#asleep almost immediately. hell on earth i still have to put away the laundry and reorganize my closet hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[chiisana-lion]

man this sucks i wish i was drawing instead

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark’s Girl

part 014/015 “one more time, captain”

previous part // next part

masterlist

word count 3.9k

an: this part does include dialogue from avengers endgame, which is not my work nor do i claim it to be!

It’s been five years since the Blip. You had been back by Natasha’s side for almost six months now, and she was grateful for every moment. There were days where she would break down (which until recently was unheard of) and you would be there by her side. And she had done what she could to help you out with your trauma. Before you accepted her offer of coming back, she had put two and two together when she recognized the faces on the news to the faces that had adorned a spare room in that house of yours in Ransdorp. Natasha had a past of her own, no doubt about that, so she could relate to how you had felt when you admitted on your own time what you had been up to those few years after Siberia. 

It wasn’t an easy conversation, at one point you had broken down into sobs and reminded her a lot of herself when she had taken some time after a mission gone wrong years back. She mostly understood the shame that coursed through you, but one thing she made you understand was what HYDRA had done, the things you did because of them, wasn’t your fault. Natasha also made sure to tell you the blackouts weren’t your fault either, and she understood why you did what you had done. Although it was trauma you would have to live with, she knew the feeling better than most of losing your years to programs like that.

All of this was to say that both women had a newfound respect and understanding of one another. It became easier to work alongside one another, being able to almost anticipate one’s actions and decisions as they occurred. No one had seemed to really get Nat like that since Barton.. Which was why she was so hell bent on tracking him down.

Natasha had come to the realization about a year ago that Barton had gone off the radar because his family was among those they lost. When bodies started piling up (not due to your hands) and some of the known details were faint signatures of Barton’s handiwork.. Nat made it her mission to find him. Because this was not him. And although he was taking down some questionable people, they weren’t responsible for Thanos.

“Listen fur-face,” Carol Danvers threw out that regained Nat’s attention. “I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere, on thousands of planets.”

“All right all right, that’s a good point,” Rocket remarked. Nat stole a glance your way to which you only offered a shrug as Carol continued.

“So.. You might not see me for a long time,” she redirected towards Nat. Natasha nodded her head and leaned forward on the desk she sat behind. 

“Alright.. Well this channel is always active. If anything goes sideways, anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me.”

Everyone agreed and one by one the holograms disappeared. You took a seat in front of the desk, and Nat redirected her attention to Rhodes. “Where are you?

“Mexico,” Rhodes answered. “The Federales found a room full of bodies, looks like a bunch of cartel guys. They never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

Nat shrugged her shoulders and sat back in her seat. “Probably a rival gang.”

“Except it isn’t,” Rhodes countered. Natasha’s eyes shift, and your gaze shoots up at her. “It’s definitely Barton.. What he’s done here, what he’s been doing the last few years.. Nat, the scene he left?.. I gotta tell you, a part of me doesn’t want to find him.”

Natasha grabbed the sand which she had prepared just earlier and bit a piece off. She just needed to focus on something other than what Rhodes was telling her, she didn’t need anyone to see her cry right now. “Will you find out where he’s going next?”

“Nat,” Rhodes tried to warn.

“Please,” Natasha pleaded. You glanced Rhodey’s way and he met your eyes. You offered a grim look, and he sighed.

“Okay.”

And with that Rhodey’s comm broke off too. You watched as Nat placed the sandwich back down and sighed deeply, all before her face began to scrunch up into a sob. You were quick out of your seat and moved around the desk and kneeled by her side. “Nat.. Nat we’re gonna find him.”

“I just don’t know why he couldn’t come to me,” she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “I know this must be hard for him, losing Laura and the kids, but he could’ve come to me.”

You reached your hand out to rub her shoulder and let out a small sigh. “Sometimes it’s hard to let those you care about see in you in those dark places.”

Nat finished rubbing under her eyes and grabbed the sandwich off her plate again with her other hand. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding the talk with Steve?”

You bit back the smile and stood. She had done what she did best, diverted the conversation from herself to something else. “You’re still on about that?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Natasha prodded as you went to gather your things. “How much longer are you going to wait to be happy?”

The question made you pause, and before you could respond Nat perked up at something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and was met with none other than Steve Rogers, hands in his pockets, and with a small smile on his face. 

“Speak of the devil,” Natasha joked. Your gaze immediately went back to her and you gave her your best glare, while Steve raised his brow at her. They were so easy to mess with, she thought. “Here to do your laundry?”

“And to see some friends,” Steve replied. You held your things closer to your chest as Steve came further into the room.

“I’m actually getting ready to leave for Tony’s,” you threw out there. “I promised to go see my favorite niece.”

“Are you going to be okay making the drive this late at night?” Steve asked. Natasha rolled her eyes to herself and took a hefty bite of her sandwich. If she had to watch another pining episode she was going to make sure you two never heard the end of it. You, on the other hand, smiled at his sentiment.

“Oh I think I can manage,” you told him. You offered your farewells, and started back to your room to grab your bag and head out. Steve watched you leave before looking back at Nat who was waving him off.

“Meet me in the kitchen, I need a drink,” she told him, and took her sandwich with her towards the kitchen area. Steve chuckled lightly, and followed in your steps to the residence area. He was just catching you outside your room, and he took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket, clutching it in his fist. You heard him approach and looked his way, shutting your door and offering a smile.

“Hey,” you managed before Steve got up to you, and his serious expression made your smile fall. “Are you okay..?”

“Seven years ago I asked you if one day you’d want to get away from all of this,” Steve started. You remembered the conversation far too well, and immediately shut your mouth in a tight expression. A heaviness filled your chest, but you tried your best to ignore it. “From this life where we were needing to be more than just us… Do you remember?”

“Yes-”

“I told you that I would wait for you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, because.. Because you have been the best thing to happen to me since I came out of the ice. You taught me how to live again,” Steve continued.

“Steve,” you whispered, but he kept going.

“I love you,” he admitted, finally looking into your eyes. They were darker than usual, and you could see he meant it. “I couldn’t go another day without telling you. Because.. You feel like home.”

Steve grabbed a hold of your hands, and you watched as he placed something into your palms. He retracted his hold on you and your fingers curled over the soft velvety box in your hand. You looked up at him with curious eyes, and slowly used your thumb to open the box and let out a small gasp.

“Steve,” you whispered, staring down at the contents.

“It was my moms.. SHIELD saved it when I went into the ice,” Steve explained. You carefully ran your finger over the gold banded ring that practically shined up at you. You hadn’t seen a more beautiful piece of jewelry, and did your best to fight back the tears. “I’m not expecting an answer.. But I just wanted you to see that I meant it. It was always meant for you anyway.. Maybe we still have a shot at that normal life.”

Your gaze went back up to his, and he smiled softly at you. You were speechless as one of his hands grabbed onto your arm and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. And then you watched him take a couple steps back, before he turned around and went back the direction you both had just come. 

You were shocked, which even then felt like an understatement. Steve just.. Proposed. Inadvertently? Well it was purposeful, and if Natasha knew about it you were going to kill her for not saying anything. It took you a while to reclose the box and carefully place it into a pocket in your bag, it was delicate and you wanted to take care of it.

And well.. It certainly kept your mind occupied on your drive to Tony’s cabin.

Tony had left your room untouched for the most part, which was a welcomed thing to come into. You weren’t up for too long, forcing Tony to go to bed, but you did spend some time scrolling through your phone. Steve was right when he had said he wasn’t expecting an answer right away, you half expected a message of some sort but things seemed relatively quiet from his end. It was harder to fall asleep that night, you found yourself drifting off to what would happen if you said yes.

You’d want to move somewhere quiet, like what Tony did. That would give you a chance to refocus yourself.. Would that even be something Steve would be open to doing?.. Could he get you the same help he had gotten Barnes (Natasha said he felt at peace for once)? Hell, if they could just wipe out any lingering thoughts of Hydra you’d never have another problem in your life.

What’s more.. If you said no would this be what you life is like? Alone, and longing for the maybe’s that could have been? Which was better? Risk getting involved again, or risk never having that connection to someone again? It wasn’t the ideal question to fall asleep to.

When morning broke and sunlight peeked through the blinds, you woke up and found yourself sitting among the sheets and staring at the open box in your hands. The diamond that sat in the middle and gleamed in the sunlight made you sigh, it felt as if it was screaming at you that you knew what you wanted to tell him.

Did you?

You snapped the box closed and hid it in a drawer beside the bed and decided to change into something other than sweatpants for the day. After finishing and bounding down the stairs you ended up behind your favorite little niece, and scooped her up into a bear hug from behind. “There’s my little sleeping beauty!”

“She couldn’t wait to see her favorite aunt today,” Pepper remarked from the kitchen amongst the giggles that erupted from her daughter. You peppered kisses on Morgan’s head, and Pepper turned around as she was drying what you assumed was breakfast dishes. “Tony barely had to tuck her in before she was out.”

You set Morgan back down on the ground and she went back to messing with a toy on the breakfast table. You ruffled her hair and went to grab a cup of coffee before resting your hip against the counter besides Pepper. “How has he been?”

“A little stir crazy,” Pepper admitted to which you nodded lightly and sipped at your warm mug. “He put up this picture of the kid and I catch him getting lost looking at it.”

“And how have you been?” You asked. Pepper glanced your way and smiled.

“Hoping one day he’ll finally rest his mind.”

Eventually, you brought Morgan outside who immediately ran towards her tent and disappeared inside. You went towards the shed with an open door, and leaned against the frame, taking in the sight of Tony wielding what you could make out was a helmet. “Work never stops for you, does it?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder and waved you in, which you accepted. You came up behind him and gripped his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You’re supposed to be retired, old man.”

“It’s just a little project,” Tony tried to assure you. You couldn’t help but scoff, and pointed your thumb to a corner of the room.

“Says the one who built me a new suit last year,” you teased. Tony used one hand to back hand your side playfully and you laughed. You stood beside him now, and grabbed a picture frame sitting on the shelf over where he worked. It was a picture of the two of you when you were younger, barely big enough to fit the frame, and slightly discolored. You ran your hand over the front before putting the frame back and rubbing your hands together. “Can I talk to you about something..?”

“Anything, kid,” Tony said, overly engrossed in the task in front of him. You took a deep breath and shrugged your shoulders, not that he could even see you.

“When did you know that.. Well that you didn’t want to wait anymore? To start a family?” 

Tony immediately stopped what he was working on, taking off a pair of clear protective glasses and setting his tool down. When he turned to face you and rest his elbow on the table, he tilted his head and scrunched his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Come on Tony, I’m being serious,” you told him.

“Yeah well so am I!” Tony exclaimed and stood. You watched as he stood from his stool and started to pace back and forth. You crossed your arms and huffed. He was acting like such a child! As if he could read your thoughts he stopped and pointed a finger at you. “It’s Steve isn’t it? Is he pressuring you or something?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that-”

“Because he’s hard headed and doesn’t know when to stop,” Tony said, cutting you off. You shook your head and scoffed.

“Tony please, this isn’t about you two-”

“I told him if he messes with your feelings again.. I swear when I get a hold of him,” Tony started pacing again and you rolled your eyes and started towards him. “He has some nerve-”

“Tony,” you stopped him dead in his tracks and made him face you, finally getting a hold of his gaze. “He didn’t do anything to me, okay? If anything.. He’s been trying to make up to me what happened.”

Tony sighed and his expression softened, but you shrugged. “I know he lied to us about knowing what happened to mom and dad… But you always told me that I wasn’t what Hydra made me, that what I did wasn’t me but them… Tony, why is Barnes so different?”

“Steve lied to us,” Tony said in a low tone. “He lied to protect his friend but what about us, huh? We weren’t his friends? We didn’t deserve to know the truth?”

“He handled it wrong Tony, I know. I’m just saying does that outweigh all the good he did for us,” you offered. Tony sighed and looked away for a moment as if annoyed. You grabbed a hold of his hand and it forced him to look back at you. “He’s trying.. And you told me that sometimes just trying was a good start.”

Tony sighed and raised a brow at you. “I hate it when you throw things back in my face like that.”

You chuckled and Tony  used his free hand to cover the hand holding his. “Look I’m still iffy on the idea but.. If Rogers is who you want to be with then who am I to stop it? I’m a family man now anyway, I have bigger fish to fry.”

And with that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and while he fished it out you laughed little. “She’s turning out too much like you.”

“Scares me to death everyday,” Tony replied while checking the message from Pepper. “Time to feed the munchkin anyway, we can continue this talk later when I’ve had a couple drinks.”

Tony and you walked side by side to Morgan’s play tent, and after finally getting her out. Tony whisked her up when you felt your phone buzz, and you pulled it out to see a notification from Natasha. It was weird, she normally didn’t bother you when you were with Tony, she always said to focus on family time. You fell back a few steps and read her message.

Nat: Heads up, you got incoming.

“Incoming?” You muttered to yourself as you came up the steps behind Tony. You nearly knocked into him. You followed his gaze to the car coming to a stop in front of his cabin, and watched Steve, Natasha, and someone else get out. Steve’s expression was serious, hell all of theirs were and Tony didn’t look amused. Natasha offered a nod to Tony and he turned to you, and you took Morgan from him with a smile. “Let’s go see mom, hm?”

You quietly walked inside and set Morgan at the table and met Pepper’s look before she returned to watching out the window. You ruffled Morgan’s hair and returned back outside, the screen door thumping closed behind you. The three visitors started up the stairs as you rejoined Tony’s side.

“Sorry for dropping in unannounced,” Steve offered. Tony glanced your way with a look. You could only shrug. What? You didn’t know they were coming. But if they did then.. Something was up.

“We have something though that we think might work.. To get everyone back,” Natasha said. Your breath hitched, and when you looked over at Tony there was a hint of something in his eyes. The third person stepped forward and nodded at the both of you.

“Have you two heard of the Quantum Realm?”

It was.. A long explanation. Everyone was gathered in a circle at this point, and in all honesty you had a hard time following along. There were stolen glances between you and Steve, and each time a feeling grew in the pit of your stomach. But you forced yourself to pay attention because this was big.. Could it work though?

“Now, we know what this sounds like,” Scott had finished up before Steve cut in.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” He asked. Tony was looking out to the lake near his home but when addressed he looked back at the group and gripped onto the railing.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked. You glanced at everyone else and cleared your throat.

“Maybe for those of us not fluent in quantum mechanics, Tony?” You asked. Tony sighed and tapped his fingers on the wood.

“In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home,” was all he offered.

“But I did,” Scott offered. Tony shook his head at that.

“No, you accidentally survived,” Tony corrected. “It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

Scott cleared his throat. “A time heist..?”

Tony scoffed in a joking manner and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them,” Scott tried to reason.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back,” Natasha chimed in.

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony asked. Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism,” Tony said in a sarcastic tone. Everyone went back and forth for a while. Tony shot down every claim, and the rest tried to tell him there’s always a chance. The back and forth didn’t stop until the screen door was pushed open and Morgan came up to Tony’s side.

“Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said. You couldn’t help but smile and cross your arms. Tony picked her up and pat her back.

“Good job, I’m saved,” he reassured her. He refocused on the group and offered a shrug. “I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for seven.”

.”Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance,” Steve tried again, but Tony shook his head.

“I got my second chance right here,” Tony told him. You could see Steve accept his denial and then met Tony’s gaze. “I can’t roll the dice again.”

Tony excused himself and the porch fell silent. You watched him disappear into the house and looked back at the group in front of you. No one knew what to say, but Natasha was the first to speak. “Sorry for interrupting your weekend.”

“Well when you have a hell of a plan like that I don’t expect you to wait normal business hours,” you replied. Natasha sadly smiled and you sighed. “Tony has everything he’s ever wanted.. I don’t know if I can sweet talk him into helping.”

“We know,” Steve offered and gave a sad smile. “We just wanna do it right.”

“Tony may not be on board but.. If there’s a chance? I’m in,” you offered. Nat reached out and pat your shoulder and as if knowingly, she turned around and pulled Scott with her. You took a couple steps towards Steve and he straightened up a bit. “Nice to see you back, Cap.”

“One last mission,” Steve whispered. You smiled and looked behind him at the car he had come in and Natasha smirked at you. You met Steve’s gaze again and slowly lifted her young to rest on his cheek. On your tiptoes and with the sun basking in the sky, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Steve had leaned into your touch, his lips pressing against yours as if it would be the last. After a couple seconds you pulled away and you both lingered close.

“Go save the world one more time, Captain.”

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist // message me to be added or feel free to add yourself!!

@elliee1497 @iizabxlla @bulbasor-charmander-2020 @littlemoistcarrot @dottirose​ @meraki–mei @littledaph @fckdusername @bisexuwhale9669 @mottergirl99 @vxidnik@anabutnotpro @ilovesupersoldiers @incorrect-artist @caseymcflurry@robindoesntloveme @cherryara @fightforspring @annetries @petlaufeyson@weasleyisourjedi @loganrwebb @marinettepotterandplagg @snarky–starky@emotionalcal @feelmyroarrrr @chewymoustachio @cass4nova @holy-rosewater@natdrunk @botchedzucchini  @booksarebae2000​  @chelseaxaz @stealapizzamyheart​ @iamninaanna​ @xoxonotme​ @chrisevansiseverything

[skampi835]

Good morning Kisses

As a new resident to this household, you're about to fulfilling your tasks, helping Sebastian with his duties. You just didn't knew that one of them is a full sleepy head with strange habits in the morning. (Man I wished someone had told MC!)

Language: english

Starring: Napoleon x reader x Isaac

Genre: Fluff / Comedy

Word count: 1.610

Light spoilers for Napoleons story ahead!

I'm hoping I can entertain you with the story.💕

"So Sebastian, what next?" You ask with a beaming smile on your face. Ambitiously you’re taking the tasks pretty seriously. Today is your first day, helping Sebastian with his duties, after you’ve arrived in the mansion and you are SO grateful he’s going to let you help. How else should you overcome your staying here for a whole month, without any task at all? Besides, Sebastian certainly was the safest way, not meddling too deeply, with the vampiric residents. -- Oh well, you’ve been in situations worse than that before.

Amazed Sebastian blinks at the sparkling sink. When he had left the kitchen before, it was like a bomb had explodet and now everything was neat, even he can’t find words. Just for a few secounds though, as he wiped one gloved finger across the tap, examining it. "I must say, well done! You didn’t miss a spot.”, hearing his praise, you feel weirdly proud. “Thanks. See? You can count on me. And cleaning isn’t merely my only talent. I'll be very helpful to you.”

Crossing your hands behind your back, you await your next task. The day had just started, yet you got a good view of how many things Sebastian actually has to handle in the mansion -- and with the residents. It was a bunch and you admired him for his ambition and his reliability. You would be drowning in the sheer amount of duties and responsibilities for sure. Besides, as long as you can help Sebastian, the time here will certainly flew by in an blink.

Sebastian nods thoughtfully, looking at the kitchen clock. “I showed you yesterday, where the laundry is, didn’t I? Collect them and bring it in the garden. Meanwhile I’m going to dust the foyer.” His scrutinizing gaze meeting yours, as you eagerly nod. “Sure, are you helping me, hanging the sheets, later, Sebastian?”

“Yes.” Sebastian says in response. “Oh and while you’re bringing them, do a stop at the room from Monsieur Bonaparte and wake him up.” You blink puzzled, inclining your head slightly. “Waking him up? He surely wouldn’t sleep that long?”

A small smile curves on his straight features. “To be clear, he’d presumably sleep till past noon, if nobody wakes him up. Monsieur Bonaparte is a late riser.”

“A very late one!” Surprised your eyebrows raise. It's naturally for someone like you to rise early, to get your things done. But what if you just had a little eternity of time? Maybe you would just oversleep the days, as well. “Well okay, I’ll stop by his room, when I collected the laundry. I think I can handle Napoleon.” At least he was the only - or just the first one - who offered help to you, when you stumbled into the estate of le Comte. “I’ll see you in the garden. See you later, Sebastian!” With that, you dashed the stairs up, entering the hallways.

"Ah- Mademoi-!" But Sebastian's words no longer reach you, for you've left so quickly. Reflective his gaze turned back to the clock. “Maybe I should have told her?” He muttered, shaking his head a short while after. “Ah no, she’ll do just fine.”

___

Waking up someone up? What could possibly go wrong? With the laundry basket under your arm, you’re hurrying trough the hallways. You didn’t even need that amount of time, finding the way, Sebastian had shown you yesterday and swiftly you’ve picked the laundry for today. Making a stop at Napoleons door to wake him up, will be some piece of cake. You are in a pretty good mood and hum gently the melody of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’. Damn, this song is so catchy!

As you reach Napoleons room, you’re raising your hand and knock against his door. “Napoleon? It’s time to wake up!” You say with a happy tune in your voice and wait.

… And wait…

Huh? “Napoleon?” You raise your voice, louder than before. “Morning is over! Time to rise!” But there still wasn't response, like before. You knock again, more urgently this time.“Napoleon?!”

Bewildered you put the basket down, wondering if something happened. “I’m coming in, Napoleon!” You shout through the door and reaching for the knob you slowly opened it.

You blink a few times, for the room was plunged in dim light, because the heavy curtains excluded the daylight from the windows. Quietly you're stepping through the room and when you reach the bed you looked puzzled down at the sleeping man. He had to be kidding, it surely had been almost noon by now! Still Napoleon lays sleeping in his bed, with an pretty peaceful expression on his face.

You really shouldn't watching people asleep, so you hesitantly reach out your hand, softly touching his shoulder. "Rise and shine, sleepyhea-!"

After you're touching him ever so slightly, Napoleon suddenly jerked up, catching your hand and pulls you with him down again, as he rolls to the other side. His grip was surprisingly adamant and you had to give in gravity, falling halfway over him, with a muffled cry. "Don't be so loud..." Napoleon tiredly nuzzled your cheek with his lips, his breath sending prickling shivers across your skin and your head heated immediately, as he pressed his soft lips on yours.

Something dies inside you and at the same time a delightful, giddy sensation dwells up as your head quickly burning up. When Napoleon finally releases your lips, he's bedding his head in the crook of your neck, holding you firmly, pressed against his body. You are left speechless and even breathless, for you hadn't breathed at all, while his lips lingered on yours and now it was even worst, because his soft, sleeping breaths sends frequently shivers through your spine. Your body’s tensing because of this sweetly heat creeping through every muscle and your mind almost kills. Finally you are carefully breathing deeply in, hoping that he'd wake up. But he didn't.

Helplessly you’re stammering: "N-napoleon?!" But just constant breaths are answering. You could swear your heartbeat pounds even louder and your cheeks are still flushing. Unsure of the meaning, you ask again, keenly this time: "Napoleon?"

"Hush." Is the soft quiet answer Napoleon’s giving you and then again, the room fell silent, besides the loudest heartbeat in your chest, which hammers in your ears and the soft breathing of Napoleon.

How on earth did he fall asleep again?! Irritated you try to unchain his arms of your body, but his grip was adamant and got even tighter by your desperate tries. Napoleons warm body is pressing against yours, while he’s sleeping the sleep of the death. How did you end in a position like this? And why had nobody warned you about this sleeping kissing-jerk?!

"Ah-!" The baffled noise escapes from the door and you had a hard time, lifting your head, spotting Issac standing in the doorway. He had muffled the sound with the hand above his mouth, eyes widening quite startled. "What by the heavens...?"

"Isaac!" you fizz with relief, your cheeks still are blooming rosy. "Don't just stand there! Please help me out!"

Facing your desperately demanding stare, Isaac had no chance to flee the scene. "H-how did you end like this in the first place?" He agitatedly asked, while stepping to the bed at your side, looking as flustered as you feel.

"Sebastian told me to wake Napoleon up." You explained quickly. Your embarrassment rising endlessly, but your proud had to be put back. Instead you should thank the Lord, that Isaac came by! "How the heck should I know, that Napoleon's being that resistive and is fighting my efforts with kisses?" A hot blush’s creeping your face again, when you tell that exasperatingly.

Isaac answers with an exhausted sigh: "Napoleon always does that. He's got some awful habits if you try to wake him up before noon." He shakes his head. "Seeing your dilemma, I'll try to help."

Isaac carefully climbs over the bed, grabbing Napoleons arms, to release you. For a moment you felt freely enough to crawl from him, when Napoleon surprisingly doing another one of his sleeping twitches!

"... Stop pulling." He grumbles, catching Isaacs wrist and pulls himself over. Isaac is more resistant than you before, though he's losing balance on the soft bed and slips halfway over you, ranting "Bollocks-!" Napoleon sleepily is pressing a kiss on the side of his mouth, wheras you’re getting sandwiched between them, holding your breath in disbelieve of what the hell is happening right now.

“God! Stop it, already, Napoleon!” Isaac's screeching disturbinly, ever so flushing like you before, giving Napoleon a good shove, which is sending him away from you and you finally - finally! - can catch your breath again.

Rapidly blinking, Napoleon stares at Isaac tiredly and then he yawns: "You didn't have to shout so loud, you know." Lazily he lowers his look towards you, still in a sort of somewhat in his embrace. His eyebrows are rising in astonishment. "Oh…"

"I should not shout? Then get finally a regular wake up routine!" Isaac snarled exaggerated, as he withdraws from the bed. His cheeks still blushing. “Really? Why am I even friends with you?”

Shortly Napoleon releases you from his grip, stretching himself wearily, like that was not the most embarrassing situation in your whole life. With you cheeks still burning with fire, you hastily crawl out of his bed. "Now that you're awake, I have to leave." You hustle while staring on the ground and shoo out of the room.

Isaac's giving you a pitiful look, meanwhile you scamper, fleeing this awkward situation. Nobody can ever accuse, that you’ve left the basket with the laundry on its spot.

We all remember this time, when Isaac said in some other route, that he’ll get Napoleon, bc’s he’s probably still sleeping... poor Isaac! Every frkn time!

[imagine-loki]

Lionheart

TITLE: Lionheart

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: ONE-SHOT

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her. + Imagine Loki wandering into the room you’re working in, hearing you singing to yourself. The phrase “you’re a King and I’m a Lionheart” piques his interest and he decides to sit nearby. A little later, he nearly gives you a heart attack when you notice he’s just been quietly sitting there, and he tells you he’s been listening to you sing for the better part of an hour.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: This story ended very differently than what I had in mind when I first thought of it. I kinda dig it. Like… do I… do I want to make a superhero out of her? How would this work? I have too many ideas and no time to write them!

Language, suggestive themes, blatant disregard for Tony’s rules. Loki discovers he has two kinks (and one of them is stronger than the other… and it’s not the one everyone thinks). Mostly just fluff. 

*Song is “King and Lionheart” by Of Monsters and Men

=

Loki rolled his eyes, scoffing for what seemed to be the millionth time that morning. “I need my magic, Stark. I don’t think you’re quite understanding my dilemma.”

Tony put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, fixing him with a meaningful stare. New York had been going through a rash of bad crime, people who found alien tech and decided to modify it in order to obtain their evils means. Loki had become increasingly worried about keeping Charlie safe. Magic would guarantee that not a single wild, unruly hair on her sweet, adorable head would be ruffled by a would-be villain.

Asgard had different ideas.

“Look, I know you’re frustrated, but your dad made it abundantly clear that he’s not giving you back your hocus pocus and that you’re not allowed any real weapons.”

“Odin is not my father. And if he knew anything about anything, he would give me my magic back. How am I meant to defend a realm with no resources?” Loki argued back, pushing Stark’s hand away, his cheeks turning a flushed pink in his anger.

Tony was smirking. “A realm or just Charlie’s apartment?”

“Don’t act like you’re not just as concerned for Charlie as I am, Anthony! She’s in a vulnerable position, she has ties to both of us. She’d be such an easy–how am I meant to keep her safe?”

The sudden shadow that crossed Loki’s face made Tony pity the poor fool. He knew what he was feeling–fuck, Tony felt like that about Pepper every single moment of every single day. He would be tearing down the city to make sure no harm would come to her. And he loved Charlie. She was smart as a whip, stubbornly determined, took no shit from anyone. She had even started to pick up coding again, working on a few side projects for Tony, using an operating system he specifically designed for the vision impaired.

But Asgard had been very clear on what they thought Loki was and was not allowed to do. They had already raised concerns over the fact that Loki spent a considerable amount of time with that one helpless mortal. Loki had nearly torn off Odin’s head at the comment and Tony had had his own share of nasty commentary as a response as to worry about keeping Loki on a short leash. Still, here they were, idle and useless.

“I can’t stop you from getting weapons elsewhere, but I can’t give you your daggers or turn off your magic dampener.”

Loki looked like he was close to screaming, the muscles in his jaw jumping dangerously with the effort to reign himself in. It wasn’t Stark’s fault, he knew, but he was so tired of feeling powerless. He could fight off any threat, but what if something happened when he wasn’t there? What if she was in danger and there wasn’t a cocoon made of his seidr keeping her safe and sound? What if he was ever too late?

Tony sighed, furrowing his brow like he was fighting with himself. “Look, if you tell anyone I gave you this, I will kill you. Do you understand?” He asked barely above a whisper, leveling his gaze with Loki’s. The Prince nodded a little skeptically. Tony fished something out of his pocket and shoved it into Loki’s hands. “Take these and put them on her. If anything starts going to hell in a handbasket, she’ll be safe.”

Loki felt like he could breathe again when he closed his hands around a set of dainty metal bracelets he assumed were built of Stark’s nanite technology. This wasn’t mere coincidence–no one just casually walks around with this kind of technology on the off-chance of someone needing them. The message was clear as a bell: I care about Charlie, too.

He offered a meaningful nod before turning neatly on his heel and heading off.

After a jaunt through a farmer’s market, Loki crossed the street towards Charlie’s building, arms laden with bags of fresh fruit. He unlocked the front gate (which he had insisted, to the supervisor, needed to be locked) before taking the stairs up to Charlie’s apartment by twos. Though there was an undeniable tension clenching at his spine from the morning’s meetings, his worry melted away the second he saw her door. He tentatively tried the doorknob, smiling to himself when he found it fully locked–for once. He promptly used his key to gain access.

Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, a laptop open in front of her. Her fingers flew over the keyboard with an ease that was still awe-inspiring to him, despite the fact he watched her do it every single day. Her hair was still in the overly complicated plait he had twined it into that morning, having spent the night (a detail Tony had asked about nearly a million times during their meeting) entirely by accident (he swore up and down that he had just passed out on the couch). Charlie had changed out of her nightshirt and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Loki couldn’t help but smile–the t-shirt was inside out, after all–but she was just the portrait of perfection in his eyes.

He put the fruit down on the kitchen counter, figuring he would have time to worry about it later. At the sound, Charlie tilted her head and jutted her face out towards the space beside her, allowing Loki press a kiss to her expectant lips, as she barely broke her working stride.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hey, yourself. How was your meeting?” Loki groaned immediately, and Charlie could only chuckle. “I imagine that was a ’no’ on ’can we give the alien prince who tried to invade us his magic back’?”

“No would have been a kind answer,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and hiding his face into the crook of her neck. “Odin doesn’t do kind. He relishes in me being reduced to secondhand protection,” he finished, taking the objects out of his pocket and tossing them onto the table with a sigh.

Charlie smiled, reaching back to pat him soothingly before her fingers sought out the objects on the table. “You worry too much.”

Loki chuckled, rolling his eyes. “One of us has to.” He pressed another kiss, this time to her temple and enjoyed the contented noise she made at the back of her throat. “Besides, Stark was more interested in hearing why my GPS signal and your GPS signal–”

“Were on top of each other?” Charlie questioned, smirking like an imp.

“His phrasing was much cruder, believe me.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” He rested his chin on her crown. “That you tied me up and demanded my servitude in the form of my flesh.”

Charlie giggled, shaking her head at the notion. “Oh, please. Like I need to tie you up for your servitude,” she joked, rolling her hazel eyes. Her hands covered whatever she had heard tinkle onto the table a moment prior. “What are these?”

“Some peace of mind courtesy of Stark. Hence, secondhand protection,” he replied, taking care to slip them onto her wrists and letting the nanites adjust to her size. “So, please keep them on.”

“Are you sure it’s not an alarm system to keep you from not-so-accidentally, accidentally sleeping over?”

“I fell asleep!” He defended, sounding like it was the fiftieth time that he had to say so that day.

She barely caught the peal of laughter, rushing to catch her lower lip between her teeth. Her face had turned perfectly towards him and he couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips. “Who are you trying to convince, you or me? Because I don’t care. I’ve been asking you to stay for forever, you know that.”

“Make your fun, but whenever I do manage to take myself back to Stark’s for the night, I need be sure you will be wearing those. Please, Charlotte.”

“Whatever you say, babe”, she offered, winking at him before turning back to her monitor and resuming her typing position. Loki was only too happy to listen to the click-clacking of the keys while he puttered around the flat.

After a while, he had finished straightening up when an unfamiliar sound grasped his attention. He tilted his head curiously, shaggy hair flitting into his eyes and eyebrows drawing in tightly in concentration. It was a tune, sweet and smooth, though it filled his heart with a certain type of dull ache that was almost wistful. Following the source, he stepped outside of the bedroom, unfolded laundry forgotten on her bed.

“Howling ghosts they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear. You’re a King and I’m a Lionheart.*”

Loki stopped, mid-step.

This was certainly a first.

He had never heard Charlie sing before, other than the quiet humming she did under her breath while she showered or tidied up. He now felt nostalgic for the sound. More importantly, something about her song–it stirred a ridiculous, long-dormant feelings within him. Even now, seeing her with her headphones in, clearly concentrating on her task, he couldn’t help but feel that the song was meant solely for him.

So he ventured a little closer.

If there was one true benefit of him spending so much time in her flat, other than Charlie’s stellar company, it was the fact he could now sneak around. For the longest time, his scent gave him away even though he was deathly silent. Apparently, now everything smelled faintly of him–which awoke a whole other host of emotions he did not need to go into–and so it was harder for her to tell when he was trying to surprise her. However, if he lingered a little too long, the weight of his stare surely had Charlie turning his direction with a pleased smile. The key was to stay a meter or two away, preferably sitting on the floor, to avoid detection.

And so he did.

Loki sank onto the floor, legs bent and his arms resting on his knees, a reflexive smile pulling at the sides of his mouth as he watched her.

He noticed tiny traits that he had not in the past. Like the way she would chew on the inside of her left cheek when she was thinking or how she crinkled her nose when she hit high notes. Loki committed the way her voice oozed like caramel with soulful, jazzy songs to memory and delighted in the slight sway of her hips during what he assumed were musical interludes.

The watch on her wrist buzzed against the table. With little hesitation, Charlie stood from her seat, stretched her arms over her head and let her spine pop noisily with a sigh of contentment. Her legs turned from her little workstation and went to step away, in what Loki quickly realized was straight in his direction. She still had her earbuds in, and so did not hear the small, panicked sound escaping his lips while he decided where to go.

Unhelpfully, he decided the best course of action was to wrap his hand around her ankle before she managed to tread on him.

Charlie let out a shriek, jumping a meter back before her whole body was enveloped in metallic armor. A mechanical whirr and a whining hiss filled the air, as the two gauntlets pointed outwards, blasters charged.

“Charlie, what’s going on? Do you need backup?”

Charlie stilled at Tony’s voice inside the suit, still locked into its defensive position. There were several thoughts rushing through her mind, at once. “Um… er, I–I don’t think so." It was a little too hard to grasp at any particular one, though the most pressing was probably the fact that Loki was sprawled on the floor, hands up in a passive stance though his eyes shone with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on… No, the most pressing thought was the fact that she could–See? Perceive?–she knew that was how he was sat.

"Is this the new neural link you were working on?”

“Yeah. It’s the prototype. Are. You. OK?”

Charlie chuckled to herself, her arms lowering and the repulsors on her palms dimming to a mere candle’s worth. She watched, if that was even the correct term, Loki’s breath hitch anxiously and his body attempt to curl into itself to hide away. “I’m fine, Tony. Just a loud pigeon startled me, is all,” she lied.

“OK. Just remember that thing’s not a toy, CeeCee. So, you–”

“Bye, Tony,” she called, disconnecting the call with a quick swipe of her eyes. Tony was many things, an overbearing idiot being chief among them, but he was a genius.

Loki had pulled himself tightly, arms around his legs, keeping perfectly still, and his eyes downcast; worried. He briefly glanced up at her through his eyelashes, green eyes peeking through thick veils of black, but he didn’t linger on her for too long.

He looked so vivid, so comforting, so real. Not a voice she invented in the back of her mind to keep herself company. Real and there and very nervous at this turn of events, but so lovely, all the same. It was nice to take him in, if just for a moment. 

“Loki?”

His expression became pained as it focused on the tile beneath him. “Yes?” He shifted before she could offer a follow-up question. “I’m sorry. I just… I… I’ll go and…,” he trailed off once again getting to his feet. A second later, he had the breath knocked out of him all at once. Nanites faded and armor gone, she barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a vise. “What are you–”

The rest of the question was swallowed up by her lips on his. He had barely managed to secure her frame to his when she pulled back.

“I can’t believe I forgot how pretty you were,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his with a smile.

Loki knew she couldn’t register his expression of surprise plastered on his face, but it slipped onto his face, regardless. Her hazel eyes still trailed him, as if still cataloguing whatever it was she saw when inside the suit. Though he dreaded the idea that she might have seen something–someone–she didn’t like, her gentle stare didn’t hold disappointment, but rather, delight. His skin burned at the compliment and he was sure she could feel it.

“It was nice to have a refresher, though.” Loki shuffled her body, securing his hands under her thighs, where they had wrapped around his waist. “And at least I now know I could probably fight crime,” Charlie joked, laying her head on his shoulder. “Or become a super villain. I haven’t quite decided which, yet.”

“Don’t get any ideas or I will have to, regretfully, return the bracelets to Stark,” Loki chided, though he pressed a kiss to her crown. He had not quite gotten over the shock that for a moment, the briefest of minutes, Charlie had been able to see and that all she had concerned herself with was him.

She shrugged. “That’s OK. I can’t say I see myself using them very often.”

Loki stilled in the gentle swaying he had started, perplexed. He would’ve thought that Charlie would jump at whatever technology would allow her to see. Of course, once she had gotten her sight back, there would be little reason for him to stay. Not that she had much use for him now, frightfully independent as she was. But this would have set her life back to normal, and the voices in his head had loudly declared that the end of his time in this flat, loving this mess of a woman was nearing its end.

“Why?”

“Colors are too bright. They’d give me a headache.” She smiled against his neck and kissed his pulse. “And it terrified you.”

Loki’s heart clenched in guilt. “You can’t give up this opportunity just because I feel inadequate.”

Charlie chuckled. “I’m not.” With great reluctance, she asked Loki to set her down and the Prince felt the sense of loss of her body echoed particularly strong in his frayed emotions. She sighed, taking his hands in hers and lacing their fingers together. “The neural link is new and buggy and would takes ages to master. I’m happy with how my life is going. Whenever Stark refines the technology, I’ll think about it again. And until then, well, I’ll spend my energy reminding you that I chose you–”

“I know, but–”

“And that nothing is changing that. I don’t know why you think I would just exclude you from my life, Loki. Plus, if you were hot as hell when you attacked New York, you’re even finer now. I mean, what the hell?”

Loki guffawed at her declaration, another surge of heat tinting him pink from his chest to the tips of his ears. “Says the woman who didn’t hesitate jumping into a fighting pose after someone touched her ankle,” he purred, raising their linked hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles.

It suddenly dawned on Charlie that the mystery emotion she couldn’t place earlier was simply him swooning over her defensive stance. 

“I didn’t know you were there, you dork!” She tilted her head. “Why were you there?”

“You never told me you sang, Lionheart.” It was Charlie’s turn to blush, a lovely red that turned her bronzed complexion copper. “Hmmm, that would lend itself to a secret identity, don’t you suppose?”

“You just want me to call you King, don’t you?” The sage tilt of her lips thrilled him and so he kissed them to share in her amusement.

“Perhaps a little,” he admitted, though it felt pulled against his will.

Charlie beamed and Loki could practically see the ideas sparking into her brain. “I see. How about you and I let our GPS signals mingle for a while, my King?” She had let go of his hands and was deftly walking backwards towards the bedroom. “I’ll show you another fighting pose.”

“Oh, fuck.” The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth on their own accord in barely above a whisper. The suggestion had let a full-length shiver loose in his spine. “Yes, please.” His voice cracked faintly, as he shook the shock out of his system in favor for heart-pattering excitement.

With a chuckle, he closed the distance between them in a single bound, bending low to throw Charlie’s smaller frame over his shoulder. He only hoped her shrieking giggles didn’t activate Stark’s suit again.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Secrets and small talks (White Demon’s Love Song, Part 6.)

Series description: A new job was what the reason you found yourself on a lonely roadtrip on the western coast, ending up in the woods of Olympian Peninsula. Yet a sudden car malfuction was what cause your unplanned stay in Forks. To your surprise, there was a lot of sinister things going on under the veil of fog.

Part summary: The secret was finally out - many questions were about to be answered. Yet no-one said it will be enjoyable for either of you. 

A/N: Okay, I am 100% positive that Seth would believe there’s something wrong with Jacob before realizing that she just means the wolf thing (IT’S JUST A WOLF THING). Also, I am sorry (not sorry) for the lenght of this part, but I got a bit carried away.

Tagging: @missdictatorme​

Word count: 5.5 K

Twilight playlist: ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

The wolf turned around to look at what caused the loud thud behind him. His blood froze in his veins when he realized what was he looking at - you've been laying on the damp, hard, and ice-cold ground. He could smell it in the next second - the iron-like, dry smell in the air. The vampires would most likely describe the smell as sweet, just lovely - yet Jacob's stomach was turning upside down as he felt it. No - you didn't hit your head so bad you'd be bleeding out. There was just a small amount of blood dripping out of a small wound on your forehead, the drops were slowly soaking into the soil. Jacob wasn't panicking, he was just surprised to find you there - you were just fine, your breath didn't even hitch, he could still feel the warmth coming out of you, your heart was beating steadily. Don't worry, you were just fine.

But Seth, who saw the view through Jacob's eyes, started to panic at the sight of your unconsciousness - while Jake found the expression very funny, the boy started to freak out. - 'Jacob, help her, why are you staring at her?!' - Seth cried out to both Jake and Quil's heads, he wasn't sure about what was happening. - 'Jacob can't change back now, Seth. She's bleeding a bit, what if the leeches will smell it?' - At that, Seth breathed out; Jacob and Quil felt the decision Seth made the very moment the boy realized it himself. In the next moment, he was running to meet Jacob just to help him. - 'Seth, don't leave your position!' - At the same time, Quil took a deep breath and howled loudly for the others to know something had happened.

The members of Sam's pack and Jacob's pack couldn't hear on the same wave - only Jacob and Sam themselves could communicate. Every time something unexpected happened, a member of either pack howled and changed into their human form to describe the issue. It was extremely time consuming and also a bit exhausting, but they didn't have a better solution.

It was too late for Quil to stop Seth from running your way. Jacob's bitterness could be felt in the mental web, yet he didn't tell a word - he just watched the perimeter, ran around, and made sure that any of the bloodsuckers was after you. While Seth was on his way and Jake already looked around, he started to move you around. If you'd be awake, he knew you'd freak out - his teeth bit on the cap of his raincoat as he dragged you closer to the garage, not having a problem with lifting you. The tops of your feet were sometimes touching the ground as Jacob scampered around in the direction of Forks. Thank God, you were barely a minute away when taken from a wolf's point of view.

Suddenly, Jacob couldn't tell what Seth was thinking, neither he could see what Seth was seeing - which meant just that Seth was close. And soon, the huge animal turned its head at him. It was looking quite funny, seeing Jacob running around with you hanging out of his mouth... Without a context, it would sure make Seth laugh hard. - "Hey, Jake." - Seth mumbled and tried to flatten you inside his arms. - "Let go of the cap, I have her. Jacob. She won't fall to the ground. She's breathing... I can hear her heartbeat. It seemed that she did something to her brain for a moment." - And there Seth was, rambling about a ton of stuff that meant... Nothing.

If he'd stop himself from acting up, just for a second, he'd know that you were alive the whole time. Jacob heard you breathing and your heart beating... Before Seth brought it up. And seeing the way the wolf was staring at Seth, the boy immediately knew he did something wrong. But Seth didn't care at all - he just moved your body in his arms a bit, smiling at you. - "Don't worry. I'll stay here and make sure Y/N's good, okay?" - The sunshine boy grinned at Jacob. - "Maybe some of them will appear here... They've been here before and now, there's the stench of blood in the air." - Slowly, Seth walked backward to the door leading inside the house, letting Jacob disappear between the trees.

Seth has done just like he told Jacob he would - the boy made sure to tug you into the big, super-warm blanket after taking the coat and boots off. Like a nurse, he cleaned your forehead with disinfection, taping it together with white medical tape. While happily strolling around the flat, Seth turned on some of the heating, made sure the place will be ventilated, and... Because Seth was Seth, when there was nothing left to do, he started to clean around - doing the laundry, folding clothes... When Seth was done and looked around the place with a satisfied smile, you wouldn't know that you were at this place before.

Jacob... He was a messy person. He was one. The whole flat was the perfect reflection of said behavior. And you weren't there to change that - most of the time, you even weren't inside the flat, for the love of God - at least, he was doing the dishes and his bathroom was tidied up and smelled very nice. It was all you could ask from a person who had offered you a stay at their place in exchange for buying the food. Yet after Seth spending an hour there, the flat turned into a place you hadn't seen before - the boy swept both the dust and the floors, he tidied the sofa from all of the dry soil and carefully re-arranger a fluffy blanket over it so it would be looking presentable. When Seth was done with the flat, he made sure the door to the guest room is opened, just before he sat down to watch some TV. He made sure to listen to the rhythm of your breath - before he fell asleep himself. The boy had an undoubted skill of falling asleep everywhere and anytime, snoring almost unison with how you breathed. The boy was a light sleeper, he'd sure wake up if he'd heard something he would not perceive as 'normal'. Just like when you started to stretch in the bed, growling unpleasantly.

The dream you had was... Fucking crazy. You dreamed about walking to the woods behind Jacob, following him around. At one point, the man stopped - you did so too, watching him, hidden behind a tree. You remembered that in your dream, it was raining and it was pretty darn cold. Your breath hitched as you watched Jacob falling on his knees, grunting in pain. And then he turned into a fucking wolf. Into a huge, unnatural wolf. Jacob was nowhere to be seen. With that, you woke up - just as your head hit a root which was peeking out of the ground.

Your breath was above normal rhythm as you sat up and looked around to understand where you were. Fuck. You were just in your bad and this was just a bad dream. Jacob was most likely on his late-night walk and you fell asleep instead of following him. There was something wrong with your blood pressure because the room was gently smudged in your peripheral vision and it was shaking a bit. The colors weren't right either. And why was the pillow full of dirt?

Trying to shake the strange headache, you gently smoothed your temple, just to hiss at the feeling. Fuck. Your head hurt as if someone took you out with a damn frying pan. Was this Jacob's found? Without a problem with recognizing the material, you brushed over pieces of medical tape with your fingertips, wondering at what the hell had happened. You didn't remember hitting your head anywhere, this didn't make sense. Or, maybe, the dream...

"Hey, there!" - A young boy exclaimed in a happy tone. He was standing in the doorframe, shirtless, having a grin on his face. Who on Earth was this? And why wasn't he properly dressed for the cold weather? There was a strange tattoo on his shoulder and... He wasn't wearing any boots. Yet his feet, when compared to Jacob's, were nicely clean. - "Nice to see you up and well. Name's Seth, I volunteered to take care of you while Jake's off." - Without any further explanation, he offered you his palm. Confusedly, you held it in yours while the boy did the shaking. - "I have two simple questions. Why aren't you wearing a reasonable amount of clothes and why is there tape on my forehead?" - Seth was kind of surprised when you didn't ask something like 'also, why did Jake turn into a huge ass animal in front of my very eyes?'. Either you didn't connect the dots yet, or you knew something about all of this.

"Oh, sorry. I'll borrow a shirt if it makes you uncomfortable," - Seth smiled even more widely than before, disappearing for a bit before he put on an old, flannel shirt he borrowed from Jacob's closet. It didn't even cross his mind that he's not properly dressed. Most of the La Push boys just walked around shirtless for the most part. It was kinda nice to talk to someone... Normal. - "But my physical temperature is a bit higher than yours. I won't get cold... And I don't feel cold. I haven't felt cold for the last couple of years." - Seth explained to you as if you were supposed to know what the hell he's talking about. Most of his friends were used to his happy ramblings, but you weren't local. Seth was a stranger to you - and for the dearest God, you didn't know what was his point. - "And the medical tape? Oh, don't worry, I cleaned the blood and the wound first. It was a horror to get it out of your hair, I tell you that. I was worried that I might just... You know... Tear some hair off your scalp. Jake neither would be too happy about that." - Tearing hair off your hair? What was the boy on about? You were just as confused as before the boy started answering your questions. Maybe even a bit more.

Even though he answered both the questions, he hadn't told you anything. Maybe he was being dodgy, maybe he just really didn't know he's rambling about nonsense. Honestly, you couldn't tell. - "I was bleeding?" - "Well, not like bleeding... It was a few drops here and there, but it stuck around the wound and then it kinda dripped down your face." - Seth answered with an honest smile. Okay, so he just wasn't aware of misleading you even more, cool. Now you knew. - "And I hurt myself... Or..?" - You needed to be more direct with the questions to get a proper answer out of the boy. - "Oh, yeah, you fainted in the woods and fell on a root, that's what happened." - Oh, so that was why the dirt was in the bed. And why your forehead was taped together carefully. Sure. And that also meant...

Seth could heart your heartbeat picking up and your breath getting irregular as you realized something. Suddenly, your hormonal balance had changed as your body started to sweat. You were stressed. And also, this was the reaction you should show before. - "Seth, you need to help me." - You mumbled, climbing out of the bed. The room suddenly spun around and you barely stood on your feet - the boy's arms caught you and he carefully helped you stand straight. - "At first, I thought that Jacob is a killer. Don't ask me why I just got that vibe." - What the hell were you now on about? Seth watched you packing your stuff in a state of total panic, you were running around the room, picking every piece of clothing you could find. You didn't care what will you leave there, you needed to run away as soon as possible. - "A killer?" - The boy answered with confusion - suddenly, you pushed all the clothes you found into his arms, picking up the rest. Where was the bag, goddamnit?

"But it's worse, much, much, MUCH worse." - "It is?" - He asked back and for a moment, you managed to get him distressed as well. Seth was one of the people you shouldn't be having this type of conversation with at all. Even if Seth knew about every thought that ever went through Jacob's brain, he was now on the same ship of panic as you. - "What is he, then?" - "Trust me, if I'd tell, you'd think I'm crazy. And we don't want that. I'll take you out of there with me, what do you say? We can... We can try to ring at Charlie? Jacob always leaves his keys in the car, so the tow truck is a fairly good chance." - Your brain started to put together a situation. The chaos was too much for both of you - for a moment, Seth was thinking about actually escaping with you from the menace that Jake was supposed to be in your eyes. - "He can... He can... He can..." - Slowly, you looked him in the eyes, trying to get the words out. The boy was hanging on your lips with his eyes, curious to hear about what the hell Jacob was. - "He can turn into a wolf. I saw that with my eyes and I swear I'm not crazy. You need to trust me on this, Seth." - At that moment, every sign of suspense in Seth's face faded away as a grin replaced it. Oh, okay, so this was the late response Seth was expecting when you've woken up. - "What are you grinning at? I didn't lose my marbles! We need to go, now! Or he comes back, turns into that... That animal and tears us apart!"

"I know you're not crazy." - Seth whispered carefully, which made you stop for a moment as you looked into his face, searching for hints of sarcasm or something like that. You thought that maybe, Seth will tell you that you hit your head too badly or something like that. - "And I know that... Because I can do that too." - What was he saying? Was he also walking to the woods in the late night, turning himself into an animal at will? That couldn't be... Again, the room around you spun - one time, two times, three times... The third time, you've been already laying on the bed, passed out. The man let you lay there for a second as he put your clothes back in place. This time, you've been quicker to wake up.

It didn't take you even five minutes to gain consciousness and this time, you did not doubt in your mind about what happened. As soon as you heard someone standing next to the bed, your eyes flew open as you gathered to stand up on the bed, trying to get away from Seth, who was standing there with a glass of water and a small smile. One of your hands rose high to keep Seth away from you, but the boy wasn't on planning at all. - "If you'll come just a step closer, I am going to scream." - Yeah, who would hear that? It was your last defense. Your phone was in the raincoat you've borrowed from Jacob, Seth was standing next to the door and... You could still jump out of the window, but it was pretty high, to be honest. You could hurt yourself pretty bad if you'd be considering jumping out and you would not run too far if you'd break your leg. - "Be careful and reasonable, come on. You hurt your head pretty bad." - The boy seemed to be nice, yet it could easily just a mascarade. Just when he mentioned your head, the whole room spun and you had to support yourself by putting your palm against the wall.

Jumping out of the window suddenly seemed like an even worse idea than before. - "I think you might have a concussion, so, can you just sit down?" - Seth stepped forward and in response to that, you started to wave your hands around more wildly than before. The boy grunted in frustration, rolling his eyes back. For the most part, you've been acting like the child out of you two. After calculating the situation once more, you told yourself it might be better to co-operate. For now. Until you get a better view of the flat door. Just as you were climbing down the bed, the room spun again. Great, so now, you had a fairground amusement just from walking around. - "Will you let me go?" - You asked quietly once you've given up on any resistance. Without any further theatrics, you took the glass from Seth and even the painkiller coming with it.

"It's not safe out there... Listen, no-one's holding you here against your will, but it wouldn't be smart to leave now." - That was all he could say without giving away too much. Seth couldn't just straight away tell you that most probably, you're on the vampire menu now and that they will have a hard time trying to get you out of that trouble. Not like he couldn't talk about it, he just didn't want to give you more reason to go into a full tantrum. - "Why? Are there wolves in the woods?" - You grinned at your own, not-so-funny joke. It didn't make Seth even smile. - "There's something... Different out there. So, please, just don't do anything unplanned, dumb, or dangerous. Jake wouldn't thank me if you'd just do a bunk." - "He asked you to keep an eye for me?" - Then, there was the question if Jacob just wanted to keep you in the flat or if something was lurking in the woods for real. Both answers sounded more or less probable to you.

"Well... Not entirely, I volunteered to be here. I would be grateful if you'd just... Tried not to do anything crazy. Jacob should be back by six, he decided to do a longer one today." - And with that, Seth let you be with your thoughts alone, which was worse than when he stuck around and stared you down like a baby, that was dangerous to everyone. After the conversation ended, he was highly reluctant to tell you any information - he kept telling you that Jacob should be the one talking you through it when he was the one you've seen... Doing it. Not even when you circled a different conversation back to the topic - Seth was smarter than just giving you what you wanted.

In the meantime, you've cooked something for yourself and Seth, you even went as far as to let something for Jacob as well. Precisely at six o'clock, Seth's head turned in the direction of the forest as he got up from the couch and simply... Disappeared. You could hear a long, painful howl, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You just closed all of the windows and curtains, hiding under your blanket on the couch. The whole time, you've been watching some animal planet, until you simply fell asleep. It was Sunday and the garage would've been closed anyway. After some super-long document about mantises, you've fallen asleep - in that state, any danger was lurking behind the windows and you've been safe, laying on the couch.

Jacob came home late that day - Seth was nowhere to be found, which was understandable. Sam has found one of the vampires and tried to catch it... Embry, of course, ran after Sam to support him - yet the leech, it was a man this time, was quicker than them and broke Embry's leg. Embry, being the fighter he was, twitched the man's palm. That sure as hell won't make the bloodsuckers happy. The palm was now burned to ashes, yet it was almost 100% sure that the vampires will come for their revenge soon. And honestly, instead of talking to you, he slept under the trees, in the cold outside, just to make sure the confrontation will wait for a bit.

As a means of reconciliation, Jacob brought you some take-out from the steak, just like you talked about it - and there was a momentary relief when he found you dead asleep while watching a David Attenborough documentary about ants. All it took was to wait for a bit - and while you slept, he decided to work on your car again. The sooner it would be done, the sooner you could leave the town. It wasn't too hard for you to understand Jacob was back and working again - the noise was undeniable. You crept behind him, your face was colorless and you didn't feel good at all while doing it... But you two needed to talk - the sooner, the better.

"Good to see that you're... Human again." - You could hear him freak out under the car - his forehead banged the chassis with a loud bang and after a moment, Jacob rolled out with a violet bruise above his eye. - "I didn't know you were spying on me." - "You're doing weird, suspicious stuff and expect it to go unnoticed? No way in hell." - At this accusation, Jacob put his arms crossed over his chest, sending a raster nasty gaze. - "If I remember correctly, I'm not the one who thinks I am a serial killer and I don't stalk you when you want to be alone." - For a moment, you were opening and closing your mouth, trying to figure out some kind of an answer. Yet solid got a solid argument. - "I'm sorry, but you have more than six feet, you're not a very nice person and sometimes, you're kind of weird. I thought you were a serial killer and it turns out you can turn into a wolf! That's some Harry Potter shit right here, come on. I don't know which one's worse." - "Like you aren't. Who meets  someone for the first time and immediately goes 'That guy will kill me the first chance he gets'?" - "I'm just paranoid!" - You exclaimed all over the garage and looked Jacob in the eyes. Heavy rain started outside as you stared each other down. The silence was intense.

"I suppose you'd like to know more... About what you've seen, huh? Now you've seen it, there's no point in hiding things." - Jacob sighed as he wiped his dirty hands in a rug, his expression and stare were blank. - "Yeah, that would be nice." - A similar blank sigh left your lips. When you were on your way up, you've picked up some of the papers declaring all the gigs he had done, since you've been mistreating your work in the last couple of days. The man left the TV play while he heated the food he brought from the steakhouse, putting it on the small table in his living room/kitchen. Your eyes sometimes slipped to a documentary about lions and their prey as you chewed on the food. It took Jacob quite some time to start the conversation. - "So, what are you interested in? I mean... Regarding the wolf things?" - "That's what you call it?" - You fired back instantly, not even looking away from the TV. The food was tasty - it would've been even better if you'd just eat it right after Jacob brought it.

"Yeah, that's how we call it. I thought you've been dying to know more." - It was a subtle callout, yet it didn't make you even furrow. - "If Seth had told you so, he had been lying like a pre-schooler. You shouldn't be trusting that boy." - Once again, your eyes had barely left the TV screen. A small sting of the past had stabbed him close to his heart as he remembered how... She was eager to learn everything. Your attitude to the unknown was more Charlie-like: the less you knew, the better. - "Okay, okay, okay." - With that, you looked at him. - "How comes that you're a werewolf?" - Suddenly, you were staring him down like an eager interview. And you were saying that Jacob was the one with a split personality disorder?

"That's a start. We were born with it..." - "You and Seth? He told me he can do this tomfoolery as well." - "Not only me and that boy. There are around fifteen werewolves in La Push and Forks now. I can't tell since I've separated from the other pack a long time ago." - The man was talking while eating, so you had slight trouble understanding everything he had to say. - "That's quite a number. Everyone's as big as you or..?" - "No. Most of them are smaller." - For a moment, you've been just eating. - "Are you going to hurt me? Or other people? Or... What does a normal wolf do in these woods? This town, no offense, doesn't look like a place where shit would be going down." - Now, it was Jacob, who looked away from you for a second.

This was his chance to repent, to show you that he isn't the killer you thought the whole darn time. But... Should he tell you about vampires? He knew how paranoid you were. Knowing about the unnatural situation Forks found itself in might won't do the best for you. On the other hand... Maybe you'd finally believe something is happening and therefore, you wouldn't try to escape. Seth showed the whole pack how did the night at Jake's looked like making the others laugh uncontrollably, Maybe, you would finally believe that he's not that insane. - "We would never hurt people... Voluntarily. That's not what the Protectors are here for," - "You call yourself the Protectors? What?!" - At that, you started to laugh. It was so loud that Jacob widened his eyes in surprise. - "What kind of boyband name is that? Holy fuck!" - You got out of yourself whilst crying from laughing so hard.

Jacob was looking at you the whole time, waiting for you to stop laughing - but in the end, you've been laughing so long that it made him smile as well. - "It's a name Sam came up with. You'll get used to it, eventually." - "So, Sam's a member of your boyband?" - At that, Jacob rose is eyebrows as he thought of the answer, but right after that, he shook his head. - "No. He's the leader of the other pack. I have one and he has one." - "But what are you protecting this sleepy town from? From having fun? From sunny weather? From warm days?" - Sure, now, you were joking, but something in his face told you to take it just a bit more seriously. There was this... Blank, subtle flame inside his eyes as his expression went flat again. - "The cold ones." - Jacob said. At first, you thought that he might be joking - but... He turned into a huge animal in front of your very eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't making things up. - "Will you tell me who are the cold ones? Never heard of them."

"You're wrong. You already heard of them, everyone did. Bram Stoker did, the movie directors did... Let it go through your head. Who's werewolf's natural enemy, hm?" - You did know which mythical creature Jacob was talking about, but come on - it felt so dumb to say it out loud. A smile slowly crept on your face as you grinned - rather than answering, you've been concentrated on stabbing your steak with a fork. - "I know you know who am I talking about..." - Jacob whispered as if he was just asking you not to sit there in silence. - "The thing in the woods, the one chasing me... That wasn't a mountain lion, was it? The cats don't jump that high up on a tree. It was a cold one." - Dear Lord, you refused to say the word 'vampire' out loud. It felt stupid to even thinking of that. Inside your mind, you've been saying the word again, again, and again, but your mouth couldn't make the sound because of its utter stupidity. - "That was why you let me drive to Charlie, wasn't it? And then to La Push. Does he know?" - "Bits and pieces here and there. The less he knows, the better." - Jacob admitted quietly. That was why Charlie told you to call him as soon as something would be happening.

"And La Push? I don't believe that Charlie Swan, the police chief, is some secret... Vam-pi-re slayer." - Ugh, the word didn't want to leave your mouth on its own, goddammit. - "I was born in La Push. You can call it werewolves' natural habit because most of us are the children of mythical, legendary Quileute chiefs, who could turn into their spirit animals... And then to wolves." - "Wow. But why was I meant to go there?" - You asked again. Oh, you didn't catch what Jacob was saying... Never mind. - "It's the smell. It's the strongest in that location, quite literally soaked in it because we live there." - "The smell?" - With that, you took in a huge load of air to your lungs, smelling only the freshly cooked food. It hadn't done anything to you, but it made Jacob relax a bit more. - "Our smell, not yours. To a leech, the wolves smell like... A wet dog. But for them, it's almost unbearable. They can stay in our company only if they are a bit used to it." - "And what about them? Can you... Smell the cold ones too?" - And this was the moment Jacob understood you've been wrapped inside the conversation and its topic.

"Yes, naturally. It's like... Damn rotten tomato. It's so sweet, but it smells like a burnt body at the same time." - "Do I smell like that?" - It was a genuine question in combination with a genuine tone which made Jacob roar with laughter now. - "Of course you don't smell like that. You're human. Dear Lord." - Once again, you took in some smell and smiled at the man. - "Well, you don't smell like wet dog to me either... I can smell a bit of soil, something woody... A bit of orange... And sweat and oil. You need a shower, man." - "Flowers and something sweet. But your smell is nice." - Jacob answered immediately, now he was looking at the TV screen. Suddenly, he was the one stabbing his mashed potatoes with a nervous expression. Of course, he smelled your scent, hell, the workshop and the flat, especially the bathroom, and the guest's room were full of you. Literally.

"Thanks, I guess. So... Tell me more about the wolf thing, will you?" - It didn't seem that you're scared when you smiled at the man, cutting another bite from your steak. Honestly, you've spent a few hours sitting at the table, just talking about the werewolves. Jake told you some of their legends, why did they turn, what did even mean to be a werewolf. - "And are all the cold ones bad? I mean, do you have to kill all of them? I think..." - A quick growl escaped your lips. - "I think I know they did something to Bella." - At the sound of her name, Jacob visibly stiffened and for a moment, it seemed that the conversation was over. - "No. Some of them try not to kill humans. Like the Cullens." - The man muttered out the name with the biggest amount of self-denial you've ever seen on anyone. - "They're what happened to Bella. And don't bring her up ever again, I don't want to talk about her."

"But the ones that are in the woods now... They are bad, right?" - You changed the topic quickly. So... Bella became a vampire? Was she now hanging from the ceiling, did she have fangs? Was that why they broke up? Was the man on the photo also a vampire? And the small girl, presumably their daughter, who the hell was she? - "They are bad, yes, that's all you need to know." - But that wasn't everything. And you weren't stupid to figure it out on your own. The bad vampires were hunting you, they knew you were a human... Which meant that they won't let you be until you'd leave Forks... Maybe not even after that. They will try to harm you, and not only you - they won't stop until the wolves will kill them.

Now, you understood that the wolves weren't bad as it seemed at first sight. But you still needed to get used to the idea that person with whom you've been sharing your living place for some time now was a mythical creature. You wanted to know more... As you thought about it, you started to bite your lip, which made Jacob look at you once more. - "Something else on your mind?" - It made you jump on your chair as you got back to reality. - "Yes... Do you think you could... You could show me what happened again?"

[uarcana]

Let Me See You

Trying to get back into My Hero writing and decided to start off the return with some nice Aizawa x OC romance.

Warnings: NSFW - nudity, masturbation, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 7,457

OC’s: Aoi Tamahagane (Gunmetal)

With a sharp gasp, Aoi was startled awake by a loud crash of thunder.

However, it was barely raining so she was confused.

Laying up in bed, Aoi looked toward the window to see the little droplets cascade down the glass. Catching her breath.

She jumped once again to a loud banging upon her front door.

“Shit”, she exclaimed to herself in a breath as she got out of bed.

So, THAT’S what it was.

Pulling a large t-shirt over her head, covering her mostly naked body, she made her way to the door. Peering through the peephole.

In the darkness and the rain, she could barely make out who was there.

Fear overcame her mind. Could it be one of them? How could they possibly have found her?

She began to tiptoe toward the kitchen to retrieve her cellular. She figured it would be best to try calling the police rather than draw any unnecessary attention to herself.

“Aoi...”.

A low and familiar voice, filled with fatigue and exhaustion passed from behind her door. The woman halted in her tracks before quickly turning around.

The woman quickly opened the door, the lock stopping it.

“Oh, my G-“, she gasped before quickly shutting and unlocking the door, swinging it open.

“Shota! What’re you-“.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Oh, save it!”

Aoi frantically pulled the man in before he could ever get a word out.

“Are you crazy?!”

Quickly shutting and locking her door, Aoi made her way to the drenched young man, frantically moving his hair from his face and feeling the temperature of his soaked flesh.

He was freezing, but he felt warm.

“What in the hell were you doing out there in this weather? You could’ve caught something!”

“I didn’t have enough money for an umbrella...”, Aizawa explained as he was being examined.

“Goodness...”, the woman shook her head in disapproval, her touch a lot more gentle and less panicked.

Feeling his neck and upper chest. Her delicate fingers lightly gliding over his flesh and toned pectorals.

If anything, it soothed him...warming his frozen body. His nerves tingling against her fingertips. Stimulating his lower region, the more they fluttered.

“Anyway”, Aizawa cleared his throat as he quickly took hold of her hands, “I was only hoping that I could use your phone to call a taxi”.

Looking in every direction, but her beautiful concerned gaze.

“Mine, um...got wet”.

“Wh-what?! No!”, Aoi’s voice cracked as she shook her head. “No! You’re not going back out there! Are you trying to catch something?”

Pulling from his grasp, she scoffed at his idea before storming toward a separate room. “Of all the half-baked macho man bullshit I’ve ever heard, I swear”.

“Aoi, this is completely irrational-“, Aizawa tried to reason with her while she rambled in irritation to herself, but was immediately distracted by the view of her porcelain thighs and navy lace wrapped lower ass cheeks, that her shirt didn’t quite cover, bouncing as she raged through the house.

“It’s like they don’t think ever! Become a pro hero and all logic somehow goes out the door. Unbelievable”, she continued to mutter as she slammed a laundry basket at his feet before storming off once again, still muttering angrily.

Not giving the man the possibility at a chance to stop her, ultimately catching another view of her jiggling rear end.

The dark lace complimenting her flawless skin and their hard strut pushing the fabric deeper into the tight crack, spreading her cheeks just ever so slightly.

Aizawa found himself lightly suck his lower lip as he desperately tried to look away.

Realizing he has actually been holding his breath, once she was out of view, Aizawa exhaled deeply trying to find something to occupy himself with to lower his rising heat.

But suddenly startled by the found of her bare feet slapping against the hard wood floors.

“Pfft, what? Sick? Me? Nah, man, I’ve got a sleeping bag”, she sarcastically mocked, forcing a small smirk and a light chuckle from the man before he had a towel and a bundle of clothes being thrown into the basket.

Examining it, he looked up at the frustrated woman. Eyebrow raised in confusion.

“W-what’s this?”

“They’re dry clothes”, she retorted with light sass, arms crossed before yanking her arm from its holster pointing to toward the opposite end of the house. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the right. Put your wet clothes in here”, she instructed lifting the basket into his chest.

“I’ll have food cooked and the couch ready by the time you’re done”.

Aizawa just stared at her in silence and blinked.

“You’re staying here tonight. Wherever you’re trying to run off to will be there in the morning”, she rolled her eyes in annoyance. “For now, would it kill you to just chill?”

Aizawa didn’t have anything to say. Everything happened so fast, he wasn’t sure whether to thank her or oppose or what.

With a shake of her head, Aoi just smirked.

“Don’t bust an artery trying to think of something to say. You’re not getting out of this, so get over it”, she lightly smiled, sending a small rosy flame to Aizawa’s cheeks.

“Well...thanks”, the man finally spoke, rubbing the back of his neck in light embarrassment, “I appreciate it”.

“Yeah, don’t mention it”, she replied over her shoulder as she waved him off, “get going. You smell like a gutter”.

With a light smile, Aizawa watched her retreat to another room with a light sigh. Her body gleaming in the moonlight.

Seemingly alone now, he finally took his leave to the bathroom.

Aoi holding onto her flushed bosom for dear life just out of view.

“Fuck...”.

The rain crashing against the glass.

Or the water from the shower landing against the linoleum.

Aizawa wasn’t sure which one he was hearing...it didn’t matter.

His thoughts were much louder.

His forearm against the shower wall as the water fell over his thick black hair.

Dripping down his lean muscular build.

He stood in silence. Staring at his feet.

Trying to force himself to see the truth of what this really was.

They were rivals. Had been since childhood. She hated him for the longest time.

What real reason would she have to accept him now?

And yet, here he was.

Using her shower...after he stupidly forgot to check the weather before falling asleep.

So much worry in her eyes.

She actually seemed panicked for a moment.

Afraid that he had possibly gotten sick.

Her fingers coursing all over his neck and chest...feeling for any sign that he may have caught anything.

They were so gentle and soft. It tickled his nerve endings. Tied his stomach in knots.

Filled his entire body with static.

Such pleasant jolts of electricity through her dainty fingertips...attached to such delicate hands.

How could someone so strong be so graceful with their touch? It wasn’t rational. It drove him insane.

How could a body made of titanium glisten like a pearl?

Aizawa remembers how she nearly crushed him during the Sports Festival with a mere heel to the pavement.

Destroyed the entire platform...

How could they look so soft? As if they don’t have the potential to put craters in the Earth.

Yet...they resembled fresh marshmallow clouds. Plush and smooth...

He wondered what they would feel like in his hands...how warm they’d feel against his stubbled cheeks as he tasted the most forbidden fruit that hid behind them...

Was it just as smooth as the rest of her? Silk textured...

The thought made his mouth water like a starved man in a desert.

What would she sound like?

Her voice was like velvet...low and sensual. Every word she spoke slipped from her lips like rose petals drifting through a shallow breeze.

What would ecstasy sound like from those deliciously luscious lips?

Was it submissive? Was it a sinful animalistic longing? Would she submit to punishment

as he marked her perfect porcelain ass with his teeth? Or would she ravage him like a lioness would her helpless prey and suck him dry?

These thoughts were so much more than Aizawa could handle as he felt tension build in his lower region.

The pain of its unsatisfied throbbing overwhelming him as he took a deep breath in.

Suddenly choking as the shower water soared through his nostrils.

“Dammit...”, the man cursed himself behind his coughing.

“Shota?”

A concern knock on the door startled the man.

“Are you okay?”, Aoi called to him from behind the door.

“Yeah!”, he called back, trying to sound like he didn’t almost just drown. “I’m fine”.

“Are you sure? Do you need me to come in?”

“No!”, Aizawa shouted loudly, lightly startling the woman. It was bad enough seeing her in that state nearly had him on his knees, but her seeing him like this was the last thing he needed. “I-I mean, I’m alright. I won’t be much longer”.

“O-okay”, Aoi reluctantly consented, “the food should be ready soon”.

“Okay”, he finally began to calm down. “Thanks”.

Pulling away from the door, Aoi made her way back to the kitchen.

She actually lied.

Dinner was far from ready.

In fact, she hasn’t even started.

She had been staring at this pot of water for the past 20 minutes just imagining Aizawa in his damp clothes. His shirt mated against his toned pectorals. 

His defined collarbone...the thickness of his neck.

That gorgeous jawline with that strangle attractive unkempt stubble, that thick inky black hair.

God! She swore she could die right now with how hard her chest was beating.

She had never known how strong he was. She forced herself not to pay much attention to him in school.

Her pride forced her to keep up the appearance that she hated him.

After a while of not seeing him once they graduated, it became easier...until she saw him on the news.

The Underground Erasure Hero: Eraserhead.

Watching him in action...fighting real villains, saving lives.

She felt such pleasurable guilt not just seeing this as an act of heroics rather than something to get her off when she was alone.

How much she wanted him to tie her up in his cloth...rip into her clothes and watch her unfold beneath him.

Their bodies melting against one another...

Aoi pinched her thighs together hoping to relieve herself of some of the tension...

Gripping at the front her panties through her shirt...her fingers lightly grazing over her lace covered folds as she imagined Shota crawling on top of her.

Guiding her through this lustful current until she drifted over the edge.

A unexpected whimper escaping her throat, echoing through the house, before she clasped her hands over her mouth.

Peering toward the door, she silently pleaded to whoever that Shota didn’t hear that.

The shower was still on.

He was probably finishing up and didn’t even notice.

Yeah...that’s it...

Clearing her throat, she finally settled her attention on preparing dinner.

The man in the shower’s back against the wall...body coated in sweat as he replayed her voice in his head again...and again.

Steam poured from the bathroom.

Aizawa’s thick black locks slightly cured from being washed.

His body feeling refreshed.

Although, he wasn’t fully comfortable with the fact he was forced to go commando in Aoi’s house...especially in these loose grey sweatpants.

The right tank top was already a bit much.

He peered toward the kitchen, confused for he did not see anyone.

However, he saw a random pot clearly through into the sink and noticed the kitchen floor seemed recently cleaned.

“So!”

The man was lightly startled, however he wasn’t sure by what more.

The sudden echoed address or the two marshmallowy breasts now very prominently in his face.

No longer hidden under the large t-shirt from before, but now a skin tight, black lace cami that even looked at least 2 sizes too small.

It squeezed against her pale breasts, her cleavage like a deep heavenly abyss.

Like he could lose an arm in there.

He wanted to kick himself for how little he appreciated the t-shirt. Despite its lack of coverage toward her lower region, it kept other stimuli from filling his brain.

It was so large on her that he couldn’t make out her true form. He never really noticed in school...her clean hourglass like curves as well as the toned muscle that defined them.

Her cami displaying most of her lower abdomen, her lace panties so perfectly cradling her symmetrically peach shaped hips.

Her lean stomach, solid like a marble slate.

This woman was like a clay goddess.

“You finally finished, huh? Took you long enough”, she smirked toward the man. Struggling with all her might to not stare at the very clear extremity bumping against the front of his sweatpants.

“W-What happened to your shirt?”, the man asked clearing his throat.

“Um...”, Aoi started to explain, “dinner kind of took a...turn SO I ordered pizza and fished out the booze”.

She lifted a full bottle of whiskey to his view with a sly smile.

Eyeballing the bottle with a raised brow, Aizawa returned his gaze to the woman.

“Want some?”

Light giggles filled the room.

Aoi’s smile was contagious for Aizawa couldn’t help, but do the same.

“God, I forgot all about that”, she giggled facepalming herself.

“Surprising considering how adamant you were about grinding me into the dirt”, Aizawa commented taking another sip from his glass.

“You were such a jackass though”, Aoi teased the man, perching herself next to him. Her head resting on her arms.

“Yeah, you told me a lot”, he replied leaning back against the couch, Aoi giggling with an adorable toothy grin.

“Still, you were amazing”, he complimented the woman.

“I got disqualified for trying to crush your skull with my foot”, Aoi smirked at him with a raised brow. “...although, you had it coming”.

Aizawa chuckled to himself, taking another sip.

“Still...you were the highlight of that fight”.

“The crowd was terrified, Shota”.

“They were in awe”, the man retorted abruptly. “At the amount of power they witnessed. I was as well”, he confessed, meeting her gaze.

“I never looked at it that way”, Aoi’s eyes drifted to her lap.

Aizawa was silent.

“I mean, part of the reason I wanted to bash your head in so much during that fight was because I hated the fact that...I enjoyed watching you”, she softly confessed, returning her gaze to his tired stare.

“My aggression isn’t all that made that a good fight”, Aoi lightly shook her head. “That annoying...”.

Aizawa took another sip of his drink with a smirk.

“...albeit incredibly useful quirk of yours...”

He turned a curious gaze to the woman as she lifted her head, scooting just a bit closer to him on her knees.

“...isn’t what stole the show. It was those sexy ballerina legs of yours...”, Aizawa silently choked on his drink.

“...that overly rational brain of yours...”, giving a light poke to his temple.

“...and the dedication to being a good hero...”, placing a gentle hand over his thumping heart, “...that comes from here”.

Aizawa’s stomach was in knots.

He stared down toward the woman beside him. Their bodies now so close, her breasts now pressed against his arm.

They were just as soft as he imagined.

The sensation sending waves of static through his arms igniting a flame inside of him.

With a light sigh, he desperately tried not to focus on it, taking another sip of his drink.

“Dedication and strength doesn’t get you everywhere”, Aizawa added, lightly refuting her compliment.

“Well, of course it doesn’t”, she replied, resting her head against her hand. Leaned against the couch.

“But it shows where you’re heart lies when you use it for the right reasons”.

“True...but then lack of fans from the public and the media have required some...subtle sacrifices”, the man confessed. “Life isn’t simple when you’re an independent”.

“You don’t need to be AllMight to be a good hero, Shota”, Aoi softly replies with a sweet smile. “People are slow with low attention spans, but one of these days they’re going to notice that they’ve been sleeping easier these past few weeks and then one day, someone’s going to see a man in all black with canary yellow goggles and Matrix hair swinging from the rooftops to save them. And one of them may have a camera”, she explains with such fervor and glee.

Aizawa just stares in awe at the scenario she just conjured.

“And then...those ‘subtle sacrifices’...like a decent place to stay...”, Aizawa’s eyes widened suddenly. “Or not having an umbrella...as you called it...”.

She lightly smirked at the man’s light embarrassment from being caught in his lie.

“...they’ll see that you don’t have to have a flashy quirk or a booming agency to be someone’s hero”.

Aizawa didn’t have much of anything to say. He was shocked...stunned...how could this Amazon hold someone like him in such high regard?

“How did you know...”, Aizawa’s voice was low...light with shame, his hair draping over his face, “...a-about...”.

His thick black hair like a curtain hiding his inner turmoil.

Only to be gently pulled back by those beautifully delicate fingers...a pair of pearly eyes peering into his blackened soul like a beam of light from the heavens.

“My eyes may not look like much, but...they at least let me see you”.

Their eyes locked indefinitely. Their proximity was so close that it was all that was in their view. They didn’t need anything else.

In the darkness of the night, the subtle tapping of the rain on the window, it was silent...it was bright.

Time was irrelevant. All that existed was the space between them.

The heat radiating from their bodies anchoring them closer. Their lips just ghosted over one another. The depth of their exhales has them twitching in anticipation.

Trailing his fingers against her bare thigh, Aoi’s breath hinged the closer he got to the lace lining of her panties.

Her body jumped in slight anxiousness pushing her more against Aizawa’s chest, her hand now resting against his bicep.

With a light tickle against her cheek, Aoi’s briefly shuttered upon noticing Aizawa’s fingers against the large portion of her hair that coated most of the left side of her face.

“...w-what’re you doing?”, her whisper shaky as she tried to look away.

“I want to see both of your eyes”.

Aoi’s heart dropped as she tried to remove her view from his eyes.

“Shota, please...”.

“It’s okay...”, he tried to reassure her as he continued to gentle pull her hair behind her ear.

“Shota...”, Aoi stuttered turning her head away from him.

“You don’t have to be afraid”, he continued to reassure her, holding her into place. “It’s just me...”.

Her shaking worsened the more the world became visible on her left side until she shoved herself from his grasp, with a sharp “NO!”, plummeting for the floor.

“Aoi!”, the concerned man shouted as he attempted to help her up.

“I’m fine”, she stammered denying his help and attempting to flee to her room. “I-I’m j-just tired, I...I think I should just lay down for a while”, she insisted as she grabbed onto her door handle.

“WAIT!”

The worry in the man’s tone stopped the panicked woman in her tracks.

“Please, I...I’m sorry”, Aizawa softly spoke as he stood on the opposite side of the room. “I should’ve stopped when you said, I just...”.

“It’s alright”, she reassured him with a sigh. “I just...need to be alone...”, she tried to run once again.

Her door handle clicking.

“I know about your eye...”.

Aizawa could hear her heart hit the floor.

“...what’re you talking about?”, she tried to say defensively, although behind her sobs, he wasn’t buying it.

“The one that you hide from everyone”.

He slowly began to approach her.

“A side effect of your quirk...your left eye activates it, but it’s damaged your retina to where it can’t be exposed to light due to over...unless you use your quirk to correct it”, Aizawa explained, his voice softening while he continued to get closer.

“Which unfortunately removes the color from your iris”.

Aoi stood in silence.

“You’ve hidden it this whole time and to this day, no one has seen...because you’ve been afraid of how people would see you”, Aizawa’s firm tone softened. “Even me...”.

“...how do you know about that?”, Aoi gritted her teeth in frustration, her fist clenched against the door.

“My eyes may not be much...well, anymore...”, the man responds, torso against the sobbing woman’s back.

His arms gently wrapped around her waist. 

Her breath hinged at his gentle embrace.

His face buried into her neck.

“...but they let me see you”.

Aoi still faced the door.

Her skin flushed as Aizawa partly chapped lips  gently grazed her tender flesh.

Guiding her hair with his finger to clear his path.

Aoi’s breath hinged.

His warm breath ghosting over her flesh, his strong hands gripping her waist.

Her rear end pressed against his sturdy erection covered by the thick grey cotton of his sweatpants.

Pushing in between the thin lacy fabric.

Gently kisses laced her neck under her jaw, forcing her to tilt her head to the side.

Soft sighs of pleasure fell over her lips.

“Are you afraid of me...?”, Aizawa whispered against her skin.

The light vibrations tickling the microscopic hairs on her neck.

“No”, she whispered back as she began to pinch her thighs together.

Aizawa placing his palm against her bare stomach keeping her steady. His fingers gripping against her tight abdomen.

“Then why do insist on hiding?”

With hesitance in her voice, Aoi confessed.

“...like you said...not everyone is as favorable as AllMight...or Nemuri”, she sighed. “...beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, but...the beholder’s eyes usually only go so far...and even sight is rigged”.

“...even mine?”, the man whispered against her ear.

Aoi finally beginning to turn her head, a hesitant attempt to meet his gaze.

“...not yet”, she softly replied. “...but I’d like to keep it that way...because even if I’m not beautiful...I can still pretend to be...”.

Barely a second passed and Aoi’s back was planted against her door.

A sharp exhale escaping her lungs.

Her arms in the grasp of the man now standing before her.

Her chin now rested in between his knuckles as he lifted her face into the moonlight.

The baby blue grey meeting him finally.

“My eyes may be dry...and red...and being awake at most times of the day is more of a burden on them than anything...”, Aizawa firmly spoke, “...but in my line of work, they can’t afford to be rigged. My ability to see may determine whether we win or lose...live or die...so I have to be able to see everything more clearly than anyone else...even you”.

Aoi just stared at him in silence, her eyes twitching fighting potential tears.

“And all I see...is nothing less than the vision of  a goddess”.

Aoi’s eyes widened as a small gasp entered her body. 

“Shota...”.

“You’re strong...willed and physicality. You’re capable of crushing steel with your bare hands and you’re far too stubborn to fall in a fight merely because of pain...which in some cases is less rational than just taking the loss, but you don’t back down and you never give up which are two qualities of a great hero...and you use that to push through any obstacle in your path and because of this, most find you intimidating and unnerving”, he continued to explain.

“Your heroics is not expressed through the amount of skin you show or overly eccentric pyrotechnics...it’s just from the power that festers within...that you push each and every day for everyone that looks to you to save them...you find your limits and you go beyond them...Plus Ultra style...and getting a chance to watch this first hand, I say without a doubt, was the truly display of uncompressed, uncompromising beauty... “...and now getting the chance to see this vessel of that raw perfection in front me...”.

A hand now caressing her cheek, the ruff of hair covering her eye ticking his knuckles.

“Getting the chance to feel it against me...tell her that I...”, Aizawa paused suddenly. “...that I will always think she is the most beautiful...in every way...makes me want to see more...”, the light flush in his cheeks made it nearly impossible for Aoi to resist.

He was sincere...and she trusted him with everything she had.

“Then, what’re your waiting for?”, she whispered, her words ghosting over her longing lips.

As Aizawa gently pulled the small tuft of hair from her face, he felt his heart nearly leap from his chest at what appeared to be a literal pearl centered in this woman’s eye.

A glossy, shimmering white, blue waves dancing against it as the moonlight penetrated its surface.

A closer look and he could see the ripples in her iris, her quirk at work manipulating the cells.

To constantly use her quirk to keep her vision...the strain this must’ve put on her in the beginning, Aizawa was left in awe that this was just second nature now.

The strength was unmatched...his fingers lightly caressing her cheek as he refocused to the rest of her face.

“I see you”.

The woman whispered sweetly.

Aizawa could no longer contain himself as his lips desperately crashed against hers. Inhaling her scent as he embraced her luscious snow white lips.

Slowly becoming swollen and red.

His fingers trailing down her neck onto her flushed breasts, still wrapped tightly in her cami.

Aoi still planted firmly against the door as his body overtook hers, every inch of flesh being caressed and embraced by his touch.

A sudden gasp escaped Aoi’s throat as Aizawa lifted her from her feet.

Her thighs pressed tightly on either side of his body as he held her weight via a strong grip on her rear end and an arm wrapped around her back.

Her hands tightly against his toned shoulders and back.

Releasing soft moans and grunts within each other’s mouth as Aizawa’s covered erection ground itself against Aoi’s damp panties.

The warmth of her wetness making its way front the fabric of the sweatpants onto Aizawa’s tip.

It begged for entry past the drenched walls of fabric.

Aoi clenching in anxiousness at the pressure against her folds. His tip occasionally grazing or pushing against her clit.

Her light chirps of pleasure, his impatience growing with every stroke.

Finally giving into his desires, Aizawa pushes Aoi’s bedroom door open, hurriedly making his way to her bed.

Gently laying her body down, fighting with himself to not break away, he consents pulling his body from hers.

Basking in the view before him.

The navy blue sheets perfectly meshing with the her lace panties...her hair...the deep blue atmosphere from the rain...wrapped around the shimmering statuesque definition of human perfection.

Begging for him in such sinful bliss.

The flushed rose printing over that snow coated flesh ravaged his heart.

The swaying of her body against the sheets.

The pinching of her marshmallow thighs in her impatient and futile effort for a release, the slow pull of her swollen bottom lip with her teeth.

The innocent grey and the angelic pearl...such a clear and harmoniously affectionate gaze.

Nothing needed to be said...

Aizawa’s body seemed heavy...he nearly abandoned his footing, but pushed himself to approach. 

Crawling toward the woman before him, separating her thighs to make room for himself.

He wanted to see how she looked in her purest and most sinful form.

As he made his way further and further up, his fingers slide under her cami pushing it up her abdomen.

Her newly exposed skin sending chills through her body.

Until her voluptuous marshmallow breasts spill out nearly hitting him in his face.

His stubble grazing against them.

A soft moan mixed in with a giggle as they tickled her tender flesh as he continues to lift the cami over her head.

Her arms sliding from the loops as she rested them over her head.

Aizawa was taken aback.

He could clearly witness their size before, but the cami did not do them justice.

So plump and soft...smooth to the touch.

Aoi bit her lip as his large hands took hold of them. Squeezing them...his light calluses massaging the thick muscles.

Returning her gaze, Aizawa felt a light twitch against the front of his sweatpants at the begging look in Aoi’s heavenly stare.

This waiting was torturous for her, but as his primal instincts kicked in, his intentions grew delightfully sinister.

Rising from his position, standing upon his knees, Aizawa’s eyes bore down to the pleading woman below.

He wanted to see how much he could make this goddess submit to the strength she praised so dearly earlier.

He knew she was doomed to this when he heard her lips smack against edge other and he removed the tank top revealing his surprisingly muscular and defined build.

Nervousness filled Aoi’s entire being at the perfect specimen above her, but - goddammit - she wanted him so badly.

She couldn’t help, but to squeeze him with her thighs as she lifted herself to him. Her breasts not pressed firmly against his stomach.

Her dainty fingers trailing over his torso. Delicate kisses against his stomach.

Aizawa tilted his head back taking in a deep breath of ecstasy before he looked back toward the woman as she began to loosen the string to his sweatpants.

With a light shove, the woman plummeted back to the bed. Her breasts bouncing upon impact.

Aoi whined in frustration.

“Not yet...”, a low growl slid from the man’s throat, as he looped a couple of his fingers around the lace wrapping her thighs.

“You’ll have to earn it”.

Aizawa felt her breathing halt before he leaned back down, lightly nipping at her flesh as he made his way back to her lips.

Small chirps floating from her throat at ever bite.

“Shota...”, she whimpered.

“Shh...relax”, he whispered against her lips. “...we’ve got all night”.

Giving her a gentle kiss, Aizawa began to make his way down to her thighs.

On his way, squishing her breasts together, relishing in their marshmallowy texture.

He wondered what they tasted like...if they were as sweet as marshmallows as well.

Aoi’s squirming in delight as Aizawa took her tender nipple into his mouth.

Sucking on the sensitive bud as he proceeded to sharply pinch the other.

The subtle pain pleasing her senses as she impatiently ground her lower body against Aizawa’s erection.

“S-Shota...ahh..!”

Switching to the other side, Aizawa’s tongue lightly rolls over the swollen bud, soothing the pain from before.

Her moans settled, but she continued to work her hips.

As he continued to make his way down to her thighs, he rose back to his knees.

Caressing them slowly as he kept the woman’s pleading gaze.

Clearly enjoying the light massage she was receiving as well as the few gropes here and there.

“You are so beautiful laying there like that...”, the man sighed as he leaned forward, kissing her stomach.

Taking his grip against the sides of her lace panties.

Kissing further and further down her lower abdomen.

Aoi’s breathing grew heavier, as his kisses ghosted just above her panty line.

As he slowly pulled them down, his lips lowered further and further toward her folds.

Pulling away completely to slip her panties down her delicate legs, tossing them to behind him to be found later.

“Shit...”, Aizawa whispered at the masterpiece before him.

He wanted to tease her...wanted her to submit to him, but as he gazed at the woman’s body in awe he didn’t think he could wait much longer.

He wanted to make her feel beautiful...he wanted to feel every inch of her...

Crawling toward her once again, Aizawa, leaned on his arm, wraps it underneath her.

Gently caressing her body, their lips ghosting over one another’s as he hovers over her.

Aoi wanted him more than anything...wanted to feel him...

An abrupt gasp left Aoi’s throat as she felt a sudden intrusion of two of Aizawa’s fingers into her already wet vagina.

“Don’t move”, he demanded as he noticed she was about to squirm, “or I’ll make you wait longer”.

Slowly working his digits in and out of her drenched center, Aoi softly pants against his lips.

Her eyes glossing over as the pro hero grinds his fingertips against her inner walls.

“S-Shota...I-I-“.

“Don’t shut your eyes”, he demanded once more, “I want you to look at me”.

Aoi’s cheeks a deeper shade of pink as his fingers began to pick up speed.

“I want to see how much you can take before I finish you”.

Their gaze locked with one another’s. Aoi’s whimpers sending a blood rush to Aizawa’s lower region.

Several pitches higher than her usual sensual tone.

So angelic and vibrant...it drove him mad. He was obsessed.

He wanted to hear more...and more...

Pumping his fingers into the woman’s dripping heat, her cries intensifying his desires.

She clutching onto his arm for dear life.

His focus on her eyes and her voice sent him into a mental heavenly abyss.

Before a pleasantly strong tingling sensation warped his whole body.

His breath hinged slightly.

“Shit...”, the man whispered as Aoi’s delicate fingers firmly wrapped around Aizawa’s throbbing cock within his now loosened sweatpants.

Silently screaming in her mind her surprise at his size as she stroked his aching shaft.

“I thought I told you not to move”, Aizawa grunted, her fingers sparking every nerve with such high intensity.

Nearly distracting himself from his current task.

“Are you trying to say you don’t like it?”, Aoi slyly grinned, lightly biting her lip.

With a small chuckle, Aizawa pressed his lips against hers once more.

Absorbing her soft moans as he dug further into her, tight coils forming in her stomach.

His breathing heavy as her grip against him tightened. Her strokes quickening.

A damp squelch coming from Aoi’s tightening pussy as Aizawa inserted a third finger, pushing them as far inside her as he could.

“Ahh...! Fu-hah..! Hmm...”. Aoi bit her lip trying to quiet herself.

It was nearly impossible for Aoi not to squirm. Her body trembled violently, yet she was soothed by Aizawa’s warm embrace.

Her eyes shut against her better judgment.

“Look at me”, Aizawa whispered to her. “Don’t stop...”.

Aoi’s eyes fluttered open once again, greeted by those gorgeous tired eyes. Reaffirming her grip against him, her stroking quickened as he began to more fiercely jerk her insides.

Her sweet juice secreting all over the sheets.

His slick precum slipping under her hand. The slickness allowing her to quicken her strokes. Her grip firm, intoxicating the man in his need for the ultimate release.

Their moans and grunts intertwining with their dancing tongues, losing themselves further and further into bliss as they continued to push each other toward the edge.

Every fiber in Aoi’s body screaming at her as she fought not to squirm and fall to the coil in her gut, every electrode in Aizawa’s being breaking his sanity as he fought not to give in to release.

He couldn’t take it any longer.

“That’s it”, the man grunted as he yanked his fingers from the woman, not giving her a single moment to catch her breath.

Making quick work of his sweatpants, finally fully revealing himself to her, Aoi’s frustration shooting her forward to grab hold of the man pulling him between her legs.

Aizawa’s firm chest pressed against her flushed breasts, his throbbing shaft ferociously grinding against her clit as he ravaged her body in kisses and light nips.

Squeezing her thighs as they trembled with pleasure, her fingers running ramped through his thick wavy hair.

“Tell me how much you want it”, his dark gravely voice itching Aoi’s ears.

“I want it...”, Aoi panted softly, “...please!”

“Louder”.

“I want it!”, Aoi whined as she gripped against his inky mane, “Please...don’t make me wait anymore”.

“Louder!”, he demanded with a sharp slap against her bare ass.

“For the love of GOD, fuck me! You gorgeous son of a-“.

“That’s better”, Shota cut off the woman’s cries as he shoved his longing cock inside her dripping pussy until their flesh snapped together.

A sharp melodic whale floated from the woman’s throat followed by a low groaned from Aizawa.

“Fuck...”, he panted as his flexible hips curled against her. Completely filling her with his impressive size. 

“...it’s so tight...”, he grunted, “...and soft”.

His excitement driving him to rock faster, his muscles burning as he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Ahh-hah! Y-Yes...Shota, baby...”, Aoi’s moans carrying throughout the room. “Don’t stop...don’t...ahh!”

Aizawa taking her lips once more, his hands coursing every inch of her body as he picked up speed. Their thighs snapping against one another.

The whirlwind of her high overwhelming Aoi’s senses as she found herself clawing the flesh upon Aizawa shoulders and back.

His grunts toward the pain confusing his conscious as he endured every ounce with such sinful pleasure.

This moment of sheer ecstasy overtaking Aizawa’s body. He did not want this to cease so soon, no matter how close they were.

Lifting himself back to his knees, keeping their bodies intact, he hoisted Aoi onto his thighs.

Their sweat coated chests plastered against each other’s.

No ones were needed as Aoi immediately began to rock her hips against the man’s lap.

Her eyes bore into his as she hung onto him for dear life. His arms wrapped around her back and groping her butt keeping her steady as she rode him.

Her clit rubbing against his lower abdomen.

Aizawa planted a firm spank to her rear. Her movements so graceful and free.

Her breath heavy as she refused to slow herself down. They were so close. She could feel it.

“Ngh, Aoi...fuuuck”, Aizawa groaned, gripping onto her tighter.

Gyrating her hips, slamming her down onto himself harder as he matched her rhyme.

“S-Sho...hu-hah!”, she released in a breath, her sharp inhales filling the room as she was nearing her peak.

“Aoi...”, the man grunted as he continued to push himself as deeply as he possibly could.

Their eyes ever pulling away from one another. Their souls intertwining in space they melted into each other.

“S-Shota...”, the woman whispered in a breath, her eyes glossing over, pouring with ecstasy, only sharp inhales entering her lungs.

Her hands against his face, his stubble poking at her palms. Her body violently trembling against him.

Time seemed to had slowed down, choking all the oxygen of Aizawa’s chest. There was a pause. Silence.

“Hu-ah...I-I love you...”.

Aizawa clutched the woman’s back, a roar of an exhale escaping his lungs. In unison with a echoed cry, Aoi’s legs convulsing against his thighs as the waves of their climax blended together.

His overwhelming obsession for the woman still roaming his body as he held her body so tightly in his grasp, still not getting enough of how someone could be so perfect.

Their essences mixed into a small mess on the sheets as their exhaustion finally set it, sending them collapsing on the bed.

Drenched in cool sweat, they ignored the blankets.

Aizawa’s partially draped over the woman’s, his arm gently resting on her heaving chest.

Desperately searching for each other’s eyes once again, finding them in the haze before they begin to drift to a forced slumber.

Aoi fell victim to her exhaustion, her beautiful eyes finally shutting.

Leaving the dry eyed hero to hazily gaze into the sleeping face of the goddess he had pining for all these years...

With a gentle caress of her cheek, and a final sigh before succumbing to sleep. 

“...My beautiful Aoi...I love...”.

An orange shimmer against the thin membrane of her eyelids.

A tiny peak welcoming the morning sun in her baby blue eye.

Aoi rose from her laying position, running her fingers though unkempt hair.

A blanket slid from her breasts onto her lap, but in her groggy state, she didn’t question it.

However she didn’t remember it being there before...

A light yawn slid from her lips.

She looked about the room, her eyes adjusting to the brightness.

When they finally did...

...she realized she was alone.

She couldn’t lie to herself and say she was surprised, but nonetheless, she felt her heart begin to crack behind her breast.

Reluctant to even get out of bed, she slid to the edge finding her sleepers at the end.

As well as locating her discarded panties from the night before, slipping them off.

As she approached the door, eyes heavy with sleepiness and light shame, once her ears finally adjusted to their surroundings, she heard the television.

“Multiple villains at large in the downtown districts! We advise residents to stay indoors!”

She didn’t remember even turning the TV on last night.

Grabbing a long black cardigan and wrapping her body with it, as she neglected to put on a top, Aoi made her way into the living room where she could finally see what the commotion was.

The TV was turned to the news station where it was showing a helicopter view of stand-off situation between multiple villains and the police.

Three officers down, one wounded behind the squad car barricade and two laying in the street in between the villains and their comrades.

Their vitals unclear.

Aoi’s attention was firm to the screen until she heard felt a presence behind her near the screen door.

With a startled gasp and whip of her body to face the presence, she was relieved to see Aizawa.

He didn’t leave.

However, now in his newly cleaned hero costume.

His goggles sitting at the ready against his forehead.

Aizawa basking in her radiant glow as the sunlight kissed her porcelain skin.

He remembered this feeling from the previous night...like he was seeing her again for the first .

As she opened her mouth to speak...

They both turned their attention to the television.

“This is an update! Law enforcement have reason to believe that the suspects have taken hostages”.

Aoi returning her gaze to the pro hero.

“...I gotta go”, Aizawa finally spoke, a light somberness in his voice.

“Okay”, Aoi nodded to him understandingly.

Following him toward the screen door as he prepared to take his leave...

“You know, I could go too...”, Aoi softly implied, “I could put on my costume and meet you there. You may need backup, Nemuri would flip to see me wear her new design and...”, she paused placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“...we could be a team...you and me. We’d have the bad guys running for their mommy’s”, she grinned.

“Yeah, we would”, the man chuckled, placing a loving hand against her cheek.

The morning gleam shimmering against her beautiful eyes.

“Some other time”, he softly replied, “...there aren’t too many guys there so Wonder Woman showing up might be a bit overkill”, he joked.

“And here...I know you’re safe so I don’t have to worry”, he admits, sincerity in his eyes.

“Hostages confirmed! Repeat: hostages confirmed!”

With a light groan Aizawa lifted his scarf to begin his short journey over the rooftops.

“Dammit”, he grunted in annoyance, “I’ll see you soon”.

“Okay, be careful”, she smiled as he hoisted himself over her house with his scarf.

“I love you...”, she spoke in his direction as her gaze shifted to the ground below.

A light shriek escaping her lungs as she was suddenly startled by the man in black dangling upside down from her roof like a spider monkey.

Planting a loving kiss to her lips before she could speak.

As he pulled away, her eyes still in light shock, a endearing smile soothed her soul.

“I love you too”.

A soft giggle escaped her lips as the man playfully winked at her before he disappeared from sight once more making his way to the scene.

Finally re-entering her home, closing the door behind her, Aoi made her way to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee before posting herself against the countertop.

Smiling gleefully at the TV.

“This just in! Pro-Hero Eraserhead has arrived on scene! I repeat: Eraserhead is on scene!”

Tagging: @digitalkanvas​ @completelyinappropriate​ @aquathemermaidstripper​ @glacian-apocalypse​ @a-new-recipehhh​

[dokidoki-tae]

(that crying anon inspired me) What would La Squadra react to their s/o getting so emotional over being in love with them they cry whenever they're feeling all lovey dovey. (totally not projecting here.. heh heh.....)

i hope this is okay =w=

Risotto: You were a little tipsy from the wine you had from dinner. Risotto surprised you to a night out as a gesture of apology for being so busy. You got a little ahead of yourself, and now you were leaning on Risotto, smiling, singing, and attempting to dance. Risotto chuckled, humoring you as you asked him to dip you and help you twirl. As you walked back, you were sobering up but still leaning against his muscle frame, taking in his scent. He was strong and powerful but he held and cared for you in such a gentle way. Once to your home, Risotto brewed chamomile tea and began to set out your pajamas for you. “Tesoro, how are you feeling?” He went to check on you. He was feared by many but there knew nothing about him. You loved this man and the duality of his entire being. You had so much love for him and you didn’t have to state of mind to properly show it and you cried. “R-Risotto, you’re t-t-t-oo won-wonder-f-f-ful. I-I l-love you.” You managed to hiccup. Risotto tried to cough to hide the laugh. He loved you too, and seeing you like made him smile and his heart swelled. He picked you, directing you to wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. “I love you too, Tesoro. When I had thought I would experience nothing but misfortune this life, you came into my life and made me believe there might some good still left in this world.” He stared was intense and filled with honesty. You were sober before, you sure were sober now. Risotto kissed you deeply, pulling back out of breath, hoping you could show each other your love.

Prosciutto: It happened as you watch Prosciutto gladly and readily cook dinner for the two of you. Sure, Prosciutto loves it when you cook for him. But he can’t help but feel at peace cooking dinner for the person he loves and it shows as he smiles and sometimes hums a classic tune. Watching him in such a domestic setting, with such a handsome smile reminds you of the love you feel for him, and you begin to cry, thinking about how lucky you are to have a man like him. When he brings over your plates and sees you in tears, he puts the plates down unceremoniously, repeatedly calls your name as he goes to press his forehead against yours. When he asks for the reason for your tears, you tell him through small sniffles, that you were just thinking about how much you loved him. He sighs in relief but also at your silliness for crying for such a thing but feels honored that you would shed tears that that. He strokes your wet cheek with his thumb, “Amore, I should be the one overwhelmed to have you to love.”

Pesci: You watched Pesci as he fished. It was one activity where his talent shined through. He was always successful in getting several delicious fish, always picking out the good ones from the bad. You couldn’t tell the difference but he could. Normally, Pesci was hesitant and nervous, questioning his abilities. Even with you, he felt like he had to prove himself, which made you sad. So you brought him to the beach often to see him relaxed and confident. He was such a gentle spirit and loved him greatly. You thought of your love for him and your desire to see him happy always and it overwhelmed you. When Pesci turned to look at you, he dropped his fishing pool and was immediately concerned. “[Y-Y/N], what’s wrong?” You shake your head, wiping your tears away and smiling. You tell him how much love you had for him and felt overwhelmed. It was Pesci’s turn to start crying and now you were comforting him. “I-I love you too! I’m so lucky to have you.” Pesci managed to say between his sniffles. 

Formaggio: As he watched the soccer game, Formaggio stuffed his face with pizza, his cheeks looking like a chipmunk. It was so uneloquent, but to you, he was the most handsome man on earth. You couldn’t help that butterflies always formed when you were with him. He’d turn and feed you some, which you didn’t hesitate to take a bit. You both looked at each other, cheeks stuffed, as you chewed and couldn’t help but break into laughter until you started crying. Formaggio almost choked when he began concerned. “Bella/o, what happened?” He asked while running his hand through your hair to sooth you. “I-I just l-love you so m-much!” You wept, accidentally spitting small bits of pizza at Formaggio. He paused before laughing again and grabbed you and sat you on his lap. “Here you are, making me worry that I fucked up somehow,” and leaned in to kiss the tears away. 

Illuso: Illuso kept to himself a lot and was often needed for gathering intel for his team. He spent as much time as he could with you. Most of the time, you’d find he has left flowers or notes in your home to make up for it. You didn’t mind as you knew worked was life or death for him. It was your birthday when you found he had left you breakfast, flowers, a gift, and a note for you. He must have set it up before going back to his work. You smell the flowers, your favorite and Illuso knew of course. Before eating, you open and read his note. He wrote you a poem and message, reaffirming his love for you. You stood in your kitchen, sobbing knowing that he loved you just as you loved him. You wanted him to be there to tell him just how much you loved him too. “Now I’m wondering if I had made a mistake in my plans.” Hearing his voice, you swiftly turned to see him, leaning in the doorframe from your room, smirking. “I didn’t anticipate for you to cry,” he said as he walked over you, “have I’ve upset you for making you think I’d miss today?” He tilted your chin up to look at him, eyes showing concern. Shaking your head, you tell him the real reason, and you can see the anxiety that was building up inside quickly vanish, and his usual cocky smile is back on his lips. He grabs your waist and pressed it against his. “Tesoro, allow me to show you all the ways I love you.” 

Melone: You were laying as you watched Melone sit and read a book while in bed together. He was always reading something before you two fell asleep, but it was usually you then it was him. But you this time you watched him, memorizing his every movement. The ways he tucked his hair behind his ears and the way his lips would sometimes curl and the way his nose scrunched up. This type of domesticity was what you longed to have with him. You wanted him by your side always because your love for him was greater than any other dream you had. You thought about being with him and being able to love him and tears began to flow and dampen your pillow. You tried to hide it, but your movements caught his eyes and now his attention was on you. “Amore, why are you crying?” He asked you gently, laying down next to you at eye level, reaching to smooth over your hair and gently run his fingers over your neck and shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I love you and want to spend my life with you.” You reveal. Melone eyes widen as he stared at your puffy wet red ones. Melone face softened and pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your head. “Amore, I will always be by your side.” He let you cry softly in his arms, as he shed his own tear or two.

Ghiaccio: Ghiaccio was walking you back home after watching a movie you’ve been wanting to see since the trailer came out. Now you were spending the rest your night hearing Ghiaccio rant about everything wrong with it. And if you were being honest, you loved it. You loved how passionate he was and how knowledge he was about things. You know his team would be annoyed but you don’t care, you loved how expressive he was, the way his eyebrows furrow and the way he would sometimes pout and lick his lips as he talked. He squeezed your hand slightly and used his thumb to caress your skin, showing a gentleness that he didn’t show others. Ghiaccio only allowing you to see that side of him was touching and you began to cry, thinking your precious moments with him. He first noticed you were crying when he heard your quiet sobs. “H-hey? Why the hell are you crying for?” You were trying to control yourself and couldn't answer immediately. “Are you crying because the movie was shit?  S-shit...I-I mean the movie wasn’t all bad, I guess. Now stop crying!” He demanded, wiping your tears away. You laugh at his attempts to console you. After you’ve calmed down, you tell him why you were crying. He’s dumbfounded for once second before scolding. “What the fuck. I thought it was because of the fucking movie. Why the fuck are you crying about that anyway, idiot?” Ghiaccio pinches your cheeks, stretching them. He scowling before letting out a single laugh. “I guess I love you too, idiot.”

Sorbet & Gelato: Gelato and Sorbet were both free from missions for the next two days and decided to spend time with you. When they arrived to your place, you weren’t home but they called you and you told them to let themselves in since you had to go pick some stuff up at the store. When they enter, they see you’ve been doing laundry, leaving piles of unfolded clothes on your couch. Bored, they both sat on the floor and began folding. Gelato messed around, placing your underwear on his head, making Sorbet laugh. When you get home and see them, you laugh, snapping a picture of Gelato. Sorbet strides over kisses your cheek and takes your bags from you. They don’t let you lift a finger as they put things away for you, talking about all the things they have planned since they were free to spend time with you. Your sitting at the counter with Gelato and Sorbet is looking in your fridge and cabinets to prepare something for dinner. Gelato is chatting away as Sorbet concentrates on dinner. You rarely get to spend time with both of them. Usually, it’s either Sorbet without Gelato or Gelato without Sorbet. You feel like the heavens have blessed you by allowing these two to be a part of your life. You feel whole when you’re with them both. You begin to feel emotional, your lips quivering and tears running down your cheeks. “A-Amore, what happened?” Gelato broke you out of your thought and caught Sorbet’s attention. “Hey,” Sorbet cupped your face, “Are you alright?” Gelato rubbed your back, coaxing you to let out your feelings. “I’m just thinking how much I love you two,” your voice soft. Gelato sighs dramatically and hugs you tightly. “You scared me, Amore! I thought I said something bad!” Sorbet ruffled your hair and kissed your forehead. “And we love you too, I’m sure Gelato means to say.” Gelato followed with a “YUP! Love you more than all the money in the world!” “H-Hey let’s not get carried away...” Sorbet added and brought you into laughter.

[tibbinswrites]

06&26 please! I will never pass an opportunity to read something from you :)

It has taken me days longer than it should and it was supposed to be short, but here it is, finally. Thank you so much for your patience, I hope it holds up.

Prompt #06&26 - Wings and Protection from this list

Inspired by this fantastic fic (seriously, it’s so much better than mine, go read it).

Love Tibbins xx

How I Met Your Brother

Cassat with Sam on the hood of the impala, watching Jack throw stonesinto the lake, twisting his wrist low to send them skipping over thewater like Sam had shown him. Dean was asleep on the picnic blanketto their right, one elbow sticking out from under his head, kneestucked up slightly. He’d probably be stiff when he awoke, and cold;the sun was beginning its slow descent towards the horizon andalthough the temperature hadn’t dropped dramatically yet, the windhad picked up from slight breeze to more constant chill. Not that Casfelt it beyond his intrinsic knowledge of what the temperature was,but Sam and Jack had already put on their jackets. Still, they alllet him sleep. He needed the rest and Cas could always heal his acheswhen he woke.

Thislunch outside had been a great idea of Dean’s, getting them all outof the bunker for some sunshine and quality time, something whichnone of them had been able to appreciate lately, particularly Sam. Hehad taken the loss of the Apocalypse World survivors hard, and theambiguity of Jack’s current state harder still, so seeing him smileand joke and gently poke Dean with a long branch until thestill-sleeping hunter batted at the offending weapon and rolled ontohis side, making Jack hold his hands over his mouth to try and stopthe laughter from waking the angry bear.

“I’mreal glad we did this, Cas,” Sam said quietly, watching thebranches of a willow tree where they trailed lazy patterns in thewater, “I don’t know how he knew that this was what I neededbut…” he gestured at the beautiful scene around them, thebeginnings of spring making itself known; flowers beginning to emergefrom the earth, greenery budding on branches, the sound of demandingchicks hassling their poor parents for food.

“Areyou surprised?” Cas asked, a smile in his voice, “He knows youbetter than anyone, as you know him.”

“Ithought I did,” Sam replied, a shadow crossing his face, “Ithought I knew what he needed, but when he- last time he neededsomething I just couldn’t figure it out. I let him be Agent Pageand I gave him beer at breakfast and I tried to take him to a stripclub. I felt like a kid, like I was trying to cheer him up in thestupid little ways that kids do. I didn’t know how to fix theproblem so I just tried masking it with stuff he liked. It didn’twork.”

“I’msure he appreciated the effort nonetheless,” Cas saiddiplomatically, “as you appreciate his efforts in cleaning up thebunker and doing your laundry and suggesting this. Isn’t it thesame? It doesn’t fix the problem, but it helps.”

Samsighed, a long, deep sigh that seemed to come from his very core, hiseyes fixed on Jack’s next stone that was too heavy to make a goodskipping stone and the corner of his mouth twitched up as it hit thewater with a disappointing plop. Jack wasn’t deterred though,searching through the pebbles on the very edge of the shoreline,muddying the water by stirring up the sand. Cas saw worry in Sam’shazel eyes, even through the stress and pain of loss there was aconstant, gnawing worry. Cas knew it, he felt it too.

“Whatdoes fix the problem?” Samasked him suddenly, “We’ve still got so much going on; I need tobe there for Jack, for everyone that’s left, for Dean, but I don’tknow how. I can’t even go into the library anymore. I stood outsideit for twenty minutes this morning, but I couldn’t go in, couldn’teven look. I just kept seeing Maggie-”

Heburied his face in his hands then. Not crying, like would be expectedof someone in this position and in this much raw pain, probablyforcing the tears down because of the boy skipping stones only yardsaway. Keeping up appearances, a lifelong habit.

“Ifailed them, Cas,” he mumbled through his fingers, “I failed allof them.”

“Whatcould you have done differently?”

“Something.”

Cas’heart went out to the man. Sam had grown so much in the last fewyears; ever since Cas had returned from the Empty Sam had beendifferent, he had taken on the parental role in Jack’s life whileDean had kept his distance, trying his absolute best to make surethat Jack never felt the same loneliness that he had as a child. Caswould be forever grateful to Sam for fulfilling his promise to Kellywhen he himself couldn’t. Not that that was why Sam had done it, ofcourse, he was just kind.

“Doyou-” Sam began, then he dropped his hands from his face and shookhis head, expression closing in on itself, “never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing,it’s… it’s stupid.”

“Tellme anyway.”

Samshot him a look, cautious, like he was worried Cas wouldn’tunderstand.

“Doyou think maybe Dean was right? That we should’ve let him go whenhe asked us to? We lost over twenty hunters, Cas. Good people whodidn’t deserve to die. And Jack had to burn off who knows how muchof his soul to save us. Would it have been better to let Dean get inthat damn box?”

Caschewed on his bottom lip; his immediate reaction was no,of course they were better off for having Dean here, how could Sameven think otherwise? But he knew that would be unhelpful, it wasclear that Sam already hated himself for thinking it.

“Perhaps,”he said instead, “but could you have lived with yourself if youhad?”

“Liveswould have been saved,”

“Butnot you brother.”

“Itwas what he wanted,”

“So?”

Sam’slips quirked at that. “I know,” he said quietly, “as wrong asit is, even after everything Michael did, I would rather have Dean.”

“Metoo.”

Theyfell silent for a little while, watching asJack eventually grew bored of throwing pebbles and began inspectingthe insects that gathered around the roots of nearby plants.

“Iknow what it’s like to lose people under your command,” he saideventually, “to be the only one left and feel like you failed thembecause of that.”

Samlooked at him, pushing his hair back from his face and tucking itbehind his ear.

“Bummission?” He asked,

“Quitethe opposite. It was the most important mission of my life,” hepaused a moment, “I never did tell you the story of how I raisedDean from Hell, did I?”

Samstarted at that, twisting his torso around to face him, “No. I- youdidn’t.”

“Iwas desperate to prove myself,” Cas said with a sigh, “Anna hadfallen only a few decades before and I had taken her place asgarrison leader in all buttitle, our reputation hadtaken a hit because of Anna’s rebellion but there was littleopportunity for any significant victories to try and rectify that.Still, our garrison was the most disciplined, the most tenacious inpursuing a goal. We had never failed a mission for Heaven. At thetime, I thought that was why I was chosen, but now I’m not so sure,perhaps they thought I would be a good decoy, or maybe they werehoping to get rid of me because of my reputation as a rebel among thehigher-ups, though, of course, I wasn’t aware of that.” Histhroat tightened, as it always did when he thought of Naomi and theparts of himself that he had lost thanks to her… treatments. Hewondered if he would ever regain those memories, he wasn’t sure hewanted to. “Regardless, they placed me with fourteen other angels,the best of the best, leaders of their own garrisons, and they gaveme command. There were three other groups sent as well of a similarsize. An army. We hadn’t been needed in such numbers sinceLucifer’s fall. We seemed to be much harder to kill back then.”

Hesmiled wryly at Sam, who was watching him, rapt.

“Assoon as we got word that the Righteous Man had arrived in the Pit, wewere sent to retrieve him. And so we laid siege to the gates. Mygarrison were strong, we worked well together and they trusted me aswell as any angel trusts their superior. Implicitly, whether or notit’s wise.”

Heremembered it well. A lot of his memories of his time in Heaven hadgone fuzzy around the edges—probablythe result of his bouncing from angel to human and back again, theloss of his grace and its diminished power—butthat war… every detail was as sharp as the day it happened, likeeach moment had been painstakingly sketched onto glass, preservedforever.

Theywere the last of the groups to arrive at the gates, Castiel had hopedto use the distraction at the main point of entry to see if he couldfind another one but Hell had closed all other ways in and out, would have closed the main gates too if that action was reversible.So they threw themselves into the assault; demons and almost-demonsand hellhounds and twisted creatures that had once been human souls,tortured into madness and forgetting their human forms, all of themfell before his blade. But there were always more; perhaps some wereeven the same ones, they were still in Hell after all, torment waseternal here. He and the others pushed forwards, breaking through thegates after only a year of fighting, but that was barely the firsthurdle, on the other side, as expected, was a veritable wall ofdamned creatures, all intent of destroying them. 

The bloodshed wasunending, angels didn’t tire and neither did demons, though whilethe latter revelled in the violence and chaos of it all, after adecade the angels began to flag. Hell was oppressive to their verybeings, everything that it was made of repelled them. The power ofsuch a place attacked more than just their physical forms, once pastthe threshold of the gates, they were bombardedwith the prayers. The walls of Hell kept them in usually, but oncethey were inside the bubble popped and the screams began. Thousandsupon thousands of them, praying to God, to His angels, to anyone whowas listening to help them, save them, stop the torment that theirhad brought upon themselves, either with a deal or a lifetime ofvice. 

Some angels fled at the onslaught and Castiel couldn’t blamethem. Whether or not you believed the souls here deserved their fate,it was another thing entirely to hear it. Noneof his retreated though and Castiel redoubled his efforts to make anopening, using the screams as motivation. He couldn’t aid all ofthem, but there was one, one voice in the millions that he could helpsave. He tried to pick it out, to focus on it, but as he had no ideawhat Dean Winchester’s voice sounded like, it was impossible. Buthe did pick one voice, a young American male, and pretended that itwas the Righteous Man. He fought for that voice, even as Kevial wassurrounded and torn apart, his grace shredded and tossed aside withno hope of retrieval. It was the first loss of the battle and it washis, but he forcedhimself to press on. He had sent Kevial up to scout from above, totry and see if they were almost through; a reckless decision, theywould know they were through when they got there, and it had costKevial his life.

Hesent Lanariel back to the edge of the fighting to recuperate after ahellhound had badly rent one of her wings and there she was caught bya group of demons who dragged her, screaming, back into the Pit.

Sherejoined the battle twelveyears later, her eyes flickering with corrupted grace, and Castielcut her down himself.

Hetoo was beginning to weaken, his grace starting to compress under thepressures of this place, where everything was blood and sulphur andbile. In a way to combat this he changed his form to a more compactshape; his earthly vessel, James Novak, onlywith the dimensions skewed so he was larger than the average human.He kept his wings, of course, mostly for practicality’s sake butalso so that he would be recognisable as an angel in the way that theRighteous Man thought of them, if he was still human enough torecognise anything. It had been sixteenyears on this plane since Dean Winchester had died on Earth, no doubthe was being given special attention by Hell’s best torturer,Alastair, to break him, to break the first Seal, if he hadn’talready.

Perhapsit was that desperate thought that caused him to dash through a briefcrack in the defending forces the second it opened. Itwas pure luck that he had been right next to it, slicing through ahellhound to reveal it and his just acted. The openingclosed behind him just as quickly, and although he hadn’t gonecompletely unnoticed, the distraction at the gates proved too largefor more than a few creatures to peel off and attack, though once hehad dispatched them, he knew that he wouldn’t have long before thevery presence of his grace drew attention like a beacon.

“SoI fled into Hell. I abandoned my garrison, left them to face thehoards of demons without me. It shouldn’t matter, they were allcommanders, one of the others would have been capable of leading, butit felt like a betrayal. I knew when Hell sensed my presence, I knewit because I heard my garrison, my siblingscrying out for mercy as they were overwhelmed. Hell had been contentto keep us fighting at the gates eternally, it has enough creaturesto spare, but the moment it knew that one of us was inside it endedthe battle.”

Casfelt his face twisting as he remembered the voices in his head, greatwarriors, pleading for a quick death.

“Ithink they were hoping to draw me back out if they tortured theothers,” he continued, taking a deep breath and comfort in thedelicate scent of honeysuckle and lilac and damp earth thataccompanied it. “Dozens ofangels crying out for me specifically to help them. Someof them lasted for years.I could have followed theircries, I might have saved even some of them. Instead I turned away.”

“Oh,Cas,” Sam said, it wasn’t the beginning of a longer thought,merely the reminder that he was there and that he was listening. Cashad never told this story before. Neitherof the brothers had asked aboutit and Cas hadn’t wanted toreopen old wounds. Still, it felt right that he talk about it now, toSam.

Itwas not the Hell of Crowley’s reign that greeted him; stone halls,demons confined to meatsuits, ego and efficiency;the Hell of Azazel’s rule was a labyrinth. Or it may have been theopposite. There was so much empty space it felt like flying through ablack hole. Even the constantbackground hum of the angels backin Heaven had been cut off, only those screaming for mercy;he had never felt so alone.There was nothingto see butflashes of demonic energy,the stench of rot and pain andsulphur, prayers like acacophony in his head and nowhere to hide fromthe occasional demon patrol that would attack him on sight.He followed the gentle tug of the Righteous Man’s soul, they’dbeen given that much by their superiors at least, animprint, not enough to visualise, but enough to be certain when helaid eyes in it.

Itwas a strange descent. Not only was he getting weaker each day, hiswounds taking longer to heal, the power of Hell beating down on himrelentlessly, but it felt… empty. It was draining, more drainingthan he would have expected. Constant battle would have kept himalert, finding his way through twisting paths would have engaged hismind, but as he flew towards Dean Winchester there were no landmarks,no walls, nothing to indicate that there was anything except for theprayers and that tug and the infrequentencounter with a feral creature. He was beginning to get anxious; hehad left his siblings to die all so he could complete the mission,but would he even make it that far?Angels were not supposed to be in this place; it was everything theystood against, concentrated and acidic and it was grating on his verygrace.

Itwas almost threeyearsbefore he reached the cages and by that time he was fatigued in a wayhe had never been before; the prayers hadgrown louder and now actualvoices joined them, hands grasping through bars, some to claw, othersto beg. He ignored them. These souls were damned for a reason afterall, none of them had been deemed worthy of salvation, so there wasno point even acknowledging them.

Still,striding through the rows of cages was… uncomfortable, it was hardto ignore the prayers when the ones praying were so close, it washard to turn his head from a sobbing child—what had theydone to deserve eternity here?—from a woman half-deranged withpain, from a man convulsing on the ground. The not-air around themall was thick and cloying, those in the cages might not need oxygen,but most of them probably weren’t aware of that yet. Indeed, manyof those he passed had scars on their throats, some still drippingopen. His hands balled into fists as they longed to reach out andtake away that pain; thatis what angels were made for, to heal, to help, to aide humans. Ofcourse they were warriors, but if he stood aside and did nothing, howwas he better than the demons who had trapped them here? What was hefighting for if not for them? He had to shake himself at thattraitorous thought, focus, you have a mission.Heaven needs you.

Sohe spread his wings once more and flew past the remaining cages,towards the source of the tug. Attacks from Hell’s swarms werebecoming more frequent now as he delved deeper, more twistedcreatures lunged at him from the dark, those that had forgotten whatlight was. He reminded them with a flash of grace; eyes burned,demons howled and alerted others, they were all searching for him, heknew it. They knew that he was inside and they knew what he was therefor, it was only luck that the very nature of Hell made it difficultto find anything at all, including an angel actively trying to avoiddetection.

Hewondered if Heaven had sent more angels after him, or if they hadsimply given up the mission as a lost cause. Dean Winchester hadbroken the first Seal after all, he had felt the snap inside hisgrace as the Seal splintered, a warning of something new, somethingonly spoken of with an air of reverence and skepticism in Heaven.There was no turning back, the Apocalypse had begun. Dean Winchesterwould be needed to house Michael, but that need was much lesspressing than protecting the other seals. He should be with them.Instead he was here, in this festering space of pain and despair. Andhere he would stay unless he could find the Righteous Man. He knewthat as surely as he knew the names of all the prophets. He would notleave Hell without Dean Winchester. He had abandoned his own for thismission, he would see it through. The tug had grown clearer over thepast few days, a more solid directional pull than just vaguelydownwards and the singular demonic entities became groups, leavinghim weaker with every pulse of grace he had to expend.

Fortyyears since Dean Winchesterhad arrived in Hell, Castiel found him. Or at least, he found a heavyfortification of demons and hellhounds and other monstrosities. Theywere clearly guarding something, and Castiel knew what. He kept hisdistance, scouted out the defences, staying out of sight. But he knewthat there would be no easy gap to slip through thistime, he was going to have toforce his way in. He dropped back for a moment, feeling the strain inhis wings, even his limbs were beginning to shake with the tremendouspower that Hell exuded. He could turn back. As soon as he left Hellthe security measures would become laxer, making it easier foranother group of angels to retrieve the soul later. He had not beenmade for a battleground such as this, there had never been shame inretreat.But thesoul had been in Hell for a long time already, Dean Winchester mightbe pure demon by the time Michael was ready to claim his vessel, andthat just wouldn’t do. It called to him, now he was close enough tohear it, though his view was blocked by the demons. It sounded…angry. Anger, guilt, pain and… was that relief? Was the soul awareof his presence?

Gatheringhis grace he shottowards the wall of demons, hoping that the element of surprise wouldgive him an edge. Well… they were definitely surprised at thearguablestupidity of his move but they rallied quickly and the battle beganin earnest. Castiel fought with everything he had. His wings wererazors and shields, his blade sangin his hand and his grace whipped around him, boiling eyes in theirsockets and leaving only husks behind; the soul became agitated,probably distressed that his saviour was outnumbered and alone.Castiel sent a surge of grace towards it, burning demons in the way,aiming to soothe, to show the soul all the might of his Heavenlypurpose.

Theprotective ring around Dean Winchester broke and the would-be guardsscattered; some fled, most died. When the last of them had been cutdown, before more could come, Castiel got a look at Dean Winchester’ssoul for the first time. It was… horrible. It wasn’t bound byrack or chains, thought there wasa rack, and a screaming soul was trapped on it. The Righteous Man wascarving strips of the soul’s imagined flesh but his head snapped upwhen his guard vanished and he whirled around to face his salvation.

Castielapproached slowly and the soul mirrored him in retreat, ananimalistic snarl rippling from its throat. It looked human, thissoul had not yet forgotten its earthly form, though it had apermanent bloody stain streaked across its naked skin and its facewas twisted in feral distrust and malice – probably a result of thebarely-healed scars and open wounds criss-crossing its entire form:bite marks and the lashes from whips, knife wounds and ragged slashespossibly from some kind of saw. In some places the skin hung inflaps, in others it was tight and shiny with burns. Castiel would becapable of healing that once they got out of here, but it was adisturbing sight all the same. He extended his hand and the soulflinched back.

“Comewith me, Dean Winchester.”

Thesoul bared its teeth, tinged orange with blood diluted with saliva.Castiel tried not to show his disgust. This is the creature thatHeaven deems worth saving?

Still,there was something about it. It didn’t shrink away from him or runto him, it just glared at him defiantly, there was somethinginteresting in that.

“Iam an angel of the Lord, I will not harm you.”

“Alastair!”The soul screeched, suddenly frightened, “Alastair!”

Itcalls for aid from a demon? Curious.

Heknew he did not have the time to talk this wretched soul into comingquietly, not with a thrum of power appearing in his periphery;Alastair probably, even among angels he was known, and feared.

“Iapologise for any discomfort,” he said instead before using hiswings to propel him forwards quicker than the soul could retreat. Hegrasped it by the shoulder and the Righteous Man screamed as hisflesh sizzled from the contact with his grace.

Almosta full demon, he thought, butnot quite. Not yet.

Heshot upwards, Dean Winchester thrashing in his grasp. Castiel pulledhim in tight, after all this he would not risk failing Heaven becausehe simply dropped his prize.It was a few days before a demon found them, despite the flurry ofactivity he could feel pulsing from the place, and all that time thesoul fought him. Growling disjointed words like ‘No’ and‘Alastair’ and ‘back’, also a few choice curse words thatCastiel would not repeat.

Castielcurled one wing around his writhingcharge as he fought thedemon. He didn’t need both to fly. He actually didn’t need to flyat all. Anywhere in Hell was floor if you demanded it be, though notall of Hell’s residents had figured that out yet, but fortravelling directly upwards flying was necessary, it was alsoquicker.

Thesoul had crowedwith delight when the demon appeared, but hissed when Castiel blastedit with grace and it disintegrated.

“Whydid you want it to win?” Castiel asked. It didn’t really matter,it wasn’t relevant to the mission, the wants of the creature in hisarms had no bearing on its fate but still… Castiel was curious.

“Back,”wasall the Righteous Man said.

“Youwill go back.” Castiel said. Deeming now as safe a place as any torest. He shouldn’t need it, but he did. So he dropped onto asuddenly solid surface and for the most part let Dean Winchester go,holding on only by the soul’s wrist. “You will be returned tolife on Earth. You have important work to do for Heaven.”

“Screwyou.” It said, trying its best to wrench itself from Castiel’sgrip, but even in his weakened state, Castiel held on easily.Ignoring the soul for the moment, Castiel gingerly spread his wings,wincing as the lacerations and would on them were stretched. Heseemed to have stopped healing almost entirely now. The pain waseasier to ignore when they were moving, but it would benefit him inthe long run to keep track of the damage, knowing his limitations ina fight was vital, and he knew that there would be a lot morefighting before the mission was done. The human watched him,suspiciously, eyeing his wings.

“Angelsaren’t real.”

Thiswas perhaps the most perplexing thing the human had said. Castielturned his attention from his wings and back to the soul in front ofhim.

“Yousold your soul to a demon.”

“Demonsare real.”

“I’man angel.”

Deansaid nothing to that. Castiel gestured around them, to the sicklyred-grey dimness and the screams of the damned.

“Weare literally in Hell. You didn’t think there might be anopposite?”

Deanjust shrugged. “Take me back.”

“Ialready told you-”

“Alastair.”

Castielsquinted at the soul, “I don’t understand.”

Deanscoffed and turned away from him as much as Castiel’s grip allowed.Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself and Castiel wastoo tired to push. Tired… that was a new feeling. One that didn’tsit well with him given his current location. He might not need tosleep but he did need to rest, he needed a few hours to not expendany grace or use his wings. That was… not ideal. But if he wasgoing to recover enough strength to get the Righteous Man out of herethen it was necessary.

Hegot forty minutes before a patrol of three demons found him. Heburned one of them with grace but that left him feeling drained andweak. His fighting the others was sloppy and resulted in a few newinjuries, one of them almost grabbed the soul in his arms but Castielused one of his wings to slice through the creature’s flesh,removing its reaching arm and causing it to stumble backwards. Headvanced, suddenly furious that this thing had dared try to harm hischarge.

Castielwas not fool enough to think that they could linger after that, nomatter the protestation of his wings. He flew, more slowly than hewould have liked. For once, Dean Winchester didn’t fight him, andfor that he was grateful.

Itwas only a few days before he had to stop again. The demons werestarting to pinpoint his location and trajectory out of Hell so henow had to fly horizontally as well as vertically just to keep themfrom swarming him. It was taking more time and energy than he had tospare and he was starting to think that he would be unable tocomplete his mission. He also had to keep hold of Dean at all times,he had lunged for Castiel’s angel blade more than once, though hadyet to be successful.

“IfI let you go, will you try to run or attack me?” Castiel asked himas they alighted on the non-floor once more. Castiel’s legsactually gave out from underneath him as they hit a solid surface andhe crumpled ungracefully. That was embarrassing. Hiswings trembled with strain and he let them relax behind him, notfolded tightly into his back or stretched out. Dean eyed them, theneyed him, and shook his head.

Dean’seyes were strange things. They were green, which was not unusual,though they had flickered black a few times since Castiel had takenhim. Again, considering the position Castiel had found him in, thatshould be unsurprising. But while a lot of the souls here had hadeyes glazed over with pain or apathy or fear or even acceptance oftheir fate, Dean’s were sharp and alert. They calculated everythingand projected nothing and he seemed suspicious, guarded and careful.It was intriguing to say the least. Perhaps there was indeed more tothis human soul than he had first thought.

Castiellet Dean’s wrist fall from his grip and Dean jumped backwards,snatching his arm up to his chest and scratching at where Castiel hadheld him until he began to bleed. But he didn’t run or attack, soCastiel left him to it. His self-inflicted wounds would only re-healwhen he stopped scratching, only the damage intended for the soulitself would remain.

Timepassed and still Castiel did not rise. They were as safe as theycould be at the moment and he felt the sluggish pull of his gracetrying to knit together his many wounds. He sent it towards hiswings; those were what he needed most, and what the demons tried totarget when they attacked, but it was an increasingly slow process.In the meantime, Castiel watched Dean. The soul kept a distance fromhim but didn’t stray too far. After a while he began to pace in acircle with Castiel at its centre, his posture tense and aggressive.It almost felt like Dean had set up a perimeter around him and wasscouting for danger. This amused Castiel, a human guarding an angel.The whole thing was so absurd he actually laughed. Dean flinched atthe sound and whirled to face him, staring at him in outright shock,asthough he hadn’t heard a laugh not tainted with evil in decades. Heprobably hadn’t. Come tothink of it, neither had Castiel and he hadn’t realised how badlyhe’d missed the sound. Not that it was a regular occurrence inHeaven but Uriel got a few laughs on occasion.

“What’s funny?” Dean snarled at him.

“That you seem to be protecting me. It’s humorous.”

Dean looked unsure at that, downright unsettled even.

“Fine, die then.”  he spat, dropping to sit cross-legged on the‘floor’, arms tightly folded. “See if I care.”

Castiel tilted his head at the strange soul. He does care,he realised suddenly. Even though he hates me, he recognises thatI’m trying to help.

“Apologies,” Castiel said, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Take me back.” Dean said after a pause.

“Back to Alastair?”

Dean jerked his head.

Castiel tilted his head.

“Why?”

“Why does it matter? Take me back and go home.”

“It matters,” Castiel said calmly, “because my reason for beinghere is to retrieve you. God commanded that you be saved. If I wereto return you to your torment, I would be going against God’s will,against Heaven and my purpose. I would also be forfeiting my life, asI do not have the physical strength to return you and then escapeHell. If I am to die, I would like to know if it would be worth it.”

Dean stared at him for a long time, those eyes seeming to search hisvery grace as they mulled over his answer.

“Not worth it,” he said eventually, turning away, “not foryou.”

Castiel frowned at the soul in front of him. This was nothing like hehad expected. He had had images of a pitiful creature that would sobits gratefulness for rescue, glad for an end to the tortures ofHell’s most depraved. Instead, this one wanted to go back.

“You don’t deserve to be here, Dean Winchester.” Castiel saidgently.

Dean flinched.

“Shut up.”

Castiel didn’t argue the point, he didn’t have the energy andthey had lingered too long as it was. He stood and stretched hiswings; some of the deeper claw marks had begun to close and thedeeper tissue damage had mostly healed, it was the best he could hopefor.

Surprisingly, when he saw Castiel stand, he didn’t try to bolt.Instead he walked towards him and extended his arm.

Castieltook it and flew once more.

***

“Behindyou!” Dean yelled mid-flight. He had been pressed against Castiel,his head hooked over Castiel’s shoulder. The more Hell’sinfluence faded from his soul, the more of what Castiel liked tothink of as the real Deancame into view and themore of Dean Winchester that he saw, the more intrigued he was. Deanwas surly and irritable but he had anintelligence and a razor witthat Castiel liked. Apparently,Dean did not like flight, andso had begun to cling as though afraid that Castiel would drop him,despite his attempts at reassurance. Truthfully, Castiel did notmind. And seeing as Castiel’sown senses had dimmed to a dangerous level, he was grateful for theextra pair of eyes, especially seeing as Dean seemed to have changedhis mind regarding demons and whether or not he wanted Castiel towin.

Castielspun, bringing one wing around to shield Dean as he swung with theopposite arm, his blade sinking into the neck of the attackinghalf-soul. It shrieked and hissed unpleasantly and scrabbled itsclaws along the wing that was covering Dean’s form. Castiel criedout but did not pull it away, to do so would expose Dean, and hewould not see the Righteous Man harmed. He kicked the almost-demonaway, ripping the blade out as he did so, yanking it across. The bodyfell into the depths of the Pit,its head flapping unnaturally on the remaining sinew keeping itstrung to the torso. Anotherdemon lungedat him from behind, landing on his back and sending him spinningoff-kilter, grace now pouring from the joints where his wings met hishuman-shaped back. Castielcurled himself around Dean, wings in tight as thedemon tore at his back andbit at his neck, it was a sign of how weak Castiel was that thoseteeth could even break his skin. He endured the onslaught until therewas a slight pause in the attack, then he acted, swinging one of hiswings out with force to dislodge the demon and following the momentumaround, blade aimed for the creature’s heart. The blade hit trueand the demon screeched as it died, following its brethren in a fall.

Onlytwothis time, he thought as hedropped Dean on the now-floor and collapsed ina heap where he landed, thatwas unusual these days. Hewas more likely to come across groups of three or four lately.They were closing in on the gates, he knew, buthe didn’t know what awaited them there. An army of Hell-spawncertainly, but would there be any angels to help him, tofinish the task of saving Dean Winchester? Castiel was fully awarethat he might not make it out the other side of this mission. Infact, he had almost hoped for it. The guilt of sacrificing hisgarrison weighed heavy and the idea of returning to accolades andpraise disgusted him. He had to finish the mission, and then he coulddie of his wounds. There was honour in that.

Butnow… he wasn’t even surehe could make it that far. The stench of Hell was all around him,seeming to feed on his very grace. Hecouldn’t endure it anymore, he wasn’t strong enough, he-

“Hey,open your eyes, you wingeddick,” came a ragged voicefrom in front of him. Automatically Castiel obeyed and the hard edgesof Dean Winchester’s face swam into view.

“Dean,”he said, as though he were pleasantly surprised by the soul’spresence, “are you hurt?”

Deanscoffed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that hadreplaced the scratching, for which Castiel was grateful.

“AmI hurt? Your wingslook like a freaking beadcurtain right now.”

“Idon’t know what that means.”

“Itmeans they’reshredded, idiot. And I left my emergency surgery kit in my othersoul so unless you can mojoyourself better we’re grounded.”

“Theywill heal,” Castiel said, strugglingto push himself to sitting, “itmay take some time before I can fly again. I apologise for thedelay.”

Hiswords came out more biting than he meant them but astonishingly, Deansmirked until he walked out of Castiel’s view and around topresumably inspect the damage.

“Sohe’s got some sass in him after all, good to know,” he said,“hey, why do you bleed blue mist?”

“It’smy grace, it’s what I use to heal myself, what makes me an angel,”Castiel explained between heavy breaths that he shouldn’t need.

“Soit’s probably bad that it’s floating away then.”

“Itwill replenish.”

“Andhow long will that take?”

Castielgrimaced as Dean poked at a deep scratch on his back, “I’m notsure.”

“Great.”

Theylapsed into a long silence, hours passed and Castiel was still losinggrace faster than it could restore itself. That was worrying. If hedied here, what would Dean do? He could not escape Hell on his own,he couldn’t even hide. Castiel had toget him out, or at least keep him safe until his siblings launchedanother mission. He would not allow Dean’ssoul to be returned toAlastair, no matter what. Hehad only just begun to heal, purely from the lack of constant tortureand an angelic companion, freckles previously hidden by gore nowdotted Dean’s form, his eyes now sparked with emotion whensomething amused or frustrated him, he spoke in confusing slang andno longer jumped away from Castiel as soon as they paused to rest.Castiel could not let that light be dimmed again.

Thatwas all that mattered. It was more than his mission now, it wassomething he wanted desperately, to keep Dean Winchester safe.

“Dean,”Castiel said, his voice measured, Dean,who had taken up his pacing again, stopped and backed up so he was inview.

“Ithink we are going to have to delay your return. I’m sorry.”

Deanrolled his eyes, “Whatever, man, take the time you need, it’s notlike I’m going anywhere without those flappers anyway.”

“I’mnot going to make it out of Hell,” Castiel continued, ignoring thechange in Dean’s expression, aslight tightening around the mouth,“but I can protectyou. I can change my form, concentrate my grace into a shield aroundyou. It won’t be using energy on flight or movement so it will notweaken and my grace will replenish more quickly. No demon will beable to get through. You willbe safe until my siblings come for you.”

“Okay…”Dean said, “And if you get back to full power before that happens,you’ll just pop back out, right?”

Castielsmiled, suddenly sad that he would never see Dean Winchester restoredto life. “No, Dean. Mywings are too deeply damaged, it would take more grace than I possessto heal them enough to fly again, andchanging my form into something non-sentient would be permanent.”

Deanwas shaking his head violently, “No, hellno.”

“Dean-”

“I’mnot gonna just sit in some angel-bubble for who knows how long justso that you can get out of babysitting duty. You are notleaving me here alone, you understand?!”

“Mysiblings-”

“Theyain’t here!” Dean yelled, “I’mnot pinning my hopes on somefeathered assholes who don’t evencare where you’ve been for the last decade.”

“You’drather pin your hopes on a dying angel who can’t fly?”

“I’mpinning my hopes on you.”Dean snapped, “You’re the most stubborn son of a bitch that Iever met. You just took out two demons and you’ve been flying onfumes for weeks straight and you wanna give up now?”

“I’mnot givingup,”Castielinsisted, trying not to give sound to the frustration that only Deanhad been able to bring out in him, “I’m being practical. Thereare other angels, Dean, and I can protect you long enough for them toget here. Thisis the only way I can think of that will make sure you never end upin Alastair’s hands again. This is the only way to saveyou.”

Castielsensed rather than heard Dean’s flinch,

“Inever asked you to save me,” he said, his voice shaking with rage,“I never asked anybodyto save me. I’m not some freaking damsel in distress princesslocked in a tower, I got myselfhere. I made a deal and I knew where it was going, so don’t actlike I didn’t sign up for this, likeIdon’t deserve everything that I get.There are people here who were tricked into their deals, or were tooyoung to know what they were selling, that ain’t me. Youwanna go out in a blaze of glory? Go die for one of them instead.”

Hestepped forward and prodded at Castiel’s back again. “NowI’mnot anangel surgeon but I know a little something about first aid, so Iguess the first step is to stop you from bleeding, leaking, whatever,right?”

“Dean,wait-”

ButDean had already pressed his hands directly onto what was probablythe wound losing the most grace, right at the joint of his wings.Castiel cried out. Painlanced through him, then horror ashis grace began to pull at the soul so valiantly trying to help himas though attempting to steal its energy. Castiel jerked forward,away from Dean’s touch, and rolled to face Dean, holding a hand outin front of him, “Stop!”

“Don’tbe such a baby,” Dean scoffed, “I know awaddedshirt would be better but-”

“Thatwas incrediblydangerous.” Castiel said, a growl leaking into his voice. “You’relucky you didn’t explode.”

Ithad been like a shot of adrenaline in a human brain, a sudden rush ofenergy, intenseand overwhelming.

“Dramaticmuch?”

“Fora human soul to come in direct contact with grace is notsomething to take lightly.” Castiel admonished, “I don’t evenknow what would happen, it hasn’t been done in eons.”

Deancrossed his arms, sceptical, “I’lltell you what happened,you’ve stopped leaking.”

“What?”

Deanjust raised an eyebrow so Castiel craned his neck and tested hiswings. Dean was right, the superficial damage on his wings had closedover, even if he could feel the deeper tissue trauma. It would takeless time for his grace to replenish now. Thatdidn’t mean he wasn’t angry.

“You’rewelcome.”

“Icould have destroyedyou.”

“I’malready dead.”

Castielclenched his jaw, “AndI would be unable to reverse that if my grace had absorbed you.”

“Thatsounds like a you problem. Myproblem is making sure that no one else dies for me, you got it?”

“You’re…infuriating.”

“Hey,I never claimed to be an angel, pal. AndI just saved your feathered butt, so maybe stop with the name-callingand make with the healing so we can get out of here. Look, whateversoul damage I got from that weeny little shot you’re gonna fixlater anyway, right? So we might as well use it. And no more stupidtalk about becoming a shield or whatever. We get out of this togetheror not at all, because I’m telling you right now, if your‘siblings’ show up, I ain’t going with them.”

Castielgrumbled but refrained from mentioning the fact that Dean would havelittle to no say in the matter if it came to that, but his angerdimmed into a warm glow that he didn’t quite understand,unexpectedly touched at Dean’s obvious wish for him to stay alive.

***

Thingsbecame marginally easier after that, Castiel regained his ability tofly within a few hours and they set off once more, energy restored.Dean was generous with his soul energy, though never more than oneshort burst at a time, Castiel had been explicitly firm on thatpoint, and he had to admit that Dean had been right, it gave him anextra edge in battle and he was going to need that it they were everto make it to the gates. Even if it made him tainted in the eyes ofHeaven, even if it meant thathisgrace was so weak he needed to tangle it with a human soul; it wasfilthy, it was unheard of, it wasthe most beautiful thing Castiel had ever experienced. For onreceiving Dean’s gift, he saw,he truly saw what was under the layers of trauma and guilt anddespair and rage that Dean gathered around himself. He felt his soulas pure and glorious as it had been before Hell, not unmarked truly,but bright and delicate and good. Castiel kept those thoughts tohimself. They were not right, they were not related to the mission.But Castiel took to staring at Dean when they paused to rest, tryingso hard to see what he could feel when Dean touched his wings.Sometimes he did, when Dean smiled at him one time without sarcasm ormalice, he saw it then and it caught his breath.

Deanslowlybegan to open up about things that he missed onEarth. He talked about food, and women, and his car, andalcohol. But it took him almosttenyears of travelling together to ask about his brother.

“Hey,so you know a bit about me, right?” Dean said, shuffling his feeton the not-floor.

Castielcocked his head, “I have learned much since meeting you.” Theywere waiting for his grace to rally once more, he had taken a set ofclaw marks to one of his wings, perfectly placed to sever one of hismain tendons. It was excruciatingly painful, but Castiel did not letit show. Pain was just a thing he could ignore and it was worthignoring it so long as Dean didn’t think he needed some ‘souljuice’. Castiel was worried about how much soul was now blendedwith his grace. He would return it, of course, when the oppressivepressure of Hell was gone, allowing his grace to replenish as quicklyas it could, but it was weakening Dean day by day and he didn’tknow how much more he could give without doing something irreparable.

“Imean, from before. You know about my life, right? That I was a hunterand we killed a lot of bad things?”

“Iwas given a summation.”

“Right.So… you know about my brother.”

“Ofcourse.” Castiel didn’t elaborate. He didn’t like thinkingabout the boy with the demon blood. Theyhad gotten word on the battlefield of what Sam Winchester wasbecoming without his brother there to guide him, and it had beenprophesied as to how it would all end. Hedid not like to think of Dean becoming a vessel for Michael anymore, it felt less like the natural order of things and more like apreventable loss.

“He’sdead, right? I mean it’s been, what, nearly fifty years? Huntersdon’t live that long.”

“Actuallyit’s only been a few months on Earth.” Castiel said, “yourbrother is alive.”

Thatput a light in Dean’s eyes like Castiel had never seen before,“Really? You better not be screwing with me, man.”

“I’mtelling the truth. Or at least, he was alive when I entered Hell, Idon’t know what’s happened since.”

“He’sokay,” Dean told him, “Sammy’stough, tougher than me. He’s fine.”

Castielsaid nothing. It was clear that this was important to Dean and hedidn’t want to ruin it by informing him about the demon that wascurrently his brother’s only companion.

“We’regonna get out of here,” Dean said, a small, hopeful smile on hisface that buried itself deep into Castiel’s chest, “I’m gonnasee him again.”

“Yes.”

***

“Andhe was right.” Cas concluded, smiling atthe sun now restingon the horizon, glancing at Sam to see tears in his eyes. Jackwas back to skipping stones in the lake, concentrating fiercely, “Wegot through. We got close enough to the gate that I began to hearsnatches of angel radio again, I sent out a signal, told them that Ihad the Righteous Man but I needed help to get him out. Heavenrallied, sent all the angels it could spare, including my originalgarrison. Hell’s army was as numerous as it had ever been and welost even more angels in the fight. But Dean leant me his strengthand we managed it. Together.”

Hefelt pride welling up in him, as much as he had felt when he hadflownthrough the hoard of demons like a bullet, ignoringthe demons that harried at him,and come out the other side, unfurling his singed and battered wingsto reveal Dean’s grinning face,

“Didwe make it?”

“Yes,Dean,” Castiel had said, his arms holding the human soul just astightly as his wings had, “we made it.”

Ithad taken several days for Castiel to recover enough to be able totake on the task of healing Dean. The other angels had tittered aboutthe presence of human soul intermingled with his grace and Naomi hadrequested a meeting for once Dean had been returned to Earth, ameeting he would not be able to attend because of Pamela Barnes’and then Dean’s own interference. But he was praised by hissuperiors and promoted to official commander of his garrison, despitethe fourteen angels in his charge that he had allowed to die. Thoughthe garrisons of those fourteen did not forget as quickly.

Deanhad not allowed any other angel near him while Castiel was healing.Zachariah tried and even Michael paid a rare visit but Dean sent themboth away without a conversation and certainly without a healing.When Castiel was deemed well enough, he was instructed by an annoyedZachariah to begin the process himself.

“You’rethe only one he can seem to stand,” he huffed, practically shovinghim into the room where Dean was being kept and closing the doorbehind him.

Deanwas crouched in a corner defensively, but he stood when he recognisedCastiel.

“Yoursiblings are all dicks.” He said by way of a greeting, “All theywanna talk about is the Apocalypse and using me as a meat suit, it’sgross.”

“Wedon’t interact with humans much.” Castiel said, “I’m afraidwe are very practical creatures.”

“LikeI said, dicks.”

“Iam one of them, you know.”

“Nah,”Dean said, “you’re different.”

“Thankyou?”

Deanlaughed, it was small and shaky but it was real. “So it’s timenow, right? E.T. goes home?”

“Thoseare not your initials.”

Deanlaughed again, Castieldecided that he liked the sound very much.“Heal me up, doc,” Deansaid, spreading his arms out.

Castielstepped forward. “My name isn’t ‘Doc’,” he said, raisinghis hand to begin sending healing grace pouring into the soul infront of him, but before he could, Dean grabbed his wrist andmet his eyes.

“Whatis it? Your name? You never said.”

“Castiel.”

Deannodded and released his wrist. “Cool. I’mma call you Cas.”

Baffled,Castiel blinked at him, “Why?”

“’Causeit’s shorter,” Dean said sardonically, “and it suits you.Sounds less stuffy.”

“Myname is not ‘stuffy’,” Castiel huffed, flickinghis fingers in quotation,though he wasn’t opposed tothe nickname.

“Nah,it’s not so bad. But I mean, you’ve got a better nickname from methan Junklessout there,” he jerked his chin towards the door and grinnedconspiratorially at him. Cas couldn’t help but smile, even thoughZachariah was a well-respected and high ranking member of Heaven andhe had no authority to poke fun.

“Alright,stand still,” Castiel instructed, raising his hand once more. Deanshuffled a little but did as he was told.

Castielbegan on Dean’s face, healing away the scratches and the red tintto his skin, remnants of the blood he had shed. Under the healing,Dean’s hair lightened to sandy brown and the freckles, which Cashad only caught glimpses of before now, came into glorious view. Evenhis eyes grew more vibrant incolour.

“Theylook like peas.” Castiel mused aloud.

“What?”

“Youreyes, they look like spring peas.”

Deansnorted, and a new red tinge appeared on his cheeks, though it wasfar more endearing than the one he had just healed, “That’s gottabe one of the worst pick-up lines I’ve ever heard.”

“Idon’t know what that is. I have picked you up many times.”

Deanmade another amused sound but said nothing.

Theritual continued. Molecule by molecule, Dean’s soul was re-shapedinto what it had once been, although Castiel knew that he could noterase all of what Alastair had done.

“Areyou getting rid of all my scars?” Dean asked suddenly.

Castielblinked at him.

“Ihad a long white one here,” he pointed to his right elbow, “froma werewolf hunt when I was fourteen, and I had somehere,” he gestured to his abdomen, though he didn’t meetCastiel’s eyes, “from the night Sammy left.”

Castieldid not enquire, but he recognised the point about scars. They wereimperfections on Dean’s soul, true, but Castiel had found that theyonly added to Dean’s beauty. They were a testament to what he hadbeen through, a story told through puckered skin and raised tissue.Perhaps they were important to him.

“Doyou want to keep them?”

Deanconsidered, then shook his head, “I don’t need to be remindedanymore.”

SoCastiel erased them and, oneby one, Dean recounted thestories of how he had gotten them; most of them anyway, there weresome that he wouldn’t talk about. He was passing over Dean’s leftshoulder when Dean stopped him,

“Leavethat one.”

Castielactually took a half-step back, “what?”

“Youcan leave ’em, right? Leave that one.”

Castielplaced his hand over the raised mark on Dean’s arm, his fingers fitperfectly, “You’re sure?”

Deannodded, “Junkless told me that I’m not gonna remember you. Hesaid that I ‘needed to be introduced to angels properly’. Bastarddidn’t say anything about making me forget the rest though.”

“Ican make you forget it all if you want.” Castiel offered. That wasdangerous, he had been given strict instructions to only erase thememories of himself and their escape from Hell, but Castiel had seemhim down there, revelling in doling out the torture that he himselfhad endured. The person that Castiel had come to know would not beable to abide what he had done, perhaps it was best that he forget.

“No,”Dean said softly, “I need to remember. I need to know what I canbecome.” After a moment, heshook himself, “so leave that scar, okay? If there’s one thing Ididn’t hate about thatplace, it’s you.”

“Verywell.”

***

Oncethe healing was done, Castiel raised his palm to Dean’s head. Hefelt an intense sorrow that Dean was not going to recall anythingabout him, but Heaven had a plan, and Castiel was made to follow thatplan.

“Bye,Cas.” Dean said with a wobbly smile that Castiel tried to return,“Drop by some time, okay? I’d like to meet you again.”

Castielnodded, though he had no idea if he could keep such a promise.

“Goodbye,Dean.”

***

“Ittook me moments to restore Dean’s body and place his soul inside.Heaven told me that it was important he be returned exactly where hisbody lay, but now I think they were just being petty. I should haveleft him somewhere beautiful.”

“AndDean doesn’t remember any of it?” Sam asked, glancing at thestill-sleeping figure, though he would probably wake soon, he was alight sleeper.

“No,but sometimes he’ll say things, turns of phrase that soundfamiliar, that kind of thing. Perhaps part of him remembers. Memoryis complicated, it’s impossible to erase everything.”

Theylapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just taking inthe scene, the shadows were getting longer, the temperature wasdropping incrementally butdespite all that it was serene.This place was truly calming.

“Iunderstand your feelings of failure, Sam,” Cas said eventually,“you weren’t there for people you felt responsible for and theysuffered because of it. But if I had turned back to try and save mybrethren, I would not have saved Dean. And the only way to haveprevented Maggie and the others from dying would have been to lockDean in the Mal’ak box and drop him in the ocean. Butyour choice wasn’t so clean-cut as choosingwho to save. Andit’s hard, because you cared about them, but you have to forgiveyourself. Dean is here, and Michael is dead and those are good thingsand we will deal with therest. You proved yourself awise and capable leader, Sam. Don’t let this discourage you fromtrying to help those that survived. Don’tshut yourself off to the possibility that this time, things mightjust work out.”

Deanstirred and groaned, loudly stretching out on the blanket. Samflashed Cas a quick smile and wiped at his face.

“Thanks,Cas,” he said, nudging him gently with his shoulder, “I think Ireally needed to hear that.”

[monsteramongmen-tamer]

#52: “Can we cuddle?” -Roman Reigns.

Thank you to the anon who requested this! I hope you like it! and I hope it makes you feel a little bit better. <3

Tagging: @kaitlynwwefan, @reigns420, @littleprincess1621, @m-a-t-91, @luckygillblog, @finnbalorsbabygirl, @unabashedwwesmut, @blackwidow2721

You patiently waited every night to see if the the monitor would go off. Having a two and a half month old baby in the house was the most terrifying thing, but you wouldn’t change it for the anything. Your little boy was everything now.

Raising a baby on your own, for the most part, wasn’t easy on you. In many ways.

Since having a child, everything has changed. Nothing was about you anymore. Your body has changed. You couldn’t seem to get rid of all the baby weight. Your husband was traveling for work most days of the week. He was missing the essential days with his son, but it is all worth it. He is working so hard for us.

Roman did as much as he could when he was home. He had troubles getting up at night, but you let it pass most of the time, since he worked as hard as he did.

You should be grateful for having Roman home to help when he’s off, but since about halfway through your pregnancy, he hasn’t noticed you. Like really noticed you.

He was always so good at telling you that you’re beautiful every. single. day.

He tells you before he leaves for the week, but you didn’t feel like a wife anymore. It was hard to explain, but things were just different.

Sometimes you hated that you were so selfish, because everything changed because of the little miracle in the next room.

You spaced from your thoughts when the monitor started going off. He was pretty consistent. About every 2 or 3 hours your baby would cry out.

Making sure to tip toe quietly, you popped your head in to see if it was just a warning. But nope. He continued to cry.

Walking in, you cradled your little boy in your arms. Almost immediately you knew what he needed.

Diaper change.

You carried him to the changing table and changed his diaper, but he was still crying.

There was a rocking chair in the corner of the room so you decided to sit there and see if he was hungry. You sat down and lifted up your shirt, revealing one of your nipples.

That did the trick. When he was finished eating, he looked milk drunk, it was the cutest damn thing.

As he was falling back asleep, you put him back in his crib and returned to your room.

You decided to try to sleep. Could probably be beneficial.

The sun was shining through the blinds when you opened your eyes. Did the baby not wake up?

You sat up in a panic and went to his room.

There was a sight that you could just cry about.

His daddy came home early and was feeding him a bottle.

“When did you get home?” You asked in a soft voice.

Roman turned around with a sleepy, eating baby, “About 2 hours ago. I saw you were sleeping, figured I would take care of this little guy for a little bit. I assume you haven’t gotten much sleep.”

You walked over to Roman, just to check on the baby, “You’re right, I haven’t. But I’ve gotten used to it.”

He didn’t say anything.  He was just admiring his baby boy.

“Thank you.” You said, laying your head on his shoulder.

“For what?” He asked, turning his head to you.

“For taking care of him. I love the sight of my two boys together.” You said.

“Well I’m his daddy. It’s my job. I don’t mind doing it while I’m home.” He said.

“I’ll go make us some coffee.” You said, walking out of the room.

You made the coffee and sat with Roman for awhile. The baby actually slept for a few hours.

“So, do you think he is old enough to have a babysitter or something? So maybe we can have a night to ourselves?” Roman asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

You had a scared look on your face, “Uh, he’s not quite 2 months yet. I don’t know if he could handle being away from me for that long yet.”

Roman nodded, “Okay. That makes sense. Well, I think 3 months is when people start getting them introduced to that kind of thing, maybe then?”

A small smile was on your face, “I will think about it.”

Things were pretty normal. Roman helped take care of the baby and then he was gone.

The next few weeks felt like they went on forever. Baby was fussing a lot more and it was harder to figure out what he wanted.

Roman came home again and he took you from your arms. The baby stopped crying when his daddy picked him up.

Did he like his dad more? He wasn’t the one that was there everyday, every hour, every second of the day, to give him what he needed.

It kind of hurt your feelings, even though he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He had a unique connection with his son. You couldn’t help but admire it at the same time.

You were in your room folding laundry when Roman walked in your your son. He set him on the bed and gave him one of his favorite toys. He was occupied by just that.

“So, I got us a sitter for tonight.” Roman said, standing behind you. He was massaging your shoulders.

You turned around and looked at him like he was crazy.

“Um, what do you mean you got a sitter? He is WAY too young to be trusted with someone who isn’t immediate family!” You exclaimed.

“That’s just perfect, because your mom agreed to watch him.” Roman said, knowing you couldn’t say no to her.

“Ugh. You suck. If you already asked her, I can’t cancel. What are we even going to do?!” You asked him.

“Whatever you want, princess. I’m gonna go shower. You got him?” Roman asked, pointing to the baby on the bed.

You simply nodded.

What on earth were you going to do? You haven't done anything with Roman for MONTHS. And now you were nervous. You are nervous to go out with your own husband. But you didn't have the energy to go out.

He came back into your bedroom in just a towel. He looked sexy as hell. A sight you haven’t seen for quite some time.

“Have you decided what you want to do tonight?” He asked, moving the towel to put a pair of underwear on.

Wow.

You brought your mind back to the conversation, “Actually, I have kind of a strange request…”

“Anything.” He said.

“...could we just stay in?” You asked, hesitantly.

Roman just smiled, “That actually sounds wonderful.”

You were so happy that he agreed.

There was a car horn outside and you assumed it was your mom.

When she got inside and got everything, you started naming the list of everything that he would need.

“Honey, this isn’t my first time having an infant overnight. I got it. You just take this time to relax, breathe.”  She said.

That reassured you. Your brother had twins and she would take them all the time. She was basically a saint.

She took him. He was gone. You felt super weird about it. He was all you ever took care of the last 3 or so months.

“Shall we?” Roman gestured to the living room, having Netflix loaded onto the TV.

You just smiled at him, “You really are the best husband. You know that?”

“Oh I know.” He said, shooting you one of his famous winks. You could not resist those.

The two of you sat on the couch and just watched whatever show popped up first.

“Can we cuddle?” You asked.

There was an awkward space between both of you, all you wanted was to snuggle your hubby, especially while there was no baby to worry about.

“Come here, baby girl. I got you.” Roman said, holding up one arm.

It’s been a long time since you have done just this this with your husband. It was nice.

After the next show started, you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, the sun was up. It was the next morning.

“Well good morning, beautiful.” Roman said, laying next to you on the bed.

“Mmm, good morning to you too. What time is it?” You asked.

“8:30AM. I figured you could sleep in a bit.” He said.

“Did mom bring baby back yet?” You asked.

“Nope. Just texted her a little bit ago, he was perfect for her. She will drop him off this afternoon.” He said, messing with your hair.

“Okay. Thank you. Wait. I don’t remember coming to bed last night…” You said sitting up now, looking at your surroundings.

Roman laughed, “Yeah, as soon as the second episode turned on last night, you were out like a light. Snoring on me and everything.”

You hit his arm, “I do not snore.”

He got his phone out and showed you a picture he took of you sleeping. Your mouth was wide open.

Your hands covered your face, “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was cute. That’s why I took the picture.” Roman said.

“Yeah well you better be keeping that to yourself.” You said, trying to sound as threatening as possible.

Roman laughed and shook his head. He got up and went down stairs.

He was making breakfast for you. Just like things used to be, without the baby.

But you wouldn’t trade that baby for the world. Either of your boys. You were so blessed with life you were given.

[leviohhsa]

When I Get Home - Wolfstar Fic

AO3

Chapter 1 (of 4)

“Sirius, where are you?” James’ voice crackled over the phone.

“Um, well… I might be in the city, in an alley out back of a concert,” Sirius winced as he said this, preparing for the onslaught of James’ disguised worry.

He took a deep breath and leaned against the concrete wall.

“And, you couldn’t tell anyone? You’ve been gone for three days, mate. We’ve been worried about you. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Sirius could hear James’ anger just beneath the surface of his concern.

He knew he couldn’t tell James the truth. He couldn’t explain that he was suffocating in the apartment with him and Lily. That his days working at the record store were beginning to drag and make his hands itchy. That he had been drinking a little bit more every weekend, getting a little more fucked up each time. Truth be told, Sirius didn’t know what was wrong or why things were getting bad again.

“I just… I needed to get out. I’m sorry, Prongs.”

He could hear James sigh over the phone, “Okay, well, when are you coming home?”

Sirius knew he couldn’t hide any longer. He’d have to return sooner or later. Jumping from bar to bar and spending each night with a different guy was beginning to take a toll on him, anyways. He’d never admit it but, he had missed his friends.

“I’ll be home later tonight. See you then.”

“Okay. And, Padfoot?” James voice got quieter.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Be careful.”

       It was three in the morning when Sirius slowly opened the front door to the tiny apartment he shared with Lily and James. Someone had left the small kitchen light on, presumably for him. As he began his way down the hallway towards his bedroom, he heard a noise. Sirius backtracked, peeking into the living room to find Remus Lupin fast asleep on the couch. His knees were brought up to his chest and his hair was sticking up in every direction, seemingly defying gravity. Sirius sat down on the floor, his back leaning against the couch. He knew he shouldn’t wake him, he looked so peaceful but Sirius couldn’t help it. He looked equally uncomfortable.

       Sirius shook Remus’ shoulder, “Moony… Wake up… Come on, you can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch… Moony.”

       Remus’ eyes slowly opened, his pupils trying to become accustomed to the dark.

       “Sirius? You’re home. Thank god. I was-I was so worried about you.” Remus mumbled.

       “I know, I know. Why the hell are you out here on this couch? You should have slept in my room. You’re way too tall for this rubbish thing. You would have been so sore in the morning,” Sirius laughed at Remus’ expression as he finally stretched his legs.

       “I knew you would wake me up when you got home,” and then under his breath, “well, if you got home.” Remus allowed Sirius to take his hand and hoist him up off of the couch.

       “I said I would come home and I did. Now, let’s get some sleep,” Sirius voice deepened with authority.

       The two tired boys made their way down the hall to Sirius’ bedroom. He flung open the door, not turning on the light as Remus plopped down, instantly pulling the covers over his head. Sirius peered through the darkness. There were still glasses and beer bottles lined up on his dresser, the room smelled stale from being left alone for an extended period, and there were at least three pairs of dirty boxers stuffed up against the wall next to his hamper. If Remus had been fully awake and functioning, Sirius would be enduring Remus’ favorite lecture. James called it the “Mama Remus’ Soapbox” and Sirius endured it at least once a week.

       However, Remus was already beginning to fall back asleep. He looked exhausted. The worry lines in his face were just beginning to fade as his breathing got slower. Sirius looked at his dear friend and immediately felt guilty. How could he have left his friends to worry so much? Why didn’t he just tell them what he was doing or where he was going? Most importantly, what stopped Sirius from voicing his feelings? He knew that although their friendship was mostly based around fun times and jokes, none of his closest friends would hesitate to lend an ear or a helping hand.

When James and Lily broke up for a short period of time a few summers ago, James was a complete and utter wreck. The whole group had stopped at nothing to put him back together (including watching “ Dirty Dancing” for two weeks straight while James pretended not to cry.) When Remus got diagnosed with depression last autumn and couldn’t get out of bed for a week, Sirius had come over and stayed at his apartment. He watered his plants and made sure that Remus ate, even dragging him into the bathroom, putting him the shower fully clothed, and washing his hair. They had all been there when Peter’s mom died, accompanying him to the funeral and making sure he could say a proper goodbye. Sirius had watched as Remus had scooped Lily up off the ground when she had had her first panic attack. They were no strangers to each other’s issues.

Sirius rubbed his eyes as the exhaustion of his latest bender washed over him. He looked longingly at the empty side of his bed, not wanting to curl his long legs up onto that god-awful couch. He knew Remus wouldn’t care, they had slept in the same bed more times than he could count. But that was all before Sirius had come out. He didn’t know if things were different now that Remus knew he was gay. At this point, he didn’t care, he just wanted to sleep.

Sirius, not even bothering to change, crawled under the covers and let out a deep sigh.

“Sirius, are you okay?” A small whisper came from deep within the blanket.

Sirius was taken aback, thinking that Remus had been sound asleep. He didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to lie anymore.

“Not really, Moony,” He whispered back, matter-of-factly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Sirius sighed, just admitting that he wasn’t okay was enough for tonight.

He just needed someone to know. Someone to cling onto when his brain was swirling around in outer space.

Without thinking about it, he reached out his hand and found Remus’ underneath the sheets. He held onto it, wrapping his fingers tightly around Remus’ warm hand. When Remus stayed silent and didn’t hold onto him back, Sirius quickly slid his hand out from his.

“I’m sor-“ Sirius began.

“S’okay,” Remus mumbled breathlessly, taking Sirius’ hand back into his own, this time, holding on tightly.

“I get it.” Remus stated, before dozing off to sleep.

Sirius slept better than he had in months.

********

When Sirius woke up the next morning, he was alone. He blearily rubbed his eyes and tried to adjust to the sunlight streaming through his curtains. He looked around and noticed that there were no longer any beer bottles or glasses on his dresser, his dirty laundry was tucked away in his hamper, and the window was open a crack, bringing fresh air into the room. Sirius smirked.

He stretched, letting out a big yawn and piled his mess of long, unwashed, black hair on the top of his head in a bun. He reached for his phone, which he assumed Remus had plugged in for him because he sure as hell didn’t last night. Remus J Lupin: Angel on Earth, Sirius thought as he unlocked the screen. It was 12:30 in the afternoon and he had five unread text messages, two missed calls, and one voicemail. Sirius knew he couldn't deal with all of that before coffee.

He crawled out of bed, finally feeling how dirty his body actually was. He had mud all over his jeans and he reeked of cigarettes and cheap beer. After three days, he longed for a warm shower.

"Look who's home!" A sharp voice sounded from the kitchen as Sirius came out of his bedroom.

Lily, who had probably been up for hours, was brewing a pot of coffee. Her fiery hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing her gym clothes, her sneakers still unlaced.

Sirius sneered at her, "Ugh, how can you possibly even consider going to the gym at this hour?" He took the mug of coffee she offered him.

"Sirius, it's almost one in the afternoon. And, you don't work out at any hour," she retorted.

Sirius rolled his eyes, dismissing the fact that she was right and took a big gulp of coffee.

Lily looked at him with disgust, "What I don't get it how you can drink that black. I need at least three sugars before I can even think of drinking it."

"Not all of us are weak, Evans," Sirius smirked.

Lily, not drinking any coffee herself, opened the fridge and pulled out a protein shake.

"So, Remus slept in your room last night? I caught him leaving this morning." There was an insinuation in her tone.

"Yes, because that god-awful couch you bought at the flea market is the equivalent of sleeping on rocks and there was no way I was letting him take the 3AM bus. He's too fragile."

"Sirius... Do you like him?" Lily was not one to beat around the bush.

He was baffled.

"No! The scrawny ones aren't my type. However, if your boyfriend keeps bulking up, you better watch out." Sirius downed the rest of his coffee and made his way to the shower.

Sirius stood underneath the hot water for far too long, letting it turn his skin pink. He imagined the past three days washing off of him. All the different bars, all the different guys. He closed his eyes and imagined each touch of the skin being erased by the steam that was quickly surrounding him.

But not last night, he thought.

Wait, what?  

Sirius' brain halted and his eyes opened.

Yes, he held Remus' hand but that was out of friendship. It didn’t mean anything. Remus was just reaching out to him and letting him know that he wasn't alone. There was nothing more to it! It was just Lily interfering with his thoughts. He could never have any sexual feelings for someone that ironed his socks.

Sirius shook the thoughts out of his head as he turned the shower off and got out. He stood in front of the fogged up mirror, his towel wrapped around his waist. He brought his finger to the mirror and wrote, “Sod off, Evans” in the center of a poorly-drawn heart. He smiled at his handiwork.

He staggered into his now-clean room and made sure to throw his dirty laundry into the hamper as to avoid Mama Remus’ Tirade. He tugged on a fresh pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. He put his hair back into a bun and stared into his dusty bedroom mirror. He looked like trash and he did not care.

Sirius had almost forgotten that it was a Wednesday night. When they all graduated, it quickly became apparent how hard it was to keep in touch. So, James and Lily decided that it was time to establish a Family Dinner Night. Now, every Wednesday night, the whole gang comes over and Remus and Lily try to make an edible dinner. Approximately an hour later, James orders take out.

Sirius hadn't realized what day it was until Remus Lupin walked through the front door with grocery bags and his heart skipped a beat.

Shit.

[mackinmacki]

Mari the Shiny Ghost

Rating: T

Word Count: 7927

Pairings: YohaMaru

Summary: Yoshiko living the life of a university student, with classes, friends, and an overly-friendly ghost. 

Notes: This is based off artwork from @kaitoelichika​ (as shown here). It’s really cool! I recommend checking it out. 

Link: (FFN) | (AO3)

It was 8:30 AM. The alarm had gone off, then immediately the snooze button had been hit. At 8:45, the alarm had gone off again. The snooze button was once again pressed. When the alarm rang for the third time at 9:00, instead of hitting the snooze button, the entire alarm clock had been yanked out of the wall and thrown across the room. Now it was 9:30, and the occupant of the bed was still asleep. This caught Mari's attention.

"Hmm... What to do, what to do..." Hovering over the bed, she considered her options. There was the tried and true method of whisking the covers off, exposing Yoshiko to the morning chill. She could always get more creative, though. There was no telling how much time she had left before Yoshiko woke up, though, so perhaps a Rube Goldberg type of device would be overkill. She had another idea, though.

Hustling out into the bathroom, she opened the sink cabinets and grabbed a roll of duct tape. Then she came back out and pulled the covers off of Yoshiko, putting the roll of tape between her teeth as she grabbed the still-sleeping girl by her ankles. The two of them floated up to the ceiling, where Mari held Yoshiko's ankles with her arms so that she could rip some tape off of the roll.

It was a tough maneuver, but she was able to place one of Yoshiko's feet against the ceiling and begin to tape it up so it'd stick there. Then she repeated the task with the other foot, having to leave Yoshiko dangling by one foot so that she could do a better job of keeping the foundation sturdy. She didn't want the poor girl to fall immediately. Once the job was complete, she moved back to admire her handiwork. Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted out:

"Yooottannn! Wake up!!!"

"Gah!" Yoshiko woke up with a jolt, staring right into the frowning face of Mari. Not only was she frowning, but her entire face seemed to have been rearranged. Almost like she was upside... down. That was when Yoshiko realized that Mari wasn't upside down: she was. Quickly she looked down, but when she saw her bed all the way below her, she wished she hadn't. "Mariii!!! What did you do?!"

"Me? Why do you always suspect lil' ol' me?" Mari placed a hand on her heart, a mock expression of hurt on her face.

"Because who else has access to my apartment and would also tape me to the ceiling?"

"Hanamaru."

"Hanamaru isn't even five feet tall! Get me down from here, Mari!" She began to struggle in her binds, trying to reach up and unfasten the tape from her feet. It then occurred to her that a fall from the ceiling, even onto her bed, would probably be a bit painful. Not to mention she'd probably break her poor bed, and she couldn't afford another one. "Mari, I swear, if I fall and break my bed..."

"Don't worry, I'll buy you a new bed!" She couldn't help but laugh, watching Yoshiko hang uselessly from the ceiling like an upside down wacky waving arm inflatable tube man. Finally she floated up and started to pull the tape off of Yoshiko's feet, getting a few yelps of pain in response. "Does Megamax take Dogecoins?"

"Are you really asking me if a store on this planet Earth takes Dogecoins?" This situation was ridiculous. Just another ridiculous situation she had gotten into without really meaning to. "What time is it?" Without bothering to wait for an answer she looked down at her nightstand, but the alarm clock wasn't there. "And where the hell is my clock?"

"You threw it across the room when it kept beeping." Mari was almost done ripping off the last of the tape. "It's after 9:30, Yottan."

"What?! 9:30?!" Oh great, she had overslept again. What was the point of an alarm clock if it couldn't wake her up? Her class started in thirty minutes, and she was stuck to her ceiling. "I have to get ready for class! Get me doWNNN!" Mari got her down, and she fell from her ceiling all the way to the bed. At the same time, Mari dropped like a stone, sliding down onto the bed and catching Yoshiko in her arms.

"And it's Mari Ohara with the life-saving catch! And the crowd goes wild!" She pumped a fist in the air, smirking down at the growing blush on Yoshiko's face.

"Sh-Shut up, you weirdo." Jumping out of Mari's arms, Yoshiko hurried to her drawers and pulled out an outfit for school, barely glancing at it before she rushed into the bathroom and shut the door. She began to undress, but had only gotten down to her bra and panties before she got the feeling that someone was staring at her. Sure enough, when she turned around, Mari was floating in front of her with a big grin on her face. "Mariii!!! I told you no peeking while I'm getting dressed!"

"I'm not peeking: I'm overtly ogling you." Mari giggled while Yoshiko tried to cover herself with her hands, scowling right back at the troublesome spirit. "Alright, alright, I'll go make you breakfast." Still giggling, Mari left the bathroom, allowing Yoshiko to fully undress and change. She sighed heavily as she threw her old clothes in the laundry basket and gathered her school stuff. Having a ghost hanging around her apartment really was troublesome...

"Mari? What is this?" Standing in the kitchen, Yoshiko held up a bag of chips with an annoyed look on her face.

"Well Yottan, those are spicy chips."

"I know what they are!"

"Then why did you ask?"

"Rrrrr!!!" Yoshiko nearly ripped the bag open in frustration, stamping her foot down crossly. "You know what I mean! How is this bag of chips a balanced breakfast?"

"Well, someone hasn't bought groceries lately, so there's nothing to make you for breakfast." Grumbling, Yoshiko turned away, not wanting to admit that Mari was right. "Anyway, you only have time to eat those chips on the way to school. Maybe you won't be too late if you hurry."

"Right right right. Alright, fine, see ya!" With no time to spare, Yoshiko rushed out of the apartment, barely remembering to lock the door as she hurried off towards campus. She didn't have a car, so she'd have to run. Well, run, then run... out of breath, after which she'd walk and pant heavily. Hopefully that'd get her to class on time.

As for Mari, she watched Yoshiko leave with a smile on her face. Of course, as a ghost, she didn't have any responsibilities, so there was no point in staying there at the now-empty apartment. So she ghosted through the door and followed after Yoshiko so she could have some fun at school. Fun, of course, would not involve learning, because that was no fun at all.

Yoshiko ended up five minutes late to class, earning a stern look from the professor as she walked in. She pretended not to notice it, trying to ignore the stares of her classmates as she slunk towards the back of the room and sat next to Hanamaru. Once she had stopped being a distraction, the lesson continued.

"You look exhausted, zura," Hanamaru whispered as Yoshiko pulled out her notebook and a pen, looking up at the board in an attempt to see if she could figure out what she'd missed, if anything. "Did you oversleep again?"

"M-Maybe." She really needed to get a better alarm.

"Well, luckily you didn't miss anything. Maybe you should come sleep at my place next time. I always wake up on time, so I'd be sure to get you out of bed." Her smile was so sincere and innocent, but Yoshiko had to look pointedly at her notes to force down the blush that was threatening to bloom all over her face. It was bad enough that she'd been crushing on her childhood friend for three years now. The last thing she needed to think of was sleeping in the same bed as her. It may have been fun to have sleepovers when they were in kindergarten, but it was a lot different now that they were eighteen.

"I-I'll think about it." After that, they both went quiet as they concentrated on the lesson. Not that Yoshiko was all that interested in history, but it was better than flunking out of university and having to explain to her parents that she was going to be a professional neet. The thought of her parents' disapproving faces sent shivers down her spine.

Class was going fine for awhile, but then Mari popped in for a visit. Yoshiko sucked in a breath, knowing this wasn't going to go well. True to her worries, Mari floated behind the professor and started to make weird faces. That only made Yoshiko silently beg her to stop, but it was when Mari began to mimic the professor that Yoshiko started to laugh. Out loud. Audibly.

"It seems that something about my lecture has brought Ms. Tsushima some form of amusement." It wasn't that her history professor was a mean-spirited guy. He just was a no-nonsense sort of guy, and it didn't help that she'd been late to his class before. She was really treading on that thin ice. "Is there something funny about the Siege of Caffa?"

Well, kind of. In a really morbid sort of way. "No sir." She really didn't like having everyone's attention on her. It gave her bad flashbacks to middle school, and the less she remembered of those years, the better. Thankfully, like always, the attention went back to the front, and the lesson continued. Everybody seemed content to just forget anything had happened. Except for one person.

"What were you laughing at, zura?" She looked over at the curious stare of Hanamaru, then over towards Mari, who waved at her. Sometimes she forgot that Hanamaru couldn't see Mari. Not anymore, anyway. When they had been in kindergarten, both of them were the only kids who could see the ghostly blonde. They had a lot of fun back then, even if Hanamaru was the only kid Yoshiko had been able to befriend.

She could remember vividly having Mari lift the two of them off the ground and carry them around like a bomber plane. They couldn't have been more than a few inches off the ground, but to their young minds, it seemed like they were so high up. After kindergarten, though, they'd both been separated for many years, and when they surprisingly met each other again in high school, Hanamaru never mentioned Mari again. She had clearly forgotten about their ghostly friend after all those years, and neither Yoshiko nor Mari had felt it right to spring that on her again.

"Uh, just a... joke I thought of." Even though she knew that Hanamaru had seen - had experienced - the existence of ghosts, she also knew that there were no more memories left of Mari, meaning Hanamaru would think she was crazy if she admitted that she had a ghost living with her. It made things awkward when she didn't really have an explanation for why she did something. Like now, for instance.

"Oh? Can I hear it? I love jokes." Yoshiko had to bite back an easy retort: that Hanamaru never understood any jokes. It was almost like being a comedian at the Apollo, but the entire audience was Drax the Destroyer. If Drax was shorter and really cute... Where was this train of thought going?

"Uh, maybe after class, alright?" For once, paying attention in class was better than the alternative: coming up with a joke on the spot. It was quite a motley crew of unfunny people that she palled around with. Ruby had never told a joke in her life, Hanamaru never understood the jokes, and Yoshiko was a joke. She was going to have to scold Mari - again - for interrupting her class and getting her in trouble. Not like that had ever phased her before. Nothing could phase through her, and nothing could phase her in general.

Hanamaru seemed mildly surprised that Yoshiko would rather pay attention in class than goof off, but she accepted it with a nod and went back to taking notes. Yoshiko did the same, doing her best to ignore Mari floating around and pretending to play the drums on students' heads. Having a ghost follow her to school was really annoying...

In between classes, Yoshiko found herself in the library with Hanamaru. On Tuesdays, they both had history together, then two different classes that just happened to be at the same time. It was far enough away that they could go do something, but not enough that they could go home and come back. Of course, it was Hanamaru who had suggested spending time in the library. Yoshiko just followed along like a dope with a crush.

While Hanamaru was looking for another book on World War II - seriously, how many of those did she need to read? - Yoshiko was hanging back, watching her stretch to reach for books on higher shelves. It was unbearable and unfair for her to be that cute doing such a simple thing. If only she had the courage to talk to her...

"Hanamaru's really grown into quite the young woman, hasn't she?" Mari's voice took Yoshiko by surprise, and she fell right out of her chair. "Well, not height-wise, but you know what I mean."

"Ow... Yeah yeah, I know." Yoshiko groaned, rubbing the back of her head as she rolled over onto her stomach. She pushed herself onto her knees, sighing and glaring up at Mari.

"Especially her boobs-"

"Would you shut up!" She barely remembered to whisper that, lest she get thrown out of the library for yelling at herself. Sighing again, she got back up and sat down in her chair again. "Ugh, I can't stop staring at her. It gets worse every year. I feel like my heart is going to pop out of my chest right in front of me so that I can step on it accidentally."

"How vivid." Mari laid herself down on the table, posing seductively. Yoshiko ignored her. "I know you don't have the confidence to speak to her, but you know who does? Yohane!"

"Come on, Mari. Don't say that name again. I don't do that anymore." When she was a kid, she had believed herself to be a fallen angel, and she acted as such. She dressed in weird black outfits, called herself Yohane, and did satanic rituals that never ended up working. Mari told her she needed to connect to Hell's wi-fi. It had all been a coping mechanism for her childhood loneliness, and it ended up getting her bullied and ridiculed all throughout middle school.

After she reunited with Hanamaru again - and started to develop her current crush - she'd resolved to become a normal high school student. She did her absolute best to try and fit in, throwing out all of her weird ritual stuff and making herself avoid dropping her vocal range into that familiar deep tone. It made her feel strangely empty, like she no longer had an identity. At least Hanamaru considered her normal, though. No rituals, no consorting with demons, and no friendships with ghosts.

"Besides, Hanamaru wouldn't like someone as weird as Yohane."

"Well, if she's as sweet as you say she is, she'll like you no matter what." Mari huffed, folding her arms and sitting down on Yoshiko's lap. "At least you've got good ol' Mari in your corner, right?"

"I need a new corner, then." Yoshiko stood up, shivering slightly as she passed through Mari's ghostly body. With her fascination of the supernatural and satanic tampered down, she never knew what to get at the library. She'd tried delving into a few topics, but none of them really intrigued her, so she'd end up just surfing the web on her phone instead.

"Hey, Zuramaru? I'm hungry. You want a sandwich or something?" She had approached Hanamaru and tapped on her shoulder, stirring her from her literary perusal.

"Mm... Can you get me a candy bar?"

"That's not a meal, Zuramaru." Yoshiko sighed, checking her wallet to make sure she had enough money for the food. "Look, I'll get you the flatbread, alright? I know you like how it's flat."

"Bread is usually so fluffy and expanded. They flattened it, though. It's so curious, don't you think?"

"Ah, yeah, I... guess. Look, I'll be back soon, okay?" Waving at her, Yoshiko power walked out of the library, with Mari in pursuit. The sandwich shop wasn't too far away, but it could've been closer. She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. Then she started floating. Wait... shouldn't that be walking? "H-Hey! What th- Mari?!"

"Don't you wanna get your food faster, Yottan?" Mari grinned, hoisting Yoshiko off the ground. "I can carry you there!"

"P-Put me down before someone sees me!" Sometimes Mari just did things without thinking. How was she going to explain to someone if they saw her floating in the air? She'd probably end up as a government experiment or something. Jeez, sometimes Mari still acted like Yoshiko was five years old.

"Ohh? Is Yottan afraid someone will look up her skirt?" Yoshiko blushed at the comment. That hadn't actually come to mind as an issue, but now that she mentioned it... "Maybe I should lift you up over Hanamaru's head."

"N-No! Don't you dare! Just put me down now!" Thankfully, Mari finally complied, and Yoshiko grumbled crossly as she smoothed down her skirt. "You're such a hassle, Mari."

"Isn't that why you love me?" Yoshiko didn't respond to that, instead striding forward and beginning the trek to the sandwich shop on campus. Hopefully she wouldn't be too late.

When she reached the shop, there were only two people in front of her. One was already ordering, and the other was Ruby. Looked like Yoshiko wasn't the only one who needed some food. "Hey Rubles. 'Sup?"

"O-Oh, Yoshiko! I-I was just getting a sandwich." Well, that was obvious. Poor Ruby was still the same bundle of nerves and fear from high school. Personally, Yoshiko blamed Ruby's perfectionist older sister for instilling this constant sense of fear in her. Not that she'd ever say that to Dia's face. She was really scary.

"Uh, yeah, me too. You wanna bring your sandwich to the library? Zuramaru's there, so we can all eat together."

"O-Okay, yeah! That sounds great." Her smile made Yoshiko smile, since it wasn't often that the poor girl did it. She had promised Ruby that smiling wasn't going to bring the wrath of the Kurosawa ancestors down upon her, but apparently that wasn't really funny. Ah well, maybe after university Ruby could escape her sister's shadow. Maybe.

After the two of them bought their sandwiches - Yoshiko made the sandwich maker add more hot sauce three times - they went outside. Yoshiko glanced around, realizing that Mari wasn't there anymore. 'Where could she have gone...?'

"Ah, what are you looking for, Yoshiko?"

"Huh? Nothing. Come on, let's get going." She walked ahead of Ruby and back towards the library. It wasn't often, but sometimes Mari would disappear without letting her know. Not that Yoshiko was worried. She always came back, anyway. If she had to guess, Mari was in the gym locker room watching the softball team undress. "We gotta eat before our next class."

"R-Right!"

On the roof of the science building, Mari sat on the railing with a handful of rocks. She picked one up and tossed it as far as she could, trying to land it on the roof right across from her. The first two were successful, but the third one hit the edge and bounced down. "Whoops! Watch out!" Of course, no one could hear her warning.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" She laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. In truth, she wasn't feeling all the shiny. Very dull, in fact. There had been something about the way Yoshiko had talked to her earlier that made her sad. Things were so different now than they were back when Yoshiko was a little kid. Time didn't pass all that fast for Mari, but it clearly had for Yoshiko, and she wasn't interested in playing anymore.

Things had been so much simpler all those years ago. She didn't even think about her predicament back then. Instead, she enjoyed playing with Yoshiko and Hanamaru, pretending to give them plane rides and keeping them from running into too many trees. Their childish laughter had made her so happy. Now though, Hanamaru couldn't even see her anymore, the intervening years having dulled her memory. On top of that, Yoshiko seemed to find her more of an annoyance than a fun ghost friend. Maybe Yoshiko didn't want her around anymore.

What was worse was that she had no one to talk to about her feelings. There weren't any other ghosts hanging around the campus, and it wasn't like she could tell Yoshiko about all this. Ironic, considering how she had always told Yoshiko to follow her feelings when it came to Hanamaru. Yoshiko never listened though, stubborn as she was. It was just one of her many charms.

She wasn't going to leave, though. There wasn't anything for her to do but hang around Yoshiko, and there probably wasn't anything as enjoyable. She didn't have any ghost friends, so Yoshiko was her only friend. Her best friend. Maybe there would be some other way for her to make Yoshiko want to have fun again. She'd have to think on it, though.

Meanwhile, though, she needed to get back to Yoshiko. She didn't want her to worry or anything. So she floated up off of the roof and zoomed towards Yoshiko's next class. There had to be some kind of mischief that would entice Yoshiko like when she'd been a kid.

Later that night, Yoshiko was diligently not doing her homework. Instead, she was laying on her bed watching TV. Mari was watching with her, a look of disapproval on her face. "Don't you have homework, Yoshiko?"

"I was never told which home to do the work in." Yoshiko shrugged, ignoring Mari's concerns. "It's ambiguous. How can I deal with such confusion?"

"You still haven't bought groceries."

"Jeez, you sound like my mom."

"Oh? Well, your mom's pretty hot."

"Don't even think about it." She would've tugged on Mari's cheeks, but it was kind of impossible. Instead, she had to settle for a well-worn frown as she threw up her arms in defeat. "Ugh, I don't wanna do any of that, alright?! I've got a lot on my mind."

"Does it say 'zura' a lot?"

"... No comment." Sighing, Yoshiko stood up, her phone falling out of her pocket and onto the bed. "I just need to stop thinking about Zuramaru. There's no way I can tell her that I have a crush on her. It'd be weird." She looked rather forlorn at the thought that her having a crush was weird. "I'm gonna go to the restroom." She then left Mari alone in the room. Alone with the phone.

"Hmm..." A cheeky grin spread across her face as she quickly grabbed Yoshiko's phone and opened it up. It had a passcode, but there was no hiding it from a ghost that saw all. She brought up her texts and went to type up a message to Hanamaru. 'Hey Zuramaru, mind if I stay over at your place tomorrow night? They're gonna be fixing the AC in my dorm.' Sure, it was a boldfaced lie, but technically Yoshiko wasn't telling it.

She waited after that, hoping to get a reply as soon as possible. It was well known that Hanamaru was a bit of a technological novice, but over the last three years, Yoshiko had been teaching her how to join the modern day. Now she could use a computer without shutting it off immediately. Her little Maru had grown up so fast. Ah, there was the reply! 'Sure! I'll wake you up at a normal time!' Ooh, Yoshiko wasn't gonna like that. Oh well, she'd thank Mari later.

She dropped the phone back on the bed just as Yoshiko came back, and she immediately noticed the knowing grin on Mari's face. "Alright Mari, what did you do?"

"Who me? What could I possibly have done?"

"You obviously did something." She looked down at her phone, then did a double take, patting down her pocket as if her phone would be there. It should've been in there. "Did you touch my phone?" Her eyes narrowed directly at Mari.

"How can I touch your phone, Yottan? I'm a ghost, remember?" Yoshiko rolled her eyes and flung herself onto her bed, grabbing her phone and quickly opening it. It automatically revealed the texts, and she paled instantly. She knew that she hadn't sent those texts.

"Mari... Did you tell Zuramaru that I wanted to stay at her place tomorrow night?"

"Lemme see." She floated over and looked down at Yoshiko's phone. "Oh, yeah, that was me. I did that."

"Wh-Wh-Why? Why would you do that?!" Yoshiko exploded, dropping her phone and jabbing a finger right at Mari's chest. Of course, it just went right through her. "I just told you I can't talk to her about this, and now you want me to spend the night with her?!"

"You just needed a little push to help you out!" Mari's smile didn't waver, laying herself down on the bed. "I believe in you, Yottan! Just go there tomorrow, look her right in the eyes, and say 'Please let me motorboat your zuras.'"

"Absolutely not!" Yoshiko was sure her face had gone completely red. "You are so damn lewd, Mari!"

"They don't call me 'Lewd Mari' for nothing."

"No one calls you that." Mari had really gotten her into a sticky situation. Wait, no, after those lewd words, she didn't want to use 'sticky'. Uh, a... bad situation. Yeah, that was fine. It was a bad situation, and she couldn't really cancel. Well, she could pretend she was sick, but she didn't want to lie to Hanamaru. She was already feeling nervous, and it wasn't even tomorrow yet.

It was the only thing she could think of for the entire night, and then the next morning as well. In class, Hanamaru didn't even mention it. Probably because it wasn't that big a deal to spend the night at a friend's place, but it was a big deal to her. She just knew that she was going to get caught staring at Hanamaru, or she would say something really weird and off-putting. Gods, what if she accidentally saw Hanamaru changing? She'd probably just die right there. A good death, but an embarrassing death.

That night, she nearly walked out of her dorm without a change of clothes. So she walked back in, and immediately walked back out and forgot them again. She was definitely not in the right state of mind for this. When she came back for the second time, Mari threw her pajamas at her, giggling the whole time. "Nervous?"

"Cool as a cucumber," she shot back dryly, heading back out with her ghostly compatriot in tow. "I don't know why you're doing this to me. I've let you live in my dorm, and not once did I call Luigi to come take care of you."

"You're real nice for a demon." Mari chuckled and patted the top of Yoshiko's head. "Because I know this is what you want! You're just too chicken to go after the girl of your dreams. That's why I'm here: to turn you from a chicken to an eagle!"

"Why an eagle?"

"Because they're brave, like you'll be by tomorrow morning. That's an Ohara guarantee!" Somehow Yoshiko wasn't ready to put too much stock in the Ohara guarantee, but there wasn't time to turn back now. 'Stupid Mari...'

The distance to Hanamaru's dorm wasn't far, but it seemed longer when her feet felt as if they were trudging through wet cement. She kept shooting annoyed glares at Mari, but she just smiled and stuck out her tongue. There was no getting through to her, it seemed. Then again, when had that ever been the case? After all these years, Mari was the same as always.

When she reached the dorm, she knocked on the door and waited for someone to open it. It was Ruby who opened it, smiling when she saw her friend. "Hey Yoshiko! Come in, please." Yoshiko nodded and walked in, moving into the living room as Ruby closed the door. It was pretty convenient that her two friends lived together. That meant, if she needed one, the other would always be there.

"Ah, Yoshiko." Hanamaru smiled, laying down on the couch with a book in her hands. Somehow she was able to lay down comfortably on a couch and still leave room for another person to sit down next to her. "It sucks about your air conditioning, zura."

"Ah yeah, the... air conditioning." She had almost forgotten the stupid excuse Mari had made up. "Well, I'm sure they'll be done by tomorrow. Thanks for, uh, letting me stay."

"No problem, zura!" She hated lying to Hanamaru, even if she hadn't actually done the lying. If only she could just admit that Mari had done it, but then that would be admitting that she saw ghosts. Even if Hanamaru had once believed in her as well, Ruby certainly didn't. The last thing she wanted was more people getting wind of her insanity. "You wanna come sit down?"

"Ah, yeah, thanks." Yoshiko sat next to Hanamaru's feet, looking over at Ruby as if expecting her to come and join them. Instead, she excused her, saying she needed to write out her weekly progress report to her sister. What kind of crazy family were the Kurosawas anyway? "So what are you reading, Zuramaru?"

"Ring."

"You're reading the movie?"

"It's based on this book, zura." She gave Yoshiko a look. The 'books came before movies, zura' look. Hanamaru could be a bit testy about movie adaptations. It was maybe the only thing that made the normally calm girl upset. Ruby had once told her that, after each Harry Potter movie, Hanamaru would spend weeks going over in detail every little difference and how they skipped so many important parts from the book.

"B-But then the movies would be like six hours long."

"Good." That was basically how those conversations would go. Yoshiko certainly wasn't interested in being lectured outside of class, so she just mumbled an apology and gazed curiously at the book. Normally Hanamaru was more interested in historical books. She hadn't pegged the bookworm as a horror fan. Now Yoshiko, on the other hand, absolutely loved horror. It was the one thing from her past as a 'fallen angel' that she felt okay with holding onto. Plenty of normal, well-adjusted people liked horror, right?

"I never tagged you as a horror reader."

"I'm trying to branch out." She smiled oh-so cutely, making Yoshiko's heart start to beat faster. "I know you really like horror movies, so I want to see what all the fuss is about. It's really fascinating, zura."

"Y-Yeah, it is." How far could she go without awakening that weird side of herself that she'd buried away? "You know what's really cool, though? Creepypastas." Wait, fuck, go back.

"Creepypastas? Ooh, like linguine!"

"Uh, not that kind of pasta."

"It's like little floppy tentacles, don't you think?"

"Not... really. Here, let me just show you, alright?" She stood up and walked into Hanamaru's bedroom, with the shorter girl in tow. Sitting down at her computer, she almost grabbed the mouse before catching herself. It was kinda rude to use someone else's computer without permission. "Hey, is it okay if I look it up on your computer?"

"Go ahead, zura." Grinning, Yoshiko brought up a new web page and brought up her favorite creepypasta.

"You see, Zuramaru, creepypastas are these scary stories people tell nowadays. They can be based on cryptids, or on cursed media, or anything your mind can think of!"

"So they're ghost stories you tell around a campfire?"

"Well, I mean, kind of, but they're cooler! And you don't have to go outside or anything." That was the real benefit. The outside world was full of bugs, and bug bites were no friend of hers. "Here, check this out! Usually they're just written down, with maybe a picture or two, but this one has videos! It's my absolute favorite."

"Ben Drowned?" Hanamaru hopped up on her bed, leaning forward to peer curiously at the screen. "Aww, poor Ben..." Since they were just watching the videos, Yoshiko told Hanamaru all of the backstory before each video, hoping to alleviate any confusion her friend might have. "That little green guy doesn't look real, zura."

"Link isn't real, Zuramaru. It's just a cursed video game cartridge."

"So is he Ben?"

"No, he's Link." She had a feeling Hanamaru wasn't understanding, so she resolved to try even harder to explain it properly.

"Eek! He's bending really weirdly! I don't think that's supposed to happen, zura..." She looked kind of scared now, which was good. What could be scarier than Ben Drowned? Besides being an adult. "Oh, he's going in the water now! Is he going to save Ben?"

"... No. Ben already drowned."

"Aww, poor Ben..." Okay, maybe this wasn't going over as well as she had hoped.

Yoshiko was sleeping on the couch when she felt someone shaking her shoulder. Grumbling, she blinked open her sleepy eyes and found Hanamaru staring down at her. "Z-Zuramaru? Wha's goin' on?"

"Yoshikooo, I had a nightmare that the little green guy statue was following me, and he was trying to drown me!"

"Well, it's over now, right? I'm sure it'll be fine." Barely awake, Yoshiko tried to fall back asleep, but Hanamaru punched her in the shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Your creepy linguine scared me, zura! You should come and protect me from more bad dreams."

"Hah? How am I supposed to do that?"

"By sleeping in bed with me."

"..." Yoshiko sat up and looked at Hanamaru, slowly realizing what was being asked of her. "Run that by me again?"

"Yoshikooo!" Hanamaru pouted, grabbing onto Yoshiko's hand and tugging on it. "Come protect me in bed!" Yoshiko so desperately wanted to say 'I'll get a condom then', but her mouth - thankfully -  wouldn't work properly. Instead, she stood up and let Hanamaru pull her into the bedroom and push her against the bed. If she wasn't so damn sure that Hanamaru was a hundred percent serious about her being there to chase away the nightmares, she would've been blushing a hell of a lot more than she was at present.

"Come on, Yoshiko. You're blocking the way, zura." Yoshiko quickly scrambled into bed, feeling so very awkward. Hanamaru got in after her, laying down with a smile visible in the dark. "Thank you for helping me, zura. Goodnight Yoshiko."

"Good... Goodnight." And just like that, Hanamaru had closed her eyes and was soon asleep, just laying there as if this wasn't the most tense situation in such a long time. How had this happened? She had been minding her own business, sleeping, and now she was laying right next to her crush. How was she supposed to deal with this close proximity? Suddenly Mari floated in to assess the situation and give Yoshiko some sage advice.

"Yottannn..." She whispered, despite only Yoshiko being able to hear her. "Grab the bootyyy." Yoshiko flipped her off instead. She certainly couldn't sleep now. Not when all her muscles were tensed up as she did her best to not touch Hanamaru at all. This task was made a lot more difficult when Hanamaru decide to take matters into her own hands. Her own unconscious hands, anyway.

Without warning, the sleeping Zuramaru was suddenly way too close, wrapping her arms around Yoshiko and cuddling up to her side. She was still fast asleep, but her grip was like a vise: Yoshiko couldn't wrench herself free. It was way too warm now, and it wasn't all from the body heat. Of course it wasn't. Of course this would happen and she'd get into this embarrassing situation. She looked up at Mari in desperation, but her ghostly pal was just giving her a thumbs up.

She slipped in and out of sleep all night, feeling embarrassed but also somewhat okay with the situation she was in. There would likely never be another time where she got to be this close to Hanamaru, and if she woke up embarrassed, Yoshiko could rightly point out that this was all her fault. That at least got her to sleep finally, until Hanamaru woke her up.

"Zuraaa!" She finally let go of Yoshiko and stretched, yawning as Yoshiko watched her curiously. Even when tired, she looked absolutely adorable. "Ahh, I had a weird dream after you joined me in bed. We were walking around the school, and there was a ghost following us! It seemed so familiar too, zura..." She put her chin in her hand and stroked it in thought. Yoshiko looked up at Mari, wondering if she had something to do with the dream, but Mari just shrugged. "Oh well! Gotta go to the bathroom!" She bounced off the bed and hurried out of the room. Yoshiko didn't miss the wistful look on Mari's face the moment Hanamaru turned her back on them.

"Mari? Is something wrong?"

"Hm? Nope! Not at all!" That wistful look was gone in a flash, but Yoshiko knew she had seen it. She frowned up at Mari, wondering why her ghostly follower would hide her true emotions from her. Despite their differences, she had found that Mari was the only person she could really confide in. "What? Why are you frowning at me?"

"Because you're hiding something from me. What was that look you gave Hanamaru?"

"What about the looks you give her?" Mari grinned, swooping down and putting her hands on Yoshiko's shoulders. "You gotta ask her out! It's the perfect opportunity!"

"What?! Why is now the perfect opportunity?!"

"Because you just spent an intimate night cuddling in her bed?"

"I didn't choose to do that!" Yoshiko laid back down, grumbling up at Mari. "You're just trying to distract me from that look! Do you have a problem with Zuramaru?"

"No, of course not! I wouldn't help you try to woo her if I didn't think she was good enough for you."

"Then what's the deal? Come on, I've told you way more than I should have about how I feel about Zuramaru." She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a troubled look on Mari's face, but there it was. "Mari?... What's wrong? You can tell me, you know."

"I-" Before she could respond, Hanamaru came back in, and Yoshiko nearly fell over trying to make it look like she hadn't been staring at the wall. "Never mind." Her voice sounded way too sad for Yoshiko's taste, and it wrenched her heart. She felt like she needed to do something, but what? What could she do while Hanamaru was in the room. Hmm... Maybe she needed to go for a hail mary.

"Uh, hey, Zuramaru, you remember when we were friends back in kindergarten?"

"Of course! Remember when you fell off the playground structure because you thought you could fly?"

"I... wish I didn't." Yoshiko ignored Mari's laughter and stood up, walking to Hanamaru. "Don't you remember when we'd hang out together, and there'd be a ghost with us? A blonde ghost?"

"A-A ghost?" Hanamaru looked very unsure, looking at Yoshiko with widening eyes. "A-Are you talking about my dream?"

"No, it's real! That ghost: her name is Mari. She follows me all the time, and we all used to be friends. I think our time apart caused you to forget, but please remember!" She could tell that Hanamaru thought she was crazy, but she persisted, not wanting Mari to be forgotten any longer. "Please remember her!"

"Uh..." Hanamaru frowned, trying to remember these moments that Yoshiko was talking about. She thought about when they were kids, playing on the playground together. There was a time when she was sitting on the swings, reading a book, as she was wont to do. Up came Yoshiko, who said she had a neat trick to show her. So she put the book down, and watched with wide eyes as her friend began to float in the air.

It was impossible, surely, but there it was: happening right before her eyes. How was Yoshiko doing it? There was someone behind her. They were virtually see-through, but there was clearly someone there with a big smile on their face. When Yoshiko told her what was going on that day, she began to see the figure more clearly. It was... a ghost?

"Zura... Mari?" Suddenly it became oh-so obvious that there was someone else in the room. A familiar person was floating above her bed, giving her a small smile. It was all so familiar, something that she'd forgotten over the past decade plus. "M-Mari?"

"Ehehe, I didn't think you'd ever notice me again." Mari floated over between the two girls, flashing them both a big grin. "Looks like the cat's out of the bag, huh?"

"I-I remember now. O-Oh, I'm really sorry, zura!" Hanamaru bowed slightly, but Mari waved off her apology.

"Nah, it's okay, Hanamaru. Yottan and I had agreed to keep you in the dark in case you found her super weird for talking to ghosts."

"We don't need to let that cat out of the bag!" Hanamaru began to giggle, making Yoshiko blush. "A-Anyway, now you know, alright? Now, how about breakfast, hmm?"

"Hmm indeed." Mari grinned her most cat-like grin, and Yoshiko didn't like that look. She wanted to tell Mari to stop thinking whatever she was thinking, but it was too late. "You know what Yottan likes for breakfast?"

"Pancakes!"

"Okay, but besides that." Mari moved over and slung an arm over Hanamaru's shoulder, looking directly at Yoshiko. "She really prefers a Hanamaru sandwich." Yoshiko blushed furiously, mouth opening and closing without any words coming out. Hanamaru's eyes widened, looking at Mari in surprise.

"There's a sandwich named after me?!"

"Okay, let's back up a second and try that again." Mari couldn't help but laugh. Sweet, innocent Hanamaru. "Yottan has a crush on you!" At that moment, Yoshiko dived forward, attempting to cover Hanamaru's ears and deafen her from Mari's truths. The force of her movements, however, just sent the two of them toppling over with a matching set of yelps.

Slowly she removed her hands from Hanamaru's ears, her face completely red. It didn't help that she was now laying on top of her crush. "You didn't... hear any of that, did you?"

"I, uh, I did, zura." Shoot. Yoshiko sighed, embarrassed beyond belief. What the hell was Mari's problem?! "I-Is it true? Do you have a crush on me?"

"I... Y-Yeah." Yoshiko looked away from her, sighing softly. "I'm sorry..."

"Why are you sorry? Is it bad to have a crush on me?"

"Wh-What? No! It's really great! I-I mean, it's not bad at all. I'm sure lots of people have crushes on you. It's totally normal."

"Yoshiko, you're rambling."

"Am not." Another sigh. This was truly the curse of her terrible luck. Having a ghost following her around was embarrassing. "A-Are you upset with me?"

"No. I'm actually kinda happy." Hanamaru smiled, catching Yoshiko completely off guard. "I-It feels nice to know that you like me, but does that mean you'd want to date me too?"

"U-U-Uh, yeah. Y-Yes. Absolutely." She looked back at Mari, unable to believe this was happening. Mari just mouthed 'Told you so!' at her. "W-Would you, uh... you know... date me?" Her voice rose up in pitch when she said 'me'.

"Y-Yeah, zura!" Then she again surprised Yoshiko, this time by giving her a kiss. It was a quick kiss, but it was a kiss nevertheless. She was dazed by it, but that didn't mean she wanted to stop. Emboldened by the situation, she dipped down and kissed Hanamaru right back, with a bit more power this time. Their kiss lasted until they both heard a small but audible gasp. Her eyes opened and she looked up to find Ruby staring at them, her eyes wide and her face beginning to turn red.

"O-Oh my..." She whimpered softly, covering her eyes. "D-Dia says abstinence is the best policy!" She then scrambled back into her room before either of them could say anything.

"You know..." Mari leaned down and whispered into Yoshiko's ear. "Abstinence is actually the worst policy."

"I'm not taking advice from either of you right now!"

"You're still lying on top of her, you know."

"Gah!"

"You know, I didn't really get the chance to thank you." Yoshiko was laying on her bed watching TV, but she muted it to talk to Mari. "Even though that was embarrassing and totally rude. How dare you, you know?"

"Are you still thanking me, then?" Mari laughed and floated down to lay next to Yoshiko. Her expression then took on a more serious look. "I should thank you too, then. For telling Hanamaru about me. It... feels nice to be remembered again."

"I could tell that something was wrong. Like I said, you can always tell me what's on your mind, just like I tell you." She rolled onto her side and propped herself up with her arm, looking just as serious as Mari. Her ghostly friend had always allowed her to confide in her. It was only fair that she reciprocate.

"I know, Yottan." She bit her lower lip, deliberating what she wanted to say. "The truth is, I feel... like we don't get to play anymore. We were so close when you were a kid, and we'd have so much fun. It just doesn't feel that way anymore, and I miss it." Yoshiko was surprised by this. She had never expected to hear Mari be wistful. Well, she was a ghost, but still, she'd never expressed that she missed anything. Especially this.

"Mari, it's just because I've grown older. I don't have as much time to do those kind of things anymore. But that doesn't mean we're growing apart, or I don't want you here. You're my friend, after all." Yoshiko smiled, shooting her a wink. "My shiny ghost friend."

"Eee!" Mari squealed with happiness, lunging forward and enveloping Yoshiko in a ghostly hug. "You're the best friend a spirit could ever ask for, Yottan!"

"Hug's really cold, Mari! Cold!"

"That's just because I'm so cool."

"Jeez, what am I gonna do with you and your bad puns?" Yoshiko shook her head, smiling fondly. In middle school, she'd been convinced that her entire life was just one long string of bad luck events. Maybe that wasn't the case, though. She had friends, and now a friend that she was going to go on a date with. Plus, she had something others didn't have: a ghost friend who cared for her and always watched out for her. That seemed pretty lucky to her.

[iamnotthedog]

ARCATA: SEPTEMBER 8, 2001

About three days after that panic attack at the Co-op, on the eighth of September, I woke up early—around seven in the morning—feeling restless. I was still being docked shifts from work, so I had nothing to do. Chloe had to work from eight to ten, so I hung around the house for a while, cooking up some breakfast and talking to Steve. When Chloe got home, we smoked some weed and she told me she had to run some errands and that she had to go back to work at four. I really didn’t want to hang around the house anymore—the weed immediately had me in fight or flight mode—so I took off on one of the bikes that one of the roommates had hanging out on the back porch.

A relatively easy five miles later, I was seated on a piece of driftwood on Manila Beach with my shirt off and my bare feet rubbing indentations into the sand. The cloudscapes had been unreal all morning—gigantic cumulus clouds that came and went, changing shapes as they drifted across the blue horizon. I stared at them, and watched them come and go, and I breathed deep and felt good, right down to the bone. So good, in fact, that I laid down in the sand right there by the ocean and fell asleep.

I’ll be damned if I didn’t fall right into a slightly more modern version of that dream I hadn’t had since way back in what? 1983? 1984, maybe? The dream of being kidnapped in the night by a skeleton. In this version of the dream, I was in our bedroom back in Arcata, lying next to Chloe on our mattress on the floor in that white room with the white walls and the white tile floor, and I woke up and rolled over and saw this skeleton standing in the corner by our closet. He still had that faint glow to him that I remembered from my childhood. But this time, instead of scooping me into his arms, throwing me over his shoulder, and running outside to a pick-up truck, all the skeleton had to do was beckon me. He stood there and stuck out his left arm and shook a boney finger at me, and I got out of bed—being sure not to wake Chloe—and I walked right up to him. He didn’t say anything, but lifted his right arm toward the door, and I stepped into some jeans and grabbed a t-shirt off a pile of dirty laundry by the door and walked out of our bedroom and out of the apartment, where I found myself standing at the base of a large mountain of ice. I turned to look for the skeleton, but behind me was only a horse, which neighed loudly, right in my face, and then took off, galloping away along the base of the mountain. It looked like it was almost flying or something. I don’t know, it was a dream. Then there was a cold blast of wind and I turned around, again and again, looking for our apartment—anything recognizable really—but everything was gone. There was nothing around me but ice, and I was in a goddamned t-shirt with bare feet.

I woke up with a start, and I was lying on my stomach with my arms out to my sides, the right side of my face pressed down into the sand, and the ocean water lapping at my bare feet. My feet were numb, actually. I stood and brushed myself off. I had sand everywhere—in my pockets, down my pants, in my underwear, in the crack of my ass. I had probably been thrashing around in the sand something fierce. The sky was much darker; a rather ominous storm cloud was approaching over the Pacific. I put on my shoes and shirt and started walking back to the bike to get back to Arcata before I got soaked.

Manila can actually be a pretty foreboding beach to visit. As I left I had to jump a fence put up by the gun club that had a warehouse and targets nearby, and there were a few radio towers with warning signs and such that I hadn’t noticed on the way in. The Moonstone and Lieufenholtz beaches were both far more majestic, with their redwoods and tall, rugged sea stacks jutting out of the water, but there were always people on those beaches. When I went to Manila, I was greeted only by the dunes, and the occasional gun shot in the distance. The Conservation Corps also did a damn good job on the trail through the dunes to the beach—it wound down through the trees that had been contorted by the gentle but relentless ocean breeze, and then climbed a steep log staircase before coming out on the rolling hills of sand that bowed towards the water.

When I got to the staircase on my way out, I saw another person standing still down at the bottom of the stairs, and I jumped a bit, startled. He was a large man with a floppy brown knit cap on his head, and a long, gray beard. He wore a brown handkerchief around his neck, black rain boots, and a long grey wool jacket with holes in the sleeves, and he had his hands in his pockets. A lump formed in my throat. I lifted my hand in a friendly wave, and continued walking down the stairs, towards him. When we got close enough to hear each other, I said, “Hi, there.”

At first, the man did nothing but stare. I wondered if he wasn’t crazy. One too many hits of acid in his day. Then he frowned. A deep, dark frown that sent chills up my spine. And he said in a gravelly baritone: “A storm is coming.”

I smiled nervously and walked calmly by him, then sprinted out to the road and the bike and took off, out to Samoa Boulevard and back to Arcata, being chased by the rain the whole way.

When I got back to the apartment, I hopped off the bike and opened the front door, and I really just wanted to take a nap and try to sleep off the memory of that skeleton and the psychopath in the trees. But I pushed through that door with the front wheel of the bike, and I steered the bike into the kitchen past the refrigerator, and sitting right there in front of me on the goddamned couch was John. He was smoking a three-foot tall glass bong with Brie and Chloe, who had just got home from work.

“Dan Duffy!” he yelled.

“John?!” I looked at Chloe and she smiled, then kind of raised her eyebrows a bit and shrugged. “What the fuck are you doing here, buddy?” I asked.

“I’m the new guy on the couch!” John said. He laughed.

“Where the hell did that bong come from?” I asked.

Brie yelled, “IT’S A PARTY!” and got up to get herself a beer from the fridge.

John grabbed a djembe from next to the couch and pounded on it. “I brought a couple drums, too,” he said, standing and putting the djembe’s strap over his shoulder. “I’ve got this one, some bongos, and a talking drum. I thought we could find you a guitar and go play some songs out on the street. Try to make a little money.”

I smiled. “Maybe, man.”

About an hour later it seemed like the storm had completely missed us, so Chloe, John, and I had walked up Bayside to Union Street, north and uphill to 13th, then east and up a steep hill to the Redwood City Park, where a crowd was gathering in the huge, well-manicured grass square in the middle of a ring of redwoods. We initially avoided the crowd and cut off the road, onto the trails that wound through the ferns and the gigantic trees. Chloe had a bottle of water with her and a backpack full of beer, and John had his talking drum. I had nothing. We hiked way up into the hills of Arcata Community Forest, climbing up fallen logs as big as train cars, absorbing the scents of pine and wet earth. When we were up in the woods as far as any of us wanted to go, we sat on an old growth redwood stump that had to have been some twenty feet across and Chloe packed a bowl. She handed it to John, who smoked it and offered it to me, but I waved it off.

“What are you talking about, man? I just got here!”

And that was all it took. I smoked, then Chloe smoked, then she laughed a cute little laugh and took off downhill through the ferns, over fallen redwoods and down the massive hill back towards the city park.

John and Chloe bounded through the ferns ahead of me, down the steep incline. The towering redwoods dwarfed them, and they splashed through puddles of sunlight—the sun having reappeared momentarily through a break in the clouds—sunlight streaming down from infrequent breaks in the sea of pine needles that all of a sudden seemed to swarm like insects high above our heads. I got itchy. None of the pine needles were brushing my arms as we ran, but I started to feel them itch, nonetheless. The ferns also felt like they were prickling my skinny legs through my jeans. I eventually stopped running, and hung back behind John and Chloe and felt sick.

As we neared the bottom of the hill, I could hear drums—some low and rumbling, infrequent like thunder; others high-pitched and almost constant, like the onslaught of a machine gun. The sweet smell of marijuana blended with those pleasant, earthy scents of pine and soil. As clouds rolled in overhead, John—now only about twenty paces ahead of me—peered down through the pines and yelled, “We made it! We’re at the park!”

My stomach turned, and I scratched at my arms. Chloe fumbled around in her backpack, there was a clinking of glass, and as I caught up to her she handed me a beer.

“You alright, man?” John asked, cocking his head to look into my face.

I looked behind me, up the hill we had descended, up the towering tree trunks to the pine needles above, and beyond them to the sky that had once again turned grey and lifeless. Then I turned back and looked past John and Chloe, out to the wide-open, grassy clearing dotted with nappy headed men and women—all of them young and white, and wearing various shades of brown, green, grey. All flannel and denim and corduroy. Dogs chased each other in circles. Clouds of smoke hung in the air roughly ten feet above everyone’s heads. I was observing all that when John shoved a joint in my face. “Here you go,” he said, smiling. “Take the edge off.”

Chloe looked at me with a moderate look of concern on her face, then sucked down a bowl full of weed in one massive hit and slapped the ashes out on her leg. And all of this was happening under the relentless drone of those drums.

“Let’s go check it out,” Chloe said, inadvertently blowing her hit in my face.

I threw back half of my beer, shoved the bottle between my legs, and lit the joint. My heart pounded in my ears as I inhaled, and a rock formed in my gut. But a voice in my head—quiet at first, then slowly gaining volume—said, “Fuck it.” After a couple of minutes it was screaming, screaming to be heard over the drums as we walked out of the forest onto the grass and Chloe took her shoes off.

This was the city park in Arcata. A large, square field of green grass surrounded by hills of towering redwoods. There was a strange energy to it all, an uneasiness that I knew must come from something other than the drugs, the relentless drums, the evening fog settling in, making everything seem suffocated, claustrophobic, as if a tarp was being thrown over the town. Chloe had her shoes in her hand and was padding around in the thick wet grass as John handed her freshly packed bowl to a shirtless young man with patched corduroys and a feathered vest. The young man smiled and handed his drum to John—a small aluminum high-pitched thing that John stuck between his legs and attacked with a flurry of fingers.

I smoked my joint, put my hand to my heart, and counted my breaths. The eyes I was getting from the drum circle were too much for me, so I looked away, towards the redwoods, now draped in fog and shadow. It happened so suddenly. There were ghosts in that forest. I began walking towards them, away from the deafening machine gun fire of John’s fingers, away from the eyes. Then a young woman took my arm and did a little dance around me, her skin sliding over my arms, her hands moving up my rib cage as she slipped behind me, and then she was in front of me, her knotted hair smelling like burnt sandalwood, her smile open-mouthed, her yellowed teeth shimmering with spit and booze, her cheeks and nose red and shiny, her eyes bloodshot and blinking rapidly. Then she was gone as quick as she appeared, and I was seated on the grass, petting a wet dog, thinking of my family’s first dog—poor Aggie—Aggie who had run out onto the train tracks one evening chasing something—chasing what, we would never know—and had been destroyed by a west-bound Union Pacific that probably hadn’t stopped, but had barreled through the snowy Midwest, out into the Great Plains, up into the mountains, down into the hot, dry desert, and all the way out to the Pacific coast with a piece of my childhood splattered all over the front of it. That poor dog—small, part Labrador, part schnauzer, bearded, awkward and overfed, living a comfortable Midwestern life with all of its needs taken care of, but she still couldn’t resist the chase—still couldn’t resist taking that one shot at attaining the unattainable, and she had her spine shattered for it.

I pet the dog more and looked into his eyes, his tongue hanging out of the side of his open mouth. Then I looked out through the cloud of smoke encircling my head, out past the drum circle to the trees beyond, imagining that I could see right through the trees and out over the sleepy town, everyone working, sleeping, eating, fucking, all of them dogs. Dogs everyone. The joint gone, I looked around for something, anything to hold onto, and I was given a bottle. Several long pulls, and my control was gradually returning to me, starting in my legs and moving up into my spine. I found John in the sea of flannel and denim and corduroy, his whit face bobbing like a buoy on a sea of earthen foam, and I managed a smile. The sea shifted beneath us and the bottle returned to my lips as an ugly little leprechaun of a man scowled at me, then turned to the goblins on his left and said, “Who’s the new guy?”