eventually. After almost another hour of teasing, he decides that he’s had enough. He knows at least Jeonghan is aware of what’s been going on and he just wants to take you home and punish you for being so obvious.

He stands up, forcing you to get up with him as his hand wraps around your wrist. He’s making up some shit excuse to leave early though he knows they all know why you’re abruptly leaving. At this point, he doesn’t care.

He’s dragging you to the door as you scramble to slip on your shoes. You would’ve thought he’d look angry but there’s a devilish smirk on his face as he drags you out of the dorm. You shout a last goodbye before you’re out the door.

You know exactly what’s going to happen what you get home and whilst you’re dreading the teasing that’s to come for teasing him in front of his members, the thought of his punishment is enough to have you practically dripping.

Tag List:

@knucklesdeepmingi @kodzukein @itbtoblikethatsometimes @kooklovesu @xxtingz @itz-taylor-alexis

[hwalilac]

Dreamers - P.SH

⇴ pairing: incubus!park seonghwa x f!reader

⇴ genre: smut, horror

⇴ words: 1.8k

⇴ warnings: unprotected, dub-con, stalking, oral (f!receiving)

⇴ a/n: this is a re-upload! feedback is accepted and welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts on my work! if you’d like to be on my taglist, lmk. if you’d like to see more of my work, check out my masterlist!

You were walking down your hallway, down to your bedroom. The creaking of the floorboards filled your ears. The power was out, because as soon as you tried to flip the hallway light on, nothing happened. It was complete silence.

You continued to your room before reaching for the handle. Everything was in slow motion. Slowly, you turned the handle, trying not to make any noise. Your breathing was heavy, chest pounding. The door cracked open, moonlight lighting up the room slightly. You could see a little. Everything seemed normal, nothing out of place.

You stepped into the cold room, eyes searching for something out of the ordinary. Your feet slowly carried you into the room, making sure to be cautious. There was an eerie feeling. Something isn’t right.

“Hello?” you whispered out, hoping there won’t be an answer. And there wasn’t. The silence was deafening.

You walk forward, quickly, and jump into your bed. Your hands immediately pull the blanket up, and over your, acting as some sort of protection. Not that it helps. Not that it makes you feel any safer. ‘Why can’t the light work?’, you thought.

Suddenly, you heard a creak from under your bed. It was quiet, but audible. Your heartbeat quickened, fright radiating all over your body. “Hello?”, you asked, louder than the last time. Still nothing. There was another creak from under you, this time louder as well.

Something took over you, a bit of bravery, that made you crawl over to the side of your bed. You turned onto your stomach and hung your head over the side. You peered into the darkness under your bed and waited. Silence sat heavy over the room.

You whispered a soft, “Hello?”, one more time, still hoping for no answer so you can go to bed. But as you lay there for a moment, there’s a little shuffle from under there, and then you hear it, loud and clear…

“Boo”

You shot up from the bed, neck straining to get away from the deep and frightening sound. Fear takes over as you scramble out of the sheets, off the bed, and to the door. The shuffling gets louder as you rip the door open and run down the hallway. Whatever that thing was, you couldn’t hear it coming, but you kept running anyway.

When you got to the end of the hallway, right before your front door, you tripped, falling face first onto the floor. You quickly looked up to see a dark and tall figure looming over you. The sickening smirk on his dark face made your stomach drop. You couldn’t move. You could barely breathe. At that moment, you didn’t know what to do.

Suddenly the lights to the hallway turned on, due to the power coming back. But it was gone.

You shot up from your bed, the light shining through the curtains. Sweat pools over your chest, face and hands. ‘That had to be the scariest nightmare I’ve ever been through’, you thought. You decided to get up and make some coffee, hoping the memory of the dream would go away soon.

You went about your Saturday as normal, making some breakfast, watching the news before getting started on your English paper. It was a research paper on climate change, something that could easily be accomplished within the next few days.

To be honest, you couldn’t get the memory of its smirk out of your mind. Its face was hidden behind the shadows, so there was nothing to go on other than its joyous appearance. Just thinking about it made you shiver in fear. It was like your worst fears were brought to life. It’s like the creature was feeding off your fear.

By the time it was bedtime, you were quite worried about tonight’s dreams. ‘You can’t have the same dream two nights in a row, right?’ You giggle, shaking your head at how silly the thought was. You did some skincare, washed up and put on a silky nightgown for bed. You got the feeling you were being watched, but shook it off as just jitters.

You shut the light off and jumped into bed, trying your hardest to act like everything is normal. ‘It was just a dream’, you told yourself over and over again. You got comfortable before drifting off to sleep. But it lasted for a good twenty minutes.

You woke up to a slight tickle on your arm. You scratched at it, thinking it was just the sheets rubbing you. But within seconds you felt it again, on your leg this time. Your eyes drift open from your deep sleep, only to see it. The large creature looming over you once again. You feel the strong urge to scream but nothing comes out. Once again, you can’t say or do anything. Your eyes were wide, heartbeat pounding in your chest.

This time you could see it better. You could see him better. It was a man, tall and extremely pale. You would consider him to be quite beautiful if not for the constant evil smirk. His hand came up to your face, making you flinch with how freezing cold they were.

You eyes traveled down his body, quickly finding out that he had no shirt on. His bare chest exposed to you, practically making you drool on sight. No, you thought to yourself, he’s a stranger in your room. But something told you he wasn’t just a stranger. You could tell he wasn’t even human. Something about his aura gave it away, he felt unreal. Like a fever dream.

His hand traveled lightly up your arm, making you fight off a shiver. The feeling made you want to squirm, maybe in fear, maybe in lust. You couldn’t tell. Something about him was so alluring. The way he stared into your eyes, making you want him for some strange reason. His hand stopped once it reached the thin strap of your sheer nightgown.

“Can I remove this?”, his deep voice fills your ears through the quiet night. You can’t help but nod your head, silently begging for more. He lifts up the strap before letting go, making it slap against your skin. You flinch at the feeling. You lift your arms as his hands come down to lift the gown over your head. Your breasts were now exposed, moonlight shining right on them. Part of you wanted to cover up, but the bigger part wanted him to see.

His smirk grew wider at the sight, before sitting down on the bed next to you. He pushed you back onto the sheets, you complying without a single thought. You’d think there would be so much running through your mind, but nothing. Your mind was blank. It’s like you were possessed, but honestly you didn’t care. You just let him do what he wanted to do.

His lips came down to your breasts, wrapping around your left bud. The sensation left you moaning immediately, hand coming up to grab his light brown hair. His right hand came up to roughly grab your other breast, fingers swirling around the bud. His lips felt amazing, sucking and licking, making you more and more needy.

He trailed kisses down your stomach, to your navel, before stopping in front of your panties. He didn’t need to ask permission, knowing he already had you wrapped around his finger. He yanked them down roughly and stuffing them into his pants pocket.

“Sir, please”, you begged, hoping he would get the message. He just stared at your leaking cunt for a good second, before looking up at you. “Call me Seonghwa, babygirl”, he demanded before diving right in. His tongue swirling around your bud and face practically in your cunt. You couldn’t help but moan his name.

You’ve never been able to cum so fast in your life, only taking a solid minute before your juices come pouring out. He laps that up too, before the sensitivity kicks in and you’re pushing him away. But he’s not done with you yet. He pulls off his pants, his large, angry cock springing out. You weren’t surprised to say the least. If this man was that good with his tongue, he must’ve been packing down there.

You could tell he was confident in himself, making sure to let you stare at it, before crawling back on the bed. His broad shoulders covered yours completely, a small detail you noticed right before he slammed his dick inside you. It stung a little, but was quickly replaced by pleasure. Seonghwa knew exactly what he was doing, and how to do it.

You couldn’t help but reach your hands around to his back, holding on tight. With every slap of skin, your finger nails dug deeper into his skin. His grunting got much louder, pain and pleasure mixing throughout his body. He didn’t slow down though, managing to keep a punishing pace. It’s like stamina wasn’t a problem for him, repeatedly slamming into you.

You loved it though, eyes rolling back into your head with every thrust, his cock reaching places no toy of yours could ever reach. You could tell he was getting closer, but before you could even reach down to get yourself there, he did it for you. His fingers rubbing in tight circles around you clit building up your orgasm at an alarming rate. It wasn’t long before you came, eyes shutting tightly closed.

The feeling of his cum shooting deep inside you didn’t bother you, almost feeling like he was claiming you. Though you know that is too good to be true. You lie there for a few minutes, panting, before your breathing turns smooth. You soon drift off to sleep, not even thinking about the man who just fucked you so good.

By the time you wake up, looking over to your clock, it’s about 7 am. You sit up, thinking about the night before, until you realize your clothes are on. Did he dress you? Then you realize there’s nothing out of the ordinary. You rip your blanket off of you, checking the sheets for cum stains. Nothing. Not a single trace of the man or the mind-blowing sex you swear he gave you.

Then you remember the dream you had, of the person under your bed. You take a look under there, inspecting every inch, before realizing nothing is there. Was it a dream? A figure of your imagination? You’re not sure. Everything felt so real. You even reached down to check yourself, but you were dry as a bone. You can’t help but sigh in frustration. It was so real. It couldn’t have been a dream.

You take a deep breath, before starting the new day. A small chuckle fills your ears, but you don’t think anything of it, probably just a neighbor. The man, or rather, thing, watched you from above. Little did you know that the thing that haunted your dreams would be back soon enough. Next time though, he would want more than just sex. He wanted blood.

I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work

[idiotwithanipad]

Shared Pain

Felt inspired to write some Silver and Humphrey cuteness thanks to @shebeafancyflapjack after her post Missing You

Ft her OC Silver

Today was the final day of her wanderings. Tonight she'd have to say another goodnight to her friends, just praying that they'd all still be there when she awoke again. Usually, she'd want to make the most of her last day, but for her, it had only been three sleeps since she never saw Amy again. The others seemed to have completely forgotten about her already. Robin and Kitty still held a pinch of pain whenever they were reminded of her, but Silver still found herself fighting a solid lump in her throat when recalling her foul mouthed friend.

There was only one ghost who she could really sympathize with in the house, but ironically, he'd turned into an even bigger recluse than he was before Amy came along. Pleading with Kitty to hide his head somewhere only she'd look, or firmly telling the others not to bother him or his body at all. It was like when Amy went away, part of him went with her.

Silver wondered to herself if it would be worth paying the Tudor's head another visit, even if it was to chat about nonsensical subjects. Yet, part of her didn't want to seem overly interested, especially after what happened; she didn't want it to come across as overcompensation or even guilt for sometimes forgetting about him.

It had been her fiftieth lap of the grounds when thick grey clouds rolled over the setting sun, darkening the already dank and shaded section of gardens at the back of the house. The unkempt grass and cobblestone paths glistened with a thin mist and dew.

This was usually the time of the evening where she'd head inside, just in case, but she didn't. She couldn't bring herself to pretend to be happy just so that Fanny or Cap or Thomas didn't sigh in annoyance that she 'hadn't gotten over it' yet. Like it meant nothing. In times like that, Silver couldn't blame Humphrey for not wanting to see any of them yet.

She kept wondering how he felt. If he'd ever feel better at all? Her thoughts were cut short as she rounded the high hedge rows, her eyes scanned across the brick wall leading to Fanny's pet semetary, and saw another figure.

It seemingly leaded against the red brick, hunched forward slightly with it's arms up over it's head as though ducking down, but it still stood taller than her. Much taller. The fur lined red cloak was unmistakable. It was deathly still and looked almost frozen in the cold shadow it occupied. Correction: that HE occupied.

Humphrey stood, quivering every few seconds, shivering as though drawing in a tearful breath. But Silver couldn't hear him yet. Their distance made that impossible. Her stomach flipped with pain and pity, but the sight of him standing alone in the dark shadows like that caused her to fault in her absentminded stroll. It was odd seeing him alone. Usually Amy was right beside him.

It may be easier to talk to him out here; the other's wouldn't hear them. If he needed to cry, he could cry. They both could. She strode closer to him, but she didn't call out to him. Something felt off. Like this wasn't the real Humphrey Bone. This one looked like the burnt out shell of the Tudor she knew. He was eerily quiet, especially considering it looked like he was in the middle of crying right now; his shoulders kept lurching upwards and his arms trembled, still help up forming a cross over his face, like he was trying to hide away.

Silver couldn't deny the sense of unease she felt as she approached him; she felt as though she didn't belong here, or that trying to help him was unwarranted. But still, she wandered closer, getting slower the closer she got. The Tudor remained still and silent, like he couldn't hear her there at all.

Silver bit her tongue and swallowed her unease, stretching her arm out to pull the sleeve away.

"Are you okay?" She whispered softly.

Slowly, robotically, the two arms lowered. The head was missing. She'd seen Humphrey's headless body many times before, but that was in broad daylight in a group setting, or mostly, from a distance. Here, dimly lit in the shade surrounded by cold and dampness with less than three feet between them, it felt surreal, unnerving, like this wandering husk wasn't her friend at all.

Silver still jumped back slightly, surprised, drawing her hand back. Almost at the same time, the body flinched and turned back, fleeing through the brick wall out of sight. After being shocked back to life, so to speak, by her fluttering pulse, Silver stepped through the brick herself.

"Oi. Wait a minute!"

Calling out to him was futile, especially now that she knew her voice couldn't be heard. The headless body stood quivering between some dead trees stripped of their bark, his limped shoulders trembling and it's knuckles turning white at it's sides. Silver watched it's every tiny jerking move as she cautiously stepped closer.

"It's just me, it's just me" She tried to soothe, holding up her hands. The body didn't react, it remained beneath the two twisted trees, twisting from side to side as though trying to decipher which direction bore the threat. The closer she trod, the more alert and desperate to escape it seemed. Amy made this look so easy; she could practically waltz straight up to the cranium-free carcass and bear hug the thing. It didn't even flinch when she ran up behind it and jumped onto it's back like a coked up koala. What was she missing?

"I know you can't hear me but- it's okay, Humphrey, it's just me, Silver" The teen almost begged, suddenly wishing to console the poor husk. It was at this moment she started to wonder which bit of Humphrey had the more miserable existence: The head bit; it could see, hear, think, talk and remain aware of everything around it. But it couldn't move. Then, the body bit; freedom to move wherever it wished, but cursed with being deaf, blind and unaware.

The skittish body seemed to detect Silver's approaching form and began to shy away again, dipping underneath some snapped branches and shuffling away a few feet. Silver dropped her hand lifeless at her side and held back an exasperated groan of sorrow, until she remembered suddenly, like a bullet to the skull, the trick Amy had let slip to her.

Three toe taps and a drag. He can feel it in the ground. That's all it took. Three toe taps and a drag and he's calm.

Silver waited for the body to still once again and swallowed.

Tap

Tap

Tap

Silver slowly dragged her boot back through the soil towards her, watching the body intently. Slowly, the shoulders straightened, it's back righted and it's hands came forward to steady itself. The cool air around them seemed to freeze as Silver watched the body like a hawk. It's feet seemed uneasy, like it could collapse any second. Silver repeated her routine underfoot, and kept her eyes fixed on the body.

After a pause, almost uncomfortably long, she hoped she hadn't broken him, the body came back to motion. It slowly stumbled forward like a drunkard towards her, it's hands hovering and reaching for the nearest object. Instinctively, Silver stepped back to give him space just in case he fell or decided to do a one eighty and speed past. But every time her boot connected with the soil, the body seemed to grow more desperate and eager to reach her; like he was the pursuer and she was the bounty.

"Humphrey?..." Silver spoke, Uncertain and cautious. The hands were almost a meter from her and she felt a sudden urge to slap them away, she wasn't sure why. But she watched. Just watched, trying to figure out how the body worked. She stopped backing away and waited.

The body moved closer and it's searching hand thumped softly against the side of her head. It patted gently and worked it's way down past her ear, towards her jaw until finally stopping at her cheek. It's other hand came up and found her shoulder. It seemed to still, settling itself with a calmness and a serene sense of accomplishment.

Catching her off guard, the body tugged her into a fast embrace. It gripped her tightly, but not painfully, like it had searched for days and now finally found it's prize, and it wasn't letting it go. Silver looked over her shoulder to check if anybody had come along to help her before the body ended up snapping her spine from the emense force it could inflict, but her head was pulled in as well, pressed firmly against the body's doublet, a metal emblem of a heraldic knot printed roughly into her cheek.

One of it's hands gently petted against her hair, tentative and loving. It was nice. She felt safe enough to cry. The body parted from her, but kept one of its hands on her shoulder, like it feared letting her slip from it's grasp. It pointed with it's other hand, up behind her, up to the dark silhouette of the house where the East Wing loomed.

"What?..." Silver uttered, uncertain on what the body was trying to say. It pointed again, like it wanted to make sure Silver got the message. It's trembling finger lifting and proding at the air. Silver remained still. The body's pointing hand then moved to her back again, feeling around for something that it expected to be there.

The sinking feeling hit her like a brick. It thought it had found Amy. It was searching for the hood of Amy's hoodie, the clutch it would use like a leash to prevent itself from getting separated from her when it was lonely. The combination of steps Amy had spoken of, the morse code, it was Amy's way of letting the headless body know it was her that approached. The same rhythmic beating into the ground she had taught it over the years. Silver had accidentally gotten the poor body's hopes up.

"I'm not her..." Silver said solemnly, looking at the empty space where the head should be, picturing the head there.

The body stilled. Waited.

"I'm not Amy, I'm sorry..." Silver held back tears, watching the body's reaction, or lack of any reaction, like a child who had been given bad news that was almost too much for them to completely understand when they were still so vulnerable.

Silver sobbed.

The body's hand against her shoulder relaxed slightly, and gave a reassuring rub. Silver's teeth, jaw and cheeks ached, hours of ugly crying on her own had pained the muscles in her face. The body's free hand came up and felt it's way towards Silver's face. It accidentally poked her in the ear first, but it quickly located her swollen cheek and wiped away the heavy hears with it's thumb.

The body brought Silver in again for another hug. Amy or not, it could tell that whoever it held needed to cry.

[melon-wing]

Terror [PirateAU Grian/Doc]

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while. I’m not completely happy with it, but I will still share. Wrote this for a nice longhaired Doc design that @gridoc drew a while back. This is set the furthest into the future I went with the Pirate AU. [Pirate AU Masterlist] [Fanfiction Masterlist] ~*~

Doc awoke with a start at a loud scream, his arm flying to the side of his bed immediately, searching for a warm body, before remembering that Grian hadn’t stayed over in his cabin tonight, opting for his own bed instead. The moment realisation hit him, his worry grew immensely and he jumped out of bed, grabbing his sword from the table as he ran to the door.

Something had happened and in the middle of the night that was never a good sign. He ran through the ship, trying to remember who had been on watch. Who? Who was up on deck? Who had screamed? Maybe he had just imagined it. Nobody else had woken up yet.

And then he heard it again. A voice screaming for help. A voice that he knew too well.

“Grian!”

He stormed up to the deck, sword ready, but as he left the door expecting to find a battle or some sort of ambush, he saw nothing. Not a soul. Not a… single… person.

His eyes darted left and right, searching for their night watch. Ren.

He finally remembered.

There was no sign of him on deck. His eyes kept darting around until they stopped on the mast that had a huge dent and at its bottom was a slumped figure. Ren leaned against it, eyes closed, a bright red streak over his face as if he had been struck by a giant whip. He was shaking and there didn’t seem to be any blood. Just as Doc was about to reach his friend he heard the Scream again.

“HELP!”

Doc froze. He turned to the ocean, his heart racing in his chest. The last time he had heard Grian shout so desperate, so frightened… He wasn’t sure he had ever heard it this bad though. Doc rushed to the railing, looking down into the blackness of the water. He was almost expecting to see the boat of a navy ship there. There was nothing. His eyes frantically scanned the surface. It couldn’t be a siren pulling Grian down again. He would have heard the sound and Sirens didn’t physically attack their victims - if you ignored the drowning part. But he had heard Grian. He was so sure. There was a splash in the water. A hand breaking the surface and something wrapping around it and pulling it down again.

“Grian!” A split second passed with Doc trying to think of what to do. He would need to jump in, but without his crew being there to pull him back up he’d be as good as dead. He just wasn’t sure there was enough time to get them and run back. A cough interrupted his thoughts, his eyes darting to Ren for a second.

“Doc! Get away from the water! It’s a trap! It’s not him!” “What…?” Two things happened at once. The door to the deck flew open, a few of his men standing there, in front of them all Grian, looking at him with wide shocked eyes, mouth opening to scream something. And a huge tentacle rose from the sea, wrapping around his midsection. Before he could do anything he was ripped from the deck. For a second he felt like he was flying through the air and then the thing pulled him down and he crashed hard through the surface. Within seconds the whole world around him got blurry as he stared at the creature before him. It wasn’t human at all, looking more like a mixture of a kraken and a shark with a human hand attached to one of its tentacles. As it opened its mouth to rows and rows of sharp teeth, Doc could hear the sound again, slightly muted through the water. Grian’s voice, calling for Help, coming straight from the monster‘s mouth.

He was pulled down further. The ocean around him got darker. He could only see the blurry shape of the thing now. He tried to wriggle out of its grasp, but it held on so tight it was hard to move.

Desperately his eyes searched for the surface, for something to grab on to, but he only found darkness. And then suddenly it was like somebody had dropped a small star into the sea. Everything was lit in the brightest blue. It almost hurt his eyes even when he wasn’t looking directly at the source of the light but the creature it was reflected from. The creature seemed to stop, staring at the source of the light, no longer pulling Doc towards its mouth. And slowly Doc turned to look as well as the light was getting a little duller. In the water right next to him was Grian, floating in the water, surrounded by the light… No, he was the source of the light, his whole body glowing, eyes the brightest of blues. 

“Don’t touch him.”

It was weird how Grian’s voice echoed through the waves, so clear, almost as if there was no water, but it sounded close and distant at the same time.

His voice broke the shock from the creature, but sadly it didn’t listen, instead deciding to make an even quicker meal of Doc, pulling him towards those sharp teeth. Using Grian’s voice again and again, repeating the call that had lured Doc in over and over again.

And then another voice joined in. So much louder and clearer. And unlike the monster’s voice which had begun to sound like a broken record it was so full of emotion. Grian was singing, not humming like last time the siren had attacked. He was actually singing, his words a language that Doc had never before heard. The teeth were almost in reach now. The creature was shaking but still pulling him forward. The light around Grian seemed to suddenly move forward in small tendrils as the song got louder, the light wrapping around the monster’s body until it was fully enclosed It was just about to bite down on Doc, when the light had fully surrounded him, its body freezing. It stayed like this for a second as the song seemed to reach the limit and with a last loud word that was almost a warcry the creature’s body exploded, the tentacle sliding off of Doc’s body. Doc was still frozen in place, looking at Grian who was still floating in the water, still glowing. When Grian reached out a hand towards him and the light moved in his direction, Doc flinched a little. It was as if a spell was broken. Grian blinked, his eyes slowly turning back from the icey blue to their softer blue of the sky. He blinked a few times and the light started to fade. His eyes darted around in confusion for a few seconds, but he didn’t take long to adjust, grabbing Doc’s hand and pulling him along until they both broke through the surface. He could hear shouts above them and someone threw them a rope that Grian grabbed. As they were pulled up, Doc suddenly realised something that made him tense. Grian wasn’t wet. They had been pulled out of the ocean and yet neither Grian’s hair nor his clothes were even slightly dampened apart from the area where their bodies were pressed together. There seemed to be the slightest hue of blue still around them that slowly faded as they were pulled up and by the time they were on deck it was completely gone.

Both of them sat on deck, slightly out of breath, looking at one another and suddenly Doc found himself wrapped in a tight embrace. Grian wasn’t the type for much bodily contact usually, but now he was clinging onto Doc tightly, desperately, almost possessively. And Doc didn’t hesitate, putting his arms around Grian, the water from his clothes soaking into the back of Grian’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind as Doc pulled him even closer. When Etho stepped up to them, raising one eyebrow, Doc just waved him away. “‘m alright. Just a bit of water. Take care of Ren… And tell the crew to lift the anchor in case there’s more than one monster.”

Etho nodded and turned away and as if this was an unspoken agreement among the crew they all seemed to pretend Grian and Doc didn’t exist as they got the Golden Goat ready to sail once more. They could work out what had happened and what that creature was later.

“I thought I would lose you”, Grian finally whispered into the embrace. “When I saw you fly over the ship and couldn’t see you. I thought you’d die.”

“So you jumped in? That’s dangerous.” “I-” Grian hesitated. Doc wished he could see the expression on his face, but the way Grian hugged him, head on Doc’s shoulder he was unable to. “My body just moved. I knew I could save you. Somehow. So I jumped in. I don’t know-” Doc felt Grian’s hold on him tighten, a slight tremble running through him “-what happened down there. It was as if I just knew what to do. As if I was just going through the motions.”

Doc had so many questions about what had just happened, but he held them back and Grian didn’t elaborate on what happened, just silently holding Doc close. They stayed silent for a moment until the tight grip slowly loosened, though never letting go, just making enough room to pull back slightly so they were finally able to look at one another.

Grian was looking at his face intently, searching for something. “Are you scared of me now? I saw you down there… You-” “I’m not. You surprised me. But if I was scared, would I hug you like that?”

“I- I didn’t think-”

“Then don’t think, you idiot. I could never be scared of you.” Doc leaned forward slightly, giving Grian a moment to move back, but when he didn’t, Doc pressed a soft but chaste kiss onto his lips. He did enjoy the slight tremble that ran through Grian’s body the moment their lips met. When they pulled apart he could see Grian’s body visibly relax a bit, the worry disappearing from his eyes, a soft smile appearing. 

“It’s weird”, Grian started, looking at Doc and then down at their bodies before looking back up, “Not being wet after coming out of the ocean. I felt the water around me…”

Grian gently touched a strand of Doc‘s hair, his hand brushing over his cheek while he did so. Grian’s hand was warm, in stark contrast to the cold he was still feeling from the water. He seemed to look at the wet hair lost in thoughts. Doc could see something dark beginn to cross Grian’s features and he quickly spoke up before he could get lost in any painful thoughts.

“I don’t think the answer to your magical mystery is written on my hair. And if it was I’d be really surprised and curious of who managed to hide it there.” Grian blinked, taken aback by his statement, but then a little chuckle seemed to just burst out of him. The small giggle that Doc loved so much warmed his very heart. Grian was looking at him, smiling fondly and then looking back at the hair still in his hand, but no longer getting lost in thought. The atmosphere luckily didn’t shift back to a darker mood again. They were probably both trying to push away the horrible thoughts of what had just almost happened.

“Your hair got really long. I never noticed with the way you brush it back.”

Doc made a sound of confirmation, looking at his own hair between Grian‘s fingers. “I forgot to cut it. I‘ll do that in the next port.”

“I would have thought you were the type to cut it yourself.”

Doc let out an amused huff, eyes searching for his brother for a second. Ren was standing at the steering wheel, throwing Doc a smile when their eyes met. He was glad to see Ren looking so well again, though his face was still reddened a bit. “I can only take so much teasing from my crew. I‘m a lot of things, but I‘m not a hairdresser. And Ren… Let's just say the last time I let him close to my hair it was mid length on one side, perfect length on the other and pretty close to bald in the middle.”

When he turned his gaze back, he could see in Grian‘s eyes how he conjured up that image in his mind, the corners of his lips twitching upwards before he could control his expression into a more neutral one.

“You could also leave it. Let it grow out a bit.“

Grian looked at him for a while, finally letting go of the strand of hair and then weaving his hand through Doc‘s hair, caressing his head gently while in thought.

“Long hair would really suit your face and your style. You‘d probably look good.“ The hand in his hair stopped for a second and it was almost funny how flustered he suddenly seemed when he realised how his words might have sounded, moving a bit away, breaking their embrace almost completely “Not that you don‘t look good now. You do! Very good!“

Doc chuckled. 

“So… What you‘re saying is that you like longhaired men better?”

He could see it in the way Grian’s cheek turned redder and redder as second after second passed in silence. “I- I like you”, Grian finally replied, clearing his throat, eyes drifting off to the side.

The smirk on Doc’s face softened to a smile and he pulled Grian back into his arms, pressing their lips softly against one another. And while he watched Grian’s eyes drift shut he swore to himself that his next haircut would be years and years away.

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Shortly after Wynne returned from Ireland LOCATION: The shores of World End's Isle PARTIES: Zane & Wynne SUMMARY: Wynne finds Zane on the Jones estate and the two get to talking as the waves crash about the past and future. CONTENT WARNING: Abuse (cult), homophobia

The waves crashed continuously. The nights turned into day, the days into night. Rhiannon’s bowl was filled and emptied over and over. Life in this corner of Wicked’s Rest was cyclical if Wynne allowed it to be, if they kept their vision limited and framed the world in repetitive actions and occurrences. They breathed in and out. They got wet from the sea and dried off. They slept, they woke. 

They ventured out of their home to go see Ariadne, or Van, or Thea. They slipped into Teddy and Emilio’s. Tonight it was their plan to ask Emilio to walk Perro for a while, to just walk through the neighborhood and let their shared affection for the small dog fill all the space. So they ventured out, glad that their– that Emilio was still their neighbor, even if they no longer lived in the Worm Row. The evening air was fresh, not as heavy as the warmer spring days and they breathed in. Walking Perro. It was normal. It was repetitive. It was something to cling to.

But their short walk from their front door to Emilio’s was made complicated by a familiar yet unexpected figure. Zane. Wynne halted once they recognized the shape for what it was and swallowed. Why was Zane here? “Hi,” they said. “Are you … what …” They heard the ocean crash. “It’s nice out.”

—-

Man, his shoulder ached. Emilio wasn’t one to hold back, not really, but the lack of restraint this afternoon had been… different. The slayer’s face had spoken volumes of ‘not talking about it’ so Zane had held back, not letting himself go into worried friend mode, allowing today’s training be a respite from whatever Emilio was working through. He’d ask eventually, no doubt about it, but for now he’d deal with the aftermath of a shoulder lock that had pressed a bit too hard. It would stop hurting in a couple of hours, anyway. 

Distracted by the slight clicking sound the joint made as he rotated it, Zane didn’t notice the other presence until their voice stopped him in his tracks. It had been months - Wynne looked better but also… not. He wasn’t sure if his being here had much to do with it or not. A lot could happen in a few months, especially here. “Wynne, hi,” he breathed, shifting on his feet, wishing he had something to do with his hands. “Oh, I’m… Emilio.” He jerked a finger back in the direction he’d just arrived from, a dumb move with the way his shoulder complained. “Training,” he added as an afterthought, trying to remember if Wynne knew about that or not. 

—-

They resisted the urge to let their fingers trail up their neck, but it was hard to. Wynne had been feeling a disconnect from their body since Ireland, since they had stood on that stage — or maybe even since before that. Their mind, too, seemed to bend against their will and at the sight of Zane they remembered the barn. They remembered their blood, they remembered Elias’ blood, they remembered Regan in the backseat looking paler than usual (a feat). Their hand reached for their neck.

They did not blame Zane now, not any more. That had been cemented in that grocery store, a while back. But the scar was still there and he was still a crude reminder. They shifted on their feet too, putting the few words together to conclude that Emilio must have been training Zane. “For what?” The question was asked before they could overthink it. Emilio trained them too, though — so maybe it was for nothing. Just for protection. They glanced at Teddy’s house, then back at Zane. “Did he seem … okay?” Maybe okay was no longer a goal to strive for. Maybe there were other states of being they should aim for rather than okay. Sometimes even okay was too hard. “I mean, did he seem not too bad?”

—-

It was an improvement from the last time at the store, like every meeting patched up just the tiniest bit of the divide that had been formed due to his mistakes. Zane knew, logically, that the blame wasn’t all his. Suspected that the logical part of Wynne knew that too. If only logic held a candle to the shame that told him he should have done better or the fear that told Wynne he would hurt them again. Both emotions, irrational as they might have been, always seemed to flare up and right now was no exception if Wynne reaching for their neck was anything to go off. Zane averted his eyes. 

Wynne continued the conversation, gave an opening and he straightened out a bit. “Oh. He, uh… for not dying, I guess? Just a precaution, lots of slayers in town so…” Zane fidgeted then desperately attempted to stop himself fidgeting. The follow up question made his eyebrows furrow, nerves set aside for a moment in lieu of curiosity. Had Wynne simply noticed Emilio being more off than usual, just like Zane had, or did they know something? “He’s…” Zane paused, glancing back at the house and half-expecting the slayer to materialize. He would hate the two of them discussing this. Zane dared to move a few steps closer to Wynne. 

“A bit worse than usual. He, uh… definitely had some frustrations he was taking out.” Zane’s shoulder twinged at the mention. “Quiet, even by Emilio standards. Do you… is everything okay?” Technically, he was asking about Emilio while they were on topic. In reality, Zane’s voice made the question more open ended, eyes brimming with worry that easily encompassed Wynne, too. He knew pain, worked around it every day, and while Wynne’s didn’t burn as bright as Emilio’s, it was there. 

—

The scar was bumpy on their skin, but it was just that — a scar. Skinned healed over, a slightly different tint from their usual tone and somewhat jagged. But it no longer bled, it no longer even hurt — and yet their fingers trailed it for a moment, those two points where Zane’s teeth had been forced into their skin. Wynne let their hand drop because the memory was sharp, the blood was flowing from their neck and it must seem rude, for them to be pushing over that skin. They wished they’d worn a higher collar.

“That’s good. That’s very — yes, that’s good.” Would Emilio teach Ariadne how to fight? Their mind traveled to her and the slayers she’d encountered and Wynne wondered if any of them had found Zane, too. They took the other in. “Did any of them – did you get hurt?” Maybe they shouldn’t have asked. They couldn’t tolerate any more of it, any more hurt. And they weren’t sure if they cared about Zane – wouldn’t that be fucked up? wouldn’t that make them weak? – but the thought of him being hunted didn’t sat right with them.

They lifted their shoulders at the question. “Nora and I, we had to … she went to Ireland, I went after her. It was dangerous. I think it … wasn’t great for him.” Nor them. Nor any of them. Ireland should be put on a no-travel list, knocked off of everyone’s bucket list. “It’s okay now. We’re alive.” The least and best they could ask for. A bare minimum. Wynne let their gaze drop, fingers intertwining with themself. “It’s okay.” Not I’m okay, or he’s okay. “Are you?”

—-

There was no pretending he hadn’t noticed, even trying would have felt like an insult to Wynne. Their hand eventually moved away from the lifelong reminder - Zane wondered if it would ever not hurt. Wynne was looking him over now in the same way he had studied them, the same amount of timidness but with less worry. That’s good, Zane thought. He didn’t deserve their worry. Seemed he had it though, however minute. “No! No, nothing like that. Not for a while, at least. Been… careful. Or lucky, whichever one it is.”

Zane hadn’t expected an actual answer. A simple yes or no, maybe even something in between that would have been more believable than everything being okay. Wynne didn’t go into detail which was probably good. He was probably the last person they wanted to be staring down while remembering something dangerous and recounting it. It was enough to explain Emilio, though, as well as give him insight into Wynne’s relationship with the slayer. They were clearly someone Emilio didn’t want to get hurt and Zane wondered how much of that had been present on that fateful night. If the slayer still held a grudge for Zane because he hurt someone that was supposed to be protected. 

He wondered who Nora was, if she was also someone important, someone who didn’t deserve to get hurt but couldn’t seem to escape it either way. “Oh. Sounds intense.” Sure, that was one way to describe it. “Glad everyone made it out.” Not made it out okay, that seemed premature even with Zane’s very limited knowledge of whatever had taken place. Wynne confirmed as much with their words. Again, they surprised him, with a question this time. “Been better,” he answered honestly after a moment's hesitation. If Wynne was being honest, so would he. “Family… drama, I guess you could call it. Emilio punched my father, it was a whole thing. Not… intercontinental danger, though.”

—

Wasn’t that funny? In a very horrible way? That Zane had been lucky or careful enough to not have been hunted by a slayer, but Ariadne hadn’t been? It wasn’t like Wynne wanted Zane to be hunted (they didn’t want anyone to be hunted – or at least, not the people like this) but it still felt like a pang of horrible irony. “I am glad! There are a lot of slayers in this town that aren’t like Emilio, that just —” They shook their head and grit their teeth. “Just keep being careful.” Zane had hurt them, Zane had scarred them, but they didn’t think he deserved a stake to the heart for it. Especially because they were pretty sure he hadn’t been hurting anyone else since. (Right?)

They were glad he phrased it out, that he was glad they all made it out. It was the thing they were glad about, too. Perhaps the only thing they were glad about. That they had all gotten out, that Ireland was an ugly shadow in the past that had taken and ruined but had not killed them or Nora or Elias or Regan, even if it had marred them all. “Me too. It’s better to be here. I don’t like worrying people. And Emilio was worried.” 

Wynne was surprised at Zane’s reply. He had a father. That wasn’t entirely shocking, of course, as everyone tended to have at least a biological father — but he was a vampire, and they had thought that the place he’d come from had been the barn, somehow. That his entire life started there. “Oh,” they said. “Emilio punched my father too. Once.” They frowned. “Does he live in town? Your father, not Emilio. I know he does.”

—---

The soft wind rustled around them, bringing with it the salty smell of the ocean and Zane wondered if this scenario could be made slightly less awkward if it weren’t taking place with the two of them standing like deer in the headlights. “You wanna… walk and talk?” he offered, gesturing towards the ocean, hoping more than he realized that Wynne would agree. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Emilio would be worried about someone like Wynne, would want to keep them safe. Zane didn’t know much about Flora, probably more than most which still wasn’t a lot, and it did make him wonder how much Wynne knew. What he did know was that Emilio hadn’t been able to save her and even if the person standing in front of him wasn’t Emilio’s child, or even really a child, it made sense that he’d project the need to protect onto them. It was a bittersweet thought - trying to protect anyone who lived here seemed to be a doomed mission. “It’s good. Not that people were worried, obviously. That you have people who care, I mean.”

The huff of laughter felt nice, a small release of tension. “Of course he did,” Zane sighed, almost fondly, and shook his head. “No, he was… recruiting. For the…” The words felt like acid on his tongue. “Cult. At least that’s what people call it, it didn’t feel that way when I was there but…” He risked a glance at Wynne, wondering if they wanted to hear this. They didn’t make any move to stop him so he continued. “They sent me away when I was young. Kinda hard to help grow the community when you’re not straight. Lucky for me, in a way. Gave me time to undo the brainwashing, all the rules, the fear of impending doom and constant judgment. But yeah, my dad showed up the other day, acted like a… dick and Emilio punched him. Offered to stab him, too.”

—

Perhaps it was bad practice, to go on an nightly walk with a vampire who ripped open your neck. But Wynne had looked danger in the face before and it didn’t look the way Zane looked tonight. More importantly, both Emilio and Ariadne trusted him, and their testimonials were very trustworthy. So they nodded. “Alright.” Talking was easier when a body was in motion, anyway.

They nodded in agreement with a statement, which wasn’t controversial but still something worth saying and agreeing with. Especially since Wynne was only now getting used to this kind of being cared for, which was something they tried to teach themself now. “It is good.” Did Zane have people like that? Or had they all died in that fire? Maybe Emilio was one of them, at least.

It was a little amusing, this realization that Emilio had punched both their fathers. They, too, smiled, but it soon faded from their face as Zane spoke more. Zane was using the C-word, and not in relation to them and their past – because he didn’t know about that – but about the place he dwelled from. Wynne had to make their legs keep walking, feeling like their knees were made out of dough. “Oh.” They should say something better. But they weren’t sure what to say. They weren’t sure what they wanted others to say when they told them about their own past. “I’m sorry they sent you away. That’s really wrong of them. But I guess…” They shrugged. “Cults are bad.” But his parents — all their parents should have done better. Why would one pair of parents sent their child away for who they were? Why would another be okay with their child dying? They blinked thrice in a row. “I’m glad you got to unlearn it.” 

Had they unlearned their teachings? Did they not still echo in their mind? They exhaled a long breath of air, inhaled the salty sea air. “I … get it. That thing you said, of it not feeling like a cult. And then everyone saying it was a cult.” Wynne looked up at Zane. “How long ago did you — were you ki– made to leave?” 

—-

Wynne looked a different kind of unsettled than people normally did in those few instances Zane had dared bring up his past. There was usually shock, definitely pity and sometimes even a bit of judgment. As if they expected a child to have been able to see through the smoke and mirrors or somehow feel ashamed to have taken part in it. Which Zane did, even if it had shrunk to more of a low hum of shame rather than the gut wrenching kind he’d struggled with as a teenager. With Wynne, it almost felt like they… understood. 

“Yeah, they are,” Zane replied with a similar sense of hesitancy, forcing a smile as Wynne struggled to find the right thing to say. Was there a right thing to say? The words they were choosing didn’t seem too far off. And it sounded like Wynne really did understand. The thought hurt but was oddly soothing at the same time. “Mm… it just felt like… life. Which makes sense when you’ve never known anything else. And then you have all those people telling you everything you believe is wrong and that you were just… doing life wrong.” 

His gaze met theirs for a moment and for the first time since the barn, they didn’t look scared. Maybe it would return but Zane was grateful for it all the same, even if it was probably due to pity. Or maybe because of some twisted sense of solidarity. Zane pondered the question, counted back the years, almost a bit surprised as the number revealed itself to him. “Coming up on ten years now,” he said, grateful for the sound of the waves now properly filling in the silence between words. 

—-

Those words – learning that you did life wrong – resonated deeply within Wynne and they were shocked at the way Zane put something about his life into words that rang true for them, too. It was like reading a book and wondering if the author had taken a look into their head before writing down the words. But they knew better than to think that Zane was just speaking for them — he was talking about his own experience, which just echoed their own. And that was tragic in a way, wasn’t it? To find recognition in something so ugly. “People don’t understand. They all — everyone is so used to this way of living here, right? That it’s their truth. And sure, a lot of it is … there are better things about this world, but a lot of it is also bad here! So to say that someone is doing life wrong is … it’s shortsighted. But I think it’s important we have the freedom. To figure that out.” We, they said. They looked straight ahead, head hammering in their throat.

Zane said it had been ten years and they swallowed thickly, past the heart still in their throat. “Does — did it get easier?” They fixed their eyes on the waves rolling over the sand, forbidding it from drying. “I … left my —” They heaved a sigh. “Family – or commune or … – well, I left a year and a half ago.” So they had to know if it got easier. But Wynne remembered the barn, the woman who had commanded Zane, who’d thrusted his fangs into their neck. “I — were the vampires … they were a cult too, right? Or at least, similar?”

—-

What if Wynne hadn’t been one of the people in that barn? Or if someone else had been picked first out of a crowd of a couple dozen instead of them. Would they have talked about this, realized their similarities, bonded without the tension of a horrible situation always rearing its ugly head in the form of memories and scars that would never go away? Did they stand a chance now, since what-ifs were pointless? Because people didn’t understand but Wynne did. A gut wrenching thought but soothing all the same - that they got out, that they were kind, that they were loved all the same. “Here definitely isn’t perfect,” Zane agreed, letting the camaraderie of Wynne’s words simply sit in the quiet between them, just float on the waves, silently acknowledged. 

It wasn’t a simple question. Some things had gotten easier, others hadn’t. The loneliness was still a living, breathing thing that followed him around every day, only held at bay temporarily by a busy shift or letting Emilio punch him in the stomach until he learned how to block the hits. The knowledge that who he was, who he wanted to love, was alright, that part had gotten easier. “In some ways,” Zane answered honestly, sneaking a glance at Wynne, their focus fully on the ocean. “I think some of it is… just a part of who I am now. I don’t know if that has to be a bad thing and I guess I have the time to make it into a good thing. Or a neutral thing, at the very least.”

Zane wondered how many people Wynne had told this. Considering how secretive he himself had been at first, and even now, Wynne’s words probably made him part of a very small group. It felt nice. Their question, the one that echoed thoughts he’d run through time and again, was less nice. If anyone had the right to questions like these, it was Wynne. Without tearing his gaze from the crashing waves, Zane took a seat on the ground, arms wrapping around his knees. “Sort of. I had a purpose again, for something bigger than myself which is part of the reason I… anyway, I don’t want to lie and say I didn’t notice the signs this time around. Just… didn’t want to notice that I was noticing them because that would leave me back where I started.” Zane knew now that it was a good thing he’d stuck around, had been there to call Emilio, to rescue all those people. It still didn’t quell the guilt, not properly. 

“It’s the being alone part that hasn’t gotten easier, not really. Even when I’m not truly alone, it’s just… it’s not the same.” 

—

The one thing about Wynne’s life that made all these hard to believe things easier to accept was the fact that existing in general was extraordinary. Wicked’s Rest was a strange town, but every town would be strange to someone raised in a demonic cult. Bethel had been strange. Portland had been strange. Maybe there was some kind of comfort to be found in the fact that this place was filled with what ignorant humans would consider oddities — if it hadn’t been, they might not have found the kinds of people they had. “Not perfect. But it is better.” 

They felt like they were holding their breath as they waited for Zane to answer. Wynne wanted to hear the soft, comforting lie that it all got easier, that life became nothing but a better thing as time spanned. Even if they had seen proof of the opposite in Emilio and the way he still carried his grief and pain so plainly. Even if they knew, deep down, something inside them would always be marred from their youth. Zane didn’t give a black or white answer, though — said neither yes or no and perhaps that was the best answer to give. Nuance had been lacking with the Protherians. “That makes sense. Maybe … neutral is the best we can hope for. I’d like neutral.” They wondered how this all had made Zane into who he was now. Did he mean his vampirism? Or how he’d become a nurse? 

They sank down onto the ground next to Zane, crossing their legs and laying their hands on their lap. The instinct was there to curl up tight, but they didn’t. Wynne had assumed they had been projecting, back in that barn. That in what they had thought to be some of their last moments as a human – their last moments alive – they had tried to find some kind of understanding in a semi-stranger with bared fangs. It seemed maybe they had been more perceptive than they gave themself credit for, though. “It’s …” They weren’t sure how they felt. They understood the need for purpose, to belong to something bigger than yourself and play a role in that bigger thing. And loneliness — that too, was understandable. They didn’t feel lonely as often any more, but there was still something isolating about living here, now. All the people they had once known left behind, all their customs disappeared, all their grief for their brother their own with no one to share it with. For all the people they’d found, none would ever truly know what they mourned or where they came from. No matter how much they spoke of it.

They tried to find words, to meet Zane’s openness with something of their own, but they felt weighed down with it all. “It makes sense. I wish … that lady, that she hadn’t existed. It would be easier if there weren’t people like her.” That was their continued answer to these kinds of things though, wasn’t it? Wishing that problems disappeared. Jade should just disappear. The demon should just have disappeared without it taking a human life to do so. Zane’s vampire lady should never have existed. They thought it weak, but they didn’t know what else there was to do or want. Wynne looked over at Zane. “I get it. I feel bad, when I feel lonely. Because I shouldn’t. But sometimes I do. I don’t know what we can do about it but try to remember that there are others out there. Right?”

—--

Better. Here was definitely better. Zane didn’t always feel like it was, on the hard and lonely days it was much too tempting to focus on the things he’d always found positive about ‘before’. But of course here was better. Stranger, deadlier, but at least he was well and truly himself, he was actually helping people and putting good out into the world and there were people here who cared about him. Even people that cared despite knowing all the bad and the ugly. Wynne spoke about wanting neutral and Zane’s smile was genuine but sad. He too craved something neutral and not daring to shoot for anything more was… yeah, maybe it was a bit sad. 

Sitting there with Wynne, he did dare to think that maybe ‘okay’ was an achievable goal. By sitting down, Zane felt they had wordlessly made some peace with what had happened between the two of them. Perhaps not peace but at least less chaos, less pain. It made him even more eager to simply be here as Wynne struggled for words, to listen, even if he was just listening to their silence. “There’s always going to be people like her,” Zane said softly, fingers tracing the rough surface the pair sat on. “But there’s also always going to be people like… like Emilio. Or just normal people wanting to do the right thing. I try to focus more on that fact. At least on the good days.” 

Wynne’s eyes moved to Zane and the gaze held for longer than it ever had since the incident. He hoped it would continue to get less and less painful. “I feel… a little bit less lonely now. Having found someone else.” Turning his head carefully, Zane met their eyes, searching them for that painfully familiar fear. “Seeing that things are going alright for them. That they’re loved in a lot of different ways. It’s good.” Shifting his attention back towards the waves, Zane pulled his knees in even closer, chin resting on top of them. “I really am sorry for what happened.”

—-

It was a strange way to find camaraderie, though it seemed that common ground was a natural way to find connection. Wynne wondered how Emilio would feel, should he find out that it was in part because of him that Zane and them had found some kind of understanding. He’d probably refuse to see it that way, but they knew the truth. It was through his trust of Zane that they could extent some of their own. And then there was the role he seemed to play in their respective abandoned communities. That of a protector, of sorts. A teacher. They wondered about the community he came from himself, that he hadn’t quite abandoned but had lost in stead.

They were quiet and reflective for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. It’s good that there’s people like that. That a lot of them seem that way.” Wynne wanted to be an optimist and in some ways they were — but they had learned that their optimism could become naivete and there was always a part of them that was still looking over their shoulder. Still. They wanted to believe that the goodness they saw in Emilio, in Teddy, in Regan and all their friends was something that was not an exception but a rule in people.

A look of surprise washed over their face when Zane looked at them and explained he felt less lonely now. “Me too, I guess,” they said, and not merely to be polite. Though it was painful to have these kinds of things in common, it was good to have someone to talk to. “It’s good for me too. To see you here now.” Not in that basement, not with his fangs against their neck, not living under the thumb of his family. They weren’t sure what Zane was apologizing for, but they shrugged all the same. “It’s okay. It’s over now.” And whether that was about the barn or their old home, didn’t matter.

[bobwess]

May I offer you a fanfic in this trying time?

(You may recognize it from my ao3. "A Sudden Affinity". SPN. Deancas.) Dean was well acquainted with the concept of dreaming. His entire life had been awash with nightmares about every sequential trauma he'd experienced. The few rare good dreams he managed were always the same. A summer at Bobby's or a normal life with Sam and Dad.

That's why this dream was so foreign to him. Dean was standing next to Cas in the bunker library. Nothing else.

He kept waiting for whatever terrible thing that was going to happen, but it never came. And so he was just standing, watching Cas read a book.

Dean had already tried talking to him, but it was clear in this dream, Cas couldn't see or hear him. So he kept quiet, trying to make sense of it all.

It was almost fifteen minutes before he became aware of the sensations.

Dean had sunk down into a chair at the table next to Cas. It happened slowly, but once he noticed it he couldn't ignore it if he tried. He could feel the pages under his hand when Cas flipped through them. He couldn't see what Cas saw, or read his thoughts, but he could feel the subtle shifts in emotions as he read through each page. They mixed in with the surprise and confusion of his own.

But the thing that really threw him, Dean could feel Castiel's wings.

On the surface, the angel was almost entirely still. But the fidgeting that wasn't shown was reflected through the wings behind him. He could feel every twitch and shift in the limbs, a strange sensation running down their length at the movement.

Dean tried to make sense of what he was feeling. A wave of, what was that, boredom? He watched Cas push the book shut, felt him shake out the feathers behind him.

The world snapped away in an instant and Dean found himself sprawled out on his bed where he had flopped down earlier that night. He reached towards the noise that had woken him and answered the phone.

Dean didn't bring it up when he woke Sam to get ready to back up Donna. He dismissed the dream and before too long, forgot about it entirely.

.

When they stopped to sleep that evening, Dean found himself once more fading into the bunker, watching Cas read yet again. There was something about it. If Dean concentrated he could really feel every little twitch, every tiny movement.

He wandered a little bit, not wanting to stray too far, but trying to get a gauge for what else could be around them. This was two nights in a row, and he couldn't figure out why.

Was this going to take a place in the rotation of recurring dreams he had?

Except it was weird that it was different tonight. Cas stood and paused a moment before starting to walk from the room.

Dean turned and walked after him, finding them just sort of aimlessly walking the bunker. Down to the dungeon, over to the shooting range, then back up to storage. He watched Cas enter one of the dusty back rooms and leaf through some of the texts that Sam hadn't yet gotten to cataloguing. He grabbed a new tome and headed with it into the kitchen.

Cas ended up settling in there to read this time, and Dean frowned.

This dream is so strange...

He sighed.

...And boring.

Two hours later Sam woke him up.

.

A lucky break in the case allowed them to clear the nest that night. Three in the morning and the brothers dragged themselves back into the motel room, needing to sleep before they headed back to the bunker. Dean let Sam have the first shower out of pity for the full body of drying vamp blood he wore.

Sam was already passed out when Dean came out of the shower, and he sank down on his own bed, happily following suit.

The feeling was instant this time. It was like the second he felt himself sink into sleep he was standing beside Cas again. And he could feel everything.

Cas was standing in the library, expression pensive, absolutely still. Well, absolutely still except his wings. Cas straightened up, turning and walking through the map room to the door. Dean followed on instinct, willing to explore this dream again.

Three times in a row. That was something that had never happened with any dreams but his worst.

Cas began his way up the railing and Dean frowned. He couldn't see them, but where he felt Cas' wings, they would be going right through the railing, but he didn't feel that happening.

His wings aren't in this dimension. He mused. Interesting... Weird. But Interesting.

He slipped out before Cas had a chance to close the door. He wasn't sure how this worked, but he didn't want to risk getting shut behind.

Cas walked from the bunker, heading towards the woods surrounding the bunker's surface structures. Dean acknowledged the cold, but couldn't feel it per-say. It was a sort of half feeling, and it was hard to process. It was like Cas knew the sensation, but it just didn't affect him the same way it would him.

"Where are you going?" Dean muttered, not surprised when again, Cas didn't acknowledge him.

As they walked along in the moonlight, a new feeling came over him.

Contentment.

Dean watched Cas' expression carefully, knowing what feeling was reflected in it. He had always wondered what Cas did when they were away or asleep. He sort of always figured he just sort of sat still in a chair somewhere. That whole I have lived for millennia, hours are not a struggle to sit through thing.

He hoped that the real Cas, at least sometimes, did something for his own pleasure.

Dean hadn't ever been out this way. He knew Sam said he ran some sort of path back there in the mornings sometimes. He hadn't ever walked it himself though. "I'm glad even in my weird dreams you can't fly. I think this would be awful if you were zipping around all over the place."

He followed the angel to a clearing overlooking a small lake. When Cas sat, he settled onto the grass beside him.

Castiel simply looked up, taking in the stars.

Dean followed his gaze, letting out a long breath and allowing his shoulders to drop.

The hunter leaned forward, resting his elbows on top of his knees, letting his mind turn over what was happening.

This didn't feel like any dream he had ever had before. It felt so… real. And he really felt himself relax fully. He could imagine himself here. He could imagine feeling what Cas felt.

He didn't want the dream to end. If every dream was as peaceful as this one...

Both men heard the snap of a branch in the woods and turned their attention to it immediately. He supposed purgatory had made them both extra sensitive to any sound in the night as they were on their feet in a second.

This is more like it. Dean thought bitterly, his heart sinking as he prepared to face however this dream would go wrong.

The three demons strolled into the small field beside them, vessels still in construction worker's clothes. They looked wildly out of place in the middle of the woods. "Castiel." One leveled.

Cas had his blade out in a second. Dean felt the cool weight in his hand. He wished he had one of his own, but then again, the demons didn't seem to acknowledge him either.

Dean felt Cas' heightened concern layered over his own and found it a wonder he could tell the difference between them.

"How did you find me?"

"Been tailing you since that motel in Iowa. We were waiting for you to come out to play."

Cas tightened his grip. "What do you want."

"Got a boss looking to take a stab at the throne. We're just shooting the guard dog so we can get at the grand Winchester prize." The demon shook his head, feigning sympathy. "You know how it is."

Cas waited until the demons made a move to enter the fray.

Dean tried to dive in, willing himself as hard as he could to be able to grab one of the attackers, but his hands pushed right through them. He was forced to step back and simply watch how this fight ended up, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He tried to brace himself.

If it was anything like other nightmares, he was about to watch Castiel die.

He felt Cas' wings raise outward, and for a second he could forget the fight. He felt the sensations as Cas dodged each slice of the angel blades they used against them, using the weight of his wings to counterbalance him somehow, helping him move faster and with more precision than Dean had ever noticed in a fight. He supposed whenever they fought together, he was in the middle of the madness himself.

Dean's attention snapped back to the fight as he felt the knife sink into his abdomen. He gasped as the pain was quickly compounded by the drag of a blade across his back. He stumbled almost at the same time Cas fell sideways, his arm up to block a more fatal blow.

The hunter felt his head swim, the demons gaining a fair amount of ground. He could feel the dizziness that came with blood loss, feel Cas' body strain to try to gather his grace, healing slowed to a crawl by the nature of the weapon causing the wounds.

Dean watched with relief as Cas managed to fell two in a row, leaving only the one to deal with.

The hunter sank to his knees, the pain across his body overwhelming, but Cas pushed through it, ignoring the blade sinking through his shoulder to take an opportunity to kill the last.

The angel only managed to keep himself halfway upright for a second before he stumbled and fell to the ground. He coughed, blood running down his chin, getting lost in the blood already soaking through his clothes. He sank sideways, having no choice but to lay back, his unfocused eyes, searching skyward for something to ground him, struggling to hold onto consciousness.

Dean fought against the nausea, trying to get up, get to him. "Cas!" He felt the word even more strongly than he said it, feeling the unrelenting pain and growing weakness.

Cas furrowed his brow as he blearily looked at the empty forest around him. "Dean?" he whispered.

Dean didn't notice. Instead he closed his eyes, willing himself to wake, clawing his way back into consciousness.

He shot out of bed like he had been electrocuted. Sam turned groggily towards the sound of Dean running into the nightstand.

"Dean?"

"Cas is hurt." Dean blurted out, trying to get his bearings.

Sam squinted up at him, reaching over and turning on the table lamp. "He called?"

Dean swallowed, whipping around to face Sam. "No… I just-"

The younger hunter took a moment to study Dean, watching the slight shake in his hands, noting how pale he was. "Dean-"

"I know he's hurt." Dean repeated firmly. He felt it… this wasn't a dream… was it? It felt too real…

"You had a nightmare." Sam tried to reassure him.

"No." Dean snapped, moving and grabbing his jeans from where he tossed them, tugging them on as quickly as he could. "I wasn't dreaming."

"Dean."

"I'm leaving in two minutes Sam, you're ready or I'm leaving you."

Sam scrambled out from under the covers, hurrying to follow his brother in his almost frantic scramble to grab their stuff and get out. He watched Dean the entire way towards the bunker, the impala racing over the flat Kansas highways. He had tried twice to reassure Dean, that it was alright, that he had just been dreaming.

The younger hunter had to admit it had him worried. Dean had his fair share of realistic dreams. Flashbacks. Ever since hell he'd wake every so often, sure he was still in the pit. Only now it sometimes took the form of purgatory. It always took a few minutes for him to reorient himself, realize he was safe at the bunker or wherever they had bed down for the night.

Sam had never seen him not realize it was a dream. Never seen him this unravelled by it.

He pressed for details, but Dean wouldn't say anything besides muttering something about how it wasn't a dream. Sam decided on waiting it out, knowing he didn't really have another option. He resigned himself to waiting for his brother to see for himself that the angel was okay.

Dean had barely put the car in park before he was out of the car, running past the bunker door, starting down the trail he remembered following Cas down.

It looked exactly like it had in the dream… No. Not a dream.

Sam was right behind him, his eyes on the ground, watching his step as they made their way as fast as they could through the poorly traveled path. He froze when they came to the edge of the clearing by the lake and he could see the body laid out in the moonlight.

Dean didn't break stride, running to Cas' side, kneeling beside him and putting his hand out onto his chest, relieved to see the angel breathing.

Castiel's eyes shot open, looking around wildly before finally landing on the hunter's face. "Dean?"

"Hey, shit." Dean breathed, pulling a bandana out of his pocket and pressing down on the worst of the wounds, through Cas' stomach. He winced when Cas hissed in pain. "Sorry."

Sam walked over, offering his arm. "Let's get him back inside." He pressed.

Dean nodded, slipping his own arms under Cas, helping him to his feet. They took on the bulk of his weight as they made their way back through the woods to the safety of the bunker.

The process was excruciatingly slow going, and by the time they managed to lean Cas back against one of the infirmary beds, Cas was just on the cusp of unconsciousness again.

Dean wasted no time grabbing what he needed to start attending to Cas' injuries, leaving Sam to step back and watch.

Cas cracked open his eyes, looking up at Sam while Dean was busy. "How did you know to look for me?" His voice was rough and ended with a cough.

"Dean just knew." Sam said, his tone disbelieving. "He like, woke up and just… went."

Cas turned to look up at Dean as the older hunter returned to his side, pushing back his shirt to begin to work.

"I don't know, man." Dean muttered, wiping away some of the blood, knowing the wounds were healing slow enough Cas needed stitches. If he were human he'd have bled out long ago. "I was dreaming or something, And I…" He slid the needle through Cas' skin, beginning to suture the largest of the cuts first. "I saw you get jumped."

Cas fell back against the bed, unable to hold up his head any longer. He sighed, a feeling of safety returning to him now that he had been found. "That is very fortunate." He said absently.

Dean let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

They fell silent, the angel focusing on the slight sting of the needle being pulled through his skin, grateful he was still there to feel it.

Forty stitches later and Cas managed to pull himself up to sit leaned back against the metal headboard.

Dean cleaned himself up before sinking down into one of the chairs in the room.

Sam crossed his arms. "So. What the hell was that about?"

"Three demons followed me from the last motel we stayed at. They wanted to kill you to impress a demon they worked for."

"Great." Sam muttered. "Sorry Cas."

"It is fine." Cas dismissed.

Sam shook his head. "And you seeing it in a dream?" Sam asked, directing his stare at Dean.

Dean shook his head. "Beats me. I was just… I fell asleep and then I was here." He looked at Cas. "I just sort of followed you out of the bunker and to that lake." He admitted. "I didn't know if it was real…"

"Was that the first time it happened?" Sam pressed.

"Last two nights too." He kept his eye on Cas. "Except you were just in the bunker those times."

Cas nodded slowly, mind turning over that information. He had no idea what could be causing that.

Sam shifted in his seat slightly. "You said you were just following him. Like astral projection?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess?" He nodded. "Yeah, sort of like that time Pamela had us in that trance to find the reapers. Except…"

"Except?"

The older hunter fidgeted slightly. "It was like I could feel what he was feeling." He shifted his glance from Sam back to Cas. "I could feel you uh… get hurt and like… I don't know. Emotions?"

"You could read his mind?"

"No just… feel things." He finished lamely. "I don't know how to describe it."

Sam pulled himself to his feet. "I'll uh, hit the books I guess."

"Sam, get some sleep first." Dean said with a sigh. "You got like an hour."

"You did too."

Dean leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, well."

"You should sleep too." Sam continued, but he resigned himself to obeying Dean's wish, feeling the exhaustion start to creep in as the adrenaline fully cleared his system.

"Whatever."

Sam rolled his eyes, taking his leave.

Dean slumped back against the chair back. "You scared me man, thought you were done for."

Cas didn't want to point out that without his help, he might have been. He let out his breath, leaning his head against the frame behind him. "I don't know what could be causing these dreams of yours."

"Well whatever it is… it has good timing."

.

By the fourth time Dean was no longer surprised when he found himself next to Cas. This time was weird though. He had fallen asleep at the infirmary table after attempting to rest his eyes for a second. Misjudged that a bit…

Now he was standing in a room beside Cas while also being able to look up at himself. He felt the dull aches settled deep into his chest and abdomen, a nod to the still healing injuries the angel bore.

Cas pulled himself up off the bed, ignoring the spark of pain Dean felt when he stood. He moved to the hunter's side, slipping his arm around him and pulling him up, carrying him over to one of the infirmary beds.

Dean shivered, feeling incredibly weird watching the scene unfold. He could feel the sensation of Cas lifting his body, but not his own. This wasn't the first time he suspected Cas had moved him from wherever he ended up passed out, but usually it was whiskey that caused him to sleep so deeply. This time was just from overexertion.

"You should save your energy for healing." Dean muttered.

Cas finished settling Dean onto his side on the bed before returning to his own, sinking down a little less gracefully than usual. Dean let the second hand exhaustion wash over him.

Castiel looked up, his eyes sort of flitting around the room. "Dean, I don't know if you're here."

"God, you sound like some phony psychic." He rolled his eyes. "Is there anyone with us this evening?" He mocked.

"I suppose if it is still happening there is no way to know." Cas mused softly. He didn't mention how strange it was to be talking to more or less nothing. "If you aren't, I will repeat the sentiment when you wake, but I didn't say thank you." he continued. "For hurrying back to find me."

Dean sighed. He sank down to sit next to himself on the bed opposite Cas. "This is getting old real fast."

Cas settled back and gave a small smile. "I imagine this is what it must be like when you pray to me. Normally it's me who can hear you but not respond."

The hunter frowned. Prayer. What if he-?

"Cas?"

Cas' eyes widened, and he looked around the seemingly empty room. "Dean?"

"Holy shit, that worked."

"You can just pray to me." the angel followed.

"Oh thank god, this was driving me crazy."

Cas was quiet for a moment. "This is… very strange."

"You're telling me." Dean looked back down. "I'm sitting next to myself on a bed."

The hunter paused for a moment, feeling the flood of warmth that settled in his chest. Dean tried to place the emotion, hesitant to assign a word to it.

"With such back and forth, it feels a little like communicating with the angels used to."

"Like angel radio?"

"Except in english."

Dean thought about it. He didn't really think about it but angels probably only communicated with enochian or whatever other wavelength nonsense they had going for them. "Yeah, and also I'm not a raging douchebag." He hesitated, a smirk crossing his face. "Most of the time at least."

Cas gave a soft chuckle and the warmth in his chest strengthened.

"I can feel your emotions." Dean continued, his prayer soft as he tried to focus on the sensations.

The warmth quickly was replaced with a more startled feeling before quickly being more or less buried and suppressed. Dean blinked a few times, surprised by the rapid shift in mood.

But Cas didn't seem upset… apprehensive maybe. "Can you hear my thoughts as well?" He asked, curious.

"No… just feelings. And not just emotional, physical too." Dean hesitated. "I can feel your wings."

Cas let a small smile work back into his expression. "That must be strange for you."

"This whole thing is crazy. But yeah. I didn't realize they were so… there all the time."

"Most of the time I don't really notice them. They've been a part of me for so long."

"Well, for all the stillness you have on the outside, you're constantly moving those wings."

Cas flexed them up and back, letting them sort of stretch out before settling back down against his shoulders. Dean shivered slightly, the sensation almost awe inspiring. The angel looked over where Dean lay, not knowing exactly where the hunter was other than near his own body. "Can you see them?"

"No."

Cas nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should begin research." He slowly started to push himself back off the bed.

"Cas, you should let yourself rest."

"I do not require sleep."

"You don't have to be up and moving either."

"What do you suggest I do?"

Dean thought for a moment. "I don't know. Movie night?"

Cas tilted his head.

"I mean it's not exactly like I could pick up a book anyway... Come on, man. The last thing I want is to spend all night just watching you read."

The angel hesitated. "Alright." He finally relented.

The hunter broke into a wide unseen grin. "Good. Come on, my laptop is in my room." He waited patiently as Cas moved carefully to avoid aggravating his wounds. He was grateful since he too felt the pains.

He settled down onto his bed next to Cas, watching him open his lap top and with a little instruction navigate to the browser. He watched Cas consider the different streaming options on the landing page.

"I've got a Corbucci film I think you're going to love." Dean frowned however, feeling an emotion cross Cas' chest he didn't fully understand. But coupled with the small uncharacteristic smirk, he wasn't sure he liked where it was going.

Cas didn't follow Dean's instructions. Instead Dean watched Cas begin to browse through titles seemingly more or less at random. "What are you doing?"

"I believe it is my turn to pick."

"That's not how this works."

"It would appear you have little choice in the matter."

"That's not fair." He furrowed his brow, watching Cas click on some animated kid's movie. "Hold up, wait a second, stop."

Cas however had already settled back.

Dean tried to put his hands on the computer, tried to will himself to interact with it as he once did when astral projecting, but he had no luck. "Really?"

"Yes." Cas said simply.

Dean sank back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling out loud where Cas couldn't hear him. He tried to sort out his own dismay from Cas' satisfaction.

Reluctantly, with nothing else to do, he resigned himself to watching Finding Nemo.

And when he cried, he blamed those emotions on Cas too. Whether or not it was accurate.

[End Chapter 1 of 4]

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

And if that isn't enough, https://www.fanfiction.net/~bobwess if you get desperate. I cross-post almost everything, ALTHOUGH, I do not ever update, so my ao3 often has more polished pieces if I ever get frustrated and polish something up. The fic up there is "A Sudden Affinity" Chapter 1. There are 4 Chapters.

[sergeant-spoons]

55. For A Pocketful of Mumbles—Such Are Promises

Leslie Sheppard

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @ask-you-what-sir​ @whovian45810​ @brokennerdalert​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​ @coco-bean-1218​ @heirsoflilith​ @itswormtrain​ @actualtrashpanda​ @wtrpxrks​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No jump tonight.

They'd all expected it, deep down, having watched the horizon turn stormy throughout the afternoon, but no one wanted to claim what they did now know—until Lieutenant Meehan confirmed it. His announcement sent waves of groaning and mumbled curses throughout Easy Company; Mama E climbed up onto a tank and told the Mechorps not two minutes later to much the same reception. The three women in her company each took the news their own way. Tink, relieved, went to fill up her canteen and take a moment by herself to really absorb the news. Kiko, dismayed, shuffled away to the girls' tent and did not reappear. Leslie, feeling a mixture of her friends' emotions, wandered off to find Don (as was her wont) and ended up with George and Skip as well. A movie was being put on in a tent up by CP, would she like to join them? Of course, she would.

Anything to take her mind off the delay.

The makeshift theater was packed, and in the commotion and the dark, Leslie did not realize that out of their septet of friends, three had failed to show. She, Don, Skip, and George jostled for the metal fold-out chairs and settled in for the film with a few dozen others. Some showed up late and sat on the ground wherever a spot was free. Penk, Tink, and Kiko did not appear among these latecomers. The moviegoers laughed and rolled their eyes and tapped their toes on the soft ground, breathing in the grass and the secondhand smoke from those sneaking cigarettes in the corners of the tent. The movie flounced on with little interruption until one point when Skip got up to find Penk, then promptly came back and whispered something in Don's ear that Leslie did not catch. Don stood despite her mumbled protests, kissed her on the top of the head, and left with Skip. George took Don's chair and Leslie, drowsy, ended the movie leaning on his shoulder. They left together, rubbing their eyes and laughing at the cheesy ending of the film.

"Wish Tink sweet dreams for me, will you?"

George was grinning—almost as if he already knew her reply—and she giggled, ruffling his hair in fond parting.

"Sure thing, Luz. Should I tell her it's from Prince Charming himself?"

"Well, she sure is as pretty as a princess, so I'd say that seems fitting."

"My, aren't you the charmer?"

"I try. 'Night."

"Nighty-night."

Leslie took her time walking back to the girls' tent, feeling each lazy step meet the soil beneath her boots. Tonight would, by all rights, be the very last she spent on English soil, either for quite some time or even forever. Reminded of her happy-go-lucky friend, Leslie began to wonder why Tink, of all people, would miss the movie. Kiko's absence came as no surprise—she'd always been more of an early-to-bed, early-to-rise person—but Tink's seemed more of an anomaly by the minute. She'd been getting better, after everything that happened with Charlie. She'd started to look at George in a new kind of light, even if she only did so on the down-low when she thought he wouldn't notice. Maybe she'd just wanted to get some sleep. Leslie decided that if Tink was still awake, she'd ask her friend what had kept her away, but either way, she'd be content with or without knowing.

Just as she turned down the row and counted down the tents to locate her own, she heard footsteps urgently approaching from the way she'd come. She took one look at the tent flap closed against the night, a faint light emanating from within, and bit back a sigh before turning around. If someone needed her for something, she'd go along and do her best not to miss her bed and her pillow too much in the meantime. But it was Don who came up behind her, and one look at his face told her something was wrong.

"Don?" She searched his face, her hesitant smile quickly failing. "What happened?"

"It's Penk," he said, gasping slightly from the run—he must have sprinted over to find her. "Kiko gave him this letter, and he panicked, and I don't know what to do—hang on, I've got it here—I don't even know what to say."

He handed her a folded piece of paper, fumbling to get his flashlight up and working so she could read it. She squinted at the page, the urgency of his manner not lost on her, and after a few hits against the palm of his hand, Don's flashlight flickered on and revealed the pen strokes that had broken a young man's heart.

I’m scared—

—you'll be fighting right on the front—

—and I can't lie to you, I'm scared stiff—

—an awful time and an even worse place to fall in love—

—I've had this terrible feeling—

—I'm going to die—

—I love you. Kelani.

"Poor thing," Leslie said at last as she touched her fingers to her mouth in pity. "She's poured her heart out to him. No wonder he's in a state."

"You'd think that's the reason, but it isn't. It's worse."

Leslie visibly jolted, her gaze snapping right back to Don.

"What? How?"

He took the letter back and folded it back up, shaking his head in worry.

"He thinks she's breaking up with him."

Leslie gasped, several expletives of surprise strangled in her throat before they crossed her lips.

"I know," Don sighed. "I tried to talk him out of it, but you know he gets nervous about himself and his belonging here with us, and with her... He wouldn't listen. Even Skip couldn't talk him down."

"He must be crushed," Leslie thought aloud, still trying to wrap her head around the situation, and Don hummed.

"Absolutely heartbroken," he confirmed. "They're engaged, for Chrissakes."

"Oh, Kiko..."

Leslie rubbed her hand over her face, all drowsiness knocked out of her by the severity of tonight's tribulations. Don reached out and touched her shoulder, and she leaned into him, pressing her face into his chest. He understood at once what she needed. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big squeeze, and she took a few deep breaths until she could think straight again.

"Thanks."

"Of course." He nodded toward the tent. "I'll let you, uh, do the talking. I'll just... I'll wait out here."

"Okay." She bit the side of her lip, considering, then leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

She pushed open the flap of the tent, and as she ducked inside, her heart sank to witness the scene she should have discovered some time ago. Feeling guilty that she'd picked a movie over her friend's happiness (albeit unintentionally), she hurried over to Kiko's bunk, where she and Tink sat, one sobbing, the other solemn. Tink had her arm around Kiko, gently rubbing her arm as she mumbled words of encouragement. Though Leslie tried to talk to their distraught friend, Kiko couldn't get a word out through her tears, so Tink kissed the side of her head and told her she'd tell Leslie what had happened, if that was alright. Kiko miserably nodded her consent, and the story went as such:

Not long after the jump was called off, Kiko retreated to the girls' tent, pacing back and forth, anxious because she'd already passed Penk the letter. She hadn't thought she'd have to talk to him due to the jump that night, believing that if they were by some miracle reunited in France, her worries would have been for naught and all would have been alright between them. Tink came to ask Kiko if she wanted to go see the movie, but Kiko immediately turned her down, and Tink, sensing something was amiss, volunteered to stay and keep her company, blaming a sudden headache. Before long, the inevitable happened, and Penk appeared. Tink started to greet him cheerfully, but Kiko didn't say a word, just froze up like a rabbit hearing a distant gunshot, and Tink fell silent. Penk, pale-faced, asked Kiko if she didn't love him anymore. Both too shocked to answer (though for entirely different reasons), Tink barked a laugh, certain he was kidding, while Kiko fumbled to explain herself. She'd never been very open with her emotions, however, and whatever she'd managed to stutter out wasn't coherent enough to salvage the situation. Penk, stricken, left without a word, and as Tink, baffled, tried to make sense of it all, Kiko burst into tears.

Stunned, Leslie didn't know what to say. She reached out and squeezed Kiko's hand, then kissed her on the top of her head and left her in Tink's capable hands.

"Hang tight, Kiko," she urged. "I won't be gone long."

"Where are you goin'?" hiccuped her friend, and Leslie almost faltered at the sullen look in her pretty, dark eyes.

"I'm going to try and fix this, alright?" She tried at a smile, but it didn't do much good. "You know me. I'm good at fixing things."

"Yeah." Kiko bowed her head and sniffled. "Alright."

Leslie looked at Tink and mimed sleeping, darting her eyes pointedly at Kiko, and Tink nodded. Their friend could do with a good night's rest. She'd feel better in the morning—and hopefully, by then, Leslie might have some answers and resolution to provide her.

"This is shaping up to be a long night," she said to Don, who turned as soon as he heard her voice, having waited several yards away from the tent so as not to eavesdrop.

"What'd she say?"

She told him what she knew and they came to the quick conclusion that there had been a miscommunication of mass proportions. Don led the way to his shared tent, but Skip was the only one there. He told them Penk had gone for a walk and hadn't come back yet. They waited a good ten minutes to no avail, and finally, Leslie resolved to come back in the morning. She hugged Skip and then Don and told them to come and find her once Penk came back, no matter how late the hour; they agreed and wished her a sober goodnight. Upon returning to her friends, she discovered that Kiko had cried herself to sleep. Tink sat on the edge of her bunk, weary, her exhaustion stemming from matters of the heart rather than physical exertion. She rose stiffly and told Leslie she needed a minute, so Leslie took her place on the bunk beside Kiko, and Tink stepped out into the night.

What a mess.

Tink stared at the ground and lifted her hands, rubbing them across her face as she shook her head. A few men wandered past, on their way to bed, and when Tink looked up, she saw George had lingered, watching her. A cigarette dangled from his lips. She reached for it and he handed it to her, his smile slowly fading as he took in her expression.

"Hey, you alright?" He glowered at the tent behind her. "That ex of yours didn't send you another letter, did he?"

"No, no," Tink laughed tiredly, finding it funny that so many of her and her friends' recent troubles had been caused by the heart. "It's not me that's got the problem. It's Kiko."

"Kiko?" His initial reaction mirrored her own—one of shock—and Tink felt that first rush of astonishment hit her once again. "What happened?"

In a hushed voice, she filled him in on all the details. He whistled under his breath a few times and shook his head quite often, and just as she was wrapping it all up for the second time that night, Don reappeared out of the gloaming, his flashlight foretelling his coming.

"Any luck?" Leslie asked, emerging from the tent, and George slipped his arm around Tink's waist as they turned to hear the answer.

"No," Don replied dejectedly. "Skip and I tried, but we just couldn't get through to him. He's stuck in his misery and we can't get him out."

After a moment, Leslie went and hugged him. Tink leaned into George, and he held her a bit closer. Leslie and Don didn't notice the embrace until they parted several seconds later, but they didn't say anything about it, and as much as George didn't want to let go, Tink didn't want him to, either.

"Is she asleep?"

They all turned to face him, surprised he'd shown, but he had, and he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at the attention.

"You alright, Penk?"

He didn't reply, just stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down, grinding a pebble into the ground beneath his heel. Tink was the first to move, touching George's hand as if to let him know she wasn't abandoning him before moving forward to hug Penk.

"This—you and her—you're not over, I swear. It's just- She's just-"

"Afraid." Penk swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I'm afraid, too. I really am, I just never thought-"

"What?"

"That I'd lose her before we even jumped."

His voice broke. Tink stepped back and wagged her finger at him, and he blinked at her in surprise.

"Nobody's losing anybody," she insisted, newly fired-up, "least of all you—or any one of you!" She spun around, jabbing her finger toward her friends. "Everybody's gonna make it, y'hear me? Everybody."

Leslie reached for her friend, and Tink all but threw herself into her arms, breaking into silent, heaving sobs. They all knew she was terrified, too, even though she had yet to speak of it, even now. No one blamed her for her fear, just like they couldn't blame Kiko for hers, either. Who were they to be so foolish as to not see the threat that lay before them? Death could very well await not only one of them, but every single one—or, even worse, all but one. So Leslie, just as helpless to reject the reaper as all the rest of them, held Tink and reminded herself to keep breathing. She looked over her friend's shaking shoulder at Don, and she could see the same fear they all shared reflected in his eyes. She felt a tear blur the corner of her vision and squeezed her eyes shut—

I should have given you that letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[chemicalblonde]

I rolled out of bed at 3 in the afternoon. 3 weeks ago I left my 9-5 job. The pay, the title, and the sound of it all looked good on paper, but I couldn't bare the unhappiness one more second. While working my flower gig on Mother's Day, I ran into my old boss. It was a picture-perfect scene - I was smiling alongside the owners, beaming ear to ear when I greeted her. In our last conversations, my former boss brought up the fact that she witnessed my struggle with being overwhelmed - so I knew this was a monumental moment.

You have to understand one thing, I have acknowledged that people possess many layers that include faults and wonderful gifts - so to say that she is evil would be untrue. She is a human navigating her own life, as I am mine. Hours later, after enjoying brunch with her family, she returned and I built her a bouquet. We hugged, wished each other well, and continued to go our separate ways.

I don't think about that job anymore and I'm not kept up passed the witching hour tossing and turning with grief and dread about interacting with her either. I don't regret leaving. I have found so much peace in doing so.

I made it to my pottery class 3 hours later and worked alongside 3 other girls who just wanted to get a course under their belt. Or possibly to do something on a Tuesday night that broke their routine. I destroyed 2 of the 3 pots we made. However, I did not feel defeated nor did I feel angry about wasting the money I spent to be there. I think I'll keep trying, and it's okay that I'm not perfect for my first attempt at ceramics since high school.

On my way home, I was stuck in heavy traffic. So I called my brother to inform him of the horrific death of our family friend that happened over the weekend. I have been keeping it inside because sharing this kind of story is sad, and not fair to share with others who aren't attached to this person. I felt relief in our conversation, I no longer had to hold that in.

After I got home, I scarfed down bits of dinner, ran a load of laundry, and decided to go for my nightly walk (I've been walking every night for a few days in a row now and I want to keep it up). I felt lighter. I felt a release of worry, I release of guilt or pressure to figure it out right now. I am happy that I am returning to my core, to my stable self. It's nice to be back. Maybe I do need to pursue a life in yoga training. Maybe I should. I can't think of other vocations that bring me to this kind of clarity. I am beginning to explore parts of myself that I enjoy.

Shayla and I have been indulging ourselves in this therapy show as of late. We stay up crying and psychoanalyzing. But tonight's season finale resonated with me. There was this insufferable woman who would incessantly gripe about her husband and his lack of value. Turns out, this woman was deeply anxious and loved him dearly. Her therapist asked, "What would life look like without your anxiety"? And she began to explain how she wanted to travel to places where there were dangers and uncertainty. That hit home a little too hard. I think of my past relationships and how my anxiety got in the way, how my control was suffocating, and my expectations for myself were projected onto my partners that resulted in feeling unheard or unappreciated by them. Much to chew on.

Shayla is thinking of possibly pursuing a job outside of Texas, which would mean our time living in this beautiful home is now on a countdown. I am sitting in this. It is not new information, but I was just getting comfortable with the idea of staying here long-term. But this is okay too because I would like to leave and explore the world now. It's time. I can pack my things and head to the west coast to be with my brother. I can create new memories with him and his small family like he dreams of...and I dream of too.

It's now 30 minutes until 3 and I should start winding down. I am overwhelmed with such joy and excitement about the newness ahead. May I continue to believe in the universe and all of its blessings.

[tetrisfinished]

esa's potty training adventures - attempt 92734872348732

disclaimer: there is nothing wild about this - it's tiring and tedious and a lot of work and tough lol so i've momentarily given up.

so i've been psuedo "trying" to potty train esa for the past year now. i've been trying to have him sit on the potty, trying to get him to tell me when he needs to go, etc.

the title and the above were the post i had begun about a week and a half ago. but tonight, just under 2 weeks later, i can say...thank god for my mother.

she came, i took my days off, and we took off the diaper. specifically from saturday feb 25th, i took the step of taking the diaper off esa. that day was full of accidents. i started messy and ended the day feeling dejected. it was no fun.

sunday was A LOT better; very few accidents and we managed to catch it all on time.

monday and tuesday i was off; and once again...monday was rough.

tuesday again got a bit better and then my mother dsecided to come back on wednesday (she had to momentarily go back on the 28th to pick up my sister from the airport) and we resumed.

by the end of wednesday i had just about had enough of the constant feeling of not being clean, cleaning up, 110% focusing my energy on every single move that esa made and winding myself up in my own head.

so thursday morning, after many conversations with my daycare, i sent esa back to daycare. i packed 4 pairs of outifts, 3 extra shoes, 4 pairs of socks, 4 pairs of underwear, and a full pack of pull-ups. and i decided with the daycare to proceed with the 3-strike plan - 3 accidents in a row meant back to pull-ups.

and esa didn't have even one accident. even the times that we had decided he would be in his pull-up (during nap and before going outside) - even during those times, he kept his diaper dry.

today he came back from preschool with a little certificate of excellence in potty training.

before i gush, i would like to make it clear - it was a LOT of effort....on my the part of my mother. my mother did SO MUCH. my husband was not around on the weekend (did nothing) and happened to catch the one week when he had to go into the office for work so that was wonderful.

but that certificate. even though it's only that he's keeping his underwear dry, even though he's not doing poo, even though he's not telling to go to the potty when he needs....despite all of that. it's one of the biggest achievements i feel like i've had in my own lifetime.

which as i write it out, it feels like i'm wrong to even think this. it is not my achievement. i shouldn't take that away from my kid. it is actually in truth HIS effort. his almost 3-year-old brain is figuring out the world and i couldn't be more proud. if i could turn on a faucet of my gushing, it would just go on and on.

my kid is doing it, he's doing the growing up thing. i'm so incredibly proud of him. i'm so incredibly melancholy for me. it is of course bittersweet.

anyway, if i keep writing i will not only be gushing in this post, i will also be gushing (*read: straight up bawling) in bed where i'm writing this currently.

so i'm calling it.

it's amazing how well the brain compartmentalizes everything isn't it? on the one hand, i'm having probably the toughest time ever in my marriage (today is our 6th wedding anniversary, no less) and here on the other i can't stop thinking about that little certificate that i have half a mind to frame right now.

but that marriage trip for another day. i'm going to stop now.

good night!

much love,

-k

[indigo474]

2223- yesterday and forever more

i tried to go to the gym tonight. i could tell by the parking lot it was crowded- i came home and went for a walk/run outside-under the almost full moon and clouds. i would choose being outside to being in the gym anyday. I'm having a week. Maybe the past few weeks? I saw James tuesday- technically i failed to bench 85lbs- or did i? I'm not even sure- i attempted to doit and on the 3rd one my mind started to wander and i didnt complete it. i have no idea what i was thinking about- one second i was there-the next i wasn't. he asked me what happened. my mind focused and then not- he made me do it again and i completed 3 so i did the 5 but not in a row.. the highlight of my week was seeing Kika- she is precious and she loves me. she is always so happy to see me. i try not to think about the fact that she is old and going to die..

I'm hormonal this week. probably why ive become antisocial. it's hard for me to not be hard on myself when i get like this- the very last thing i need is me being mean to me.. but that voice in my head is STILL there- no longer a roar- a whisper of self doubt and loathing. i wish i wasn't aware of how fucked up i am. the more i learn the more i realize how messed up i really am- i'm not sure it's such a good thing to know how screwed up you are. some people don't have a clue-

i was angry this week too- i always throught x was a better person than he was- i tend to do that with people. I am learning though. I will not tolerate lying. i can't disrespect myself like that. i guess i'm mad because it would have been nice to have someone to hang out with- but he turned out to be a liar- not only a liar but someone who looked me in the eye and lied about lying. i even said to him so you're not even going to own up to it.. he didn't know what to say- he texted me to call him when i got home so he could explain- i never did- nor will i. i've learned some hard lessons about people and the lies they tell. i don't know that there is anything more important than trust in a relationship. i would have wasted time with that insecure bitch boy. i should have thanked him for showing me who he really was.

Work is hard- every day i find out another thing i am responsible for. My team is doing great. so far they are doing everything i have asked of them. I figured out real quick that the corporate world runs on reports. i think i heard it mentioned 1 time something about a report and i was like OHH that's how they keep track of us. I always wanted to look good on the report. why? i dont know why? because i care entirely too much and i like to do a good job.. ANYWAY- now i have to look at reports for my people. there is a report for everything and i am bombarded with them multiple times per day. We came up with action plans- All are doing great and far exceeding expectations. Its pretty amazing and i hope it continues. it's not easy though and i've had to have conversations i wish i didn't have to have-only 1 girl is not doing what we talked about her doing- i believe she is trying- she is going through a lot of shit and has no support and my heart breaks for her. I am going to have to sit with her next week and go over the reports and let her know there hasn't been any improvement with what we talked about. it just sucks. I'm getting 2 new people on my team next week for a total of 6. i'm taking it day by day. another thing i have to be gentle with myself about-i'm bound to mess up and not know everything- it's been a real challenge.

life is good- i can do hard things- giving up is never an option-Spring is almost here- i don't like texting-my daughter is now claiming to be vegan- life changes- hope i never feel my age- a grateful heart is a magnet for miracles-

I finally got rid of all the bird feathers i was collecting. I was going to make myself a pair of wings to get into heaven- just in case. i decided not to do that and to trust that i'll earn my wings somehow. i kept a couple cool feathers.i was going to take them down to the river and have a ceremony. it's bad enough i have a rock collection- i had to let the feathers go-in my backyard. for now on i will only bring a feather home if its super cool or if i need a certain color for a spell.

i've been sleeping better than ever. i am going to go look at a condo on sunday- it doesnt hurt to look. i know it sounds horrible but i'm kind of hoping the housing market crashes- Good night almost full moon-

[parables-proverbs-pericopes]

I just deleted a half hour of labored writing trying to exegete a few verses. It seemed good when I started. Scripture usually is! But it wasn't working.

My mind and heart kept turning to a Wednesday night four years back. That Wednesday was a remarkable day among all of our remarkable days. The church campus was humming. That day we had preschool chapel. Always a highlight of my week.

That day saints far and wide told me of great steps, characterized by profound simplicity, by which they are committed to following God in the way of Jesus. That very day I was made aware of folks active in our congregation who quite recently were living in their vehicle. There was a certain symmetry in knowing that!

That Wednesday God's faithfulness to his children led one among us to fund the building of a school in Haiti. The whole school. Others were stepping up in ways seen clearly as life changing - when seen by faith.

A goodly crowd gathered for church family dinner. There was good food, good singing, good fellowship, outrageous laughter. It was unlikely to get better.

But it did.

Paul came to Bible Study. Not that Paul. Paul that lives down the street from the church building. He comes by sporadically to see me. He and his wife are poor in our common understanding of the term. He needs a little cash now and then to buy gasoline for his old car. Sometimes it is just a loaf of bread that will get them through until their social security check comes. Wednesday night he sat in the front row of chairs at Bible Study. The saints greeted him warmly. He listened attentively with wide eyes. After the prayers at the conclusion he hung around.

I knew he would.

He needed to talk.

We plopped down in a church pew and he asked if we could help with his utility bill. Because of the kindness of our church I was able without hesitation to say yes. He gave me the bill, which was promptly paid, and said "I enjoyed Bible Study tonight. Y'all have a way of 'putting it across.'" He wasn't talking about my teaching. He was talking about the church's way of living

As Paul walked through the sanctuary and out the door I watched him. I watched him take every step. I replayed every word. I asked God to keep him safe. And I thanked God that on a day that was already off the scale glorious he took us to new levels of wonder at the grace and mercy of God.

Sometimes (maybe almost all of the time?) it is just that simple.

Sorry, the exegesis just wouldn't happen this morning.

Paul did.