#and searching for a decent theme is still agony.

[riddleofpyre]

shows up about four years and two expansions later with sharlayan starbucks to this blog.

hey.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[softyoongiionly]

Tea and Tourniquets-The Truth ☕️

There is something living in the forest beyond your village, something evil, something ancient. The only known survivor of this evil is a reclusive healer by the name of Min Yoongi. Rumor has it though, that the herbalist hermit may, in fact, be the evil himself.

Summary: You were told never to venture into the forest after dark. Stories of people going missing and, an ancient darkness, keep most of your quaint village paralyzed with fear. However, after another disappearance, you decide to do the unthinkable and, search for the answers yourself.

The darkness is real…and it’s alive.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Genre: Supernatural! Yoongi, Fantasy Au, Tsundere! Yoongi, fluff, angst, smut throughout the story, slightly spooky

Warnings: slight spooky-ness? lmao thats not a word, references to death/dark themes, future smut, moderate angst

A/N: In this chapter Y/N finally learns the answers to all of her burning questions. Unfortunately, this only makes things more complicated...

^^^Read Chapter One here x^^^

“I apologize…” Yoongi’s crisp voice fills the space of his kitchen effortlessly.

He’s leaning against the doorway; fingers pulling the cuffs of his sleeves over his hands to shield him from the cool breeze coming through the window.

You’ve been in his kitchen for quite some time now and, have spent the last two hours crying and, exploring the room.

You didn’t want to leave it. You didn’t want to face him again, his words had destroyed you.

Yoongi can feel himself growing more and more nervous, his chest tightening with every passing second of your silence.

“Hu-I mean….Y/N?” He calls to you, trying to soften his tone significantly

You sniffle, wiping the remnants of your tears on your sweater, still not turning to face him, “My parents were not naïve and foolish Yoongi. They were brave and selfless…”

He nods, pursing his lips, prepared to take the blame for his behavior, “I was out of line, I’m truly sorry…you have to understand, I…” Yoongi sighs, agony present on his pointy face, he takes a cautious step towards you, “I’ve spent so many years alone, my social skills are lacking….severely. What I said, was wrong, inexcusable but, I assure you, I didn’t mean it…”

Another sniffle and, Yoongi’s chest grows tighter at the thought of making you cry.

“How many more days until you take me back?”

His eyes close, sensing your distance, “Roughly two and a half days…your foot is healing rather well…”

You nod, turning towards him and, Yoongi feels the tension in his chest finally snap as he gets a look at your swollen eyes and dejected expression.

“I’ll stay out of your way until then…” Using the counter as support, you make the move to leave your seat before Yoongi pipes up again, desperation in his tone.

“Don’t you want the truth?” He insists, tempted to reach out to you, tempted to beg for your forgiveness…

You shrug, peering at him, the tone of your voice soured by sadness, “What’s the point? You said it yourself, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“I don’t know if it would...” He concedes and, his tone is softer than ever, “but, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know. Please, I’m…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N. I should have never spoken ill of your parents. If they were anything like you they…”

At this, you perk up slightly, sensing the beginnings of a compliment. Yoongi struggles momentarily, letting a breath leave his lips before he peers into your eyes.

“…they must have been great.”

Your brows rise, “I find it hard to believe that you think I’m great Yoongi, considering the way you’ve treated me so far…”

A humorless laugh rushes past his lips.

“Yes well, my kind isn’t exactly known for our emotional displays. We aren’t taught such things…”

Slowly, you shift back onto the barstool, looking at Yoongi expectantly, your heartrate increasing at the thought of finally learning the truth.

“What are you known for then?”  

Yoongi nods, taking a deep breath before moving towards the barstool beside you, “May I?”

“It’s your house…” You point out, sustaining your distant demeanor.

He chuckles, nodding at your response before hopping up and, facing you.  

He looks nervous, a stark contrast to his previous behavior.

“Before I answer your question, I have to explain something to you…” Yoongi begins, shaking a bit of his messy hair out of his face. “The universe is an enormous place; some believe that it’s never ending, there are other worlds beyond the one you know…”  

You keep silent, eager for him to get to the point.  

“However, there are worlds that co-exist in a cluster of sorts; dimensions that are related in some way. There are two in particular that reside very close to your world. “

“Heaven and hell?” You guess but, Yoongi shakes his head, his patience prepared for the confusion you might experience.

“They are called many different names by your kind but, no human has ever managed to get it quite right. Although, the concept is somewhat similar. There is a world known as Paradise, it is where those who lived good lives ascend to after they have passed. The concept of religion in the human world is largely inaccurate, there are no requirements for entering Paradise aside from the soul, human or otherwise, being decent during their time on Earth.”

You attempt to take in the surreal bit of information and, refrain from asking the 400 questions that just appeared in your brain and, settle on one instead, “…and the other world?”  

“The other world is known as Beneath.; a place that hosts darker souls: some of which are corrected and, some of which are destroyed. “

There is another increase in your heartrate but, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t captivated.  

“That’s where you’re from isn’t it?”  

At this Yoongi chuckles humorlessly, the slight smirk on his mouth not reaching his eyes, “I don’t really give off the Paradise essence do I?”

A smile tugs at your mouth and, you shake your head shamelessly,

“Not at all.”

“There are creatures who serve in both worlds. Contrary to human interpretation, Beneath and Paradise aren’t at war, we both play our part and, we work together to ensure balance in this world and, the afterworld. The last known human in my family died over 2,000 years ago and, for many years, we have served Beneath.”  

“So, you’re not human anymore? Or you were human? I don’t understand…”

Yoongi shakes his head, slightly regretting that he has to be the one to explain all of this to you, “There are different species that live in these worlds: humans, vampires, werewolves, pixies, mermaids, most of the supernatural entities you’ve heard of. When they die, they either ascend to Paradise or they don’t. If they are assigned to be corrected in Beneath, they must undergo a rehabilitation of the soul, to pay for the misgivings on Earth. Once that is accomplished, they are free to go. However, some souls, like my family, choose to stay and serve in Beneath. They evolve over time to become less and less prone to the clumsiness of being their initial species until finally, they reach a heightened state. It is similar to what happens in Paradise. Those who choose to serve in protecting the balance become empowered by the universe itself…”

“Like angels and demons?”  

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I’m not a fan of the verbiage but, yes I suppose that is what humans call us. Although, in the afterlife, we work towards the same goal: angels and demons work together. My kind don’t go around terrorizing humans and, trying to possess their souls. We do the messier work in the afterworld, the work no one else wants to do.”

“Then what was that bit about you consuming human souls then?” You accuse, pointing your finger at him

He chuckles but, this time the smile reaches his eyes, you try not to notice how sweet it is…

“Ah yes well, that was to scare you. I can assure you, no one can consume a soul, it doesn’t work like that…”

“But Jimin said-“

Yoongi cuts you off, a smirk on his face now, “Jimin is a rotten little siren who would lie through his teeth just for the fun of it. He’s harmless though, he was a bit of deviant when he was alive but, nothing like what he told you. Sirens are mischievous creatures and, while yes, some of them consume human flesh, most of them pirate money and other goods, they feed off of all types of energies... He did tell you the truth about one thing though…”

“What?”  

“…that I am someone they fear…”

The breath you’re holding catches in your throat but, you don’t lose your expectant expression.  

“The souls who don’t ascend, are sent to the court of Beneath. There, they stand before a judge, known as The Reaper, and receive their fate. They are either assigned correction or their soul is destroyed forever…” He pauses and, flit his black eyes to yours, “I am the one who decides…”

You nod in understanding, biting your lip to ease the tension you feel in your bones.

“The Reaper?”

Yoongi nods solemnly, trying to gauge your reaction, “Yes."

“What are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be down there…in Beneath?”

“Well,” He breathes, discomfort taking over his face, “that is a different issue entirely. My father, he had this post before I did. He worked as the Reaper for hundreds of years before he finally retired to Paradise. He wasn’t…” He struggles to find the proper word, “…very popular in Beneath.  He was strict and showed very little mercy towards those who stood before him.  He believed very few souls actually qualified for correction and, destroyed…millions of them.”  

The pain on Yoongi’s face is becoming obvious now; you can tell this information is difficult to share.  

“When I took the post, I wanted things to be different. I didn’t want to send souls to destruction unless they lived truly wicked lives. My father didn’t approve of my methods but, for a long time, it was working. You can imagine, Beneath is not a very popular place of work. It doesn’t have the same charm as Paradise but, souls were getting corrected left and right and, more and more of them were staying behind to serve in Beneath. “  

He looks out the bay window over the kitchen sink, his beautiful features ridden with imminent signs of despair. You brace yourself for the rest of his explanation.  

“There was a man who came to me one day, roughly three centuries ago.” Yoongi still hasn’t turned his gaze back to you, not willing to face you, “There was nothing striking about him at first but, I could tell he wasn’t human. According to his record, he had been a sorcerer who spent most of his life dabbling in dark magic and, using his powers to benefit himself. He pleaded with my council and I, he told us he had been lead down the wrong path. There was nothing on his record that struck me as particularly evil; it mainly consisted of excessive gambling and con-artistry.  I had never seen anyone look so terrified…”  

He takes a deep breath, his hand coming up to rub behind his neck, his gaze still far away from you.  

“My council and I deliberated on him for some time but, finally I…I convinced them to save him. He was assigned a harsh sentence, 22 years but, he seemed overjoyed with our judgement. When souls pass on, they are able to travel freely between our worlds and, the human world however, when a soul is undergoing correction, they must be accompanied with their guardian to ensure they aren’t meddling with unsuspecting humans.”

“Wait, when souls travel to the human world, can humans interact with them? Wouldn’t that mean that death is kind of temporary?” You interject, trying your best to comprehend all of the information.

Yoongi finally turns back to you, smirking fondly, his eyes holding something you can’t quite decipher, “Humans can’t interact with departed souls directly. However, there are particular humans who can see  them, humans like you for instance…”

You feel a certain way under Yoongi’s current gaze but for now you push it aside, taking a moment to get another question answered, “Why were you only surprised when I could see Jimin? Aren’t you also a departed soul?”

“Well, this is where things get a little complicated. Life continues after death. My family has lived and continued to reproduce in Beneath for centuries. I was born there so, my soul has never departed. Those of us who were born from evolved families, the families who serve the afterlife, we are afforded the powers our parents have and, we are taught from an early age to refine them. One of these abilities happens to be human interaction. We are considered responsible enough to be seen by the human race as it’s expected that we won’t interfere with their world excessively.”  

“That makes sense…I’m sorry I interrupted your story, you were saying something about the man not being able to come to the human world without a guide.”  

Yoongi nods, taking another deep breath, “The man was assigned to one of my best correctors and, one of my…dearest friends Hoseok. If it weren’t for his dirty mind, Hoseok would have fit perfectly into Paradise but, his family has also served Beneath for centuries. He is…” He takes another breath, a much shakier one, “…he is remarkable.”

He begins picking at his nails, looking down at his hands as he continues, “As far as I knew, things were going well. Hoseok was reporting great progress and, I could visibly see the man’s soul becoming lighter and lighter. I considered it a huge success until…”

The picking ceases and, Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment, looking ashamed, “…until he escaped.”

You want to reach out to him but, you’re not sure if you can, instead you inquire with a gentle tone,  

“Escaped to where?”

“The human world. Your forest, the one that borders your village, it’s the launch pad we use to travel between our worlds and, the human world. It’s a powerful place and, it knows whether or not a soul has permission to travel. However, this man found a way to slip through undetected. Once he arrived, his true intentions were revealed…”

His gaze is back to the window but, he can feel your eyes on him and, the guilt he’s tried to suppress for so long is overflowing in is chest.  

“There is a spell known to only the most powerful sorcerers, it’s so wicked that we are discouraged from saying its name. The spell can only be performed by a sorcerer who has passed on to the afterworld and, somehow made it back. Once this is completed and, if the spell is done correctly, the sorcerer will be granted with universal power. When this man reached the forest, he attempted the spell and, it backfired immensely. He was powerful enough to deceive us but, not powerful enough to complete the spell. It destroyed his soul and, left The Nahbbun behind. They are a manifestation of his greed and, his wickedness.”

You nod, feeling some relief that you finally know the truth but, the devastation on Yoongi’s face distracts you from any positivity.  

“When word got back to us that the man had escaped, people began to question my authority. I didn’t blame them. I still don’t. I should have known better, I shouldn’t have trusted so easily. I spoke with my council and, decided to step down temporarily to manage the damage the sorcerer inflicted. I vowed to them that I would find a cure and, return home but, as you might have guessed, I have yet to be successful and because of this, the portal between our worlds has been temporarily closed. This curse has inflicted so much damage…I will never be able to make up for what I’ve done but, I will spend the rest of eternity trying.”  

He looks as though he’s about to cry so, you finally give in to the urge to touch him and, place your hand over his. His skin is much warmer than you expect and, you marvel at the smooth texture of his fingers as you curl your own around his.  

Yoongi jolts slightly at your touch, the sensation completely foreign to him, he feels as though he’s been shocked.

“Yoongi, what happened here is not your fault…” You assure sincerely, trying to get him to look at you

“It is Y/N, I am responsible for ensuring that the right souls are destroyed so, they can’t hurt anyone anymore and, look what’s happened I-“

You cut him off, “You couldn’t have known what would happen, you were just trying to give him a second chance. You can’t put all of this on yourself, not when you had the best intentions. He fooled you and, he fooled your council too…there is no crime in seeing the best in people, it’s a great quality to have.”

Yoongi decides that he wants to have your hand on his for the next thousand years but, he pulls away instead because, denying his own desires is kind of something he’s been taught to do.

“But, your parents, the young boy, Y/N they are all dead because of me, because I can’t find a cure…because I couldn’t do my job.”

“The blood is not on your hands Yoongi. This was the work of someone evil. Besides, you’ve been serving my village for years, curing the sick. You’ve saved so many lives, both mine and my grandfathers…you can’t diminish all of your work…”

A breathy laugh leaves his lips then, glossy eyes flitting up to yours, “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, your latter statement isn’t entirely true…”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t save your grandfathers life Y/N, I tried to kill him…” He chuckles, his dark eyes alight with a memory. Yoongi notices your apprehension, holding a hand up to you before you can interject, “He didn’t meet me as a young boy. He came looking for me when he found out I left my post.”

“Wait but-“

Yoongi chuckles again shaking his head, “Your grandfather isn’t from the human world Y/N, he has served in the afterworld alongside my family for many years. He was a friend of mine and, when I left Beneath, he came to the human world to look for me, fearing that I had made a mistake. He came to my cottage and, because I was so wound up at the time, I nearly killed him with my defensive spell.” Yoongi smirks at the memory, clearly holding a bit of fondness for your grandfather, “When he came to, I apologized and, we talked for quite some time. He couldn’t convince me to come home but, he decided to stay in the human world for a while to watch over me….”

Your mouth is ajar as Yoongi finishes up yet another explanation, “So, what you’re saying is…my grandfather isn’t 71?”

For the first time since you’ve met Yoongi, you hear him laugh: a full bellied, rickety, head thrown back laugh; it’s a pretty beautiful sound.

You can’t help but, laugh along with him. The sheer volume and complexity of the information has made the room so heavy over the past hour, a joke, no matter how ridiculous is much needed.  

Yoongi wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, shaking his head at you, his laughter winding down, “Not quite, no. Your grandfather is older than me. He’s part of a different bloodline in Beneath, he’s served for a least a millennia...”

“What about my mother? Was she like him too?”  

“As far as I know, your grandfather lived a solitary life up until he met your grandmother. He was always supposed to go back to Beneath but, he stayed to raise a family with her.” Yoongi sighs, “I warned him that if he didn’t share certain things with her, their time together would be limited but, he never wanted to taint her human experience. Your mother would have contained a small portion of your grandfather’s abilities which she may have passed to you; that would explain your ability to see Jimin…”  

A deep breath is pulled from your chest and, let out slowly through your lips. You feel very overwhelmed by the truth but, you’re grateful that you have it.  

Looking at Yoongi, you realize you may have been wrong about him. He wasn’t a rude, creepy, shut in; he was a man with an immense burden, a burden he isn’t sure he can fulfill. You don’t really think as you slide off of the barstool and wrap your arms around Yoongi’s narrow shoulders.  

“I’m sorry…”  You murmur into his neck, causing a shiver to run down Yoongi’s spine.

He’s never been hugged before…

“Uhh-“ He tenses up at your gesture, fists locking up at his waist but, you don’t take offense. You don’t imagine he does a lot of hugging, “…for what?”

“For everything…for all of the things you’ve had to endure, alone. I had no idea…” You give him the best hug you have in you, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to reciprocate.

The sentiment touches Yoongi’s heart but, the sentiment combined with your embrace is really doing a number on his resolve; he isn’t sure how to act.  

“An apology isn’t necessary…” He grumbles but he doesn’t move away from you, not just yet.

You don’t respond but, slowly you pull away, holding his gaze for a moment, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

“You’ve done so much for the universe. Don’t let this be your defining moment.” You urge, offering a small smile.  

Only 3-4 seconds pass before Yoongi feels heat upon his cheeks; he decides it’s a good time to move away from you, lest he burst into flames…

“You’re…uh-“ He scratches behind his ear, feeling very small all of the sudden, “you’re a lot like your grandfather…”

Fondness blooms in your heart and, it’s not just at Yoongi’s comment about your grandfather.  

“Why is that?”  

He smirks, more to himself as he taps his fingers nervously against the counter, “The two of you are quite whimsical.”

A puff of air leaves your nose, “I believe you used a different word earlier…”

The fond smirk doesn’t leave his face. Yoongi admires your wit; it’s one of the first things he observed about you.  

He concedes, holding his hands up, “I envy your ability to have a positive outlook on the future. I shouldn’t have described it as naivety.”  

“I can understand why, you’ve lived a very long time, I’m sure I wouldn’t be so optimistic if I’ve endured what you have…” You sympathize as your eyes flit to the length and elegance of Yoongi’s fingers; you wish you didn’t notice things like that…

“I haven’t lived that long…” He grumbles, resisting the urge to smile when you giggle at his response.

“You’re seven hundred and twenty seven…”  

He rolls his eyes, “That’s nothing compared to people in my world, there are beings so old that they don’t even bother counting anymore. I’m practically an infant…”

You bite back a fond smile as you pat his shoulder gently, “I can see the resemblance.”  

Yoongi scoffs, his eyes widening in offense, “I don’t look like an infant, I’m just saying that I could be-oh wait…you’re doing that thing that humans do…the thing with the humor…”

A giggle bubbles past your lips, “The thing with the humor? You mean a joke?”  

His face turns up in revelation, “Ah yes, that’s the word, a joke, you’re joking…”

“Do you not…joke in Beneath?”  

He shrugs, his head tilting back and forth in consideration, “It’s not a common practice no, Beneath isn’t known for its frivolous displays of emotion, most of us are quite serious as we have very important jobs to do.”

“Sounds bleak…”  

He chuckles, chewing on the inside of his lips as he nods, “It can be.” His eyes flit over your body momentarily before taking note of how long you’ve been speaking, “You need to eat soon and, I need to redress the wound across your ribs…”

You nod, feeling the gnawing pull of hunger in your lower gut; you haven’t been eating as much since you’ve been in Yoongi’s presence but, now that some of your curiosity has been sated, you feel as though you haven’t eaten in weeks.  

“I’m starving…” You lament, holding your stomach in demonstration and, Yoongi quickly nods in response, moving off of the barstool and around the counter.  

“I’ll make you something…there’s another change of clothes in the den. I’ll tend to your wound after you’re finish dressing and, then we will eat.”  

You resist the fond smile attempting to inch its way onto your face as Yoongi pushes up the sleeves of his peasant blouse, his eyes narrowing in focus when he tries to figure out what to make you.  

“Hey…” You murmur, his dark eyes flitting to yours, “…do you think my grandfather did this on purpose?”  

Something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes as he ponders your question, a ghost of a smirk edging at his lips, “You think he sent you here?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me…” You laugh, feeling a tightness in your chest, “he’s a mischievous man…”

Yoongi chuckles, immediately nodding in agreement, “I suppose it wouldn’t surprise me either. At the very least, he knew I would find you. He would never have sent you to your death like that. Although, I’m not quite sure why he would send you to me; this forest is no place for humans…”

You smirk, moving towards the door, “Maybe he thought you needed a friend.”

And with that, you shut the door but, not before you catch Yoongi blushing furiously at your comment.  

“We’re not friends…” He grumbles to himself but, as soon as you leave the room, he smiles, gums and all.  

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

Yoongi spends quite a bit of time in the kitchen before he beckons you to dinner. He’s gone all out, roasted meat, steamed vegetables which are seasoned to perfection, an herb and garlic sauce that is so exquisite you could have eaten it all on its own, freshly baked bread and, a batch of apple rose puffs with pink lemonade frosting.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious meal you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. You spent most of the meal complimenting Yoongi on his cooking abilities and, although he was back to his old grumpy self, you caught him smiling a few times at your comments. The energy between the two of you has shifted significantly but, Yoongi still has a firm grasp on his guard.  

After dinner, he leads you into the den, explaining that as soon as the sky goes completely black, he will be leaving the cottage as he usually does every night.  

You take this opportunity to ask another question, “Where do you go every night?”  

As he ensures that you’re comfortably seated on the couch, he purses his lips, deciding whether or not to tell you, “Since the portal is closed, the departed souls must wait to be ushered into the afterlife manually, versus travelling through the portal themselves. Every night, I open the portal to allow them entry. I spend the rest of the night trying various spells and incantations…to try and exterminate the Nahbbun…”  

A bit of panic creeps into your stomach, “Wait…isn’t that dangerous? You go out there alone?”

Yoongi chuckles at the panic in your voice, a rather arrogant smirk finding its way onto his mouth, “The Nahbbun can’t harm me; they can only feed from human energy. The only aspect that makes my time in the forest so difficult is that they often hide from me…”

This amazes you. You’ve never seen anything more terrifying in your life and, the fact that Yoongi has the ability to send such creatures into hiding…it really affirms his power.  

“Have you ever managed to exterminate them?”  

He nods, his eyes flitting eagerly to the door, “Of course, I’ve killed thousands over the years but, it doesn’t seem to help. It’s like they’re reproducing...”  

His last comment sparks something within your brain; the mystery of the forest has always intrigued you but, now that you’re aware of the logistics, your curiosity only burns brighter.  

“Get some rest hu-“ He catches himself, chuckling as you shoot a glare his way, “Get some rest Y/N, I think you’ve had enough excitement for the day…”

With a defeated sigh, you nod, resisting the urge to argue with him; he’s already told you so much.  

He grabs his cloak off of the coatrack by the door, slinging it over his small frame. Yoongi eyes flit to the staircase, “Jimin! I’m leaving for the night, Y/N will be resting so, I expect you to be on your best behavior, especially after what happened last night…”

At Yoongi’s command, you hear a twinkling giggle, followed by the pitter-patter of feet before a voice appears behind you, “You should lower your expectations my lord but, considering the fact that you went and told her the truth about everything, I’m able to have much fun with her anymore am I?”

Yoongi shoots a pointed look Jimin’s way, “You’re not here for fun, you’re here to learn. Did you finish the work I assigned to you?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning carelessly against the back of the couch, “Yes your majesty. I finished it this morning whilst you were groveling at Y/N’s feet.”

The siren snickers, eyes shifting from a dark brown to a brilliant blue; he really is such an interesting creature.  

Yoongi rolls his eyes, pointing a finger to the top of the stairs, “Back to your room before I turn you into a cat permanently…”

Jimin just laughs, almost manically, before blowing you a kiss and, running up the stairs so fast that it makes your head spin.  

“Can you really do that?” You turn your attention towards Yoongi who is currently shaking his head at Jimin’s antics.

He turns to you, with a smirk on his mouth, “I can do whatever I want.”

“Ugh ok…” You wince at how arrogant he is before a bit of nerves settle into the pit of your stomach. “Be careful alright?”

Yoongi feels a tug at his heart but as usual, he ignores it and, chooses to shake his head, “I’ll be fine Y/N. Make sure you’re resting…”

With that, he leaves you alone in the den, closing the door briskly behind him. A sigh comes careening past your lips as you flop back onto the couch.  

There is a bit of regret creeping into the deepest part of your gut. You had been begging Yoongi for the truth ever since you stepped foot into his cottage but, now that you know, you’re plagued with an entirely different issue.  

Along with a major reality crisis, you’re also dealing with the urge to solve the mystery behind the Nahbbun. Whilst Yoongi did an excellent job at explaining the mechanisms of the universe, he didn’t really go into detail regarding his conquest to destroy the seemingly demonic creatures in the forest.

More than anything, you want to understand how someone as powerful as Yoongi still hasn’t managed to defeat, what is honestly, the waste product from a bad spell.  

These creatures aren’t powerful enough to withstand Yoongi’s spells and, yet they continue thriving. Taking lives, instilling fear, wiping out smaller ecosystems within the forest…it didn’t make any sense.

Yoongi did say that the spell the sorcerer performed is so powerful that one should refrain from saying its name, maybe it really is that damaging.

Just then, a noise sounds behind you, yanking you out of your subconscious. Upon whipping your head around, you spot an object laying in the middle of wooden floor.  

Eyeing it wearily, you decide that inspecting said object poses no real threat so, quickly and carefully, you tip toe over to the source of the noise.  

As you approach it, your heart accelerates in your chest before, feeling rather silly as you discover the fact that it’s only one of Yoongi’s many books.  

Although, you aren’t quite sure how it managed to fall off of the shelf, completely undisturbed...

It's what you’d expect, old, worn, bound with leather- however, as you look closer you’re met with a title that intrigues you:

“Territory for the Mad...” You whisper out loud to no one and, at the drop of the final syllable you practically jump out of your skin when you hear a door slam behind you.

The sound is menacing on its own but, coupled with Jimin’s maniacal giggle, its enough to make your blood run cold.

And just like that, the small sense of security you had managed to gain is ripped away from you.  

Because if Jimin’s upstairs and, you’re in the living room...

Who the hell just came in through the back door?

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 8: Second Prediction

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing, Vulgar Language Words:  2523

Your first two months in the palace went by in a blur as you attempted to adjust to life in ancient Japan. It was quickly made obvious that your presence was unwanted by any who had importance within the palace, and every glance you received from the strangers was dark and filled with suspicion. The constant darkness that surrounded you was difficult to get used to at first, and you had preferred to just stay in your room until Tsuyu was able to persuade you to come out. You found that you very much enjoyed her company, even during the times that she merely stood by and watched you. There was more than one occasion that you almost spilled out that you were from the future, the wanting to alleviate the heaviness in your chest almost too much to bare. You found you valued your life more, however, so you kept up your facade. 

In those first two months, you didn’t see hide nor hair of Bakugou. You knew that he was still in the palace, as Tsuyu mentioned having to leave to report to him every day, but you didn’t know exactly where she had gone. You did have to admit, you missed being around him and his officers. Sure, you hadn’t exactly become friends with them, but just being in their presence gave you a comforting sense of familiarity, since they were the first people you stumbled upon. But, that wasn’t the only thing that bothered you about not being able to see them. Because of their absence, you had yet to have a single change to make another prediction. 

How could you stumble upon a conversation if you never saw them? You had no right to go searching for them, nor would Tsuyu probably allow you to do such a thing. She was lenient with you, but there were boundaries that you couldn’t quite pass just yet. But it wouldn’t hurt to at least ask, right? 

“Could I go with you this morning?” You asked as Tsuyu prepped to deliver her report about your activities to Bakugou. Curious, she looked up at you, carefully folding the parchment in her hands. Pursing her lips in thought, she stared down at the document, tapping her fingers against it. 

“I don’t see why not. I’m not going directly to his quarters and that area is heavily guarded, so there’s nothing that you could do to cause a scene. Sure!” She smiled, tucking the document into her clothing to keep it safe. “I don’t think he’ll mind. It will be good for you to go walking somewhere else in the palace, anyway. Have a bit of a… variety. I know you’re getting very bored of the same old thing every day.” 

You gave a small shrug, unable to resist a smile at her approval. “It isn’t all that bad. It’s peaceful, and I enjoy reading what’s available to me. Though I would like to see if it would be possible to get some parchment and paint so that I can… draw maybe? Or do some writing?” 

“We will ask him today if that is acceptable to give you supplies. I know that we have plenty, but it’s not my place to approve. Are you ready?” She took a moment to glance you over, making you feel a bit self conscious about your appearance. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t as if you were trying to impress him with your looks, but you knew that you didn’t look your best. It wasn’t all your fault, you were given the lowest class quality of clothing that was only slightly better than that of a servant, so there wasn’t much you could really do with yourself. You still hadn’t quite gotten down any pretty hairstyles that were common, so you mostly just wore it loose where it was the most comfortable. You weren’t allowed make-up of any kind, so all in all, you felt shabby. 

“I-I suppose. I can’t look any nicer than this with what I have.” You took a moment to adjust your clothing a bit. 

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, Miss, your appearance is of little importance.” 

Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, you merely nodded, fiddling with your nails nervously. “Yes, of course. I am ready, then.” With that, you both began to make your way down the halls. As you walked in silence, you wondered why it had been so important to you in that moment that you… looked decent. Did you want to make an impact on Bakugou with your looks? Did you feel like that would truly make a difference? It didn’t matter, nothing could be done about it, but you felt embarrassed to see him when you weren’t dressed to your best. 

Man I wish I had my make up right now… or at least a way to do my hair. Even some simple eyeliner would make me feel better! You let out a small sigh, hanging your head a bit to avoid the eyes of others. He’s already seen me at my worst… Ugh, why do I even care so much! He hates me, anyway, might as well let him think I’m ugly, too. 

Eventually, you both walked through a guarded gateway with a wall that seemed to separate one side of the palace from the other. You assumed this was where the high ranking members of the clan lived and had their councils, as it was much more beautiful and elegantly crafted architecture wise. Even the garden you passed was more lavish, almost seeming like an entire little forest within the structure of the buildings. The birds singing from the trees made you feel more at peace, though your heart instantly began to race when you heard that unmistakable deep voice around the corner. 

Tsuyu gave a small hum when she heard it as well, removing the document she had tucked away earlier from her clothing. “He’s already outside today, that’s good.” 

You could only hold your breath, returning to picking at your nails as you were unsure of what else to do with your hands. When you both rounded the corner, you first spotted Bakugou’s fluffy ash blonde hair, his back to you both. He was standing with Kirishima, talking about something that seemed important just from the intent and focused look on the red heads face. 

“They will be traveling through here, they have no other option.” Bakugou was pointing to a map that he held on one side, Kirishima holding the other to keep it spread open. “This is the perfect chance to attack, if we come from the front and the back then they won’t be able to escape.” 

“But neither will we. If it goes badly, we’d be just as trapped.” Kirishima spoke with a wary expression, brows furrowed. “We’ll have to work hard to not let that happen.” 

“You know damn well we wouldn’t.” 

This is it, you thought, watching as Kirishima noticed Tsuyu and gave her a wave. This is my chance to make a prediction. I just have to somehow get more information out of them or at least look at the map so I know what area this is they’re talking about. I think it’s the skirmish at Pine Valley but I can’t be sure without seeing the map. 

Butterflies began to ravage your stomach as Bakugou looked back at you both, a bit of surprise flashing across his features before his brow furrowed back into his regular intense expression. How his stupid beautiful face hadn’t been perminantly creased with wrinkles yet was surprising to you, as you had only seen his face relaxed when sleeping and after the murder of his horse. Still, it suited him, and your embarrassment of being in his presence returned tenfold as you bowed deeply in greeting. 

“Good Morning,” Tsuyu addressed them both as she bowed along with you, before standing and handing the parchment in her hands to her leader. “Here is your report for yesterday.” 

Allowing Kirishima to take the map, Bakugou accepted the document, his crimson glare moving to you. “What does it say today, Demon? That you sat out in the garden all day?” 

Trying desperately to control the heat wanting to rush into your cheeks, you gave a simple nod. “I assume… That’s really all that I did. It’s peaceful. After all this time of it being the same thing over and over I’m surprised you still read them.” 

“Of course I read them. Though I have considered changing it to just a weekly report.” His gaze moved back to Tsuyu, who nodded in agreement. “I’ve gotten tired of reading the stupid conversations you have with the fish in the pond.” 

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks and you nearly choked on air, giving a small cough behind your sleeve to clear your throat. “W-what? My entire conversations?” You looked down at Tsuyu, who merely nodded again and made you cover your face. 

“I don’t leave out anything, Miss. I’m trained to have a very fine memory, you see, so I can recall every word you say. I quite like listening to you talk to them,” Tsuyu smiled. “You’ve made an interesting bond with the white fish there. He even lets you touch him, it’s very intriguing.” 

Giving a groan in embarrassed agony, you shook your head, peeking out over your sleeve at Bakugou as he opened the document in his hands to read it. As his eyes scanned across the characters on the parchment, he scoffed, giving you an annoyed glance. “You even named it. Sushi?” 

“I-It’s not his name, I was just… I needed something to call it, so--” 

“Then that is it’s name. That white fish is very old… I am not surprised a Demon such as yourself has built a relationship with an animal like that.” He folded up the document and tucked it away into his clothes before he turned his attention back to the map, effectively shutting you out. In that moment, you got a peek at it under his arm, noticing that the area around Pine Valley was circled with arrows and notes scribbled about around it. This was your chance. 

“W-wait,-” You cut in, stepping a bit closer to make sure you got their attention. At first, Bakugou looked like he might just snap at you, though he quickly stopped when he noticed how intently you were staring at the map. 

“What is it, Demon?” 

“This…” You wedged yourself between the two men, placing your finger delicately on the area that was circled. Judging from what you had heard and now the notes on the paper, you could see that what they were planning wasn’t what had been recorded in history. You knew that they did win this battle, but it wasn’t like this at all. “This isn’t right…” 

“What do you mean?” Bakugou snarled, though he still didn’t try to push you away. “We have been planning this for weeks, there are no faults.” 

“No, you can’t go from the front and the back! They will have backup, and you will get pinned in. No, you need to attack from here.” You ran your finger along the sides of the valley. “Using arrows, traps and rocks. Keep the high ground, with some troops here and here to catch anyone that tries to flee. Only then will you win.” Looking up at him, it took every ounce of your courage to not crumble beneath his glare. 

“Who do you think you are, to undermine my strategy in place of your own! You stupid woman, you don’t know anything about war.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying! What I told you is how you will win. If you do it any other way, you will lose. You have to believe me.” Desperate for your plan to work, you shot a worried glance up at Kirishima, who rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I don’t know, Sir,” He pointed at the valley, tapping one of the hill sides lightly. “We would have a better advantage point… It’s your call.” 

Bakugou kept his glare on you, observing you for any signs or hints that you were trying to trick him. Still, you stood your guard, knowing that you weren’t lying. You knew exactly what was going to happen, and even if you did have some mission to sabotage their cause, you wouldn’t be able to go through with such a thing. You wanted them to survive, as long as you could manage. Not only because you did feel some sort of kinship with them, but because your life hung in the balance. If he died, what would become of you? That was a scary thought. 

“Fine, Demon. You were right before, I’ll listen to you again.” Bakugou took the map, folding it back up. “If things go as you say, then perhaps we can discuss loosening your leash a bit.” 

You couldn’t resist the small, relieved smile that crossed your lips. “Thank you for believing me… And all I would really want is maybe some supplies… Paper and paints? So I can do some art?” 

“You’re an artist?” 

“A-ah, well, no but I figured that with all my free time I could learn.” 

“What a waste of resources. I’ll consider it.” With that, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand, silently demanding your leave. With a small touch on your arm from Tsuyu, you followed her, giving a small bow even though he wasn’t paying any attention to you. 

As you walked alongside your guide, you gave a sigh, reaching up to pat your own cheeks. “Damn, that was scary.” 

“That was very bold of you.” Tsuyu looked up at you with a wary glance. “You’re very lucky he took it so well. But I will say that you had better hope that what you said is true. If something happens to him or any of his officers due to your misguidance, Lord Yagi won’t tolerate your presence or the fact that you still breathe air.” 

You nodded, eyes on the wood beneath your feet as you walked. “Yes… I know. But I had to speak up and… say what I know. They would have been screwed if they went with their plan…” 

“‘Screwed’, huh? And that is…?” 

“They would be in really big trouble.” 

“Ah!” Tsuyu smiled. “I like these new words you always say, I always look forward to the next one.” 

You smiled as well, happy that she didn’t judge you for your oddities that came with a modern slang. “I’ll teach you words any time! Do you… tell Bakugou any of the words I let slip?”

“I do. He particularly likes the one… ‘fuck’. And you confused him when you said ‘stupid cunt’.” How calmly she said these words without knowing the meaning made you nearly instantly burst into laughter, covering your lips with your fingers. 

“Oh no! Well, I suppose I’ll have to teach him what they mean.” 

“Me as well! I hope I’m not using inappropriate words.”

“Aw well, Tsu… You’re going to be surprised for sure.” 

[thelasthomelyurl]

It was a dark and smoggy night. Although humans hadn’t actually coined the word “smog” yet, they were already experts at producing it: the nascent Industrial Revolution was setting records for spewing pollutants into the air at an ever-increasing pace. Factories belched out a perpetual smoke that clung to the buildings and the air right around head-height. Theologically, Crowley was all for the despoiling of Earth’s bounty. Personally, though, he missed the smell of clean air.

A hurt/comfort story spanning the last few hundred years before the end of the world. M Rating is mostly for mature themes (and just a little bit of the last chapter).

Read it on AO3.  (Or under the cut below)

Heartfelt thanks to @curlycrowley​/@letsgomindthestore​ for being an unbeatable beta! 

Chapter 1: 1837 AD

It was a dark and smoggy night. Although humans hadn’t actually coined the word “smog” yet, they were already experts at producing it: the nascent Industrial Revolution was setting records for spewing pollutants into the air at an ever-increasing pace. Factories belched out a perpetual smoke that clung to the buildings and the air right around head-height. Theologically, Crowley was all for the despoiling of Earth’s bounty. Personally, though, he missed the smell of clean air. It used to be plentiful but had been slowly on the decline since the thirteenth century, although he supposed the increase in smoke and particulates was offset somewhat by the humans’ significant strides in the areas of hiding and surreptitiously dealing with their nightsoil. Gain a little, lose a little, he thought. 

Neither pollution nor the exceedingly late hour kept Londoners pent up in their homes—leastways, not in the parts of town which Crowley frequented. He’d just come from depositing an archdeacon at the door of an establishment whose business day was only just beginning. Not his favourite part of the job, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that it was, at least, the kind of place whose chief attractions had made their own choice to be there and did quite well for themselves. It helped, a little. 

Crowley was jolted out of his walking reverie by an abrupt sound from an alley off to his left—the thick slap of flesh-on-flesh cutting off a shout. He turned mid-stride and headed towards the noise, slit-pupiled eyes searching the darkness. Continuing sounds of a scuffle led him to them: two wretched forms crouched almost protectively over a child (Crowley was bad at human ages but guessed they couldn’t be more than eight or nine) who was doubled over and moaning weakly. 

“Evening,” he said, hands shoved in the pockets of his breeches.

“Get yourself away,” snarled one of the adults, “if you know what’s best for you.”

“That your kid?” Crowley asked as if they were exchanging opinions about the weather. 

“He is now,” said the other. This was accompanied by renewed whimpering and struggling from the child. 

“‘S’that so?” asked Crowley. “And—beg pardon—when was the last time you had communion? Confession? Anything like that?”

“You can bugger yourself with your questions, priest,” came the reply. 

Crowley smiled a tight-lipped smile into the darkness. “Not quite what I meant,” he said, and if there had been light to see it by, the two would-be kidnappers might have been tremendously alarmed by the sight of his forked tongue flickering out and tasting the tarnish on their souls. 

“Excsssellent,” he breathed. He pulled his hands from his pockets. 

Just a few moments and two soul-ripping shrieks later, the two adults were slumped lifelessly on the ground and a grinning Crowley hauled the child to his feet. 

“Thank G-God for you, Mister,” the boy said. He sounded a little less grateful and a little more terrified, but who could blame him? 

“No, don’t,” said Crowley. “D’you know where your home is?” 

The boy nodded mutely and pointed. 

“Good lad. Get yourself home, then. Don’t dawdle—and hail Satan.”

The boy hesitated for one bewildered moment, then took off like a startled deer in the direction he’d pointed. Crowley watched until he turned a corner, knowing that following the child would not precisely make matters better. 

“Well, well,” hissed a voice in the darkness, and Crowley’s blood froze. His mind whirred into overdrive, trying to put odds on exactly how much trouble he was about to get himself into. 

“Hastur,” he said with all the casual disaffectedness he could muster. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

The inky shadows of the alleyway coalesced into two even inkier, shadowier forms. Two lords of Hell, Hastur and Dagon, stood there with hungry, excited looks about them. 

“Odd night’s work for a demon, Crowley,” said Hastur. 

“Oh, nothing special,” Crowley said. “Dropped the archdeacon off at the brothel and put a bob in his pocket. Little uninspired, I’ll grant you, but it’ll get the job d—“

“Save it, snake,” interrupted Dagon. 

“I meant just now. Explain yourself,” Hastur added. 

“Two souls secured for our master forevermore,” Crowley said blithely. 

“Not bad enough,” said Hastur. 

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked. “I saved them from any deathbed conversions or inspiring redemption arcs. Done and dusted.”

“And the whelp?”

“Planted the seeds of disbelief,” Crowley said glibly. “Plinked away at the foundation of his faith. Ten years from now, he’ll—hnngk!”

Hnngk was not at all what Crowley had meant to say. Dagon had startled the noise out of him with the simple expedient of a fist to the stomach. Before Crowley could recover, this was followed by several more infernally strong blows, including one to the side of his knees that resulted in him collapsing to the filthy ground in a graceless heap. 

“Nice try,” said Hastur, “but you’ll excuse us if we’re unimpressed.” He punctuated this with a brutal stomp to Crowley’s ribs which robbed him of the last of his breath. As a demon, Crowley did not need to breathe, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless to be denied air, especially in such a manner. 

Dagon kicked the soft flesh of his side. “I never liked you,” they spat, and they lifted their leg again. 

With his final half-lucid thought, Crowley sent a desperate plea into the aether—not a prayer, but a supplication to the only being he believed in. It was a fool’s hope, but Crowley had always admitted himself to be a fool—at least in this one regard.

Dagon’s boot came down directly on Crowley’s face, and his vision blacked out. 

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

Crowley couldn’t have said how much later it was that he regained awareness, but when he did, it was all at once with excruciating pain and clarity. He screamed, howled in agony as his nerve endings tore themselves asunder, as his skin ripped away from his flesh, as every muscle and sinew stretched beyond its limit. He wasn’t sure if he was shouting in any language or perhaps in all of them, but his whole being was focused on one thought—make it end. He begged for death, for utter exile, for the blankness of unbeing, whatever it took to escape the torment cracking apart the foundations of his very essence. 

As suddenly as the torture had begun, it stopped, and an emptiness that was somehow worse crashed through the channels of agony that had been carved into his body and self. His vision cleared of the bloody, electric-fire haze of pain, and he caught the briefest glimpse of a dimly lit room before he succumbed to oblivion. 

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

It was to his own tremendous surprise that Crowley woke again later. In the deep recesses of unconsciousness, some part of him had accepted that this was The End and had been grateful that never existing again would at least mean no more pain. There had been some regret, but if Crowley was good at anything, it was consigning himself to the inevitable, so it had not hurt very much. As he became more alert, his suppositions were proven more and more incorrect. At the very least, the pain was not at an end, which he supposed was a decent indicator that his existence was also not finished. 

His very being felt bruised and wrung-out. Thudding aches radiated from his nose, his head, his lip, his chest, his legs, his hands—he gave up trying to inventory the individual hurts. 

Still, he was no longer in boiling torment, which was, well, something. 

With a thought, he miracled his corporation to wellness—and gasped in renewed agony as not only did it not take, but a force slammed into him, shoving him harder against whatever it was he was laying on and sending spikes of pain through all his injuries. At the same time, the damp smell of rotting earth and mildew hit him. The sensations overwhelmed him and tore away his feeble grip on consciousness. 

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

His third awakening was to the strong scent of herbs and the feeling of gentle pressure against most of his body and the distinct sense of a familiar Presence. It was this last impression which roused him fully to wakefulness and caused him to sit upright—or, rather, to attempt to do so before his corporation told him very firmly that such an activity was quite definitely off-limits at present. After just the barest of movements, he fell back with a groan. He hurt too much to even be grateful that he was, apparently, safe, heavily bandaged, and being cushioned by something soft and plush. 

“Crowley?” asked a voice from somewhere off to one side, and Crowley could have wept with relief. “Oh my, no, don’t even try—“ it continued, and then from the very corner of his one open eye, Crowley caught a glimpse of Aziraphale running into the room. “You must keep still, Crowley,” said the angel as he drew near the bed. 

Crowley moved his head in the barest of nods, having come to much the same conclusion himself. 

“You found me,” he said weakly, his voice grating with injury and wet with blood. 

“And a good thing I did,” Aziraphale responded. “Lying there in the night, beside those two poor humans, like a—well, never mind.” 

“What did they do,” Crowley asked at length. “I feel…”

“I know, pet,” Aziraphale said soothingly. “They’d beaten you within an inch of discorporation, how ever did they manage—”

“Not that,” Crowley said. “Not humans. Demons.” He frowned. 

Aziraphale gave a soft gasp. “Oh, but how—and there were two humans…” 

“Those were mine,” Crowley grunted. “Never mind that now, though—you found me in the alley? In London?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said, looking alarmed. “Where else would…?”

“I was—it was torture, like the first fall into the pit, like…” he struggled for an adequate analogy to explain the sensation he’d had upon first regaining consciousness. He had half-convinced himself that he’d been brought back to Hell and then been returned somehow. 

“Ah, well,” said Aziraphale, and Crowley got the impression that if he could really look at the angel properly, he would catch him blushing. “You gave me quite a fright,” Aziraphale said, as if that explained anything at all. 

“...And?” Crowley prompted. 

“And I… well, I used a—you must understand, you were in such an awful state. I don’t know that I had any other choice.”

Crowley let out a hissing breath and waited. 

“I used a miracle,” Aziraphale said, his voice brimming with contrition. 

Ah. 

“A divine… fucking… blessing?” Crowley asked, his limited vision swimming. The last time he’d been personally touched by Grace was when it had been ripped away from him. That did rather explain the sensation of being torn apart, body and essence. “You idiot.”  

“I didn’t know what to do!” fretted Aziraphale. “I couldn’t feel any of you there, when I found you. It was like a… a human was lying there.” 

“Hastur.” Crowley said the name like a curse. “He did—something. When I woke up before, I tried my own miracle and it, it backfired, or something. I can’t heal myself from it.” 

“I panicked,” Aziraphale continued. “Tried to grant you a healing, but of course… well, it… sort of worked.” 

Crowley thought of the sulfurous agony of his first waking and felt flames bite at his being at the mere memory. “Sort of worked?” he asked. If he’d had any energy, he would have filled the question with all the venom his snake-like self could muster. 

“Well, yes. Some of the more vital bits pieced themselves back together.”

That stopped Crowley’s train of thoughts in its tracks. 

“This is post-healing?” he croaked. 

“Yes,” was all Aziraphale said, very quietly. That one word held so much anguish in it that Crowley found himself swamped by the ludicrous desire to reassure the angel, despite the fact that it was he himself who had taken the injuries. 

“I didn’t realize…” Crowley replayed the memory of the abuse his corporation had been subjected to and felt his body’s heart give a lurch. A human would have been lucky to wake up after being left on the street in the condition he remembered being in. And who was to say that he remembered all of it, that Dagon and Hastur hadn’t gone on beating him after he had lost consciousness? Without his own powers available to him, what could have happened if Aziraphale hadn’t found him and risked a miracle? He swore. 

“I am sorry to have done it,” the angel said, “only I wasn’t about to risk you discorporating—or worse.” 

Worse. 

Crowley made no response, his mind still wrapping itself around these revelations. Had the two demon lords meant for him to discorporate, or just to suffer? He suspected the latter, as discorporation was inconvenient at worst and not much of a punishment. Worse, then. Being trapped inside a mortal vessel in agony seemed very much in keeping with what Crowley knew of Hastur’s modus operandi. This was likely what passed for a first warning in Hell. Crowley made a note to endeavour not to merit a second warning. 

“How are you feeling now?” prompted Aziraphale after several moments of silence. 

“Um,” said Crowley. Frightened, he thought. Hunted. And somehow—miraculously—lucky. “Not… great.”

Aziraphale let out a huff of breath and Crowley knew he was rolling his eyes. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to practice being more thoroughly descriptive,” the angel said. “It’ll be weeks before you can leave, and that’s only if you’re cooperative.”

“Eh?”

“I’m given to understand that healing the mundane way is a tiresome, lengthy process.”

Crowley swore again. 

“It’ll be far more painful for me than for you, with that sunny disposition of yours,” Aziraphale said. He continued talking about his plans and preparations, including a lengthy detour about some books he’d recently picked up which just so happened to have some instructions regarding the care of injured human bodies. This time, when darkness crept through Crowley’s vision, it held no terror. The indistinct melody of the angel’s voice carried Crowley off to sleep. 

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

Crowley woke again in Aziraphale’s living area; he was greeted by the crackle of firewood, the smell of herbal tea, and the sight of Aziraphale sitting near his bedside, a woolen blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a thick cloth-bound book open in his hands. He seemed to be quite engrossed. 

He could sit so still—it was an entrancing contrast to his normal flurry of little movements and gestures. Crowley imagined that if he could only find a big enough book, Aziraphale could pass an unmoving decade reading as easily as Crowley could in sleep. 

“Angel,” he said after he grew tired of waiting for Aziraphale to look up from his book, “you can’t be serious about this.” 

“Hmm? Serious about what?” Aziraphale asked, marking his place and closing the book. 

“This,” Crowley repeated. He tried to gesture to the room, but found that he could barely lift his arms. He winced, then glared when Aziraphale let out an ill-concealed chuckle. 

“You were saying?” Aziraphale asked pointedly. 

“This is a bad idea,” Crowley said. “Me, being here.” 

It was a bad idea because of the whole Heaven-and-Hell nonsense, of course, but more importantly, it was a mistake because it wasn’t what they did. They brushed past each other and Crowley pined and kept his walls up and Aziraphale plinked away at them and if either of them went off-script for even a moment, Crowley feared that the whole thing would end in a pile of rubble that left him exposed and alone in a way he hadn’t been in nearly six thousand years. 

No matter how much he might wish it were otherwise, it was a bad idea because Crowley was an unforgivable demon who God Herself had decided was unworthy of love, and if they spent more than a long conversation in each other’s company, Aziraphale would surely remember that. The spiky bits of his personality would finally hurt the angel and that would be it; Aziraphale would recall that he was the Serpent of Eden and cast him out from the last place that mattered—his company.

Not that he could say any of that. That was the whole point.

“And what ought I have done, then, dumped you out on the street and hoped you rolled to a safe haven downhill?” 

“Well—” he floundered. 

“You should have thought of that before you called for me,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley sputtered. “Called you?” he asked. “What are you talking about?” 

Aziraphale regarded him with amusement. “Don’t play innocent, fiend, you do it poorly. Yes, called me. There I was, nose-deep in Lives of the Necromancers, when what should I hear but your voice?”

“What—what did it say?” 

The angel pondered for a moment. “You know, I couldn’t tell you the exact words, now that I think about it. It was most definitely you, and I recall knowing that you needed help, but I can’t quite remember…” he trailed off. 

“And then? How did you find me?” Laboriously, Crowley turned his head until he was looking directly at the angel.

“I’ve chalked it up to intuition,” Aziraphale said as he spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I followed the feeling of you—” something fluttered in Crowley’s stomach at hearing that phrase “—although I can’t say how since when I got to you, as I said, it was like all the…” he paused, and Crowley could swear he had heard a tremor in the angel’s voice “like you… weren’t there.” 

“Have you had that before? A sense of me?” 

Aziraphale pondered for a moment before answering. “We are rather good at finding each other, are we not?” he said at length. “I notice when you’re near—” there was that odd flutter again “—but no, I can’t say I’ve ever thought I could just walk out and find you like that. Whatever did you do?”

“Not sure,” Crowley said. His mind flickered back to that last moment of consciousness in the alley, to the idea he’d had, and followed, of sending out a call for help. It had been a half-crazed impulse, driven more by pain and fear than anything. And yet—it had worked, somehow. Aziraphale had heard him, and more than that, he’d found him. 

Crowley suddenly found that he couldn’t look at the angel, and he shifted again to hide his face better. 

“It’s still daft, keeping me here,” he said after a while. 

“Yes, well, the moment you can walk through the front door under your own steam, you’re welcome to leave.”

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

A week passed before Crowley was able to sit upright, and even then he was not precisely comfortable. Aziraphale was a constant nuisance, reminding him to breathe in deeply (“I know it hurts, you broke three ribs, you dolt”), force-feeding him soups (“Stop complaining, this body needs all the help it can get”), and fussing with his bandages (“You do not want to get an infection, believe me”). When he wasn’t flitting about playing nursemaid, the angel was parked firmly in his wing-backed chair right beside Crowley’s bed. He had a habit of responding out loud to whatever he was reading—a laugh here, a sigh there, and the occasional under-his-breath refutation of a point every now and again. After one such interlude, Crowley griped at him that it wasn’t very polite to have just half a conversation in front of him. Aziraphale had looked at him coolly and then started reading his book aloud, adding his own commentary as he went, which had of course not been the point, the point had been to get the angel to shut up, but Crowley found himself listening with interest all the same. 

And if he found himself agreeing with all of Aziraphale’s points, and missing the sound of his voice whenever the angel was away acquiring supplies or going about his own business (infrequent as such occasions were), well, what of it?  It was bloody boring otherwise, and he couldn’t even sleep as he normally would have to pass the time—that is, he could sleep as a human might, but it turned out that humans did not frequently sleep for weeks, nor even days, at a time. 

Occasionally, he was jolted awake from what sleep he did get with horrible nightmares that seemed to blend the impossibly far past with all his most awful fears in the present and left him thrashing as he woke, making a frightful mess of his bandages and anything set too near him. Each time this happened, Aziraphale was close by. The angel would shush him gently, would put a warm, soft hand to his forehead, would softly whisper that it was okay, you’re safe, I’m here. Each time, those words pulled Crowley in from spiraling terror. Aziraphale would wait until he quieted down then set everything to rights, tuck the blankets snugly around Crowley, and move his chair ever so slightly closer to the bed. “Back to sleep with you,” he’d say, “it’s the best thing you can do to heal.” 

And heal he did. It was an infuriatingly slow process, but bit by bit the flesh and bone of his corporation knitted itself back together. By the time three weeks had passed, the splints on the fingers of his left hand came off and Aziraphale set him to practicing motions to rebuild strength. Crowley grumbled at this but eventually did what he was told, not bothering to wonder at the fact that the angel’s delighted encouragement felt like a reward rather than the pandering sop it was. After four weeks, most of his remaining bandages were able to come off. After six, Aziraphale removed the plaster from his ankle, and his face was healed enough that he could touch it—or, say, lie on his side—without too much pain. 

Throughout the process, Aziraphale danced attendance on him: the angel chivvied him into sitting upright even when he was tired, flexing his various limbs and joints repeatedly, and generally paying more attention to his corporation than the demon had done in the last several centuries combined. Crowley put on a good show of disgruntlement, but found it predictably impossible to be well and truly annoyed by the angel’s ministrations. 

There was one brief setback during the fifth week, when Crowley had thought once again to experiment with his miracles. Over the weeks, he had used them for small things—the first of which had been a change of clothes when Aziraphale suggested, a few days in, that he himself would need to attend to getting new clothing onto Crowley as the demon couldn’t very well wallow in the same outfit for weeks on end. Crowley had been mortified at the idea of such a service needing to be performed on his behalf and had conjured on a new set of pyjamas without even consciously deciding to do so. It had been more of a relief than he cared to admit to find himself still capable of such feats; Aziraphale’s fretting over how he had not “felt” like himself had left Crowley worried that he’d somehow been truly robbed of his powers, a concern he had quite carefully locked up, bound with chains, and buried in the deepest recesses of his mind before it could drive him over the brink. 

After five weeks of carefully avoiding miracles on his own person, though, he’d thought it was time to try something. He had been able to change his hair (it was now unfashionably long, falling to the middle of his back) and while Aziraphale wasn’t looking, he’d jabbed himself with a knife and was able to heal the damage from that. Feeling reassured, he’d tried to miracle away the remaining damage from his encounter in the alleyway—only to once again find himself buffeted back by an invisible force. 

When Aziraphale came in to find him crumpled on the bed, the angel had heaved a long-suffering sigh, asked if Crowley was aware that his instincts for self-preservation were vastly overmatched by his curiosity, and done a quick inventory to make sure that nothing was too badly re-injured by the experiment. 

“How else was I supposed to find out whether it would work or not?” Crowley asked sourly.

“You might have at least enlisted my help,” Aziraphale said. “What if the knife bit hadn’t worked at all? A fine thing it would be, to have worked so hard to get you well again only to come in and find you exsanguinated on the floor.”

He had a point, of course, but Crowley only grumbled in response. 

Now that he knew his power was not entirely lost to him, Crowley was able to examine the question of what, precisely, Hastur and Dagon might have done. He discussed it with the angel; there wasn’t a wealth of documented research on the ability of celestial or infernal beings to impose injury or disability on one another, but they came at last to the conclusion that once Crowley’s wounds from the encounter were healed, he’d be back to normal and no longer hampered. As to what Crowley might do in the future to avoid or negate such interference, Aziraphale had no good ideas. The question wriggled around uncomfortably in Crowley’s mind, no matter how much he might try to put it aside. 

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

A strange thing happened as Crowley healed: Aziraphale didn’t stop doting on him. Even as his human body needed less and less help taking care of the injuries, Aziraphale continued feeding him, for example. Crowley had begun flatly refusing the thin soups which had filled the early days, but in response the angel had merely begun fetching more and more enticing delicacies to present to him. It would be rude, the demon explained to himself, to turn up his nose at those, too. And despite the fact that Crowley now needed considerably less (if, indeed, any) supervision, Aziraphale still spent a great deal of his time sat in his chair near the demon, reading or doing his accounts or talking. 

One Sunday evening, when the angel was away from the shop, Crowley had hauled his poor frame downstairs, curious as to the state of the shop in its proprietor’s preoccupation. He’d all but crawled to the front door, where he’d seen a sign: Closed Until Further Notice, it said. Family Emergency. His heart had thumped oddly at reading the note, and he’d slumped against the door for a while before pulling himself back upstairs. 

The difficult part of it was not, Crowley admitted, putting up with the angel’s behavior. No, the true tribulation came in trying to appear impatient with the attention. The indulgent warmth that flooded him whenever the angel was being particularly adorable made keeping up his aura of casual disinterest agonizingly difficult. Crowley was famously so bad at accommodating company that he’d not only gotten himself kicked out of Heaven and into Hell, but then he’d gotten himself stationed on this little rock to get away from his fellow demons. In the past, he’d told himself that he simply didn’t see Aziraphale often enough—once or twice in one century, a handful of times in another decade—to chafe at his company (and vice versa). Yet these weeks were proving how foolish and futile that long-running self-deception has been. 

Grow weary of Aziraphale? He now had incontrovertible proof that such a thing was as unlikely as losing his awe of the stars. Like growing bored of the very idea of music. It would be losing a part of himself more fundamental than the grace which had been stripped from him when he fell. It was more than impossible; it was no longer even imaginable. 

It was a biting irony that now, finally faced by the circumstances he’d always assumed were out of his reach and would drive him nutters anyway, Crowley found himself bending his every energy toward not enjoying himself overmuch, lest the whole thing collapse like a poorly made flan.

(Aziraphale had recently brought him a flan of surpassing craftsmanship. Crowley himself had taken only a few bites, as the sight of Aziraphale enjoying the rest was far sweeter and more satisfying.) 

So he grew more waspish. As far as he could see, there was no alternative. He flexed his healing fingers when told to and refused to allow Aziraphale to help, lest he find himself trying to entwine those fingers with the angel’s. He paced around the room to rebuild his strength and snapped when Aziraphale stepped in to steady him for fear he’d never let go of the angel afterwards. Yet his discipline was not perfect, and too often he found himself leaning into the angel’s touch when Aziraphale pushed his hair back from his brow or patted him on the shoulder. 

Around the middle of the ninth week, several truths occurred to Crowley at once: that he was certainly recovered sufficiently, now, to leave the premises under his own steam; that if he did not do so soon, he risked alienating the angel either by being too forthright or too churlish; and that admitting himself healed and leaving would forever end this level of involvement in the angel’s life. He had spent the majority of each day with Aziraphale for more than two months—how many years would it be before he could see him again, after he left? They’d spoken for hours every day—how many times in the next decade would he hear the angel’s voice? 

He disliked the thought of leaving, but saw little choice as he abhorred the thought of being asked to leave. In their past acquaintance, Aziraphale had occasionally indicated that whatever social frivolity they were enjoying should end soon as the angel had business to attend to, and Crowley had largely succeeded in not taking such hints personally. He was very sure he could not summon the same equanimity if the angel politely suggested that he had overstayed his welcome in this case. 

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

The decision was taken out of his hands several days later. It was early in the afternoon and a pleasant summer drizzle drummed lazily against the window. Aziraphale was, as ever, in his chair, although now his stockinged feet were propped up on the bed. Crowley was sprawled on top of the bed trying desperately to project an air of malaise and weakness despite feeling quite recovered. They had been in the middle of some conversation at one point, but had somehow let it slide into a drowsy sort of quietness that Crowley had never known could be enjoyable. 

He was well on his way to a lovely nap when the dreadfully bright sound of an ethereal bell sounded from downstairs, and a voice rang out.

“Aziraphale?”

The angel’s face went bone-white as he snapped his book shut and locked eyes with Crowley. 

“It’s Gabriel,” he hissed in a panicked whisper. “Stay here.” 

Crowley nodded mutely. Aziraphale set down the book and briefly covered one of Crowley’s hands with his own.

“Just a moment!” he called loudly enough to be heard downstairs. With a final look, he stood up and scurried from the room. 

The sounds of conversation drifted up the staircase: sharp, abrupt noises from Gabriel and fluttering responses from Aziraphale that Crowley couldn’t quite make out. Even without words, though, he heard the thread of anxiety in his angel’s voice, and for the first time in months, he remembered—really remembered, not just as an abstract annoyance—why it was they normally stayed so far away from each other. 

That was it, then. What if Gabriel was here about Crowley’s presence? If they’d been seen, if someone had found out—even the merest suspicion—what would that mean for the angel? Even if the archangel’s visit had been incidental, what if he could smell a demon the same way that Crowley could even now begin to detect a whiff of the overripe scent of someone who spent too much time Above?

Another thought caught him—what if Aziraphale didn’t come back with the archangel, but was reminded of the danger of their situation all the same? It’d be over just as surely. Aziraphale would come back upstairs and sigh at him. “Nearly had us there,” he’d say, “Probably best you be off,” and Crowley would have to look at him, would have to thank him, would have to pretend that, yeah, it really was time for me to be getting on, wasn’t it? He’d have to come up with some impossibly insipid parting shot like “At least now I’ll get some peace and quiet” or perhaps a joke about being behind on his temptation quota and—no, it was all just too horrible to face. He couldn’t do any of that. 

Those were his two options, then, if he stayed: condemn Aziraphale, or be condemned and cast out himself.

With barely more than a thought, Crowley vanished from the room and reappeared in the townhouse that was not his home .

[christinky]

Heartbreak and Panic | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, heart break. What fits the theme so far really.

Summary: Steve, Tony and Sam go to take down Hydra and save Bucky. Can they get to him in time? 

A/N: last part of this series! I am doing this part to @autumnstarks writing challenge (The same one I did for part 1) The Prompt is “I promise I’ll keep you safe” (Its at the very end if you search for it) 

You pause. Turning around to see the two boys not following you, instead they are both looking at you with confused looks on their face. “What?” You ask, trying to figure out what their problem is. 

“(Y/N), You can’t go” Steve tells you as he walks towards you, “Hydra is dangerous, you could get killed.” He places his hand on your shoulder to comfort you, to make sure you understood why you have to stay. 

“I actually agree with Cap here,” Tony buts in, “you are staying here.” He walks past the two of you, stopping in the door way. “Get Sam to meet us on the jet, and (Y/N) you can hangout here or go home. Happy can drive you.” Tony says with a smirk, then he turns to head to the jet. 

“Don’t worry (Y/N), we will find him.” Steve’s voice was soft, looking into his eyes you can see how sincere he is. 

You really want to fight their decision, you want to go and help. You know you could take care of yourself, you are not some weak little girl who needs protecting. In your heart you know its not the time though. If you go you would be a distraction to them, they would focus on making sure you are okay rather than the mission. Taking down Hydra once and for all and saving Bucky is a lot more important than you proving a point at the moment. 

Following the boys outside, you decide to take Tony’s offer to have Happy drive you home. You would rather be anxiously waiting at your own home than at Avenger’s tower. Getting into the car, you turn to Steve. You give him a smile with a nod, wishing him luck at to be careful. You don’t have to say anything, he knows what you meant.

*****************************************************************************************************

Back at your apartment, you feel like a total wreck. You lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling in silence. A few hours ago you were miserable because Bucky broke your heart. Now, well there is a little hope. Knowing that Hydra is threatening him helps you understand why he was so mean to you, but part of you still wonders if the whole Hydra thing was just an excuse for him to finally end it with you. Your mind is going crazy with all your different speculations, not to mention whether Bucky meant it or not, you still care about him. Knowing he is in trouble hurts you, you want to make sure he is okay. You would feel horrible if the worst case scenario happens. 

It feels as if hours have gone by, you take a glance at the clock, its only been 15 minutes. You moan in agony as you sit up. A minute or so passes as you just stare blankly off into the distance. Feeling empty, you bring yourself to go shower. You still look like a mess, and now this added stress isn’t going to help your situation. 

The hot water feels good against your skin. It helps waken you, making you feel something again. You close your eyes as you massage the shampoo in your hair. You can feel the knots and tangles from a few days of neglect. The steam from the shower helps calm you. You brush you hair, helping the shampoo rinse out then start to condition. Standing in the shower, you just let the water hit you as you start to think about the events from the last few hours. 

So much happened, the past you have been miserable, beating yourself up, thinking that Bucky never loved you. Now he is missing, Hydra has been harassing him, he is reported dead, and... Then it hit you. Remembering Steve’s words hit you like a ton of bricks. You must have been so focused on everything else you just let them slide. Steve said Bucky was about to propose. 

Thinking of his words help you feel hopeful. That when they do find Bucky, he will take you back, that he really didn’t mean his harsh words, he was only trying to protect you. You start to daydream, thinking of what the ring looks like, how he planned to ask, and how happy your lives would be as Mr. and Mrs. James Barnes. 

Once you run out of hot water you decide to get out of the shower. You get some new lounge clothes to put on and wrap your hair in a towel. Checking the time, about a half hour has passed. You let out an annoyed sigh as your head flies back in sorrow. The agony of waiting is going to be your downfall. 

However, your shower made your feel fresh with a new sense of hope. You decided to use this to try and be productive with everything you have let go in the past week. You put on your favorite throwback, feel good music to try and distract yourself as you clean, do laundry and get shit together. 

*****************************************************************************************************

Thankfully the music helped you. Once you finish you notice that it has now been about 3.5 hours. Your mind feels clear and less stressed being in a clean and tidy apartment. It’s a lot cleaner than normal, it could have been subconscious stress cleaning. Either way the apartment was spotless, you don’t care how you got it like this. 

You plop back on the couch, going back into dangerous territory, you let your thoughts wander. You start to daydream about what those boys are doing, if they found him yet, are they doing okay, then you start daydreaming of the best case scenario. In your heart you know better than to think of the best possible outcome, you can’t help yourself. Thinking of what it will be like when Bucky comes back to you, hugging him close, the sweet reunion you are desperately hoping for. You always know to prepare for the worst and hope for the best, but after this week, you think the worst already happened. What could possibly be worse than that? 

*****************************************************************************************************The sound of your ringtone jerks you awake. You awaken in slight confusion, not meaning to take a nap in the first place. Grabbing your phone, you see that Steve is calling, you heart starts pounding seeing his name on the screen. Before answering you take a deep breath and compose yourself. 

“Did you find him” You blurt out, wanting to get straight to the point, clearly giving away your priority.

“(Y/N)...” He pauses, thats all you need to hear. You know Bucky wasn't there, before you can spin into a downward spiral you try to turn things around. Thinking that if he isn’t there he is still out there, they didn’t find him yet, he hasn’t been hurt. 

“Thats okay! We can find him!” you cut Steve off, trying to come up with an idea. 

“How?” Steve was disappointed, you could tell, Bucky was his best friend after all, “We don’t know where he is, he has no phone, no means of contact. He thinks you hate him most likely, he thinks Hydra is still after him.” 

Thats when it hits you, you get excited thinking that this will work perfectly. “Get Stark to have a press conference!” You shout it louder than you should, revealing that you are obviously sure this will work. 

The confusion in Steve’s voice shows, “And what will that do?” 

“You didn’t let me finish” You snap at him, “The two of you can announce that you have taken down the final Hydra facility, explain that there is reason to believe Bucky is still alive and get people to send in tips, or try to speak to Bucky through the media. The Avengers have a massive platform and following, your fans will spread the word and look out, and most likely it will be on the covers of newspapers and on the news.” You stop to catch your breath, “Steve... I know its a long shot but its our best chance.” 

“Okay, I’ll have Stark send Happy to pick you up.” 

“Me? um no.” You protest, “I don’t talk to press, I’m nobody. Plus it would mean more coming from you.” 

“Thats true but if we want to get through to Bucky, seeing you there with us will help. If he thinks he lost you and you are mad it will only drive him away. If he sees you with us as we plead for his return, he will see that you are willing to forgive him and you still care about him.” 

Rolling your eyes you cave, “Fine” you say unwillingly, “I’m not saying anything though.” 

With that you hang up the phone. You sure hope this works, if not you aren’t sure what will since the last man hunt for him went oh so well. Realizing what just happened you spring off the couch and rush into the bathroom to get your hair and makeup looking decent then get dressed. 

*****************************************************************************************************

During the conference you stood just behind Steve and he spoke to the press. In the perfect spot to be seen in almost all the photos and videos, to make sure you could be noticed. 

Your plan worked great so far, Hydra being defeated and ‘Where is Bucky’ is everywhere. Now its just a waiting game. 

It’s been a week since the conference. You couldn’t help but lose hope, thinking he should have reached out by now. If he hasn’t been seen or have made contact with anyone chances are he doesn’t want to be found or you were wrong and he really is dead. Steve checks in a few times a day, to make sure there hasn’t been any updates on your end. There never was. 

You are forced to go about your day like nothing is wrong, like everything is normal. Hiding the fact that you are falling apart on the inside, your heart is breaking, you are finding it hard to be happy again with everything going on, thinking about everything you lost.

You are having a night in, again. Basically the summary of the past two weeks. The pizza delivery guy and grubhub driver know you pretty well at this point. Tonight you decided to order Mexican delivery. Perfect way to shake up your week of takeout. 

Changing out of your work clothes, you put on some pajamas and tie your hair up. You turn on Brooklyn 99, a feel good show to keep you positive, as you wait for your food. 

A few minutes pass, the wonderful sound of knocking on your door fills the apartment. You leap up, grabbing your purse, you are starving and cant wait to eat. As you walk to the door you try and fish out a tip, you open the door, dropping your purse in shock.

There he is. Bucky. His hair is a mess, he looks like a train wreck. He is looking down, trying to avoid eye contact. It doesn’t stop you from seeing the pain in his eyes. He looks horrible, you heartbreaks for him. However, no amount of heartbreak can hide the joy you feel seeing him again. 

A smile comes across your lips, “Bucky!” You say softly but fully allowing Bucky to sense your excitement. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, lifting his face to see you. You give him a soft smile, holding back tears of joy. “I’m, I’m so sorry (Y/N)” His voice cracks.

Without hesitation you pull him into a hug, you feel him falling apart in your arms. You hold him tight, “Don’t worry, everything will be okay. I promise I’ll keep you safe.” you say as he instantly pulls away. 

You flex your muscles and make an angry face, thats all you needed to do to make him smile. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot how strong you are” His sarcasm hurt a little bit, but he wasn’t wrong. 

You pull him inside, seeing the joy start fading from his face. Hoping to talk things over, just so you guys can get close to how things were before all this happened.

Permanent Taglist: @spiderlingsweb @saturn-aka-six

Heartbreak and Panic Taglist: @crazyinspiration @sadmilku

Other mutuals and those I want to tag :) : @hazsterfield @starksparker @fuck-off-lucas @foreverbeingthunderbuddy @vloggerparker 

[dansphlevels]

Mermaids please, I love mermaids!

I had a lot of fun writing this fic! I definitely want to write more siren/mermaid au’s in the future. Maybe a sequel to this one? Let me know what you guys think! 

Caudal

Day 3 of 12 Days Of PromptsSummary: The cave has two exits. One, a hole in the ceiling, wide enough that Phil could see the stars glitter at night. The other exit was through the pool in the middle of the cave, where they’d come from. The siren leaned against the cave wall a few meters away, tending to his wound. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but the damage was done. Sharks circled in the pool, desperate for a taste of the merman. The hole in the ceiling was too high up, the walls too steep to climb. The sharks circled in the pool of water, ready to eat whatever comes their way. No way out. Phil was stuck, with no food, no fresh water, no hope to escape, and a siren who had tried to drown him not hours before. Length: 8k wordsThemes: merman/mermaid/siren!au, sharks, survival, enemies to ?

Phil was not supposed to be there. 

 A storm was coming. The waves lapped against the coastal sand, hitting it harder than it had the day before. The sky was more gray than blue and more cloudy than clear. The gray had infected the water, turning it darker. Even before the first raindrops fell it was clear that a storm was on its way. 

 So all in all, the beach was not a good place to be. But Phil found himself walking along the sand, his bare feet no longer complaining after all the time he’d spent on that very beach that month. A change of scenery was good for people whose minds were blocked, so he’d heard. So far, the retreat was more of a break from reality, and though no new ideas came to his mind, it was a much-appreciated one. 

 He allowed himself to walk right up to the edge of the sea, letting the waves pound at his legs. They weren’t too big, just forceful, as if pushing him back. 

 The wind blew hard against him as if agreeing. It whipped against his white t-shirt and tan cargo pants, blowing his raven hair back. He wasn’t in swimming trunks, but it hardly mattered. No phone- it had been left in Manchester, very purposefully- and no wallet- no need for one, his rental house wasn’t far away. Really, no reason why he shouldn’t go for a quick dip. 

 He took a few steps forward, and all around him it grew quieter. The birds calmed, the wind dyed down, even the water seemed to be less harsh. 

 He took another step forward, and heard a strange sound, something that didn’t in any way belong in the ocean. It was… a piano? 

 Phil’s feet walked forwards on their own free will, diagonal along the coast towards the rock formations a half kilometer away. They were shaped like mountains but much, much smaller, only a short hike to the top. Phil had wondered why no one ever came to this beach, and over the past few days being here he’d decided it must be because of the intrusive rock formations. They were ugly, and there were lots of things like that under the water when you got over too far. Bad for surfing, and no good for pictures. The beach was completely deserted, every day of the week, even when it didn’t storm.

 These thoughts went through Phil’s mind as he walked, the gentle playing of the piano becoming less faint as he grew closer. Soon, he was up to his waist in water and started swimming, doing a smooth front stroke towards the noise. The ocean stilled for him, as if it was listening to the playing as well. 

 He swam out further than he planned to, but there wasn’t a single thought in his mind that made him want to turn back. He had to find out where the noise was coming from. It was a beautiful tune, unlike anything he’d ever heard before. The notes ran together easily, enticing and beautiful and perfect. Whoever was playing the instrument must have a true passion for it, and a talent as well. 

 There were large outcroppings of rocks sticking out of the water that Phil had to swim around. He slid in between them, careful to keep his legs from touching the sharp, dark grey stones on either side. The area was badly polluted, with soda cans and plastic bags floating in the water. A fisherman’s net slid against his legs, catching on his foot. Phil had to pull out his pocket knife and cut it. The pocket knife was for opening clams, but luckily, it worked, and Phil was free from the ropes. 

 Phil began to swim faster as the source of music came closer. The piano keys tapped delicately one after another, going in his ears and circulating through his entire body. Every cell, every tissue yearned to go closer, begged to find the source. It was The Answer, to everything he’d wanted and everything he was searching for. This was why he was here, this was the reason he was alive. 

 A rowboat was wrecked against one of the huge slabs of rocks. A large chunk had been taken out of it by a mouth the size of Phil’s torso. He kept swimming, faster. He had to get to the noise, he had to get to the music. 

 He swam past the last rock outcropping, into the open sea. The music pulsed and hummed, all around him, but when he turned in a full circle he saw nothing, no piano anywhere. But it was here, he knew that with all his being and all his mind, it was here. 

 He held his breath, and dived under, opening his eyes underwater. He looked around desperately, his actions becoming more and more anxious. Where was it? He had to find it, this was The Answer! He needed The Answer! 

 The water was so deep he couldn’t see the bottom. Nearby, there was a huge wall of rocks, sharpened and deadly, part of the mountains that made this bay so ugly. But where was the music? Where was it?!

 Phil came back up, gasping for air. It had begun to rain, droplets of water hitting the sea in little ripples of motion.

He treaded water, catching his breath, his heart pounding in his ears as he realized the music had stopped. Not a bird dared to chirp, nor the waves dare to splash. Everything was perfectly silent.

 Something wrapped around his leg and Phil had no time to scream as he was ripped into the water. Someone had grabbed him, and Phil yanked and tried to kick or pull away or do something but whatever it was had grabbed ahold of him and wasn’t letting go. Bubbles raced to the surface as they descended so quickly Phil’s ears popped and he heard the thumping of a drum in his head. 

 Something had grabbed him, a slick form that felt almost like a human hand, wrapping around his ankle tightly, pulling him down. And he was going to die. 

 The thought made his brain go into overdrive, it’s blurry waterlogged HTML code sending mass orders of panic. Get away get away get away get away was blared through loudspeakers on repeat, his entire body screaming in terror and agony as they descended so rapidly the pressure made his insides crumple like a soda can. 

 And then they were slowing, the decent smoother. This was the moment before the white of death, where everything slowed as your heart prepared to stop. Phil’s arms went down to his sides, working on orders from the shred of his brain that still worked. He fumbled with his pockets. 

 Phil looked down and almost blacked out. 

 The tail was the color of crystalline swamps, a shade of green unlike anything Phil had ever seen. Fins ran off of it, flowing naturally in the dark water. A hand, a human hand the color of milk but slightly sickly green was wrapped around his ankle, pulling him down. The figure, the monster, the mermaid, the whatever it was, pulled him deeper. A creature of terror, of darkness, of death, it swam downwards towards the ocean floor and Phil’s immediate death.

 The tail brushed against his legs. 

 Phil pulled out the object from his pocket and opened it. Before he had time to consider it, he plunged the knife into the creature’s tail.

 Horrible dark blue liquid the color of poison poured out from the wound, and the creature let go in pain, it’s body writhing with agony. For the first time, Phil saw its face, human, a boy’s face twisted in pain and horrible anger, pointed teeth bared and ready to rip his throat out as Phil tried desperately to swim away. It swam to him in a burst of motion, grabbing him and pulling him down, when something changed and it shoved him away. The water was turning sickly blue from the blood, and the creature was looking at something in the distance. Then he turned, swimming away at an incredible speed away from whatever was there, and Phil may have been drowning but he knew danger when he saw it. He followed, hurriedly, kicking with all his might and praying that he wouldn’t drown. His lungs begged to burst, his whole body screaming in pain at the pressure. 

 The mermaid swam into one of the caves formed by the rocks, and Phil followed, desperately kicking and praying and drowning all at once because he was a talented individual who refused to die like this. 

 The light of day was getting closer, and he swam upwards, letting out his final puff of breath and begging the God he didn’t believe in to save him. 

 And then there was light, and then there was air, and Phil gasped and swam to the edge of the pool, trembling hands gripping onto rock. He didn’t know what was chasing them, but he knew that if it was bad enough to scare the merman, then he didn’t want to meet it. 

 Phil dragged himself onto land, coughing and then vomiting, the taste of salt wedged underneath his tongue and down his vocal cords. He crawled away from the pool of water, his entire body shaking with cold/fear/exertion/pain. 

 Nothing came out of the water to kill him. He was safe, for now. 

 Phil had finally stopped throwing up and managed to slump to the ground a few feet away, his entire body aching horribly.

 "Hello there. I’m sorry I didn’t drown you, this would have been much easier for the both of us if you’d just died like you were supposed to.“

—

 Phil sat against the stone wall of the cave, his feet resting on the sandy ground. 

 Across from him, on the other side of the pool, lay the creature. He was… well, Phil knew what he was. But he wasn’t sure if he could admit it. 

 The creature’s top half was almost human. He had a male torso, and though he had muscles, he also seemed skinny to the point of malnutrition. His skin was extremely pale, with an almost green tint. If you looked at his face and just his face, you might call him handsome, but possibly ill. Damp brown curls hung over his eyes, and he pushed them back in annoyance.

 Phil wished that was all. But it wasn’t. 

 Under his belly button, where one’s stomach would begin to curve into a pelvis, the skin turned scaly. Instead of having legs, he had one massive tail, long and dark, swampy green and onyx black. 

 "You’re a mermaid,” Phil said aloud, still staring at the boy. 

 He huffed. “I’m not.” His voice croaked, and he cleared his throat, the same way Phil had to do whenever he hadn’t been using his voice for a while. 

 "Then what are you?“

 The creature- the man- the not mermaid?- sat up a little straighter, showing off his pale green inner arms. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Come on, you know. I was the one who grabbed you. You don’t look horribly dumb, just make a guess.” 

 "You’re a merman,“ Phil suggested, his voice monotone. His eyes flickered back and forth between the creature’s tail and his eyes. Dark, very very dark, probably brown. 

 He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a mermaid, or a merman, or whatever else you’re suggesting. Mermaids don’t exist anywhere but German fairytales and old pirates stories. And in case you haven’t noticed, I exist.” 

  I noticed. “Then what are you?” 

 He smiled again, like he was imagining trying to drown Phil and succeeding. “Well, I’m a siren, obviously. You heard my music.”

 The puzzle pieces clicked together all too late. “The piano music.” 

 "That was me,“ he agreed. “I always think, surely this time they won’t fall for it. Someone will have enough sense not to go out to sea in search of a piano of all things. And every time, I’m mistaken.” He shrugged, and the end of his tail, the semi-transparent parts flapped nervously.

 Phil looked into the water. The cave was about the size of a small room, circular, with most of the space being taken up by the pool in which they’d small up in. Above, it rose in the shape of a mountain, with a giant crater at the top where they could see the gray sky through. 

 The water lapped at the constraints of the pool upsettingly, dark and blue without any green at all. Far below, Phil could see something move. 

 "Something’s-“

 "Sharks,” the siren supplied. “They love the taste of sirens. Can smell our blood from miles away, and come racing.” He crinkled his nose in annoyance. “Rude of you to stab me. It will take at least two or three days to heal, and who knows how long the sharks will stick around for.”

 "Sharks,“ Phil repeated, still staring down into the murky depths, trying to make out any features. 

 "Yes,” the siren agreed, as if talking to a small child. 

 "And you’re a siren. Which is different from a mermaid, apparently.“ 

 "Yes.” Now he looked slightly annoyed. Phil wondered if he’d try to drown him again. “Mermaids are fictional. And sirens…”

 "…play piano music in the middle of the bay,“ Phil finished. "And are attractive snacks for sharks.” 

 He was definitely going to drown Phil. 

 "You act as if I’m the bad one. Like, out of the three of us in this cave, I’m the worst one.“ 

 "Three of us?”

 "Including the shark. Though there’s likely more than one. I can see better if I stick my head underwater, but right now my goal is not to die, so I’m not going to do that.“ 

 Phil backed up from the pool, going back to his original position against the cave. He bent his knees, bringing them to his chest. "Yeah, but you’re the one who tried to drown me. That’s pretty bad in my books.” 

 "You’re the one that tried to drown me,“ he corrected. "With carbon emissions and pollution. Honestly, have you ever thought about your actions? That maybe dumping thousands of tons of sewage into the ocean each year might be a bad idea? Because I have some news for you, some of us have to live in that ocean, and we can’t do that very well when you’re destroying our ecosystems!”

 Phil blinked. 

 Dan stared back at him, not daring to look away. 

 "Nerd.“ 

 "Oh my god. Oh my god. Wait ‘til I get my hands on you, you slimy little land bastard-” 

 "I prefer Phil, actually.“ Phil smiled, tilting his head a little. His skull ached, like someone was trying to hammer new information into it. Maybe he was seeing things. After all, he did just inhale a lot of seawater. 

 Neither spoke for a while. Eventually, the siren stopped staring at Phil and instead tended to his injury. 

 Phil tried to mind his own business for a few minutes, observing the cave. He doubted the merman siren could get out by a land exit, but he probably could. He looked around, and then eventually stood, walking around his side of the cave. He was able to walk all the way over to where the siren lay without any difficulty, but he’d already almost died once today. The last thing he wanted was to be thrown to the sharks while being lectured about carbon emissions. 

 Every once in awhile, Phil caught the siren looking at him. Whenever he caught Phil’s eye he would quickly look away, back to his wound. 

 Finally, Phil decided he had to accept it. There were only two exits to the cave: the pool and the hole in the roof. Unfortunately, the pool contained a shark hungry for a fish-human hybrid, and Phil didn’t doubt that he’d settle for just a human. And the walls were tilted towards the hole in the ceiling, making them impossible to climb. It was like the inside of a volcano, Phil realized, but with a pool of water instead of magma. 

 He tried to be discrete about looking at his company in the cave. But as he watched him work, he realized something. 

 "You took the knife out?” He asked before he could stop himself. 

 The siren huffed, pushing his brown curls away from his face in annoyance. “Clearly.” 

 "You should have kept it in. It was the only thing keeping your blood from flowing out, you’re supposed to leave it in until you get to a vet.“ 

 The creature looked up so pointedly Phil wondered if he should make things easier and just jump in the water on his own terms. "A…. vet?” 

 "You know, like a person who cares for animals.“ 

 "I know what a vet is,” he snapped. “But I’m offended that you’d suggest I might need one.” 

 Phil blinked. “I mean… you’re tail…” 

 He brushed it aside. “You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I took the knife out already. In the water. That’s why I bled so much, that’s why the sharks came, and that’s why we’re in this mess.” 

 "Because you took the knife out?“

 "Because you stabbed me.”

 Phil huffed. This wasn’t getting anywhere.  

 "How’d you know that anyway? The knife thing?“ 

 Phil crossed his arms, looking down at the surface of the water, turned gray from the sky’s reflection. "I went to school to be a vet. I ended up doing something else, but I still ended up learning a lot of stuff like that.” 

 He stared at the sand, digging in it with his fingers. It was true. He’d ended up changing to studying language and film after he’d gone to see surgery performed on a horse and passed out. 

 He was so deep in thought he hadn’t even realized the siren was saying something. “Feel…. Feel! Erm, Fell? Feel? Phil!” He snapped, and Phil looked up. “Phil!” 

 "What?“ 

 "Stop digging around and come help me! God, you’re a vet, I’m not supposed to have to ask.” 

 Phil stood, looking at him unsure. “Will you drown me?” 

 "Not until after you help me.“ 

 "No.” He crossed his arms tightly, hoping the merman couldn’t see how nervous he was. “Promise you won’t try to kill me. At all. Ever.” 

 He whined. “But Feeeeeellll.”

 "It’s Phil.“ 

 "But Phiiiiiiiiillllllll.”

 "Do you want help or not?“ 

 He pouted. "Fine.” 

 "Swear it. On your tail,“ Phil added quickly.

 He continued to pout, but gave in. "I swear on my tail that I won’t try and kill you again if you heal me.” 

 "If I help you,“ Phil corrected. "I’ll do my best, but I have no supplies.” 

 He groaned. Phil decided it was enough and walked over and knelt next to him.

The wound probably looked worse than it actually was. Even so, it didn’t look too bad. “Well, you’re not bleeding much.” 

 "Wow, thanks for that professional advice.“ 

 Phil ignored him. "Does this hurt?” He reached over, carefully touching the area around the wound. It was a little darker blue-green than the area around it. Phil realized too late that it was stained with the siren’s blood. 

 “It doesn’t really hurt,” he announced.

 Phil nodded. "That’s good. Um… you should… apply pressure.” 

 "Great.“ He seemed unamused but did so anyway. 

 Phil’s mouth tasted like seawater. He was on one knee next to the creature, right next to his tail. It was even more beautiful up close. So dark green it was almost black. Now that Phil was closer, he could see flicks of gold in it, especially around the area where the tail met with his skin. 

 "You’re staring,” the siren noted. 

 "Sorry.” Phil tried to stand, but his eyes caught onto the fins at the very end of the tail, lighter greens and blues with golden veins. "Can I touch it?” 

 "Um, what?” 

 "Touch your… fins. The flipper things.” Phil pointed. His tongue seemed to have forgotten how to work.

 "My… caudal fins? Fine, just be very gentle. They tear easily.“ 

 Phil crawled over and knelt next to the flippers. Most mermaid pictures and drawings he’d seen depicted the end of the tail, where a human’s feet would be, to be two elongated flippers, like those ones that some freedivers used. Or maybe it was one flipper, shaped like a v. 

 The siren’s ‘caudal fins’ were not like that. It was as if he had multiple pairs of mermaid fins all stacked on top of each other.  Smooth and soft like fabric, folded together in a confusing mess. 

 Phil reached out, and touched it. All of sudden the fins shot out, jumping and unfolding to form one massive flipper in the shape of a math bracket {. 

 It unfolded so fast and took up so much room that Phil was almost pushed into the pool of water. 

 His eyes widened. "Woah.” 

 It was clear the siren wasn’t sure what to think. He had a perfect poker face, like he was just observing Phil, trying to decide what to make of him. 

 There was a rip in his tail, a little hole by the ends, which were a little torn themselves. “What’s this from?” 

 "Fishhook. Like I said, you humans have no respect for the creatures of the sea.“ 

 He folded his tail once more, pulling what would have been his knees up to his chest and leaning on it. "Okay, now it’s my turn. Come here.” 

 Phil gave him a strange look but crawled over anyways. 

 "Let me see your… legs. That’s the word. And your… feet? Those.“ 

 Phil hesitated. "Wait. I need to know your name first.” 

 "Why would you need to know that?“

 "I don’t like strangers touching me. Just a general rule.” 

 The siren stared at him intently. “Fine. My name is Danye.” He pronounced it like ‘dawn-yay’. “But you can call me Dan, since humans lack vocal ability. My pronouns are he/him.”

 Phil looked up. “I’d kind of assumed that already.” 

 "Rude. You should never assume someone’s gender.“ 

 "I mean- I wouldn’t think that mer- sirens would care about that sort of thing.” 

 Dan gave him a look like he wasn’t sure how much to tell him. Then he shrugged. “Meh. You’ll probably die in the next few days anyways. You would care a lot more about pronouns if none of the creatures of your species had penises.” 

 Phil found his eyes drifting down to Dan’s waist. “Um… you don’t-” 

 "Have a dick? Oh yeah, sure, let me pull my tail down like a pair of pants. It’s around here somewhere… Obviously not, you fern. And don’t ask how we reproduce, because I’m not going to tell you.“ Dan patted the spot next to him. "Come here.” 

 Phil decided to just listen, scooting over. Dan quickly grabbed his ankles, dragging him a little closer. “Your legs are filthy,” he noted. 

 "What? No, that’s just hair.“ 

 Dan looked at him like he was trying to decide if he was lying. "You grow hair out of your legs?”

 "Um, yeah? And out of our arms, and chests, and stuff. And most guys my age can grow beards, if they try. I can only get a weird neck beard.“

 Dan touched his neck, as if imagining hair sprouting out from it. As he moved his arm, Phil realized his armpits were completely bare of hair.

 Eventually, Dan went back to inspecting his legs. Apparently, he’d known what toes were but never realized there was such thing as toenails. He prodded at Phil’s ankle bones and felt his knees. "It’s unnatural,” he decided finally. “And frankly, I’m uncomfortable.” 

 "Hey! You’re the one who’s part fish!“ 

 "And you’re the one sitting by the shark-water, so I’d watch it,” Dan threatened. “Can you see them?” 

 Phil leaned over, looking into the water. A figure circled beneath, closer than it had before. “Only one, I think.” 

 Dan rolled over onto his stomach, a real process with his large tail. He dragged himself over to the pool by his forearms, army crawling close enough to see over it. 

 "How long until it leaves?“ 

 Dan shook his head. "A few days, at least. Sharks will do just about anything for a taste of sirens.”

 Phil’s stomach ached. “What do we do?” 

 "Wait it out.“ His voice was calm, which would have been reassuring if he didn’t look so worried. 

—-

 The rest of the day was spent waiting. They were shaded from the sun, but it still came in from the cave, glittering against the water. 

 Phil retreated back to his side of the cave and laid on his back, staring up at the walls curving up to the hole in the ceiling. The walls weren’t smooth, but he doubted he could climb out that way. It would take upper body strength that he just didn’t have.

 He didn’t dare nap. It might be difficult for the merman to crawl over across the sand, but Phil didn’t doubt that he could. And, as casual as their interaction earlier was, this was still the creature that had tried to drown him. Phil knew better than to trust the creature too easily. 

 At some point in the afternoon, Phil rolled over onto his side and found Dan laying on his side as well, staring at him from across the water. When he caught his gaze, Dan scowled and rolled over, staring at the wall. 

 Phil watched the sharp edges of his back, observing the dark contours and the greenish tint of it. Then, lower, as the skin turned into thick green-black scales that lead to his tail, longer than human legs, with the folded caudal flipper at the end. He moved his flipper around nervously, tapping it against the sandy ground. At one point, his fin twitched, launching a pile of sand into the water so aggressively Phil wondered how strong his tail was. It must have been incredibly powerful. He remembered the hands wrapping around his feet and the force pulling him down so quickly there was hardly any resisting it. Dan had been able to do that with hardly any exertion. 

 His stomach ached slightly as the day went on. He would have been okay if he hadn’t thrown up his breakfast- a painful side effect of almost drowning. 

 Phil kept thinking that they’d start talking again, but the siren seemed intent with ignoring him. Finally, the long day was over and Phil could feel his eyelids weighing down, begging to be closed. He wanted sleep. After a short struggle, he gave in, hoping that he’d wake up in the morning. 

—-

 Dan did not kill him. 

 When Phil woke up, Dan was leaning over the pool, staring into it. He glanced up when he heard Phil stir, then went back to looking into the water. 

 "There’s more,” Dan noted. 

 It took Phil a few moments to process. “More what?” 

 "Sharks. I see at least two, but I think there’s a third one.“ 

 Phil could feel his stomach rumble. "What do we do?”

 "Wait it out.” 

 "How long?” 

 "As long as we need to,“ Dan snapped. "Unless you want to jump into the pool and try swimming.”

 "Would it work?“

 "No. You humans are miserable swimmers, you’re painfully slow, what with your deformed fins. They’re horrible for propelling you.” 

 Phil took a wild guess that Dan was talking about his feet. “We don’t have fins. They aren’t deformed, they just are made for land use. I can swim better than you can walk.” 

 "You want to test that theory?” Dan gestured to the shark-infested pool. "Be my guest.” 

 Phil stood slowly, brushing the sand off of his clothes. “If you’re so intent on me dying, why didn’t you just kill me in my sleep? You could have tossed me to the sharks and been done with it.” 

 The siren looked more hesitant now that Phil was standing. He had to look up to see him.

 "I didn’t throw you to the sharks,“ he explained slowly, "because then they’d win. I hate sharks. Even more than I hate humans. If I kill you, trust me, I’m not going to let the sharks get something out of it.” 

 That did not reassure Phil. “But you wouldn’t kill me anyway,” he reasoned. “Because we made the deal.” 

 "I agreed not to kill you if you healed me. Well, guess what.” Dan moved a little ways back from the water, bringing his tail around for Phil to see. He pointed at the gash, which appeared to have scarred over, but was definitely not healed. “You didn’t heal me.” 

 Phil ran his fingers through his fringe, brushing the sand out of it. “Healing takes time. What did you expect, that I’d just say the word and it’d be fixed?” 

 Dan looked at the ground.

 Phil realized too slowly. “You actually thought that?” 

 "You humans are insufferable,“ Dan defended. "Too busy polluting the ocean to explore it. There are things down there that would make you curl up in a ball and cry, Phil. Don’t act like you know my world.” 

 "Wait- what? There’s something down there that could heal wounds that quickly?”

 "Shut up.” Dan pulled his tail back behind him protectively, slumping onto his stomach. “It’ll be at least two more days until the sharks go.” 

 Phil’s stomach flipped inside out. “What?”

 "The sharks. They know they have me trapped.” He shrugged. "We just have to wait it out.” 

 Phil could feel his breath quicken as panic set in. “I can’t… I can’t survive that long! I need food-” 

 "You can’t go a few days without food? Wimp.“

 "But I definitely need water. A human can only survive two, maybe three days without water, and even then they might go mad.”

 Dan looked at Phil like he was trying to decide if he was lying or not. “There’s water right here.” 

 "Freshwater! I can’t drink salt water!“ 

 Dan’s voice mimicked Phils, getting higher and louder. "Why not?” 

 "Because- ugh! Because humans can’t process salt! It’ll be worse than drinking nothing because the salt will dry up all the water!“ 

 "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you humans evolve to not be able to drink salt water?” 

 "Stop acting like you’re the normal ones! Why would anyone want to drink salt water?“ 

 Phil hadn’t realized, but he’d been stepping forwards, getting closer to the siren. He saw Dan’s eyes widened, then he lashed out, pulling himself up and whipping his tail around, knocking Phil off of his feet. Phil yelped as he collapsed. 

 Apparently, Dan could move fast on land when he wanted to. Within a moment he was on top of Phil, grappling with him and trying to pin him down. 

 Phil tried to slide out from under him, fighting and slapping his hands away. Dan’s tail was extremely heavy, even heavier than he’d previously thought. 

 Dan grabbed something off to his side, and raised it above his head, preparing to strike. Phil processed it in a split second- the gleam of the blade, the way it was still stained from dark blue blood- and before he knew what he was doing, he’d knocked it out of Dan’s hand. It fell into the pool with a plop.

 Dan jumped off of him, reaching out to the water desperately. "That was our only weapon.” 

 Phil sat up, moving away from the siren in a hurry. “Yeah, well you should’ve have tried to stab me!” 

 "You shouldn’t have been preparing to attack me!”

 "I wasn’t!” 

 "Oh really?“ Dan mocked him, squaring his shoulders and sitting up straighter. "You stood up, made yourself look tall and then stalked towards me. If that’s not preparing for an attack, I don’t know what is!” 

 "I was just arguing with you! I wasn’t going to attack you!“ 

 Dan’s tail fin fanned out fully, unfolding into a huge fan. He cursed in a language Phil didn’t recognize, and quickly retracted them. "It doesn’t matter. What is done is done.” 

 He rolled over onto his back, still scowling. “You humans. You’re always right, aren’t you?” 

 Phil was careful to sit down, not wanting to make the same mistake as last time. “What do you have against humans?” 

 “Everything. Do you even know how much of a global footprint you leave? You’re killing our earth.“ 

 “Well, you’re… you’re… you’re over hunting the fish!” Phil retorted. In reality, he hadn’t known sirens even existed until the day prior, much less how they affected the environment. But based off of the offended expression Dan made, he’d hit a sore spot.

 “For your information, we work very hard to conserve our species diversity. The Tecopa fish extinction was an accident! Things like that can’t always be avoided!” 

 “Excuses excuses.”

 “Don’t act all innocent, we may have caused the extinction of Tecopa, but your species killed the Dodo bird! Do you know how upset I was when I found that out?” 

 “The dodo bird has been dead for centuries!”

 “How long do you think it took me to figure that out?“ 

 Phil paused, his eyes growing wide. “How old are you?” 

 Dan gnawed on his bottom lip. The longer he hesitated, the more Phil freaked out. Could he actually have been alive when the dodo bird was around? Was he a hundred years old? Two hundred?

 “I’m twenty-five.“ 

 “Oh.”

 “Do I look old to you?“ 

 “No! You look… young, in fact.”

 “Young?“ 

 “Good! You look- good, like, not little or anything-” 

 “Are you calling me fat?“ 

 Phil covered his face with his hands. Dan didn’t say anything for a few moments, then scooted over, the sound of his tail dragging on sand obvious and entirely without grace. 

 Dan tapped on his arm. "Phil!” He whispered urgently. He still pronounced it sort of wrong, like he was trying to say Feel. “It was supposed to be a joke! I forgot how delicate humans are!” 

 "Oh, shut up.“ Phil moved his hands away from his face, smiling at the ground beside him. 

 Dan poked at his arm again, equally urgently. "How old are you?” 

 Phil brushed aside his fringe, looking at the boy’s troublemaker face. “Twenty-nine. Almost thirty.” 

 "How long do humans tend to live?“ 

 "You know about ecological footprints but you don’t have how long humans live?” 

 Dan shook his head. 

 "Guess.“ 

 "Um… Forty years.” 

 "Higher.“

 "Four-hundred years.”

 "Lower.“ 

 "Two hundred?”

 "Usually around seventy,“ Phil supplied, "But it depends. My grandpa lived to ninety-three. How long do sirens usually live?” 

 Dan shrugged. “I don’t actually really know. No one really dies of natural causes, it usually because of predators or fishing nets, that sort of thing.”

 Phil licked his lips. They were beginning to crack. He needed water soon. “That’s… pretty sad, actually.” 

 He shrugged again. “Depends on how you look at it. On the bright side, no one ever really grows old. You’re as strong as you are strong for, and survive as long as you can survive for. Then, when you aren’t strong enough anymore… nature takes its course.” He was playing with a shell in the sand, digging in it absently. “How many sharks?” 

 Phil peered over. “Three. They’re closer to the surface now.” He leaned down a bit more. “They’re a lot closer, actually. And… I think there’s more underneath.” 

 "That’s weird. There’s no reason for-“ Dan stopped mid-sentence, his face going even paler, if that was possible. "Oh no. The knife. Did it have any of my blood on it still?” 

 Phil’s eyes widened. “Yeah. But there was just a little-” 

 "That’s all they need,“ Dan mourned. "They know I’m here, and they’ll be desperate for a taste. No way they’re leaving anytime soon now.” 

 Phil’s stomach turned over. His mouth tasted like salt water and sandpaper. “How long?”

 "Dunno. But we might have to find another way out.“ 

 In perfect unison, they both looked up at the hole in the cave ceiling.

—-

 It was the next day. Phil felt faint and light-headed, and his stomach and head ached. 

 They talked quietly. Every so often, a fin would break the surface of the water. The shark would swim a few slow laps, testing it out, and then submerge once more. Every time one came that far up, their conversation paused, and didn’t resume until it disappeared again. 

 Meanwhile, Dan tried to convince Phil to climb the cave walls. "It’s our only option!” 

 "Dan, do you see them? There’s no way I’ll be able to without falling in!” 

 Dan huffed, his caudal fin bouncing up and down in agitation. It was partially unfolded, maybe half of its full size, and every once in awhile it twitched, closing and opening like the shutter of a camera. Though he didn’t complain, Phil knew Dan was suffering the effects of hunger as well. He was incredibly skinny, only muscle and bones. Maybe he stored fat in his tail, energy to use for later. 

 If they were stuck in the cave for much longed, Dan would survive for more time than Phil would. He wasn’t suffering from dehydration; he still could drink the ocean water, while Phil knew better. He couldn’t filter out the salt like the siren could, it would just make everything so much worse. 

 They stopped arguing as a shark’s dorsal fin peaked through the water. Phil could see its full body through the thin layer of water; it was probably almost as long as he was, and much wider. And there were even bigger ones lower, ones that couldn’t fit in the little pool easily and had to wait further down. 

 It’s fin submerged, and they continued. "It’s our only chance,” Dan argued. “If we stay here, we’ll die. If we try to swim out, we’ll definitely die. You especially, with your deformed…. foot things. This is the only chance we have.” 

 Phil stared up at the ceiling, at least a dozen meters up. “What good would it do you? It’s not like you could get out that way.” 

 "True,“ Dan agreed, "But you could give me provisions. Lower them down. Food, maybe a weapon. Trust me, I don’t like the odds much either, but it’s our best bet.” 

 "I won’t. I can’t do it Dan, I can’t…. what’s that noise?“

 Dan tried for a blank expression. "What noise?” 

 Phil was looking around, desperate to find it. “Its…. it’s music! Don’t you hear it? It’s… a piano!” 

 Dan shrugged, not saying anything. His fingers tapped out a gentle melody against the sand, and he watched as Phil’s eyes widened, and then looked up. 

 "It’s coming from up there,“ he realized. "I have to find it.” 

 His hands were already on the rocks, searching for hand holds. He soon pulled himself up, his feet finding holds. 

 He climbed slowly towards the source of music, getting increasingly frustrated the longer it took. “I have to find it…” 

 Meanwhile, the sharks grew more agitated. They churned, going up to the surface and dipping back down. Two sharks circled, tail to tail, and Dan scooted away from the water, his breathing increasing. His fingers didn’t stop tapping, tapping so lightly he was hardly touching the sand. 

 Phil grunted. His hands were shaking slightly, whether from the stress of not being with the noise or the exertion it wasn’t know. Possibly- likely- both. 

 He was so high that the cave walls had sloped over the pool. If he were to fall, he’d fall into the shark-infested waters. 

 Dan began humming, a low and quiet melody that went along with the gentle tapping of piano keys. Phil cried out, grabbing for another ledge, only centimeters deep. He forcibly pulled himself up. He was only holding on out of pure willpower. 

 Dan’s willpower, to be exact.  

 Over the courage of a few long, painful minutes, Phil managed to climb the increasingly steep cave walls. At the top, it was too smooth for him to find a single handhold, so he jumped. Dan caught his breath as he leaped, pushing up and away from the wall, hands reaching out frantically for the edge of the crater. 

 He grabbed it, swinging as he gripped onto it with both hands, trying to pull himself up. Dan exhaled, “You’ve got this!” 

 But he realized too late. Dan’s fingers were idle, and the music was replaced with an eerie, ringing silence. 

 Phil’s eyes snapped open, like they’d been closed the whole time. His grip loosened, and he dropped like a stone into the frothing water. 

—-

 It happened too fast for Dan to have time to make a decision. He had to go with his gut, and before Phil had even completely hit the water Dan’s gut was throwing himself over the edge into the water. He grabbed Phil and swam. 

 The sharks were so surprised that for a split second, maybe a fourth of a second, they didn’t react. Then they pounced. 

 But by then, Dan was already at the bottom of the pool, swimming with all his might and tearing out of the cave and into the open ocean. He didn’t dare look back, but knew that the sharks were right on his tail- literally. 

 Phil was limp in his grasp, his legs bumping against Dan’s tail with every beat of it. Dan could feel Phil’s heart beating through his tshirt- or maybe that was his own heartbeat, thumpthumpthumping in his head. 

 He risked glancing behind him as a shark opened its huge maw, ready to snap. Dan dove to the side, barely avoiding having his flipper bitten off entirely. His caudal fin was completely unfolded, beating against the water as his body gyrated rapidly, swimming so fast he could hardly breathe. 

 Another sharp snapped at him, and he dove to the side, narrowly slipping in between two outcroppings of rocks. The waters were becoming more and more dangerous, floating with pollution. Huge outcroppings of rock jutted out from beneath the seafloor, and Dan swam in between them, his entire body made for this type of swimming. Still, the sharks gained. He only had a little time before he made a wrong move and then it was over- for both him and the limp boy in his arms. 

 Dan ducked under a piece of sinking wreckage, weaving in and out of the huge rock formations so fast that his tail whipped against one of them, stinging with pain. 

 Phil was so limp in his arms that he wondered if the boy was even still alive. Then Dan cursed- he’d forgotten humans couldn’t breathe underwater! How long did he have? Surely, Phil could survive another few minutes, right?

 A shark grabbed part of his tail, and Dan wanted to scream as a section of his caudal fin was ripped off, tearing like tissue paper. He swam faster, looking for anything, anywhere he could go to ditch them… 

 He spotted it. It was too far up, but he’d have to make it work. With a ginormous shark right on his tail, Dan dove to the bottom of the sea. At the very last moment, he arched his back and curved, swimming upwards with more force than he’d ever used in his entire life. 

 They broke the surface of the water with so much speed they soared upwards, then fell to the earth and landed on an outcropping of grassy land with a horrible thump. Dan felt Phil slip from his hands, and without any way to stop himself, tumbled a few meters down a grassy hill, sputtering and grunting as his body pounded against the ground. 

 Finally, he came to a stop as they land flattened out. He slowly did one last roll, then managed to groan and stop himself on his back. The sun was so bright it was almost blinding; the sky was so blue it was as if it was trying to imitate the sea. 

 Dan coughed, sitting up. He flexed his caudal fin, slowly extending it to its full length. He’d only lost a small section. It left the end of his fin torn and ripped at, but he knew it would still work, and since it was his fin instead of his actual tail, he didn’t lose any blood. 

 Up on the hill, Phil was finishing throwing up bile. He stood, shakier than ever, and turned, looking down the hill to where Dan lay in a heap, covered in grass and out of the water, but still very much alive. 

12 Days Of Prompts Masterlist / Fic Masterlist / Request A Fic

[cyanidefactory]

The Nautical Twilight Of Disaster

A/N ok so this is part 2. i loved writing this, i hope y’all enjoy it just as much. no cliffhanger but there’s a cliff of thrill at the next chapter

word count: 10,199

The girl woke up, fresh morning sunlight seeping through the blinds and warming up her skin from the cold air. She smiled as she saw Sougo, still peacefully asleep. She knew she had to leave soon, he told her the other officers would be up at 6.  Kissing his cheek gently, careful not to wake up the captain, she scooted away from his grip on her waist. She really wanted to stay, wait for him to wake up and smile at her, she had goosebumps just at the thought of it. But she knew she couldn't.

Tsuki gasped as she saw her black yukata, abandoned on the floor. 

That bastard, she thought, shooting a side glance at the asleep Sougo. He had used her clothing to clean up after their activities last night, and she was not pleased. Rolling her eyes, she got up and went through his closet, her fingers touching his police uniform jackets. She pulled out a plain white dress shirt, and shrugged. She put on her lingerie and the shirt. If he was going to cum on her yukata, she was going to steal his uniform. Besides, it's not like she had a choice. What was she supposed to wear? Smiling deviously, she buttoned the shirt up, laughing quietly as it dropped mid-thigh, almost like a yukata. Perfect.  

After she put on her socks, she grabbed her dark red obi that was (thankfully) undamaged unlike the rest of her clothes, and tied it around her waist to keep herself from looking like a one night stand, which she technically was. Unless, of course she wasn't.

Spotting a desk in the corner of the room, she walked to it and pulled out a marker and some paper. She licked her lips, smirking as she printed out the words. She wished she could see his face as he reads her note, but right now she really had to focus on leaving as soon as she can. Adding one last touch, she grabbed one red flower Sougo had carefully taken out of her hair last night, and used it as a makeshift paperweight. The other flower, she stuck into her hair in hopes of making her look decent in case anyone saw her sneaking back out. Grabbing her shoes, she rushed out the room, stealing one last glance at the sleeping man with a smile. 

She took each step carefully, because she didn't want to get caught and because she was still unbelievably sore. Sougo told her last night that the wooden floor creaks sometimes, but if she were quiet enough, no one would hear her. She let out a relieved breath as she finally exited the building. The officers were on the far side of the building, warming up for the day. If she just walked briskly toward the gate, maybe no one would notice a random girl in their headquarters this early in the morning-

"Hey!" she heard a voice call out in her direction. She freezed, looking towards the source of the sound. "Good morning, officer." she chuckled nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. Of course, how could she think sneaking away was that easy?

A young man wearing a uniform similar to Sougo's in the closet approached her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Can I help you, miss? When did you come in? No one saw you." he hummed curiously, his eyes searching the gate, which was still locked. "Oh, I-I sort of entered last night." she said, unsure of how to tell the officer Sougo let her in. She still didn't know if he wanted her to hide what happened, but she assumed he did, especially from his co-workers. The man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Look, I'm just gonna go. I'm sorry to have bothered you." she bit her lip, turning to leave.

"Hey! Wait, I'm sorry but I have to talk to the vice-commander. I don't know how you got in but we don't usually have unknown visitors around."  he said, his hand on her shoulder to stop her from leaving. She winced slightly, but quickly masked her pain. She should have remembered Sougo left some bruises around. It's not like she minded, she told him what she wanted and he gave it to her, well.

"The vice-commander? Oh, Hijikata-san? He saw me last night.. just tell him I left early." she said quickly, before bumping into someone as she turned to leave. "Tell me what?" she heard a familiar voice. Backing away, she shook her head and apologized profusely.

"I can handle this, Yamazaki-kun. Get back to work." Hijikata-san mumbled, smoke blowing from his mouth. "Look what the cat dragged in. Sneaking away, I see? 'Bit too late for that." he said, flicking his cigarette. "Good morning, Hijikata-san. Aren't you hungover?" she greeted, giving up entirely on leaving secretly. "Of course I am, but I still had to work today. I am the vice-chief after all." he shrugged. "I have to say, the uniform looks mighty fine. Very vice-commander-ish." she teased. Toshi rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Don't you want to wait for Sougo to wake up? I'm sure he'd be disappointed to see the mysterious chick from last night mysteriously leave." he murmured, dropping his stick and pressing it with the heel of his foot onto the concrete path. The girl blushed at his words.

"O-oh, that's ok. I'm sure he'll be tired and-" she bit her lip, playing with the ends of her hair. Tired from the fucking last night.

"And hungover, I guess. I was sort of trying to leave secretly." she finished.  So much for sneaking out. She might as well introduce herself to the entire staff of Shinsengumi.

"Alright then. See you around." he said, ruffling his hair as he walked back to the building. "Say hi to Kondo-san for me." she added, thanking the gods for finally letting her leave.

"Kami, wipe that drool of your chin, Yamazaki-kun. Haven't you ever seen a girl before?" Hijikata barked at his inferior, making her jump. She ignored it, and made her way out of the compound. She flushed red at the strange and awkward encounter, but shook her head to clear her thoughts. The cold morning air was nice against Sougo's crisp white shirt, and it soothes her burning skin both from embarrassment of being caught and from her lover's roughness the night before.

It was still fairly early, aside from the Shinsengumi, there wasn't really much people out on the streets. Taking a deep breath of morning air, she decided to walk back to her apartment building to grab a coat, it was quite cold. As she entered her room, she refused to take of Sougo's shirt. She instead took her burgundy jacket that reached her knees, tying her hair up and fixing up her face. She smiled as she checked her appearance in the mirror, and headed back out for a walk.

-

Sougo sat quietly at the low table as he ate his breakfast, shaking his head as yet another whisper was uttered his way. The situation wasn't uncommon, it's not like he was an early riser. He almost always woke up late and ate late, unless he had his late night watches. Then he wouldn't sleep at all. He just couldn't understand why he heard whispers and felt stares as he walked along the building as if something unusual was going on. Kondo-san sat opposite to him, clutching his head. The commander-in-chief had woken late as well, but no one seemed to mind. "Kondo-san, why is everyone staring at me?" Sougo whispered, pushing his bowl of oats away and taking the painkiller Hijikata gave him. Kondo-san lifted his head, giving Sougo a small but pained smile as if his voice worsened the chief's headache.

"This morning, they saw Hijikata talking to the girl-"

"Tsuki?" Sougo cut him off, a smirk residing in his face. "She told you her name?" Kondo san looked up, his eyebrows raised. Sougo nodded, wiping his mouth. "Looks like Sou-chan had fun last night." Kondo-san almost cheered, patting the captain on the back. Sougo shrugged, trying his best not to make it a big deal, but he knew it was. "Anyway, they saw Toshi talking to Tsuki-chan earlier, and let's just say Toshi didn't make an effort to hide what happened." Kondo-san told him, making Sougo roll his eyes. "Of course he didn't. That's because he probably doesn't remember shit." Sougo mumbled, passing his boss the painkillers. "The bastard almost killed himself dueling his own goddamn shadow." he added. Kondo-san laughed, shaking his head then clutching it immediately after. He gratefully accepted the pills, his eyes closed in agony.

"What'd Tsuki say to him?" he asked curiously. "I have no idea, actually. But I heard from Yamazaki that she was just trying to leave unnoticed." Isao-san murmured, taking the pill as well and gulping it down with water. The captain bit his lip, hearing her words from last night.

I guess I'll just tiptoe out, then.

Poor Tsuki-chan. She was probably being ogled at by these dirty cops like they've never seen a female human in their lives. He knew why she would want to leave early, he just wished she didn't have to.

"You know we forgot to pay our bill at the bar, right Danna?" Sougo reminded him distractedly.

Kondo-san just laughed, pulling out 3 thousand yen bills and placing it on the table.

"Here, I know you wanna see her. Pay up." he mumbled, getting up from his seat and walking to his office, whistling the Monkey Hunter theme song.

The captain couldn't hide his smile at the boss, he grabbed the money and his coat, walking out the building. He ignored the stares, and strided to the gate with a sense of pride. Even though it was chilly, the sun was shining. He was glad he had his hat on.

Sougo decided to walk, he didn't feel like driving. He was already wondering where Tsuki could be. He wondered how she would react when he said her name. She probably wouldn't be at the bar, didn't she say something last night about how her shifts were at night only? He bit his lip as he tried to remember, but all that came back to him was her voice as she whispered his name.

Flustered, he shook his head to clear his sinful thoughts and walked quietly to the bar.

As he approached the familiar entrance of the building, he spotted the bartender who covered the shift before Tsuki's.

"Good morning, Yakuin-san." the old woman croaked, laying down a drink's list. "Is there a problem?" she answered, looking nervous. "It's nothing, I'm just here to pay my bill from yesterday." he murmured, sitting himself down on the barstool. The woman nodded, grabbing a folder from under the counter and searching for last night's purchases. "A couple of beers and shots, am I correct?" she clarified, looking up at him. Sougo only nodded.

"Ah. Tsuki-chan's shift. She was late again, right?" the bartender commented, laying out the bill.

Sougo chuckled, shaking his head. "Only by minutes. But she was amazing." he mumbled, almost slapping himself at the last part. Amazing?  Not even "ok" or at least "excellent?"

He never asked her if she was comfortable with letting people know of them, he could only hope he wasn't obvious. The old woman only gave a sly smile. "Yes, I've thought of replacing her often. But the customers seem to like her very much." she hummed.

Sougo clicked his tongue in amused agreement as he handed her the money. "I was thinking about hiring a guard by the door. They seem to like her too much." she said thoughtfully as she brought out the man's change. Sougo waved his hand, refusing the money. "It's alright." he said, and the woman thanked him profusely.

"I think she can handle herself pretty well." Sougo laughed at her words. The woman frowned at his words, but with a shrug she bowed slightly in respect to the officer as he made his way out.

"By the way, where can I find her?" he said, looking over his shoulder. "I have a feeling you'll see her in the park." the woman gave a gentle smile. Sougo simply tipped his hat and made his way out.

-

Tsuki sat down on the grass, her bare knees enjoying the rough sensation of the ground. She was at the edge of the pond, feeding the ducks with some bread she bought on the streets. This was one of her most favourite things to do, just relax somewhere with no buildings reaching the sky, no smoke, no harsh noises and whatnot. She sighed happily, her fingers finding the tips of Sougo's shirt. It was so soft and comfortable, she hoped he wouldn't mind she stole it.

She wondered if he had awoken by now, if he had read her letter. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him looking for her, but she shook her head quickly. Perhaps he was busy, or too shy to make the next move. But knowing Sougo, if he wanted something, he'd get it.

You've only known each other a day.

Yes, but, it was intimate, wasn't it? Does he like her? He obviously was interested enough to fuck her and let her stay the night, but up to what point? She bit her lip, she was thinking like a little girl in middle school having her first boyfriend.

She's done relationships before, just not ones where she ever felt her heart pound or her toes tingle just thinking about the lucky boy of her thoughts.

She narrowed her eyes, feeling someone staring at her. She just shrugged it off, splitting the piece of bread into two and tossing one bit to the baby ducks.

He was probably at the bar by now, chatting with her boss and heading back to the headquarters to do some watch duty or something. She groaned inwardly, why can't she get it off her head? Was it because she really liked him that much? Or maybe he was just that much of a good fuck?

No, she could never talk about him as just a good "fuck". He talked to her, he asked her questions men had never thought to ask her before. He even shared something about his sister that he probably rarely tells anyone.

Probably. Or he probably only told her that to get in her pants. She frowned at the thought of Sougo treating her the way everyone else does. It just didn't feel right. He listens to what she has to say, he had to like her at least a little. She looked behind her, still not able to shake off the feeling that someone was staring at her.

No one was there, or at least no one staring directly at her. There were children playing and running around, and a couple eating icecream seated on the bench. She smiled slightly as she caught their eyes and looked away quickly.  Maybe she was the one staring. Her thoughts took over mind, making her vision hazy as she thought deeply.

"Hey, aren't you the-" she heard a vaguely familiar voice in front of her but she shrieked, throwing the last piece of bread at the figure and kicking him down. She heard a thump as the person fell over in shock. "Kuso, I'm so sorry! Why do people always sneak up on me?" she groaned, helping the person up and pressing her hands together, apologizing repeatedly. "Are you ok?" she rushed concernedly. The silver-haired man rubbed his bum, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Geez, what is it with anime babes and getting shocked so easily." the man groaned, standing up lazily and looking up at her through his hair. His silver hair.

"G-Gin-san? she said shocked, her cheeks heating up. "I'm so sorry! Fuck." she cursed, bowing down again at the older man.

"It's alright, quit your begging. Ol' Gintoki just came over to say hi to the local bartender." he laughed, sticking his hand into the sleeve of his half-worn white yukata. "Oh. Hi..?" the girl mumbled shyly.  

"Yeah, hi. Ok, bye then." he said back, turning to leave. "Wait! Where're you going?" she asked, holding him back by the shoulder. "Just around. Why?" he hummed, casually sticking his pinky finger into his ear. Tsuki couldn't help but laugh at his behavior. "So, you literally just came over to say hi?" she chuckled. The old man shrugged.

"Gin-chan! Buy me some goddamn dango!" a voice of a young woman came over. "Who're you talking to? Quit creeping on the poor girl."

"Shut up, Gura-chan. You're just too young to understand these kinds of things." Gin-san rolled his eyes, giving Tsuki an exasperated look. She just raised her eyebrows as she eyed the girl who's been yelling at the old man. She was a pale redheaded girl that looked about her age, wearing a white qipao with a slit up her thigh. She balanced her umbrella on her shoulder as she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at Gin-san.

"OI! This isn't season 2 anymore! I'm 18 now, you idiot." she scolded. Gin-san wiped his dirty finger on her shoulder, making her yelp and grasp his finger, till a cracking sound was released.

"Oh, hi there. Sorry about him, he couldn't pick up girls even if his life depended on it." the girl said, lightly pushing Gin-san away as painful, shameful tears ran down his face. "Kami! If you were a handful back in season 1, you're an assful now." he said, kissing his little finger in hopes of relieving the pain.

She was beautiful, with an amusing playfulness to her. Tsuki laughed, biting her lip. "It's alright. He wasn't bothering me, I actually attacked him."  she said shyly.

The girl squinted, eying Tsuki suspiciously as if it were impossible that Gin-san wasn't being a creep for once. She couldn't help but laugh at the girl's genuine disappointment for her boss. "You must be Kagura-san. I didn't think we'd be the same age." Tsuki said, bowing slightly.

"Kagura-san?" she frowned, a strip of sukonbu dangling from her mouth. "I know I call myself the Queen of Kabukicho-district, but there's no need to address me like that." she laughed, her long red hair sliding down her shoulders. "You don't look 18. You look at least 21." she hummed, her blue eyes running up and down. Tsuki raised her eyebrows at the somewhat unusual comment. "I mean, in a good way! Look, Gin-chan still think's I'm 14, he won't let me stay out past 8pm. It's quite ridiculous, is it not?" she pouted, giving Gin-san a look. Tsuki only laughed as Gintoki stuck his tongue out, making her roll her eyes.

"I'm Tsuki, Gin-san knows me from the bar." she said.  "Oh, that's right. It makes sense then." Kagura-chan nodded, opening another packet of sukonbu. "Always at the bar, aren't you, Gin-chan?" she teased.

"Oh, shut up. You're 18 and still living in that goddamn closet." he scowled, scratching the back of his neck. Tsuki burst out laughing, quickly covering her mouth. "How's the Yorozuya business?" she murmured.

"Oh, it's the same as usual." Gin-san said in a humble brag, sending Kagura a warning look as she opened her mouth to speak, but the teenager didn't hold back.

"What he meant by 'as usual' was it's as unproductive and uninteresting as ever." she laughed.

Tsuki smiled at the two, amused by their playful yet somehow violent banter. She could tell by the way Gin-san talked about her at the bar that he saw her as a daughter, and he considered himself her guardian. But she still couldn't help but take one look at the two and see them resemble brother and sister.

"This is why I prefer Sadaharu's company over yours! At least that fucking idiot dog knows how to shut up!" he almost yelled, making Kagura-chan roll her eyes and scowl in a very unladylike way, yet somehow it managed to make her look even more adorable.

"Hey! Don't talk about Sadaharu like that!" she yelled back, stomping her foot. "Oh, defending your own kind, I see?" Gin-chan growled, blocking a punch she sent to his face with his uninjured hand.

"DON'T COMPARE ME TO A FUCKING DOG!" Kagura-chan yelled ironically, dashing to him fiercely. Tsuki quickly took back her previous mental comments of the girl being adorable, this woman was a goddamn beast, if she wasn't a trained ninja she would be on her way running for safety.

As if there wasn't enough panic going through Tsuki's head, she spotted Sougo behind the two battling, looking confused and slightly amused. He went to look for her, and he found her. They were together just hours before, yet he still wanted to see her. His eyes met hers, and he winked at her playfully. It almost calmed her down, but she still had the crazy redhead to deal with.

It wasn't that she cared for Gintoki, perhaps it was just her smartass self that thought it wasn't right for the girl to beat up the samurai in public. Maybe she felt bad for almost beating him up, then watching him get beat up by another girl anyway.

"I AM THE QUEEN OF YATO, THE MOST DANGEROUS RACE IN THE GALAXY, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF HUMAN-" she shrieked, aiming to kick him in the groin but Tsuki quickly held her foot before it hit him.

"I hate to interfere, but there's an officer coming up ahead. You two look like you don't need anymore trouble." she chuckled, dropping the girl's foot and brushing her hands on her clothes.

The two looked behind them and pretty much, Sougo was walking over to the crowd.

"Tsk tsk, China. It seems everytime we meet you cause some sort of trouble. Or should I say all sorts." he said, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. The girl burned red, her blush prominent from her pale skin. Tsuki raised her eyebrows, it seemed out of character for the fierce girl to suddenly become bashful, but she simply bit her lip. Maybe she was just too new in town to judge. Kagura, however quickly stood up straight and stuck her nose in the air, giving out a truly superior vibe.

"Hey, Sadist. Here to watch Gin-chan get beaten up for your little voyeuristic pleasures? Been having trouble with your erectile dysfunction, have you?" she smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Sougo rolled his eyes, while Gin-san looked horrified at the girl.

"Fuck, who teaches you these types of words? Where the hell do you go when you sneak out with your goddamn umbrella? The BDSM school for beginners and dummies? Try a church, would you?"  he scolded, but the girl just laughed.

"Where do you think? Obviously not from you, as you wouldn't know anything about sex just as much as Virgin-pachi  would." she bit back. "That's it. You're getting it, you little sukonbu stinking shit-" Gin-san was cut off as she tackled him, yelling something about unemployment.

Sougo was looking at Tsuki, biting his lip as he eyed her body. He raised his eyebrows as his gaze landed on her, or should he say his dress shirt. "Did you steal my shirt, Tsuki?" he asked playfully, his mouth dragging out the sound of her name. She rolled her eyes.

"Now's not really the time to discuss this, there's a war going on." she muttered, gesturing to the two who seemed unable to quit fighting. "Oh, poop. I really wish I could give a fuck, but I just can't" he said in a mocking tone, sounding bored. His eyes lingered on the girl, who was on top of Gin-san and using his own wooden sword to further injure him.

This wasn't how he pictured his second meeting with Tsuki to be like, but he knew he couldn't have everything. "Let's get out of here before we get framed for murder." He muttered, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her out of the frame. He couldn't help but smile as he heard her laughter surround them. They hid behind a tree, leaning against the trunk.

"Nice job, officer. Cased closed, I see?" she chuckled, shaking her head. "Why'd you leave so early, kitty? I was utterly disappointed this morning." he sighed, his hands settling on her hips as his mouth landed on hers for a quick kiss.

"Didn't you read my letter, Okita-san? I had my valid reasons." she teased against his lips, her hands running up and down the fabric of his coat. "Ameratsu, I swear this uniform will be the death of me." she sighed, biting her lip as she silently wished she never left his bedroom. Sougo simply chuckled, giving her another sweet kiss before pulling away completely. "I'm serious, you know. You've become quite the celebrity at headquarters." he said.

"It's not my fault the goddamn Shinsengumi officers get up at the crack of dawn. I'll have you know I tried my very best to exit unnoticed." she said defensively with a pout. "How did you expect to 'escape' a compound full of men unnoticed, dressed like that?" he laughed, amused at her own cluelessness. She may be excellent at the art of seduction, but at times she could be so oblivious it was hilarious. "Shut up! I had nothing else to wear, thanks to you and your cleanup routine last night. But all my efforts went to waste anyway." she blushed. Sougo bit back another laugh, instead he smiled at her adorableness.

"Next time then, don't bother. I don't mind." he shrugged. The girl raised her eyebrows as he brought up a subject she'd been thinking of all morning. "So there will be a next time?" she teased. "Quit acting so innocent, kitty. I read your letter this morning. Nice touch, by the way." Sougo rolled his eyes. She laughed, shaking her head at his words.  She knew he was referring to her writing on his hand.

"Ok then. So next time, maybe refrain from ruining my very expensive custom-made dress." she bit back playfully. "Ok, and next time, maybe don't tease me so much I end up doing making a mess that would lead me to clean up with something." he replied, a smirk on his lips.

"Since we're on the subject, next time maybe you should ask more nicely when you really really want something." she purred, making him stiffen in more ways than one.

"Kuso, you never stop dripping with sex appeal, don't you, kitty?" he bit his lip again, eyeing her hungrily. She only laughed, shaking her head and pushing him off her. He then realized he had unintentionally pinned her to the wall. "You're too much. We just fucked hours ago." she mumbled.

"Let's take a walk. Maybe that will take my head off it." he sighed, ruffling his hair, making her laugh harder. "Oh, I can't walk much, Sougo. You know, I'm still sore." she replied, whispering the last part into his ear as to not let everyone know she was fucked rough last night, but it only aroused Sougo further.

"Fuck, stop talking. Ameratsu, you have to warn me before you say shit like that." he groaned.

"Let's just sit over there by the shade and rest. I still have a bit of a headache." she giggled, grabbing his hand. He complied, not believing he was already getting mushy with a girl he'd just met. "So," he began as she plopped down on the grass in a shady area. She tugged his hand until he sat down, settling comfortably beside her. "So..?" she asked with a chuckle, reaching for his jacket. Sougo jumped back a little as her hands touched his skin, but settled down as she sweetly smiled, sliding his jacket off. "I was just gonna ask, since you left so early this morning, and all." he said, looking down shyly. He couldn't believe it, Okita Sougo, the captain of the first division in the Shinsengumi, was shy to ask the girl he fucked last night if she regretted it and wanted to keep it a secret.

"Hm?" she hummed, untying the ribbon holding her coat together as she slid it off her shoulders, leaning back on her hands. "Well, I was just-just wondering. Cause I wasn't sure if, you wanted to..." he stumbled, nervous to hurt her feelings or offend her. Why did she have to be looking straight at him? He stopped his sentence as he eyed her body, still clad in his dress shirt.

Why did she have to steal it? And why did she have to look this good wearing it?

"Sougo?" she asked as he never finished his sentence. "Were you gonna ask if our relationship was a secret?" she murmured, giving him a curious look as he furrowed his eyebrows, thinking she can read his mind.

"Yeah, actually. Sorry. I didn't know how to ask, cause-" he was cut off as she chuckled lightly. "It's alright, captain." she said, not meeting his gaze. "That's why I left this morning actually. I wasn't sure if you wanted that." she said with a shrug, making him calm down and shake his head.

"Oh, well in that case. I really don't care about that. Unless you do."  he mumbled, adding the last part quickly and gauging her reaction. She smiled, leaning down on her elbows on her knees and looking at him calmly. "Okay." she said with a laugh. Sougo found himself smiling back.

"So, let me get this straight. You don't want to hide it," he began, watching her nod.

"You do want to do it again," she continued, making him laugh. "Of course. And if people ask, we're just-" he said, cut off by her own voice saying the same words.

"Having fun?" they said together unsurely, but pleased as they agreed. "Just having fun, no rush." she repeated. Sougo nodded.

"That was easy." he commented, laying back and resting his head on his hands. The girl frowned, but quickly masked it. She knows he didn't mean it that way, but it still made her think. It was just too soon. Give it a few days, or weeks. She looked at Sougo, his eyes blank as he gazed up at the trees shading them from the sun.

Maybe even a few months.

Her smile quickly returned as he gave her a look. "It's rude to stare, Tsuki-chan." he murmured, copying her words from the night before.

"It's also rude to bite people. That didn't stop you." she laughed, laying down beside him cozily. The young man rolled his eyes at her unoriginal words.

"Hey, I didn't see you complaining." he mumbled. "You were far too busy doing something else." she pointed out, her hands sneaking to his.

"Actually, I wouldn't have heard a complaint amidst all the moaning." he said back, turning his head only to be striked slightly above his forehead. Her cheeks were burning red, making him laugh at her cuteness.

"Shut up." she only chuckled, looking away to avoid his stare.

"Say that to yourself last night. I'm positive you're the reason why the Shinsengumi officers were all in the cold showers this morning." he teased. She grimaced, sticking her tongue out.

"How can you say it was me? You were pretty loud too. Looks like they admire their captain a bit too much." she laughed, making Sougo laugh as well at her comeback. It was unusually comfortable, natural, or familiar even.

It seemed too good to be true.

-

"Don't you have a shift at the bar today?" he hummed, their hands still intertwined as they walked out of the park. "Nope, but I have a shift tonight at the hostess bar." she replied. Her hair was now down, quite messy but Sougo thought it looked nice. "I didn't know you worked there." he laughed, picturing her in a formal kimono, unwillingly chatting with the old men drinking Dom Perignon.

"Yeah, they were pretty tight with the hiring. They said I wasn't charming enough." she said with a roll of her eyes. Sougo laughed even more, sure it was a place she doesn't look like she belongs. But she could probably sell anything as soon as she fluttered her eyelashes and put on her sultry voice.

"Fuck them. It's not like the customers listen to the hostesses. They just like looking up their skirts and 'accidentally' grabbing their asses." he mumbled, and it was her turn to laugh.

"I agree. It's not a dream of mine to work in a place like that, but I had to." she chuckled. Sougo's thumb caressed her hand in such a sweet way, she wondered if he does that on purpose or if he wasn't aware of it.

The sun was still up, it was mid afternoon and pretty crowded as people began coming home from their work. "Where are we going?" he murmured curiously as she tugged his hand.

"I'm sort of hungry. Let's eat something before I go to work." she replied as they approached a ramen shop named Hokuto Shinken. Sougo nodded, not having much to eat since he woke up at noon.

"Wow, is this a date we're having?" she teased as he opened the door for her, the bell ringing in their ears. "But of course, m'lady." he said in a mocking posh tone, making her laugh. He rolled his eyes at his own chivalry, he'd only known her for less than 2 days yet he was about as whipped as the cream on a cake.

She waltzed in, seeing a cozy wooden set up and a pretty blonde lady, wiping up the counters. "Okita-kun." she said with a gentle smile, her eyes trailing to the girl.

"And, Tsuki?" she greeted, looking confused at the pair. "I didn't think you'd know each other, nice to have you both back. What would you like today?"

Tsuki bowed to Ikumatsu as Sougo followed her to the counter. "Hey, Iku-san. We'll have two shio ramen bowls, please." he said politely, grabbing her hand and taking her to the seat near the entrance. Iku-san nodded, walking to the kitchen and beginning her cooking.

"I didn't know that you ate here." Tsuki commented, leaning against the table. Sougo shrugged. "You know I've been in Edo for a while, right?" he joked, making her roll her eyes. "Of course. Everyone in town already seems to know each other. It wasn't like that in the city." she said with a sigh.

"Don't feel bad. You're already popular at the headquarters." he teased. "Oh, shut up. They probably forgot about it by now." she said with a laugh. Sougo rolled his eyes at her modesty. "Yeah, not likely." he replied, making her blush. "They were still talking about it when I woke up. I'll tell you, it's not fun to eat your breakfast while everyone whispers about you behind your back." he added.

"Wow, I didn't know the Shinsengumi officers were such gossip-girls." she hummed with amusement.

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe how many times I caught them in the cupboard squealing about Otsuu-chan and her latest scandals." he said with a playful tone.  Tsuki laughed, shaking her head. "You're an idiot." she said, pretending to be annoyed but failing miserably. Sougo gave her a funny smile, then shook his head as Iku-san served two bowls of fresh, hot ramen. "Thank you, Nee-san." Tsuki said with a grateful smile, grasping the chopsticks on the table. Sougo thanked her as well.

"It's nice to see you aren't here alone anymore, Okita-kun." she said with a light chuckle.

The woman smiled at the two, her gaze lingering as she walked away.

Sougo rolled his eyes, a blush creeping up his cheeks at her words. Ok, so he ate here alone sometimes. It's not like he was obliged to bring a date or companion to some ramen shop, he was just there to eat. Tsuki only laughed at her words, mixing her bowl. Steam arose from the hot ramen, swirling along her face as she blew it away. "It's ok. I like eating alone too." she said, not meeting his eyes as she casually sipped some of her soup.

Sougo raised his eyebrows but ignored her comment as he worked on his own food. "Since we have some time before we 'part ways'," she began, smiling as she enjoyed her food.

"We should play a game. Ask me any question and I'll answer if I want to. Same with you." she finished. Sougo smiled in amusement, she really loved games. "Okay. You go first." he nodded, curious to hear her. "Hm. Do you like your job?" she asks with a small smile. "Definitely. What job did you first apply for in Edo?"  he answered back.

"A waitress. What was your first impression of me?" she said, laughing at her own silly question. She was self-conscious, of course. And he could tell. "Hot as fuck, of course. But I thought you'd be more soft and girly. What was your first impression of me?" he smirked, watching a blush take over her face at his words. "I thought you looked cool. Which you are, by the way." she said, her cheeks still red. "How old are you?" she continued curiously, never having the chance to ask him before.

"I'm 22, kitty. First relationship?" he replied, watching her slightly surprised reaction as she realized he was four years older. "I was 15, he was my tutor for math and we were together for 2 months." Sougo raised his eyebrows as he heard her words. She was quite young, but she didn't seem to make a big deal of it.

"Last relationship?" she mumbled, her eyes wide as she closely observed him. He was quiet for a few moments, contemplating whether or not he should pass on the question.

"I-It was China." he murmured shyly, scratching the back of his neck. "Kagura, I mean." he corrected himself.

"Kagura-chan? Really?" she said, sounding shocked. They didn't seem awkward, their insults flowed freely as if they were bored and unamused. But it would explain why she sported such a blush at his appearance.

"Yeah. That was 2 years ago, though. We're back to normal now."  he chuckled nervously. He wasn't proud of his relationship with the former young girl, she was only sixteen then.

"Wow, I didn't expect that. What happened?" she hummed curiously. Sougo gave her a look, making her apologize. "You don't have to answer." she rushed out, but he did so anyway.

"She didn't want it anymore. She said it got weird and I agreed when she pointed it out. We've known each other for a few years, but we always remained acquaintances, if not enemies." he said simply, eating his noodles in attempt to avoid the subject.

"Oh, that explains it." she nodded, eating her own food.

"What happened with you and your math tutor?" Sougo inquired, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. The girl laughed lightly. "He got mad at me for talking to other boys. Jealousy, really. But it didn't really mean anything." she waved it off.

Sougo laughed, amused at her carefree aura. The two continued to exchange silly questions, casually avoiding the heavy air they just rid of. They both learned simple but somehow significant little things about each other.

"Why are we even discussing this?" she shook her head, questioning their little conversation.

"Yeah, I like splitting chuuberts in half. Don't judge me." he said with a pout as she burst out laughing, pushing her porcelain bowl away. "I'm not saying anything! Next time, when we buy chuuberts we can split. I'll let you have the longer part." she said, wiping the fake tears off her eyes.

"Yeah. Then I could give you my longer part later on." he said, wiggling his eyebrows as she laughed again, pushing his shoulder. "Whatever, pervert. You'll just have to wait and see." she chuckled. "You don't get to judge. I never said anything when you told me about your little erotica kink." he said in a teasing voice. She smacked him on the shoulder, blushing red.

"Hey! I never said anything like that!" she said defensively. "I remember saying I used to read manga when I was 14, what does that have to do with erotica?" she retorted, making him laugh at her pink face.

"You never said what kind of manga you read, is it wrong to assume a little?" he joked. "I'm pretty sure everyone read erotica when they were 14." he added with a shrug. "Did you read erotica when you were 14?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "I'm not gonna confirm nor deny." he said simply, raising his hands up in surrender. Tsuki burst out laughing once again.

"Well, not everyone was a horny teen like you." she corrected him, making him scowl. "Hey! I read erotica for the mere art and literature of it, not as written porn." he said with a pout as she continued to laugh. "So you did read erotica?" she clarified. Sougo pondered for a moment, and she leaned in eagerly to hear his reply. The two stayed silent for a moment, utterly serious at their ridiculous conversation. They didn't allow another moment of silence pass, however. As their eyes met and observed the hilarious eagerness in each other's stare, they both ended up laughing at themselves. "This is too much. I've never had such a heated, serious conversation about reading erotica." she said, still laughing slightly.

"There's a first time for everything." Sougo said, chuckling. She gave him a sweet smile as the laughter subsided from her face, making the moths in his stomach flutter violently. She absently turned her gaze to the window, seeing the dark horizon. The lake outside the ramen shop glowed from the moonlight, and reflected the light of the stars in the sky. Sougo simply stared at her, not bothering to view the lake as he had his own view to see. He noticed her frown form, then she pouted, making him raise his eyebrows curiously.

"It must be past 7 by now. I should get going." she said, pulling on his hand as she stood from his seat. "Right." Sougo mumbled, snapping out of his trance.  "Thank you, Iku-san." she bowed politely, making the woman smile and wave them goodbye. "I can't believe I almost forgot about my job." she said distractedly, shaking her head with a light chuckle .

"I'll walk you there." Sougo said simply, intertwining their fingers as they strode out.

"Oooh, it looks like Sou-chan will miss me." she teased, leaning into his shoulder. "You'll have to wait and see." he rolled his eyes. "What? That doesn't even make sense." she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Can't I simply walk a beautiful girl back to her workplace?" he said, emphasizing the word 'beautiful', making the girl blush.

"Kami, again with the compliments. Don't you ever run out?" she said, giving him a bashful look. "Not for you, kitty." he said flirtatiously. "By the way, since you keep calling me kitty I should start calling you puppy." she joked, watching his pout. "See! It fits perfectly, Koinu." she purred, making him scowl. "You're such a weirdo. I can't believe you." he said with a laugh.

"Well believe it or not, this weirdo fell into your bed last night, Koinu. I didn't see you complaining." she laughed back. "I believe you invited yourself into my bed and dragged me as well, kitty." he reminded her. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of beds, do you happen to have a phone number?" he asked as they neared the hostess bar. "What do beds have to do with phones?" she frowned.

"Call me when you need help getting into yours." he said smoothly, watching her roll her eyes at his words for the hundredth time in this hour. "Well in that case, yes I do indeed have a phone number." she laughed, gesturing for his cell.

Sougo smiled as he handed it to her, watching her type in her digits. "I'll text you, kitty." he murmured, pocketing it once he finished. His phone felt more heavy as if her number were worth gold inside it. "You better, Okita-san. I'll have you know I can bite in more ways than one." she said playfully, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The captain grabbed her waist and pulled her close, catching her off guard with a kiss on the lips before loosening his grip. She chuckled, wiping her mouth as she pulled away.

"Try and stop me." he laughed, winking as he walked away.

Boy, he was a handful. Tsuki laughed silently as she entered the bar, shaking her head as she realized he was going to linger on her thoughts once again.

Sougo walked away, a smile still on his face. There was nothing like a playful conversation that gets him in a good mood. He walked back to the headquarters, her smile still etched in his thoughts. I should text her. He picked up his phone, smirking as he saw her name in text:    ☆Tsuki ☆

He quickly typed in his words as he walked back to the headquarters.

-

Tsuki checked her appearance in the mirror, chuckling at her messy long hair that Sougo hadn't bothered to tell her about. Her shift started half an hour ago, but one of the hostess' came early anyway to cover it. She hummed as she brushed her hair, tying it up and changing into her yukata. Some people think the girl's didn't have uniforms, but they still had a certain requirement of how decent and fancy the hostess looks. A man's dress shirt just didn't cut it.

The sky blue yukata ended barely in her upper thigh, making her roll her eyes at how ridiculously short these dresses were. She liked wearing skirts that were shorter than usual, but this was just outrageous. Just as she pulled up her white socks up to cover up more skin, her phone buzzed. She opened it, seeing an unknown number blinking up at her. She opened the message, a smile etching onto her face as she read the words.

I bet you're smiling just reading this, kitty. Save it for when I see you again. She rolled her eyes at the words, still unable to keep the smile from her lips. She typed in the words of her reply quickly, not wanting to get caught.

Tugging her dress down one more time to hide her skin from the dirty customers, she huffed and walked out. "Tsuki-chan!" one of the women called, grabbing her arm and dragging her towards a table. "Oh, hi. Sorry I'm late." she mumbled absently, conscious of her revealing clothes as she was forced to walk quickly toward the crowd. She recognized the girl as her co-worker, Kasumi-san.

"It's alright, didn't Ana tell you earlier? Otae-san came early and she was happy to cover your shift for a while." the woman murmured, eyeing the girl and her strange appearance. "You look tired, are you sure you're working today?" she rushed out, stopping abruptly in her tracks, making Tsuki bump into her slightly. "I-I'm fine. Just a bit slow today, didn't get much sleep last night." she murmured, making the woman continued to give her a doubtful look, but eventually she shrugged and walked the girl to the table with some customers seated. "I hope you're cheerful enough for these guys, they've been asking for you." she muttered to Tsuki.

"Good evening Kokyako-san!" Kasumi perked up, her voice changing drastically as she greeted the men. "I'm Kasumi, and this is Tsuki-chan, who you've been calling. We'll be serving you tonight." she said with a wide, tooth aching smile. Tsuki gave her own best smile that she thought looked cheerful. "Hi." she murmured.

"Have a seat, darling." the man grinned, patting to a spot beside him. She grudgingly sauntered over to their seats as she plopped down. One of the men wickedly smiled and scooted closer to her, making her tug her dress lower to cover the top of her thighs.

"I'll have a beer, Kasumi-chan." he murmured, not taking his eyes of hers as he smirked. She knew there was a no touching rule, but she still didn't enjoy being stared down by married men twice her age.

Tsuki mentally rolled her eyes, but only continued to smile fakely, casually engaging in conversations with the customers as she urged them to buy more drinks. After all, she was working. Might as well make the most out of it.

It was definitely going to be a long night.

-

She cracked a small smile as the customers finally left. She was too tired, it wasn't a wise choice to head to the park. She wished she caught some sleep, but it was such a nice day. Plus, she wouldn't have spent time with Sougo if she stayed in. The thought of him texting her earlier reminded her of the customers. Several of them were called home by their wives as it was nearly midnight.

She rolled her eyes as they gasped, looking at the time and the flood of messages. Some people just aren't happy with their life partners, it make her frown at the thought of being married to a man who goes to hostess clubs every night and barely goes home. A hand on her shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts. "Hey, Tsuki-chan is it?" she heard a sweet, feminine voice. It definitely wasn't Kasumi, that girl went home an hour ago.

She looked over her shoulder and saw a pretty woman, her hair up and her smile genuine. The woman was wearing a nice pink kimono, a lot more covering and decent looking than Tsuki's. She wondered why she gets to wear conservative dresses, was she a manager?

Tsuki weakly smiled back. "Yeah, that's me." she said shyly. The woman laughed gently, taking a seat beside her. "Are you new around here? You must be the late-comer I covered the shift for." she said, taking a sip of her own drink. Tsuki blushed, biting her lip anxiously.

"Oh! I'm so sorry for that. I was on a date, and I lost track of time. I know it sounds like a dumb excuse, but I really didn't-" she began, but was cut off by the girl. "It's ok, I came early anyway. My brother was being weird and I didn't feel like talking to him at home." she said reassuringly, crossing her legs. "O-oh, ok. Well thanks." Tsuki mumbled awkwardly. It seemed like trying so hard to be cute and flirty for hours had burned her social brain cells away.

"I'm Tae, by the way. You're really pretty, the customers must love you." she said, smiling pleasantly. Tsuki wondered where she gets her charismatic and cheerful mood from, it seemed to come naturally to her. "Thank you." she blushed, shaking her head. "I don't think they do, I always get complaints about not being as cheerful." she sighed.

"Like you." she added, looking up at Otae-san. She simply laughed, shaking her head. "You'll get used to it. I got plenty complaints too, when I was new. They said I was a bit too aggressive." she confessed, her cheeks tinging pink. Aggressive? She didn't seem like the type. Tsuki only shrugged, some people had dark sides. She knew she had one. "How come I haven't seen you around before?" Otae-san hummed.

"Maybe our shifts just didn't meet until now." Tsuki shrugged, lazily drumming her fingers on the table.

"How long have you worked here?" Otae-san curiously asked, setting down her glass. "I-" Tsuki began, but she bit her tongue as she realized something. "You're Otae-san, right?" she asked, ignoring the girl's previous question. "Yes?" she said, confused. "You must be the girl Kondo-san's been talking about!" Tsuki blurted out. It had just dawned on her. The lack of sleep must be making her brain less and less functional. She laughed slightly at her own slowness.

"Kondo-san? You mean the Shinsengumi commander-in-chief?" Otae-san said, not sounding surprised at her sudden statement. "Yeah. Or is that not you?" Tsuki asked, confused as well.

"I'd like to be modest, but Kondo's sort of stalking me. I'm surprised I can't feel his breath under the table right now." she said with a small smile. She gave Tsuki a look, as if she were stupid not to understand immediately. Tsuki burst out laughing at her words. "W-wait, so you're saying-" she choked on her own laughter, unable to finish her sentence. "Kondo-san likes you so much, he's stalking you?" she said, wiping laughter-tears off her eyes.

"If you put it that way, it sounds weird doesn't it?" she sighed. "In what way is it not weird?" the younger girl laughed, shaking her head. "Wow, that really woke me up. What happened between you two?" she chuckled.

"I wish I knew. I must have said something when he was drunk that triggered the obsession." Otae-san mumbled bitterly. "Oh dear, the way he was talking about you. I thought you had a serious relationship." Tsuki said, surprised at her words. "It is serious. Seriously annoying." she said with a small laugh, rolling her eyes.

Tsuki laughed. "How do you know him?" Otae-san asked. "Is he the man you were on a date with?" she added. "Oh, of course not! I was out with someone else... I just met Kondo-san last night at the bar." Tsuki answered quickly. "Though it doesn't look like Kondo-san would ever want to date anyone else." she mumbled, remembering his endless breakdowns about her the night before. "Who were you dating then?" Otae-san said with a teasing smile. Tsuki flushed red ever so slightly, opening her mouth to answer something but no words came out for moments. "I-I don't know if you know him." she said shyly.

"Well let's see." Otae-san said with an encouraging smile. "He's a friend of Kondo-san. Sougo." Tsuki finally let out. Talking about him to other girls was weird, maybe because she'd never really had the famous girl talk that apparently every girl knew. Tsuki, of course, has had conversations with other females before. But not in the personal, friendly way they were conversing now.

Otae-san raised her eyebrows in surprise, laughing pleasantly at her words.

"Okita-kun? That's wonderful!" she said clapping lightly. "I always see him around alone. I bet he's happy to have someone now." she added, giving Tsuki a look. The younger girl just blushed, laughing nervously at her words. "We aren't really official.. Earlier was our first date, but we met the other night at the bar" she said quickly so the girl wouldn't assume.

"Well, official or not, it's always nice to have someone as company." Otae-san said with another genuine smile. Tsuki only returned with a grin, sleepiness washing over her for the millionth time. "I agree."

The two continued light conversation, trying their best to stay awake as the hostess club reached its closing hours. There were such few customers, but still they had to stay incase any more came in. Luckily, no one else did. The rest of the hostesses were cleaning up, chatting or mixing their own drinks to relax after a long work day.

Tsuki raised her eyebrows as the other girl told her about her brother. "You mean your brother works at the Yorozuya?" she said surprised.

Otae-san nodded reluctantly, as if the fact still bothered her. "That's right. I personally don't approve, Gintoki is about as much of a good role model as a pile of paperclips. But Shin-chan adores him." she said with a light chuckle. A smile lingered on her lips, making Tsuki suspect that she doesn't loathe him as much as she says she does. The hateful gossip Otae-san shared with Tsuki was similar to what a little girl would say about a boy she secretly likes, contrary to the fact that Otae looked like a very wise and collected woman indeed.

"The only thing that silver haired idiot is committed to is his weekly Shonen Jump." she added, shaking her head with an ironically affectionate smile on her face. "But I had to accept it, my little brother is old enough to decide where he should work. He hated me working here too, he said the uniforms were too revealing and the customers were too perverted." Otae-san continued, gesturing to the tiny yukata Tsuki was wearing.

Tsuki flushed red again, tugging her dress down. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you! I just meant I'm sure you aren't comfortable at all being bared like that." the older girl rushed quickly, a concerned look in her eyes.

"It's ok." Tsuki reassured. "You're completely right, these uniforms cover less skin than my underwear." she joked, making Otae-san giggle amusedly.

"By the way, yours seems decent. How come they let you wear reasonably lengthed kimonos?" Tsuki inquired curiously. Otae-san let out another lady-like giggle, covering her mouth decently as if laughing with your mouth open was too impolite for her. With a gentle smile, she looked away bashfully. "Well, it was either this or them sliced open and bleeding to death. They had to let me." she laughed lightly, making Tsuki's jaw drop.

Was every goddamn female in this town violent?

Tsuki shook her head. "Kuso, you scared me for a moment. Warn me next time, I had no idea I was sitting next to a serial killer." she said, laughter bubbling from her throat as she realized her words. Otae-san let out a genuine laugh, her eyes crinkling. It was nice to have some girl talk, even though this particular girl was sort of bloodthirsty and their "talk" was explicitly brutal.

"We should get home, the club's closing anyway." Tsuki said, grabbing their empty bottles and placing them on the bar counter. Otae-san nodded, fixing the pillows on the couch they sat on.

As the rest of their co-workers left, the two newly acquainted girls headed out themselves, walking home together in the dark landscape, not yet lit by the sunrise.

It was nice to have company, aside from Sougo and the others, of course, in a world where women are constantly objectified. They talked and talked, feeling less lonely and scared in the night, but more and more tired from their long day at their jobs where they're constantly objectified. The two girls smiled tiredly at each other as they parted ways to get to their respective homes, and hoped that someday they could be respected as themselves.

They dearly hoped so.

-

Sougo smiled, he was still thinking about her. He was at the docks, watching the boats drift closer and closer to the land as they transported hopefully legal goods. Sougo was watching the water as well, which shined in texture from the moon light. Seeing the reflection reminded him of Tsuki and how her grey eyes seemed to haze every time she saw the moon, as if just looking at it made her high. The young captain laughed, realizing he himself was high off his mind every time he saw the beautiful girl.

It was cliche, but he didn't care. What wasn't cliche, was how they joked around comfortably, easily switching from funny, playful banter to shameless, suggestive flirting. It wasn't cliche, simply because cliche was a degrading word that wasn't worthy of describing the girl and her relation to Sougo.

He enjoyed their "date" earlier that day. He loved hearing her laugh adorably at the things he said, and he absolutely adored the sound of her voice when she talked about things she loved. He couldn't believe it either, how the little voice in his mind rambled on and on about her. He wanted to know everything he could about the girl, every little quirk he could discover.

He checked his phone for the time, it was almost midnight. A few hours earlier, he texted her the moment she left his company. He knew about the rule about not calling girls before 3 days passed, and he also knew it was ridiculous.

He suspected she did too, because she replied moments later in the usual goofy flirty manner he loved.

I see you're just as cheesy when texting. I'll smile for you as much as I want, thank you very much.

Sougo bit his lip as he re-read her text. He was on dangerous waters, as deep as her grey eyes and as dark as her raven hair. Why did his thoughts all have to relate to her?

He groaned, shaking his head and pushing earphones into his ears to listen to the usual audio-manga he listened to, trying his utter best to take the girl off his mind.

He could have been listening to hard metal rock on full volume and she'd still be cozily settled in his mind.

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[thedeadflag]

So I meant to post this yesterday, but honestly, I felt like hell, so I left it until I could have the energy to at least get to splitting this next wip into parts.

This is...sort of an older one? I’ve added onto it semi-recently, but it’s kind of aged. I used parts of it for inspiration in other fics I’ve published since, and I don’t feel like rewriting those parts, so there might be some familiarity.

It’s also a wip I wrote as a sort of...form of escapism? I mean, to some extent, I put bits and pieces of myself in my fics and play things out in another world, and that’s cool, but this one was more cathartic in purpose, more direct in what I projected into it and wrote it for. I’ve got a decently long history of people who were supposed to care about me ending up hurting me, and never feeling like they did anything wrong, blaming me for being hurt, continuing to hurt me, etc.

Sometimes I think about what it could be like, if someone who caused harm like that cared enough to listen, and learn, and become safer. Not just for those they harmed, but others related to that harm. A bit of escapism, a fantasy of sorts, to imagine that sort of situation, where someone who caused harm could turn things around and become better, safer for the person they harmed, to care about their wellbeing, to care about causing harm. And because I can’t help but write romance, it’s also that, and a bed-sharing fic, and a bunch of other fluff. 

I touched on that theme a bit in ‘Looking for the Magic’, and that theme continues here. I started both stories around the same time, not having been sure which route I wanted to approach the theme through. Ultimately, I ended up kind of writing both, even if each has their own differences in ways. So not much in the way of new themes and ideas here, mostly this one was just used to help me emotionally process during a rough period. Still, I may as well air it out, since it served its purpose, and it’s still a WIP.

Content Warning: transmisogyny, transmisogynistic slurs, transphobia

Part 1 below (I’ll post more later today)

"You've got to be kidding me with this, Lexa!" Anya seethed, knowing she was making a bit of a scene, but there was no way she was going to let the injustice stand. "You can't pair me with her!"

Lexa reached out to hug her, or maybe rest a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped away in time to deny the effort. "You know what happened last year. We had to take more rooms and stop cramming everyone into two or three. This is how the draw played out."

"Well the draw was useless! How am I going to get any sleep?!" Anya demanded to know, looking at the details of her lodgings.

Lexa had booked her a room with a single queen-sized bed. Most of the others had two beds, but hers only had one, and that created endlessly more problems than rooming her with Clarke Griffin did on its own.

"It's a big bed. You're both eighteen. Maybe it's time to get over your grudge, Anya." Lexa asserted, only stoking the fires inside of her, even if it'd amount to nothing without someone she could take it out on.

"I do not think about Clarke Griffin. I do not care about Clarke Griffin. But I will not sleep in the same bed as her, and you know why!" She countered, bracing herself as Lexa's face contorted in frustration, her cousin taking in a deep breath.

"She's not who she used to be." Lexa insisted, setting her with a firm stare. "And Clarke's had some recent troubles of her own, so be nice. It's two nights. Just collapse onto the bed first and stop worrying about it."

If only she could.

Fact was, this convention trip was what she looked forward to the most each year, and now not only did she have to spend a large portion of it with someone she couldn't trust, but her favourite actresses had pulled out last minute due to illness, automatically making it the worst Polis Comic-Con in years.

Luckily, nothing good or important had been planned for Friday evening, so their late-ish arrival hadn't cost them much of anything opportunity-wise. "Just give me my key card, Lexa."

It didn't take long to find her room once she had the card, taking the elevator to the eighth floor and easily finding the fourteenth room. It was as small as expected, with a tiny bathroom that had more of a shower stall than a regulation bathtub, and a main room with a large bed and a dresser and not much else.

Deciding to be a little spiteful, she unpacked most of her things into the top half of the dresser, knowing that when the other vehicles arrived, Clarke would be left with the less convenient drawers. It wasn't much, but it was something of an outlet for her anger, so maybe she felt a little better.

At least until the door opened and Clarke slipped in with her luggage.

"Are we gonna have a problem?" Clarke asked, sounding halfway exhausted as she set her luggage down.

"Are you sleeping on the bed?" Anya shot back.

"Yeah. Obviously." Clarke stated, face twisting a little in confusion.

"Then yeah. I'm setting up in the bathroom." Anya asserted, taking hold of the sheets and yanking them off the bed, figuring if Clarke can have a comfy mattress, then she could at least have the sheets.

"What the f...okay, wait. You and I both know the bathroom floors here are gross and tacky to keep people from slipping. Just...come on. The bed's big." Clarke argued, but there was just no way.

Anya shook her head. "This trip's already a mess for me. Sleeping on the floor won't make it any worse."

At least, she hoped it wouldn't. Her back injury from a few months ago could certainly flare up, but Anya was willing to take that risk.

"I don't understand why you have to be such a child around me. You don't have to like me, but you don't have to sleep on the damn floor. I don't know why you don't like me, maybe I'm not as pretty and perfect as you, but I'm not a damned leper. It's not like I have some infectious disease." Clarke muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh as she blocked entrance to the bathroom, as if Clarke had the right to essentially call her a shallow, vain misogynist and then feel upset about Anya's hostility. "Put the covers back on the damn bed."

"Not happening. Now get out of the way." Anya stepped up, standing firm in Clarke's bubble of personal space, holding eye contact. She'd long since promised she wouldn't hurt Lexa's friends, but she'd promised nothing about intimidation. Even if Clarke smelled really nice, even if she hated putting on an act of fierceness, she had to put up a fight, had to show she took it seriously and was not happy to be sharing space with the girl.

Clarke's deep blue eyes shifted focus across her face, as if searching for an answer to some unspoken question. When Clarke let out a tired sigh, she took it that the girl hadn't found one. "What is wrong with you?" Clarke whispered in disbelief before giving her head a shake. "Just...wait here. I'll be back in a half hour."

Anya barely had time to blink before the door was open and Clarke was marching out.

Whatever Clarke's reasons, Anya felt pretty content with another thirty minutes of solitude. She'd take her wins where she could.

Anya had just started to feel relaxed, splayed out on the mattress, when the door to the hotel room opened again maybe forty-five minutes later. She'd hoped that maybe Clarke had found some other lodgings, but feeling a few large and light objects dropped on her legs stole that calm from her, forcing her to a seated position to defend herself.

Some of that edge fell away once she recognized what Clarke had tossed onto her, even if some of that anger was only replaced with equal parts confusion.

"Sleeping bag and a pillow. Lay down these towels, and you should be able to avoid dealing with the sticky shit." Clarke stated, tired eyes staring right at her, as if challenging her to object to or refuse the offer.

She wouldn't, but she wasn't about to kiss the girl's feet for being half-decent for once. "Fine." She noted, deciding that was all the response she needed to offer. Anya rolled off the bed and picked up the covers, quickly setting them back onto the bed and tucking them in.

"Why are you like this?" Clarke asked, flopping down onto the bed with an exhausted huff.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Anya scoffed, grabbing up the items and heading towards the bathroom.

"I'm serious. Why do you hate me?" Clarke asked, stilling Anya in place at the entrance to her new sleeping quarters for the night.

Honestly, she'd operated under the notion that Clarke was at least self-aware, but maybe that had been expecting too much. "There comes a point where you're responsible for your actions, Clarke. You're bi...you ran the school's GSA. If you can't piece together how you fucked up, then that only damns you more." She answered, feeling a slight bit of tension in her chest as Clarke's face fell, features contorted in a heavy mix of confusion and remorse. She shook her head, hoping but failing to shake off the sensation. "Goodnight, Clarke."

Anya stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, needing to feel safe, needing to create distance, needing to stop making other people's issues her problem, especially when those issues were caused by hurting her. She wouldn't baby Clarke through their shared history. She wouldn't feel bad for pointing out that the other blonde had hurt her. She deserved to be angry and hostile.

Feeling a little better, Anya laid out the towels and created a narrow but decent enough sleeping space to set up her sleeping bag on. It would have been a long night either way, but maybe now it could be a little better.

Didn't mean they were anywhere close to even, but a sleeping bag was better than some thin sheets, and maybe enough to stem some of her anger. Certainly not all, but a little bit.

Anya woke to a sharp pain in her back, the searing sensation stealing any sound from her throat as she rolled onto her side and rode out the wave of agony. Despite her hopes, the minimal cushioning of the towels and sleeping bag couldn't negate the dangers of sleeping on a hard unforgiving surface; Anya waited until she could breathe steadily again before unzipping the sleeping bag and getting to her feet, deciding she had over half a day to figure out her sleeping problem.

A glance at her phone told her it was a little after six, which was less than an hour before she would have gotten up anyways, so she packed everything up again, stashed it on the towel rack, took some Tylenol, and got to washing up in prep for the day.

Freshly showered, Anya wrapped herself in a towel and quietly padded out to the main room to grab some clothes, wishing she'd been mindful enough the previous night to stash some in the bathroom. She was just pushing the top drawer shut when she heard the rustle of sheets behind her.

"Anya? What're you doin' up?" Clarke slurred sleepily, the mattress creaking underneath her as Anya imagined the girl had sat up. "It's still way early."

"Getting breakfast." She answered simply, rolling her eyes as she heard the mattress creak again, bringing her to turn around and spot Clarke trying to get out of bed. "No, you idiot. You were exhausted last night. Get some more sleep, events don't start for another three and a half hours."

"Yeah, well good job with that, dropping a bomb on me last night and all. Barely slept." Clarke grunted, slipping out of bed, staggering on her feet for a moment before she found some semblance of balance. "Besides, I'm hungry."

Anya cursed herself internally for not just staying quiet, getting what she needed, and marching out when she had the chance. "I'm not waiting for you." She shot back, heading back into the bathroom to change as quickly as she could and get a solid tuck into place for at least the first part of the day.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Clarke was there, wearing leggings, an oversized sweater, and sunglasses, hair done up in a messy topknot. How Clarke managed to look stunning while clearly tired as all hell, Anya would never know, but apparently she would have to put up with Griffin for a little while longer.

"Go to the washroom. You don't want to use the one at the diner, sometimes they don't get around to cleaning the previous day's mess before the breakfast rush." Anya spoke, slipping past Clarke and opening the door to their hotel room. She wasn't going to wait, of course she wouldn't, but it was too early in the morning for spite to motivate her into moving faster as she made her way to the elevator, not to mention the ever-present back pain shooting up her spine with each step.

By the time she reached the elevator, she could hear jogging behind her, Clarke joining her inside of it just before the doors went to close.

"So what are we having for breakfast?" Clarke asked, sounding artificially chipper, as if Anya couldn't hear how groggy the girl was.

"You should be in bed." Anya noted as they descended to the main floor, trying to figure out how to handle Griffin tagging along for breakfast, and hoping it wouldn't be as frustrating and aggravating an experience as she expected.

"What are you, my mother? Besides, you're up." Clarke countered quickly, body leaning up against the railing in a way that didn't quite hide the other blonde's exhaustion.

"I'm an early riser. You're known for sleeping in closer to noon when given the opportunity." Anya rolled her eyes at the sleepy girl, thrilled when the elevator door opened and let her out, giving even a shred of possibility that Clarke would elect to wait inside and take it back upstairs.

She had no such luck. "Okay, it's super creepy that you know that." Clarke insisted, the clap of her sandals following Anya out of the hotel.

"You go to the parties Lexa and Costia host. I wake up early, make breakfast, and help with the cleanup. I notice which people sleep in and which don't." Anya explained, rolling her eyes again at the annoyed huff from behind her. "And don't think for a second that I care or am judging you for that. I don't give a crap. I just know you should be asleep, and that you're choosing instead to intrude on my breakfast."

The diner had always been her place to eat in the mornings when Comic-Con came around. Lexa and Costia would usually just grab something at Starbucks, but she kind of liked having a real breakfast, not just a coffee and a bagel like some would get. And since it wasn't the most popular place that early in the morning, she'd more or less have her choice of seating.

Usually, she'd just grab a small table, not wanting to take up much space, but once inside the restaurant's familiar walls, she made her way to a vacant booth, having some hope that the comfier seating could entice Clarke to return to bed after the meal.

Clarke plopped down hard onto the booth seating across from her and shuffled closer to the window, resting her head against it with a sleepy frown. "You know, I'd sleep a lot easier knowing why you hate me."

"And if I have to spell it all out for you, then you wouldn't understand anyways. We don't have to have some cliché heart to heart when it's pretty clear that we're at two different levels here. We don't have to reconcile. It doesn't matter." Anya answered, slumping back into her seat, arms crossing her chest.

"It does matter." Clarke asserted, taking off her sunglasses and putting them on their table. "Does it look like I slept last night?"

"So you felt too guilty to sleep. All that tells me is you're really uncomfortable with anyone thinking you might be a bad person. Newsflash, Griffin...you and your friends made people feel like shit all the time. Sorry if I don't buy your 'woe is me' act, given you still have no clue despite me literally sitting right here." Anya argued, willing her anger to sift back beneath the surface as the waitress approached.

"Hey there, ladies. Can I get you anything to drink to start with this morning?" The waitress asked a little cautiously, handing them both a menu, eyes flitting between her and Clarke as if to gauge if there was any trouble there.

Anya turned her full focus to the waitress, sending her a smile that seemed to ease the woman's slight apprehension. "Orange juice would be lovely, thank you."

"Chocolate milk sounds amazing. I'll have that, please." Clarke added, the waitress writing down the information and heading off, leaving them alone again for the moment. Clarke of course, just couldn't let the issue stand, fixing her focus on Anya again. "That's not fair. I think I'd remember if I said or did something hurtful to Asian women, Anya."

Anya had to fight the urge to face-palm, even if she immediately found herself more frustrated than she had been in some time. "You really need to stop beating around the bush, Griffin. This isn't about race or ethnicity and you know it. Rub some brain cells together for once and think. You made valedictorian, you're capable of basic deductive reasoning." Anya let out in a harsh whisper, feeling a pit form in her stomach at the pained wince Clarke gave at her words, at the way those blue eyes started to shimmer. "Don't you fucking start crying, Clarke."

"I'm just so tired. And I don't know. I don't know. Like, two years ago, Lexa told me about something lesbophobic that I said, and I haven't said anything like that since, I worked hard to think about it differently and unlearn the bullshit I used to think, so I just...I don't know." Clarke complained, voice cracking as the girl slumped forward against the table.

Anya wasn't sure whether she wanted to just explode and leave this plane of existence, or ream Clarke out over her supreme lack of attention to detail, or just try to work out the mystery of Clarke being so oblivious that she couldn't even think back a few years.

Not wanting to make a scene, and not wanting the situation to escalate even further, knowing full well her weakness for crying people, Anya reached out and took hold of Clarke's nearest hand. She wasn't gentle, she didn't tenderly graze a thumb over Clarke's knuckles or offer any such comforting gesture. No, she knew Clarke was a sucker for physical touch, and so long as she was holding her hand, so long as the potential for affection was so near, she'd have the other girl's attention.

"Take deep breaths. Look at the menu. Find something to eat. Think about all the fun things you and your friends will get up to today. Focus on that. Worry about me later." Anya stated slowly and calmly, annoyed that she was pushed to coddle her a bit, but it'd be worth it if she could still have and enjoy her breakfast in relative peace.

Yet, there was something in Clarke's eyes that told her that maybe she didn't have a full read on the other girl's issues. So when Clarke's head ducked away, maybe she brought out the big guns and let her thumb graze across the top of Clarke's knuckles. Maybe the mix of shock and hope on Clarke's face told her more than she expected.

"Lexa had you room with me for a reason, didn't she?" She asked, a few ideas floating around in her head that she wanted confirmation on before proceeding. She'd definitely need to sit Lexa down for a talk today, but for now, she needed details.

Clarke gave a silent nod, eyes falling shut and leaving a slight ring of wetness around the edges, officially sending Anya's heart into a twisting mess. Whether it was good method acting or legitimate, she couldn't say, but her maternal instincts were already kicking in.

Anya hadn't noticed the waitress approach, so the sight and sound of her orange juice being set down in front of her had her body jolting a little. Clarke, however, didn't even respond, just looking entirely sad and exhausted.

"Are you two ladies ready to order yet, or do you need a little more time?" The waitress, Niylah, asked, concerned eyes shifting between the both of them.

Anya fixed her focus on Clarke for a moment, already knowing her order. "Clarke, do you have an idea of what you want?" She asked, watching and waiting for a response, but Clarke remained silent. The girl had told her she was hungry earlier, so she decided to take her at her word, and use her past knowledge of Clarke to her advantage. In a worst case scenario, Clarke wouldn't like it, and they could stop at the Starbucks on the way back, anyways. Anya turned her focus to the waitress. "Can we get an order of the apple crisp pancakes, the cinnamon bun pancakes, and two fresh fruit cups on the side, please?"

Their waitress offered a nod and hurried off to another table, the morning rush starting up in some form.

"I don't understand...what, are you trying to soften me up? Get me to crack? I thought you didn't want a heart to heart." Clarke murmured, her words barely audible above the din of the diner.

Anya scoffed at the assertion. "I don't. But I'm not incapacitated, Clarke...I can tell when someone's hurting. I don't have to like you to want to minimize that, and I know you indulge your sweet tooth when you're feeling down." She answered, knowing some parts were a white lie, but Clarke didn't need to know that crying turned her to putty.

"It's totally unfair that you apparently know everything about me and I know nothing about you." Clarke let out with a frustrated huff, wet eyes finally opening again, even if they didn't meet Anya's.

"I find it hard to believe you haven't picked up something over the years. We've been sharing classes and schools since grade two." Anya noted offhandedly, figuring Clarke was exaggerating out of discomfort, but the immediate degree of wary disbelief on the other girl's face unnerved her and had her wondering if Clarke really was even more oblivious than she thought possible. "You...are aware that we spent elementary together, at least?"

Clarke's eyes narrowed. "I think I would have remembered you."

Anya pulled her hand away from Clarke and leaned back, feeling her mind fall apart bit by bit. "You at least remember when I came out at the end of middle school?"

Clarke recoiled as if stung, and even if the reaction last just a moment, there was a lingering sadness in Clarke's eyes. "I...I spent half of my last year of middle school at home after my father died."

She wanted to smash her face with a waffle iron for forgetting that vital detail of Clarke's history. Usually she didn't flub that hard. "I'm sorry, it slipped my mind, my apologies." Anya offered, earning a quick nod from the other girl.

"Thanks. Anyways, yeah, I didn't catch you when you transferred in. I only saw you in high school." Clarke stated, only furthering Anya's confusion, because she hadn't transferred anywhere.

And yet, it all made a twisted sort of sense, if she considered Clarke's popularity growing up, her relative obscurity, and the potential effects of alcohol consumption. Suddenly, Anya finally had a reason for why Clarke seemed so entirely off the mark, even if it still wasn't excusable. And really, if Lexa truly wanted her to spend time with Clarke, then she begrudgingly would, but Clarke would have to owe her for her openness, and Lexa would have a serious debt to pay. "You definitely saw me before, but yeah, your first time seeing me after I came out was the start of high school. You know, as a trans girl and all."

Clarke's eyes bugged out, a deep red blush tinting her cheeks as her hand fumbled to find her glass of milk.

Anya dug around in her bag and pulled out one of the gag gifts Lexa had given her long ago, pushing the big purple swirly straw across to Clarke. "So you don't spill any." She said dismissively when Clarke shot her a curious stare. "While it's ridiculous that I can mentally recall six times you were explicitly told I was a trans girl, and that information apparently never got digested despite most of the school knowing over the years, it doesn't let you off the hook. Especially since you can probably piece together my issues, or at least some."

"So...wait, you were A..."

"Don't say my deadname. It's a deadname for a reason. But yes, we were paired together in our grade four science fair, among other things." Anya interrupted, perhaps aggressively reminding Clarke of etiquette.

Thankfully, the other blonde looked appropriately remorseful. "Sorry. But...okay, that makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it. I always wondered where you came from, and where the kid I grew up around went. I guess I just never connected the dots. Okay." Clarke noted, nodding absently as the gears of her brain clearly worked away. "It was the Spirit Week stuff I did for the student council, right?"

Anya rolled her eyes, because even if those events sucked, they weren't as hurtful. Not directly, at least. "They were transphobic, the genderbend days, at least. But not what I had in mind." She clarified before taking a long sip of her juice, a satisfied moan escaping her at the perfect balance of tang and sweetness. "Anyways, we can deal with that later. What's going on with you? It has to be something big if Lexa assigned me to you."

"Assigned? You make it sound like a mission. She just said that you usually do your own thing at cons, and that if I could tag along that it would be good for me, since your schedules don't really ever align with our usual group's plans." Clarke explained, making the whole weekend roommate situation a lot clearer.

Lexa definitely owed her for this.

"And Lexa told me you were having troubles, and asked me to be nice to you." Anya added, earning a sharp laugh from her counterpart.

"Well, you knocked that out of the park last night and this morning. Way to make me feel welcome." Clarke groused, for decently good reason, even if Anya had been fully justified in her responses.

"Lexa wasn't explicit about it to me, and I have every reason not to be kind. But if she talked to you, and rigged the room draw, then this is all on purpose. I get that now." Anya explained, wishing her cousin and best friend had been clearer about it. She probably would have been a lot angrier before arrival, but she could have at least prepared. "Let me guess, you drove up on your own. You're avoiding your friends over some recent falling-out, but still want a decent weekend because you paid for a pass and the hotel months ago."

Clarke picked up the swirly straw, unwrapped it, and stuck it in her drink. "You're mostly right. Raven's been fast-tracked through high school, so she finished last year and started at MIT one year early. I heard she and Finn broke up because of the distance, Finn told me as much by the start of the school year, and after a little while we started dating. We kept it low-key, not wanting to attract much attention or drama in our senior year...or at least, that's what I thought. Turns out, he was still dating Raven long-distance, and would spend some weekends over in Boston with her."

Anya winced, knowing that couldn't have been an easy revelation to face. "When did you find out?"

"Two weeks ago. Finn's been trying to get me alone to talk to me, but I just...I can't. I can't be the other woman, and I can't hurt Raven, so I'm just trying to get as much distance as I can and pretend Finn and I never happened." Clarke explained before taking a sip of her chocolate milk, a hint of a smile reaching her lips.

"Good call. He's even more of a jackass than I thought he was, you didn't deserve that." Anya admitted, seriously hoping the jackass wouldn't show his face around her that weekend. It'd already been one of the few times she could escape him and his friends relatively easily even when they attended, so the notion of him seeking them out was irritating to say the least.

Clarke tilted her head to the side as she took another sip, eyes twinkling with some mixture of amusement and curiosity. "I think I could get used to this softer side of you."

Anya huffed and took a gulp of her juice. Like hell if she was being soft. Clarke had no idea what soft would look like on her. "Not soft. Just honest. You'll be hearing plenty from me later, but it's neither the time nor the place for that."

Clarke sat back in her booth, hands in the air in mock surrender. "Okay, you're not being soft. Though if this isn't it, I'm seriously curious how soft and cuddly you can get."

"It's such a shame you'll never know." Anya shot back, sending a glare Clarke's way, but it didn't even faze the other blonde's growing grin.

"Well, I have an inkling. You did hold my hand..."

"That was to get your attention..."

"...and you brushed your thumb across my knuckles..."

"...which was to save this table from becoming a spectacle since you were on the verge of..."

"...and you gave me a cute little swirly straw and ordered me comfort food."

Anya rolled her eyes, taking another long gulp of her juice. It was a tragedy that Clarke's annoying nature was keeping her from truly savoring the freshly squeezed delicious drink. "That's beside the point. I was hungry, so I put an order in, and you were on edge, so I didn't want you to spill your drink."

"I'm sure." Clarke noted cheerfully, and though her clear sarcasm and exhaustion was written across her face, there was some sincere joy there too, for whatever reason.

Anya's perfectly thought out verbal barb to Clarke's smug behaviour was put on indefinite hold as their waitress returned, setting their respective orders onto the table. "And here we go, is there anything else I can get you two?"

"Can we get another orange juice for the pretty girl?" Clarke requested, her shit-eating grin holding as the waitress laughed and scribbled a quick note on her pad, and try as she might, Anya could not keep her cheeks from burning. She'd always had a weakness to compliments from other women. "Thank you so much."

Anya waited until the waitress was gone before leaning closer, ignoring her delicious pancakes to glare at the girl across from her. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Good thing I don't have anywhere else to be. But it will apparently get blood rushing to your cheeks. That's interesting." Clarke mused as she thankfully turned her focus to her meal. "This looks like it'll put me into a food coma."

"I did tell you that you need to sleep." Anya snarked as she cut up and forked a chunk of delicious pancake.

"You can't just get me pregnant with a food baby and expect me to sleep, Anya." Clarke insisted with a laugh. Anya would have vocally disagreed were she not enjoying her delicious pancakes. She loved a lot of their options, but the apple crisp ones were honestly to die for.

Once she was finished savouring her bite, Anya pointed her fork at Clarke's plate. "Eat up. You can tell me I'm wrong when you're done."

Clarke let out a huff, her cocked eyebrow clearing sending the signal that she wasn't going to be undone by breakfast food. Still, when Clarke took a bite of her pancakes, eyes fluttering shut and a content moan rumbling in her throat, Anya knew there was hope yet.

Or, well, at least that she'd get to finish her meal without much more trouble.

[trishgosar]

Insider Digital Marketing Strategy

About Insider.in 

Insider.in is a web based ticketing stage for occasions, travel, sports, and nourishment. Created by OML (Only Much Louder) and established in 2014. It has conveyed more than 15,000 occasions crosswise over 58 urban areas in India. They are currently wandering into handpicked constrained release stock. 

Rivalry 

Insider's primary rival in India is BookMyShow. 

BookMyShow is the biggest ticketing entry in India. Its significant force point is that it sells motion picture tickets on the web. This is the significant motivation behind why BMS is substantially more known than Insider. 

On social, BMS has a ton of supporters and endorsers however their commitment rate isn't that extraordinary. Then again, Insider has not very many devotees yet their commitment rate is superior to that of BMS. 

Target Audience For Insider Digital Marketing Strategy 

An overview permitted Damini Naik and Anjali Naik to bifurcate who the intended interest group for Insider.in is. 

The essential objective crowd is 21-multi year old, Secondary is 26-30 years of age and Tertiary is 16-multi year old. 

All crusades and advancements are focused at the essential objective crowd part. 

Agony Points 

Each brand ought to perceive certain agony focuses and afterward move in the direction of eradicating them. 

The torment focuses for Insider are : 

Achievability 

Attractive quality 

Absence of mindfulness 

Awful UI/UX 

Inadequate online life 

Crusade thought: #TheInsiderExperience 

The whole crusade will concentrate on bringing the constructive client experience out there for others to see and get mindful of Insider. 

At the point when somebody visits Insider on any web based life stage, all they see is limited time content. What's more terrible is, the point at which they burrow further, they see a great deal of negative surveys. 

The issue is by all accounts that when a client has a decent encounter, he may/may not post an audit about it. Yet, if there should arise an occurrence of an awful encounter, they ensure that they expound on it via web-based networking media stages. Accordingly, the proportion of negative audits to positive ones is unquestionably more. 

This battle is planned for getting the positive encounters out in the open more. #TheInsiderExperience will induce more want for the brand understanding among more individuals. 

There should be some important substance worth expending instead of being barraged with a post about an occasion which got over a month back. 

Methodologies for #TheInsiderExperience 

Website design enhancement (Search Engine Optimization) 

Since, the greatest traffic that goes ahead the Insider site is through natural pursuit, having a secure SEO technique turns into an outright should. In spite of the fact that Insider positions very well on the SERP for the watchwords that it focuses on, its area authority is still just 48. 

Increment in the quantity of pertinent backlinks, web journals, site advancement to lessen bob rate is something that must be seriously dealt with. 

Steady backlinks through circumstances like: 

Top 5 Music Fests you need to go to this year! (Thrillophilia 57) 

10 Indian Comedians, you must watch out for(Scoopwhoop 68) 

5 Offbeat workshops to light up your ends of the week (LBB 56) 

Why Son of Abish is the ULTIMATE television show (Buzzfeed India 97) 

Mouthshut (68) 

Coupon Duniya (57) 

Social Seo 

The area authority of every one of these sites are obviously higher 

Under social SEO, Damini Naik and Anjali Naik need a very much associated online networking and site. The substance ought to contribute towards driving the traffic to the site and the sites ought to be shared on the suitable web-based social networking destinations. 

Site 

As far as look, the present Insider site was structured quite well yet to advance the outcomes, Damini Naik and Anjali Naik rolled out a couple of improvements to it. The site isn't versatile enhanced. Quickened portable pages is an absolute necessity. 

Enlightening alt labels for all pictures is significant in light of the fact that it gets simpler for Google to comprehend the picture. It can assist Insider with positioning in Google picture search if not Google indexed lists which can assist drive with dealing to the site. Catchphrase advancement in title/meta portrayal and header labels for SEO purposes. 

Since there are numerous pictures on the site, it likewise adds to the stacking time. Consequently every one of the pictures should be compacted with the goal that the site opens speedier. 

Expansion of two pages: #TheInsiderExperience and #IamInsider. 

#IAmInsider is a page devoted to the reliability program that will be talked about later under ORM. 

#TheInsiderExperience is a page which incorporates of tributes and encounters. The substance that goes into this page will be gathered through disconnected photograph stalls at occasions, online networking exercises and furthermore Influencer joint efforts. 

There will likewise be a live talk bot. To expand client maintenance and the quantity of recruits, for each individual who goes ahead the site just because, the Chatbot will offer a "My first #TheInsiderExperience markdown 10% on the client's first buy. Redeemable inside one month in the wake of joining". This is can quicken the business procedure. 

The chatbot will likewise consistently remind the current clients about the #IAmInsider unwaveringness program to support deals. 

Further, any individual who joins/signs on to the site will get a spring up asking what classifications they like. The information will be separated by the interests and refreshed on Facebook as a custom crowd. They will be sent the proper interchanges through Facebook promotions as indicated by their inclinations. 

Application STORE Optimization 

At present, the Insider application on the Google Play Store has no review video. 

Review recordings are significant as it gives the crowd a vibe of the application and its straightforwardness in utilization. A 19-second basic review video demonstrating how the application can be utilized as a speedy method to book tickets has been made. 

The application has exceptionally low evaluations and not very numerous audits. That is presumably why the application isn't positioning admirably on Google play store or App store for any catchphrases separated from their image name. 

Audit insightful (on Play Store), BMS has 10,49,131+(10.5 lakhs) surveys though Insider simply has 652. As far as application introduces, BMS has 1,00,00,000+(1 crore) introduces and Insider just has 1,00,000. 

Three-pointer intends to build introduces and audits : 

Promotions: Facebook advertisements for mindfulness with CTA application download. (Google Play Store simply because) (android has 80% offer) 

Experience stall: will be used to get more individuals to audit our applications. 

Motivating forces: 10% off on first buy through the application. 200 reliability focuses for investigating the application under #IAmInsider dedication program. 

BLOG 

Themes for the blog: 

All you have to think about NH7 

8 Must-have basics for a Music Fest 

Kinds of individuals at Concerts 

Your rundown of Long Weekends in 2019 

5 different ways to design an ideal end of the week escape for your pets 

Misguided judgments identified with being a Stand-up Comedian in India 

Consistent blogging on important themes drives more individuals to the site for quality substance. It likewise helps construct a brand picture. 

FACEBOOK ADS 

Objective: REACH 

Potential reach : 28,000,000 

Reach : 151k-303k 

Lifetime Budget: Rs. 600,000/ - 

Calendar: 2 months 

Arrangements: Facebook and Instagram Feed and Stories 

INFLUENCER MARKETING 

The influencers that Damini Naik and Anjali Naik wish to rope in are Alicia Souza, Aishwarya Mohanraj, Magali Vaz, TheCrazyIndianFoodie, Kenny Sebastian and Kusha Kapila. 

ORM 

Through research, it was noticed that Insider did not have the privilege Online Reputation Management. The stages utilized for this are Twitter, Quora, Reddit, Mouthshut, Consumer Complaints, and National Consumer Helpline. 

The fundamental point is to make a positive brand picture by being dynamic on these discussions, reacting to every one of the clients in time, and settling grievances to improve the client experience. 

The ORM procedures likewise incorporate a reliability program – #IAmInsider. 

Clients will get redeemable focuses for each buy made. Focuses for checking on the application will be given as well. This program is to incite more brand steadfastness and for a superior brand understanding. 

Disconnected 

Experience corners will be set up at significant occasions where individuals can go click pictures with props and against the foundation of #TheInsiderExperience. Experience stall will be utilized to build App introduces and gather progressively material for #TheInsiderExperience page like getting live film of individuals' encounters with Insider at the occasions. 

BRAND COLLABORATIONS 

1. HP SPROCKET 

For disconnected Experience corners, HP sprocket will be utilized. 

Every one of the individuals who go to the experience corner need to do is, survey the Insider application, get into the experience stall, click pictures utilizing the Sprocket and get their duplicate of the image taken from Sprocket free as a keepsake! 

2. People OF BOMBAY 

Welcome HoB for Insider occasions where they can meet and accumulate bunches of substance from the crowd. 

HoB assumes control over Insider office for a day. To get stories and encounters from the representatives. This will all be posted on HoB social stages, reposted by Insider and will assist drive with dealing from HoB's profile to Insider's 

3. OLA 

Open ten OLA rides to get a coupon for Insider. 

Promotions on Ola prime TV screen about the offers and #TheInsiderExperience. 

Sharing the database of individuals who have booked passes to the setting, will enable Ola to send them a message to book tickets for the scene on that day itself. 

Additionally, Ola can likewise send a SMS to individuals at the occasion to book taxis when they leave from the occasion. 

4. PAYTM 

Cashback offers and promotions on Paytm. 

EMAIL MARKETING 

The email advertising program was contrived according to the client venture after he/she joins on the site/application. 

MEDIA PLAN 

All out spending plan: Rs. 1,325,000/ - 

This all out spending plan is apropos isolated among all the Influencers and Facebook arrive at advertisements. 

The assessed profits for spends are back-determined dependent on commitment rate, avg mechanical CTR (0.9%) and avg modern transformation rate (1%).