#finding out something youd began to see as your own wasnt real

[kodakreations]

---. nights were definitely the hardest, he surmised, the red glow from the pod seemingly soaking into his skin. he trembled, growled, primally crawling over and prompting his fist in the air, learning from daddy, giving him credit where it was due as he thrust it down. glass shattered, the pain unregistered, catharsis throughout, no meek wail racking his structure; not yet. the little one -- or, what he'd thought and hoped -- did not respond, liquid dripping off its face enough to reveal a stale porcelain eye staring back, rivets throughout, mechanical joints crackling and fizzing. he was daddy, fist after fist landing, wishing oh so terribly that it hadnt been just a doll, that it was just like sams, one of his own that was no longer. a doll, a fake, and a trick from amelie.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

What is August going to do if his little decides to play with his forbidden knife collection? :3

Omg so this took a while and i'm sorry but im sooo happy with this! It got a little long so im hidig it under a cut but i hope you enjoy! @littlefreya @viking-raider

August swore vehemently looking around for the blades he'd sharpened specifically for his next assignment.

This needed to be silent and precise, he'd sharpened each blade twice! Not once but twice!

He wouldnt even attempt his 'arm hair' shave test this time knowing he may have gone over board with the sharpening.

But he couldnt help it, he found it therapeutic running his hands over the blades again and again, it was like medatation for him.

But they were no where to be seen! Hed placed them each delicatly in the rolled travelling leather holster, useing the small poppers to lock each dangerous blade in place and then hid it in the small safe in the wardrobe.

"Baby girl! LITTLE ONE HAVE YOU BEEN IN THE SAFE?!" He shouted down the stairs only not to get an answer, the radio on the kitchen drowning him out.

You were baking, well 'bakeing' he had bought a 'unicorn gingerbread box kit' for you both to make today.

It was a small treat he would spend the day with you doing anything your little heart desires befor setting off onto his week long mission.

You were currently rolling out the gingrbread and he had decided to sneak his weapons into his bag while you were preoccupied.

August never liked rubbing innhis occupation with you, never liked faceing the awkward questions, he wont lie to you but in being truthfull he can sometimes frighten you.

In the bedroom he was as ruthless and rough and demanding as he was at work.

But like this when you were little, you drew out a softer side. Well as soft as he was capable of, he was a stern man in everything he did, even in daddying you.

August huffed and zipped his case violently stressing out he needed to go down and pversee ou before you did something foolish, like tried to put the gingerbread in the oven.

Your panicked hyperventilating and bitten 9ff screams drew his attention immediatly!

He bolted down the stairs as fast as he could, so panicked by the cries and screams from the kitchen he raced through the housestomping and crashing with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

Oh hell.

He froze, face paling mouth agape as he took in the scene.

Then he roared in a way you'd never heard.

You cowered holding your hand tightly as it bled profusely red life blood poured all over the white counter ruining the sheet pan dusted with what was once pure white flour.

The blood was also over the rolled out gingerbread, along with a very familiar knife.

You cried and staggered over you august holding your wound tightly tripping over your feet to him, wandering blindly unable to see much through your tears. Or hear past your frantic crying and yelps of "daddy!?"

August quickly decended on you grasping a teatowel from the laundry basket on the counter and tookover holding your offered wounded hand whislts snappjng at you in worry fueled anger.

"What the fuck are you dojng with that!? They are daddies special knives! You know not to touch thwm you silly little girl!"

"I'm s-so-rry! OUCH, NO-OO DAD-DY IT HURTS!" You cried out complaining as he dabbed the wound inspecting it.

It wasnt to deep just long, across the whole of your palm. He could tell your slipped and probably didnt evwn notice youd cut yourself untill it'd sliced fully across.

He'd sharpened them that much.

"You will be! By god little lady you will ne so very very sorry when im done woth you!"

"Come on sit down before you pass out and bleed all over the kitchen" he said tying a knot in two corners ot the teatowle making a triangle like a sling and looped it around your palm then fetched a wooden spoon slotting it in the large opening and began twisting it tight making a tourniquet.

You hissed as he pulled the clother thighter and tighter then slipped the wooden spoon into your fingers holding the teatowel still, before raising your hand high letting gravityhelp slow the bleeding.

"Now hold that there, dont you move, w need to stop the bleeding so i can mend it" he snipped grunting to himself. He wasnt worried as such, it looked worse than it was he had tended to worse on himself.

"Y-you can fix it da-ddy?" You sobbed tryi g to be brave but you were shaking like a leaf, youd never bled that much before.

"Yes daddy can fix it poppet, daddy can always fix it" he said quickly pulling out his... vast medic kit that was fully stocked to deal with everything from burns and cuts to bullet woulds and decapitated fingers. Because ou never know.

"A-are you mad da-addy?!" You whined eyes wide as he huffed and sighed dragging his hands through hos hair irritated

"Im not angry im very very disappointed. And you can bet your little ass is gonna be meeting that spoon shortly!" He said vehemently trying to calm himself and remind himself it wasnt too serious and he could deal with this cut.

You didnt even argue just looked down, dropping your watery eyes to the floor like a kicked puppy, and it wasnt even to soften him either.

"Why were you touching daddies private things?" He spoke tyring to take both his and your mind off your wound as he located everything he needed from the box.

"A'cos i wa-nted to see...they were shiney after you were polishin'em" you explained hicupping slowly weeping still as the pain and throbbing set in.

"I was sharpening them poppet, not polishing" he uttered quickly with a sigh trying to find a quaze big enough to wrap in a bandage.

"I just wanted to see... Never gon' touch" you sobbed bijng your lip eyes flickingnup the the now red teatowel, your figers were going a ittle numb from the tight tourniquet.

"And then?" He asked quirking a brow as you before waling to the kitchen sink washing and rinsing the washing up bowl thoroughly befpre filling with fresh warm water and a new clean cloth.

"Then the box said cut round the unicorns with a knife... And I already got it out to look at" you said shrugging a little as he moveed down your hand. Luckily the bleedig had stopped.

"I also says let and adult do it" your daddy chided as he slowly and gwntly unwrapped your hand making our fingers sting a little at the renewed bloodflow

"Im an-adult" you argued weakly then hissed as he begancleani g the wound dabbig it ever so lightly knowig he had to use clean water instead of antiseptic that could slow the healing of the delicate skin.

"Your a baby" he said with a roll of his eyes 'a spoilt baby' he added as an after thought to himself.

"...but im carful never cut myself with my big girl knives!" You agrued then gasped giving a small 'uh oh' you mouth had run away with you again.

"You mean the kitchen knives?" August asked quickly coming down on the new information like a... well hammer on a land mine.

"No... my saftey knives daddy" you uttered under your breath hissing as he moved on to the next stage of tending to your wound pressing the gauze to it.

"What do you mean your safety onives little one?" He said paying close attention to the bandages he was unravling over your hand trying to keep it firm but comfortable.

"My safety knives... i-in my purse?... Incase of baddies" you whispered slowly praying he wouldnt hear you. But his fingers paused for a second before quickly tying off the bandage in a knot and gave you a fierce look.

"You have knives in your?- wait hold-" august frowned and held a hand up singnalling you to stay then left the kitchen.

He returned moments later and emptied your pjrse only to growl shaking his had as a plethora of 'cute' weapons fell out. Hello kitty switch blades, rainbow blades, pink pocket knives and suspicious looking comb, key knives, pen knives you name it! There was even a ... cat keyring obviously meant to be some sort of pointy eared knuckle duster.

"Really poppet? Knives and... knuckle dusters- these are" he began scolding you but you cut him off

"I know i know daddy im sorry-" your apology was halted as your daddy spoke over you in a warning to e, he didnt like being interrupted.

"No where near good enough! These are all close range! If your close enough to use these then your already fucked! No you need pepperspray and a tazer!" He growled quickly picking up the feeble knives that had no grip to them, and wasnt ever sharp!

"T-tazer?" You stuttered tiltinnyour head cradling your injured hand to your chest.

"Yes, they are close range but will stop any attacker in their tracks! You can get away whilst your attacker is convulsing and laying in a pool of his own piss!" August growled becoming more and more aggravated as he realised you had now real way of protecting yourself when he wasnt around, big or little!

"Im getting you a tazer- today! Before i leave" he decided nodding to himself as he binned the now soiled teatowel and wash cloth.

"...can i have a pink one daddy?" You asked not being the slightest bit against having a tazer, it would make you feel alot safer then a knife.

Knives needed a proper opening and some brute force to protect you and could really really hurt someone!

A tazer was just a button and could work nomatter where ou hit the baddy and would kill them just make em gall over and pee.

"You can have a pink one princess... or a lipstick one or a tampon one?" Auguast suggested trying to thinl of the best one for you... he was sure a smaller discreet one whould be better than a law enforcement grade.

"That sounds uncomfortable daddy..." you uttered shuddering at the thought of that... being mistaken.

"Its not really a- fuck it... Right come on lets get in the living room you can go pick a tazer online" he said beginni g to pack up the first aid kitpillig everthing neatly into the box.

"O-okay... but no spankies daddy... I'm hurt" you warned cautiously waving your bandaged hand

"Yes spankies! Absolutly spankies! You take this spoon with you and you can pop it on the table as a reminder!" He ordered holding you with a level gaze blue eyes warning you to do as you were told.

"But my hand-" you said sniffling cradling it.

"Will be the least of your problems when I'm tanning your naughty butt! Now go or else" he threataned clipping the first aid box shut still watching you, staring unblinkingly.

"Or else what-" you started but your daddy was havig none of it and cut you off again.

"There is a silicone butter icing spreader in this kitchen that will be much worse than thw wooden spoon! Now get in the living room befpre i make you find it" he growled not about to let you throw a paddy about getting your ass blistered after the stunt you pulled.

Your lower lip wobbled but yu nodded giving up, plucking the wooden spoon and turning around leaing the kitchen in a walk of shame muttering a tiny 'yes daddy, sorry daddy'

Auguast watched with a stern face, before turning his attention to the bloody kitchen he will clean before coming to deal with you.

A good fifteen mineut wait will let you have time to reflect before he comes in and tans you hide.

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Blade is a fearless woman out in the apocalypse on her own when she comes across Negan in the woods. Quickly feeling a connection with him, Negan learns Blade does not like to share him.]

Smut

Negan and Blade

It had been eight months into the apocalypse now, you had no shelter, little water and only squirrels left to eat. Being by yourself wasnt much of a strain for you as most of your life you spent alone before the apocalypse. Standing by a fire you made in the woods, you cooked a few squirrels you had caught earlier in the day sharpening your knives leaning against a tree. Suddenly hearing the sound of crunching leaves not to far from you, you instantly stopped what you were doing. Putting your hood over your head you slowly began to turn, your knife ready for aim when a man appeared through the trees.

"Shit," you whispered looking at the fire behind you. Not trusting anyone, you didnt want to cause any attention on yourself but it was too late.

"What do we have here?" A mans voice made you turn back quickly ready for defense.

"Dont come any closer." The man could barely see your face hiding behind your hood. Noticing the knife in your hand the man lifted up his hands with a lazy smile.

"Come on, sweetheart. Put that down before you hurt yourself."

"Oh arent you quite funny." The sarcasm in your tone he actually liked. Observing what you had around you the man frowned noticing squirrels being cooked behind you.

"Ho-ly shit. Squirrels? Really, sweetheart?"

Right away you could tell this man was one who liked to play games, arrogant and slick. A man who thought he had a alot of charm thinking he could distract you with his little pet names.

"Stop speaking. Where the hell did you come from?"

"More like where the hell did you come from, darling. As far as I'm concerned your on my side of the woods." The cockiness in his tone made you scowl, he didnt seem intimated by you at all.

"Says who?"

"Says me. Negan."

"Well, Negan. I dont give a shit who you say you are. This is free land now get out of my face before you get hurt."

"Well shit-" Negan observed you from head to toe raising his brows.

"You do look like a you can give a mean fight." He noticed your buckled up black boots, your black ripped jeans, black top and a leather jacket, just like him. Yet, he couldnt help himself. With a smirk he slowly put his hands down and started to walk towards you.

"Dont push me, I mean it." You warned him waving the knife in his face when he suddenly caught your wrist in his hand. Still, you moved too quickly for him. Negan didnt expect you to get loose so quickly and next thing he knew you now had the knife pointed sharply against his neck. Looking up, careful not to move he laughed in disbelief as you held your place.

"Well look at that, a little tougher than I thought after all." Still with a cocky tone yet a look of surprise in his eyes, Negan did not move.

"Listen, darling I've got a sanctuary not far from here." He looked around at your surroundings with the knife still pointed at his neck.

"You look like you could use some help-"

"I dont." You responded stubbornly, truth be told you definitely needed help. But, having always found a way out of your struggles you were sure youd find a way.

"Listen to me. I have a sanctuary, I can give you a place to stay. You can have real food, shit we can use a girl like you on our side. What do ya say?" You couldnt believe even with a knife to his throat this man still had the urge to smile down at you. His offer did not sound bad at all, after all it was getting cold and you were running low on food.

"Where is the place?" You asked as he responded by pointing in the direction he came from. After a moment of uncertainty you slowly pulled the knife away from his neck leaving a red mark. Negan cracked his neck with a sigh.

"And if I dont like it. I'm leaving."

"Whatever you want, woman." Negan stood back as you gathered your belongings and pulled your hood back. For the first time Negan got a glimpse of the woman whom he had just had a confrontation with. Long dark hair lay over your shoulder as he noticed the other side of your head shaved.

"Mmm." A sound of satisfaction escaping his lips making you look up.

"What?" You asked with an attitude that he couldnt help but want to see more of.

"Nothing, darling. Nothing at all."

"Well, are you going to lead to where the hell this place is?" Placing your hands on your hips you asked with very little patience.

"This fucking woman." Negan muttered under his breath with a chuckle before leading the walk before you. Usually you would've never trusted a strange man this way but desperate times called for desperate measures. Plus, you knew how to defend yourself, you had faced worse before.

After a bit Negan and you walked side by side, his eyes helplessly drifting to you here and there. Your style attracting him, your fearlessness intriguing him, Negan wanted to know more.

"Do you have a name?"

"Of course I do." You responded sarcastically.

"Well are you going to tell me it, darling? Or are you going to make me fight for that too? I mean unless its cause you like the nicknames I've given you-"

"My name is Blade." Your interruption quickly silencing him.

"Blade..." he repeated as he looked you up and down.

"It sure fits."

Negan led you into what he called the Sanctuary. A heavily guarded space with many others, you had no idea how close you were to so much life all along. Right away you noticed each person having a job at the Sanctuary as everyone looked busy working on something. It was clear they didnt stay here for free. Introducing you to who he called his 'right hand man' Simon, Negan showed you around. In a room you entered, sat a few ladies clearly dressed differently from everyone else.

"These here are my lovely wives."

"Wives?" You looked at him strangely before looking back at the women. They were dressed in tight short black dresses, all wearing heels, you wondered where they found any of this. Raising a brow at him you crossed your arms wondering what he had in mind.

"If you thought I came back with you here to play a role of one of your wives, your sadly mistaken." Your loud voice making the women turn to you wondering who you were. Negan right away blocked their view of you, standing before you as he leaned one hand on the wall behind you.

"Easy, sweetheart. It wasnt a thought but since you mentioned it-" he bit down on his bottom lip.

"You would look damn good in a tight little dress."

"You wish," your tone just as arrogant as his and he liked it.

"Just a little bit." He whispered before you moved out of the small space he cornered you in and left the room.

"Just show me where I'm staying." Walking off Negan followed you closing the door behind him. Showing you the room you would stay in, it was nice to see a bed. You couldnt remember the last time you slept in a bed, it had been months. Negan noticed the way you looked at it and wondered how hard you must've had it all alone. He wondered how long you were all alone.

"This good enough?"

"Its great," your attitude quickly changing back to a nonchalant manner.

"Tell me, Blade-" Negan took a step in front of you wanting to be face to face.

"How long you been on your own?"

His question making you throw your head back with a chuckle, it had been so long since you last saw your family.

"Since I was seventeen," Negan frowned with your response a bit confused.

"Oh I been on my own long before this apocalyptic world ever took over. This is nothing new for me having to fend for myself, Negan. That's why I said if I have to leave I will, nothing I haven't handled before."

Negan squinted his eyes as you spoke, he could tell you've had it rough.

"Well let's hope you dont have to....I think it'd be nice having you around."

Was that a genuine compliment that didnt involve your looks or any sarcastic remark? He could tell you almost cracked a smile.

"Well, I'll let you get settled in. Theres food in the next room, make yourself comfortable." Negan began to walk out before you quickly turned towards him and called out for him.

"Hey Negan?"

"Mhm?" He turned to you leaning on the door way.

"Thanks," without saying a word he winked at you and left the room.

The next few days you began helping out the men by securing the fences surrounding the sanctuary. No one had put you up to this job but you knew you could do it.

"Well well well, I dont remember assigning you to this." Negan showed up behind you watching you twist the wires securely.

"I'm good with my hands, didnt think you'd mind."

"Good with your hands huh?"

Rolling your eyes you turned to him making him laugh.

"I'm sorry, some times I cant help myself."

"Well learn how to, or save that energy for all those wives."

Negan raised his brows at your quick come backs. A man who always enjoyed giving sarcasm yet rarely was ever on the other end.

"God you're fun to tease," you couldnt help but laugh along with him. You knew he purposely picked at you just to hear you come back at him. He enjoyed the feistiness you gave him, he enjoyed you not giving a shit to what he might think.

Just as you finished you went back inside to grab something to eat and Negan followed. He watched as you prepared yourself a sandwich, reaching across the table making your shirt go up he noticed a tattoo on your hip.

"What's that you got there?" Standing back straight you looked down to where his eyes were and pulled your shirt down.

"A tattoo. What never heard of one?" You responded defensively making him smirk.

"I got a few myself. Rarely come across women with them, especially in such a....sensitive spot." His voice was low as he came to realization that maybe you enjoyed a little bit of pain.

"Can I see it?"

Hesitantly you pressed your lips together before slightly lifting up your shirt and revealing a tattoo of a rose wrapped in barb wire.

"Mmmm.." he leaned in looking at it closely.

"Mean anything?"

"My middle name is Rose," you explained as he his eyes squinted.

"I take it the barb wire means pain," he continued looking up into your eyes.

"You can say that," you responded softly.

"How old are you, Blade?"

"31," you sat down across from him and began to eat.

"So you've been on your own since 17, shit wheres your family?"

"Hopefully dead," your response was blunt before you took another bite.

"Surrounded by assholes huh?"

"Real big assholes. They didn't care for me so I dont care for them, I've been better off alone anyways."

"I cant argue with that," Negans eyes wandered over your features.

"Done a pretty good job with yourself."

Not really knowing how to take a compliment without some form of back handed comment you looked away.

"Yeah well you gotta do what you gotta do," you responded confidently.

"What are you doing here anyways? Wont your wives wonder where you are?"

Negan chuckled at the mention of them, he could tell you were enjoying his company and didnt want him to leave.

"I wont go anywhere if you dont want me to, darling." His unexpected response making your cheeks turn red.

"I never said-"

"Do you really think you can lie to me?" He leaned in close staring directly into your eyes across the table.

"Why the hell do you want to stay anyways?"

"Maybe I like spending time with you too."

What the hell was this man doing? It was hard to deny that you did indeed like spending time with him but, this was the last thing you needed. The man had multiple wives, an arrogant way of thinking but God he was so sexy.. His style attracted you to him, his voice, his eyes whenever he spoke to you.

"What are you thinking about?" Negan bit his bottom lip with a smile, he could see right through you.

"Nothing. I'm exhausted and I'm full and want to go to bed soon."

"Oh yeah? Is that what's going through your head right now?"

"Yes. That's it." You stood up picking up your plate and taking it to the sink. Negan stood up with you eagerly following you by the counter.

"You sure that's what you're thinking about?" He asked again with a grin leaning his face close to yours.

"I think you're thinking about something that involves me....and you just cant admit it." His voice was a deep whisper, the way he spoke sent a tingle to the pit of your stomach.

"No the hell I am not. What the hell makes you think that?" You walked past him rushing into your bedroom as he quickly followed behind.

"Look at you, you could barely stay still. You're fidgeting, getting all nervous. Am I making you nervous, baby?" He teased.

"Dont call me baby," you turned to him with frustration.

"Fine," he stepped close to you and spoke very slowly.

"Then look me in the eyes and tell me you're not thinking about what I could do to you." Your lips parted as you smelled his scent so close to you. You couldnt speak, you couldnt move and Negan knew he had complete control. Looking down at your lips he slowly caressed your face and leaned in for a soft kiss. Not fighting it you felt his lips sensually move against yours, his tongue slipping through the crack of your lips to tease yours. Moaning against him, Negan didnt separate his lips from you as he reached behind him and shut the door. Taking off his jacket and quickly unbuttoning his pants Negan threw you back on the bed. Continuing to kiss you down to your neck, you felt his tongue make swirls on your skin making you squeeze him.

Negan pulled off your clothing and aggresivly turned you around. The tattoo of the barb wire rose continuing from your side to your lower back made Negan lick his lips in satisfaction.

"Get up," he spoke hoarsely as you got on your knees and positioned yourself in front of him. Feeling his large hand on your lower back you felt him easily slide in you. Negan wasted no time in grabbing your hips and making you slam back against him. Moaning you grabbed the covers tightly, it had been so long since you felt this pleasure. Negan could tell by the way you cried out when he first entered you. The sound of longing to be touched, the sound of your needs finally being met.

"Give it to me harder," you spoke seductively only arousing him more. Negan grabbed you by your hair pulling you back up against him. His hand grabbing your throat as he pressed his lips to the side of your face and kept thrusting. Groaning, he gave your throat a tighter squeeze. Gasping for air, you could hear him breathing erratically against your ear.

"Oh Blade," you rolled your eyes back at the sound of his voice, he couldn't hold himself any longer. Negan pushed you back down before he quickly pulled out and released himself all over your back.

"Fuck.." he moaned as he stepped back out of breath. Cleaning yourself up as he got dressed, you stood up and walked towards him

"You should stay here tonight," your suggestion making him look up at you with half a smile.

"Oh darling I would. I've got some business I need to take care of but-" he stood up and ran his hands up your thighs and hips.

"I promise I'll come by as soon as I'm done." Negan grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. What the hell was going on with you? Why was this man getting a hold on you so quickly? Without saying anything more Negan left your room leaving you to think over what just happened. Leaving you to think over the way he looked at you, the things he said to you. He actually admitted to liking to spend time with you, the thought made you blush to yourself. You couldnt wait for him to return, it being so late at night you wondered what business he had to take care of. A little while later you stepped out of the room with a smile still on your face when you looked up and suddenly felt a crushing feeling in your chest. Negan was coming out of a room with two of his wives laughing. Of course you knew he had wives but after having touched him and slept with him, the thought of another woman with him made you burn with anger.

"Some business you got going huh?" The smile immediately left Negans face as he looked up at you before him.

"Blade, darling-"

"Dont 'Blade darling' me, what the hell I was thinking?" Angrily you walked off back to your room leaving the two women confused as Negan sighed. Following you to your room he entered right behind you slamming the door shut behind him.

"What the hell is your problem with me?"

"What is my problem? Taking care of business huh? Business with those girls?"

Negan frowned with a puzzled expression.

"Pardon my french, sweetheart but wait a fucking minute, are you jealous?"

"No! I'm not jealous," you denied the truth as you turned your back to him.

"I just dont like sharing what's mine."

Negan raised his brows surprised with your response.

"So I'm yours now huh?"

You scoffed at him turning to walk passed him before he blocked your way.

"Hang on now, Blade. I actually kinda like the sound of that. So does that make you mine now too?"

"No, why would I want to be yours when you have all those women, "you spoke in disgust before raising your brow as if you has just come up with an idea.

"Well since you get to have your fair share, then I should too. Simon looks-"

"Oh I'd be very careful where you're going with that, sweetheart." His expression turning very serious as he stepped closer to you.

"Why cant I have my own fun, it's not like I'm one of your wives who have to abide by your selfish rules while you do as you please." None of the women Negan had met had the nerve to argue his way of being.

"I dont want you to be one of them," he shot back.

"Good, cause I didnt want to anyways."

"You know what the fuck I want?" Negans voice rose as he took a step closer to you.

"I just want you to be mine and shit, I'll be yours the way you want me to." Negans words catching you completely off guard, so unexpected it left you speechless. There was something Negan couldnt explain that pulled him to you in a way he had never felt with any of the other women. Negan may not have been a one woman man most of his life but when someone caught his eye, it was hard for him to look past it.

"You dont even know me," you muttered.

"Shit, you dont even know me all that well but I know you have the same damn feeling I have." The two of you looked at each other in silence, you couldnt deny the connection you felt with him.

"You dont want the wives? Hell, they dont have to be there but-" he unexpectedly pulled you close to him aggresivly.

"I expect there to be no one else on your side either."

"I'm not looking for anyone else," your response was quick and spoken with confidence.

"Good," a smile slowly spread across his lips as you felt his hand slide down your back and grab your ass.

"You're lucky I like you," you squinted your eyes up at him making him laugh.

"Shit, well I am honored, doll."

"Dont patronize me," you scowled at him.

"Not at all, Blade, not at all."

Negan leaned in and took your lips with his feeling content with the thought of you being the only woman for him.

[obsessive-ego]

Hot and sweaty

Anyone else hate hot weather and get super sweaty?

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Warning nsft

Voyeurism, masterbation

You come home sweaty and beej has a thing for that smell

You hated summer, you hated the heat, unfortunately your home town was known for its gross summers, it was hot, heavy, and muggy. Running errands openly sucked on days like this, you didnt drive, and the grocery store was only 2km from your home, which was fine during any other time.

The Deetz have asked you to "babysit" beetlejuice while they were on a vacation, the maitlands also pleaded this so they could have some alone time, you didnt mind, you enjoyed the demon's presence, and he yours, ever since you sucker punched him after a jump scare gone wrong, he became very clingy to you.

You were walking back home after retrieving misc groceries and snacks for movie night with Beej, unfortunately today was one of those hot and muggy days, you could feel the sweat rolling down your back, you felt so gross, hopefully you can steal some time to yourself and shower when you got home. Beetlejuice was already there, you summoned him this morning, but realized shortly after you still had adult things to do, he pouted about it, like usual, but shit needs to get done, that's how it is for the living.

Heading up to your apartment you felt sorta relieved, you felt so slimy and gross form the heat, but you were home.

Unlocking the door and heading inside to you small apartment, before you could even take your shoes off the bags you were carrying were gone, and you were pulled into the tight, cold embrace, of your undead friend.

The sudden temperature drop made you sigh in contentment, you weren't exactly the touchy feely type, but this was nice.

"Happy to see me doll? You missed me that much in the hour you were gone? Glad to see we're on the same page sugar" he laughs

You pull away, obviously embarrassed

"Where did you put my bags?" You sigh, finally removing your sneakers

"Away, dont worry about it" the ghoul pauses before leaning in close and taking a deep breath through his nose. "You smell different, stronger"

Your deodorant must have crapped out on you, you sigh, you probably smelled really bad, you could feel your shirt clinging to you back with how sweaty you were.

"Sorry, it's just really hot out and-" your babbling was interrupted with Beej leaning in closer, mouth practically against your ear.

"You smell really good sweet heart" he purrs, you flinch and move away out of panic.

For once his flirting and your reaction wasnt followed by his awful cackle, looking back he had that awful smug smirk he always wore when he got a rise out of you, but also the electric pink hue mixed in with the green mess of his hair, was he actually serious?!

Regaining yourself, you take a deep breath "I'm gonna shower okay? Please-"

You were interrupted by the snap of him fingers "Please Mr Beetlejuice, would you like to join me and scrub my back~?" You cover your mouth at that.

Beetlejuice laughs "I would love to doll, but I ain't a fan of water, I wouldn't mind watching though" he hollers after you as you had to the washroom.

He was messing with you and he was disgusting, so he probably did like the way your sweaty body smelled, you huff through your nose, you wish he was a tad easier to read, the hair helped, but it only went so far, the man never took anything seriously so he could be almost impossible to read, all you knew was that he liked to mess with you, and despite how awful and gross he could be, you honestly really enjoyed him being around, slipping out of your clothes, you couldnt help but smell you shirt, yup, it was as bad as expected, not to mention a little damp, gross, at least a shower will make you feel better.

Alone in the living room, the ghoul sighs, shame you decided to shower, he thought you were fine the way you were, smelled real good too, he knew how sweaty you got and how good it smelled from digging in your dirty laundry basket, you were the type to work out, so it was no surprise, he just never got to smell it straight from the source, would have LOVED to get to lick your neck and get a good taste though.

Lost in his own thoughts he is brought back with the sound of running water, you were gonna take a shower, you NEVER did that when he was around, and here he was not taking the opportunity.

With a snap of his fingers he was invisible, as much as he hated being invisible, this was an exception. Walking into the bathroom, he sits himself on the sink, your shower didnt have a window door like the Deetz, I was a a normal curtain, but transparent enough where he could see your silhouette. he sighs, content in the little show you're providing, he catches something out of his peripheral vision, your clothes you were wearing when you came in, they were thrown in a little pile on the floor, on top of the pile laided a bright red pair of panties, freshly worn, this was perfect, but the real question was 'would you notice?'. There was a real good chance you wouldn't, there was no way youd put back on your dirty sweet smelling clothes after a shower right? Right, youd probably just toss them in the laundry, it felt like an eternity debating on if he could get away with adding this crown jewel to his collection of cum rags he stole from you, he bit the bullet and took them, praying on your oblivious nature to not notice.

Once the lacy fabric was in his hand he was gone, leaving you to enjoy his new treasure. With a small apartment there really wasnt much places he could hide when you were around so he could tend to his urges, the bathtub was the go to, but that wasnt an option right now. Instead he took the hall closet, the only things it held were a vaccum, a few coats, and a pair of rain boots.

The running water stopped, beetlejuice carefully listened for you, hearing you move from the bathroom to your bedroom to get dressed, at frist he debated should he watch you dress or enjoy his new treasure asap, he chose the panties, the ghoul could watch you dress anytime, but these, fresh off your sweaty body panties, were rare and the opportunity probably wont come again.

With that thought he was set, bringing the crotch of the garment to his nose and inhaling deeply, he let's out a low quiet groan. These were so much stronger then the others, he fumbles with the fly on his pants, eager to free his ever hardening cock. Curious he licks the crotch, pleasantly surprised by the lingering taste of you, he let's out a soft whine, god slash satan he wanted to taste you from the source, but damn this was pretty close. The demon began lazily stroking his cock, your red panties pressed to his face, giving him the ability to both lick and smell them, bucking into his hand, the ghoul couldnt help but imagine you sitting on his face, fresh from a long workout or a walk in the heat, whatever would make you nice and sweaty for him, you would be shouting out how much you loved his tongue while you reached around and jerked him off.

Jerking himself a little faster he mumbles "you like that sugar? Yeah you do, you smell just as good as you taste sweetness, no wonder I call ya sugar~".

The closest was completely illuminated but BJ electric pink hair, he was completely lost in his own pleasure, his heart, if it was still beating, would have stopped completely when he herd you call his name, he completely forgot you were in the other room.

The ghoul had to think fast, get you off his trail until he finished, yes he liked you in a romantic way, soft kisses, dumb jokes, and pound you into the mattress kinda way, and yes he knew you liked him, but he was still unsure of how much, so finding him in his current situation could really ruin what chance he had with you, youd probably be sick to your stomach and banish him for good.

With that in mind he had the perfect little distraction.

You were finally dry and freshly clothed, feeling much more comfortable, wandering around your home looking for the demon who was so eager minutes ago when you walked in. This was odd, Beetlejuice would normally wait infront of the bathroom door or bedroom door when you were doing something private, normally chatting with you, but not this time, it was always worrying when beetlejuice was quiet.

Wandering around you start calling out his nicknames, you stop in your tracks as a little note appearing from no where flutters down in front of you, grabbing it, it was obviously written by Beej, the hand writing alone screamed it.

'Gone scaring, be back soon, love the ghost with the most' you sigh, he must if got bored waiting for you, you shurg it off heading to the living room to play some Nintendo while you wait for him to return.

Assuming that you bought his little note, he returns his attention to your panties, moving them from his face after one last long sniff, he stifles a moan, bringing the cloth to his throbbing cock, wrapping it with your panties. As much as the ghoul wanted to fuck you proper this was a close as he was gonna get for the time being, having his aching cock envelope by your heat would be a dream cum true, but having your fresh scent wrapped around his meat was a close second.

With the image of you moving your sex from him mouth to his cock for a ride, he began stroking himself once again, the image of you bouncing up and down on his cock, shouting out praises and your chest bounces. biting his knuckles while little moans and groans slip out, the demon couldnt help mumbling "you're so good for me Y/N, you like that? You love it dont you?". Bucking hard into his hand, his precum being soaked up by your undies, he knew he wasnt gonna last any longer, the thought of you begging him to finish inside of your pussy was more then enough to send him over the edge, soaking your little red panties with his cum, removing the garment, he cleans up the rest of his mess with the lacy cloth before pocketing it, he'll toss it in the wash later, as much as hed loved to slip it into your underwear drawer in Hope's youd wear them, you weren't that oblivious.

He finishes adjusting himself, straightening out his jacket and sliding his now soft cock back into his pants, the ghoul hums to himself completely content in himself.

Chilling on the couch playing animal crossing you are interrupted but a loud gravely voice "HONEY I'M HOME" glancing up in the direction of his voice the ghoul was next to you in a flash, you flinched at the sudden movement, beetlejuice drapes an arm over you shoulder and pulls you close

"Ya miss me babes? You smell real nice, but I'd rather you be hot a sweaty for me again, I got a few ideas in mind to get ya-" you shove him off

"Haha very funny, keep it up and no home delivery pizza tonight" you tease

Bj frowns for a second before pulling you back into him arms "babes you live for what I do too much to deny yourself the pleasure of my performance" he cackles

As much as you hate to give him the satisfaction, you admit your defeat and agree.

This was gonna be a great week together

[shhh-no-ones-home]

kick back vinny mauro x reader

+++++++++

the song she sings are original lyrics by me, there will be a screenshot of the whole thing in the comments/reblogs if you would like to see it all. there is no sheet music, i am not a musician, but the lyrics are all my own and subject to copyright (/11/06/20/). thanks for understanding

Song: sorry haha I fell asleep by egg

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @thisplace-ishaunted @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @theoneandonlykymberlee +++++++++

I looked down at my phone as it rang for the eighth time today. It was Vinny. Again. Couldn't he take the hint? He thought he wanted me but I knew he didn't. How could he? Clearly he wouldn't let it go though. I rolled my eyes and went to put my phone back down when it dinged. He didn't call this time. It was actually a text.

"I know you're ignoring me but I'm gonna keep trying, i told you how i feel and thats not gonna change. Also a heads up, I'll see you on tour."

My eyes went wide before I immediately called our band manager.

"Just the person I wanted to talk to."

She said fairly chipper.

"Tell me we aren't."

I said sternly.

"What?"

She sounded confused.

"Tell me we aren't touring with motionless."

She laughed a little.

"Why would I tell you that? Of course you guys are. isnt it exciting?"

My mouth dropped.

"Why?!"

"Um, because it's good publicity? their manager called me yesterday and asked if you wanted to collab on something too so i hope youve been writing. but back to tour. They are doing a short spring tour, just a few weeks. i figured you were the best breakout band on my label."

She seemed very happy. I sighed into the receiver.

"Dawn their drummer has been calling and texting me for two weeks straight."

She paused.

"Okay?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"He has been trying to get me to go out with him for two weeks straight."

"Oh!"

She said.

"Then what's the problem?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Ya know what, actually there's no problem. this is a great opportunity for our career. When are we starting?"

"Great! I have to call the rest of the girls but you start February third."

I nodded.

"Okay. Two months away. I can put this off till then."

I said more to myself.

"Well dear I've got to go, I'll talk to you when the posters come out."

°°°°°°°°°

i sat on the ground outside the bus and strummed my guitar lightly. id been in contact with all the girls from our band and all the motionless guys for our new song together since i got the call from dawn two months ago but things werent coming out as good as wed hoped. so here i was still working on it, by myself. the thing is though the song was supposed to be out by the end of tour and yet here we all were, one week in and still nothing. i couldnt even focus on the task at hand. i had to much other shit running through my mind.

"that sounds pretty."

i heard from behind me and stiffened my body.

"thanks, ive been trying to find new chords for the song."

i said as vinny came into view.

"well i think it sounds great, when i read through the lyrics you had so far i wasnt really sure how heavy it would end up being but i kinda like that."

he said, moving to sit in front of me. i nodded.

"it will be heavier but my brain wont let me right now."

i said, dropping my hands to my lap. he nodded back.

"well what you have so far sounds beautiful anyways."

i stared at the ground, tapping my fingers lightly against the guitar.

"actually vin, this isnt for the collab. its actually for you and the only reason i cant finish the other song is because im lost."

he raised a brow.

"its for me?"

i sighed.

"i dont exactly know how to talk to you anymore so i figured a song would be easier but its really not."

i said through a nervous laugh.

"ive been meaning to talk to you about that actually."

i shook my head.

"you dont have-"

"no, i do."

he said, sending me a look.

"i shouldve taken the hint in December but i thought that if i persisted then maybe youd see how much i meant what i said. but i guess somewhere along the line i got annoying. hell i know, i did, i was annoying myself. then when you started texting me back, even though it was just about the new song, i was excited. it meant i could still talk to you even if it was just business."

"vin i-"

"please, just listen for a second."

i cleared my throat and nodded.

"okay, lay it on me."

he took a deep breath.

"i want you to know that i did mean what i said, i do really like you and i want to try something, a relationship, casual dates, hell even just hanging out. maybe you dont want more, and thats fine. but i still want you in my life and i want you to know that i do care about you. even if you have been ignoring me on purpose."

i frowned.

"vin i dont know how to do this."

i said, motioning between us.

"all my past relationships have crashed and burned and i dont know how to move on form that. i dont want to have to change who i am again."

he shook his head.

"you dont- you would never have to do that. i like you the way you are, and i want to prove that to you."

i sent him a look.

"no, you like who ive created for you. thats not me. im not carefree and easy going, and agreeable. im pig headed and strongly opinionated and i have a loud mouth."

i said with a laugh. he smiled back at me which i wasnt quite expecting.

"i dont care about all that. i care about you, whether you think youve created someone for me or not. give me stubborn. give me opinionated and loud. hell even give me furious at times. i know thats the real you and yet im still trying. cant you see that?"

i bit the inside of my cheek and thought for a second. then i looked down started strumming again lightly.

"im sorry for making things harder, i never meant to make it this far."

i began singing lightly.

"you dont deserve this mess of a person, i just keep making things hard."

i looked to him and he was staring at me intently.

"we've made it this far, i cant believe youre still around. i thank the heavens cause if not id be six feet down"

i closed my eyes, swaying back and forth as i played.

"Im sorry for making things harder, you dealt with this before. If i make it up to you somehow, we wont have to waste our time no more."

i said softly, over the guitar before stopping and looking at him.

"its not quite done yet."

i said a little shy. he sent me a small smile.

"i love you."

he said and my face went straight. i watched as he scooted his way closer to my side.

"ill always be here for you, no matter how we move forward."

i looked to my lap for a second before looking back to him. he was staring at me longingly.

"i think i love you too vin."

i said, barely above a whisper. he looked between my eyes before his hand moved to graze my cheek. i couldnt help moving into him. before i knew what was happening i was kissing him lightly, his hand going to the back of my head to hold me to him. when he pulled away he had a huge smile on his face.

"the song sounds great by the way."

i laughed a little at that, feeling a blush creep its way to my face as he pressed his forehead to mine.

"our little atypical love song."

[wanda-peitro-lorna-maximoff]

Part two: Morganas dream.

The two women eventually fell asleep together, with Morgana laying on Mab as Mab rests her head on top of Morganas.

It was probably a good decision, to fall asleep in the realm of the fae... well, at least for Morgana. She only dreamed sweetly. The thick magic captured by the leaves, flowers, trees and everything in between stored much more than just power from magic. Magic was feeling. Emotion. And with that emotion from your casting comes memories. Memories of what you were feeling and why, imprinted in your magic and now all around you in the smallest of ways.

That night, Morgana dreams were influenced by the thick magic all around them. The emotion and feeling leaching into her very bones...

Twigs snapped under the young girls feet. She was out of breath and her feet and legs ached, begging her to stop. But she couldnt. She had to get away from that place.

-

Little Morgana pendragon just had a fight with her brother. Siblings always faught, it's only natural. But this time his words struck her deep. She didnt care what he had to say afterwards. To little Morgana Pendragon? It was just as bad as being struck by a dagger.

"Arthur!" Morgana whined. "You've been busy all morning! You said youd play with me!" The 9 year old nagged her brother, who was trying to work on his sword fighting skills, using a wooden toy. "I told you I'll play when I'm done." Arthur told his little sister. He was 10. Which meant in his fathers eyes, that he was far past due to begin his training to be the next king. He hasn't had a real break since his birthday... 6 months ago. Hes been stressed and tired all the time. And the few times hes asked his father for a break... well, let's say it didnt go well. "You said that hours ago!" Morgana flopped down on the dirt ground a few feet away. The poor child had always been... different. Partially due to Uthers affair. Morganas mother wasnt Arthur's mother. He cheated on his own queen... and word got out. She was disliked by most of the court and the other half only pitied her. And their father?... he really only kept her because he knew what she was. What her mother had been and what Morgana is blossoming into. "Yeah and I'll keep saying it until I'm done." Arthur told his sister as he whacked his fake enemy with his wooden sword.

" But father said you have to play with me! We're family!" At the mention of their father, and the word family; all the nagging finally came to a boiling point. "Yeah? Well you're NOT my real family! You're barely even my sister! I've got better things to do than babysit my fathers cheating trophy!" He yelled. To say morgana looked shocked... was an understatement. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Her hands began to tremble as she forced herself up and ran. Sniffling as tears began to run down her face. She could hear her brother yelling after her... but she paid him no mind.

Arthur couldnt believe he just said that. To his own sister. The only family he had left that wasnt like Uther... that would understand what their father was like better than anyone else, and he just said that? But his thoughts were completely halted by Gwen's voice. "Arthur! I've been loo... what happened?" The young girl had just come from her private study lessons. "I- i... made a mistake- I did something terrible-" Arthur's heart rate sped up. His eyes started to water, he couldnt look Gwen in the eye. "Morgana!" He yelled after his sister, his voice cracking. But for now, gwen didnt ask any questions, giving arthur a concerned look before joining in his shouting after Morgana. "Morgana!!"

-

Little Morgana didnt realize how far she'd ran by the time she finally stopped. Catching her breath and falling to sit against a tree... a tree...?

Morgana looked up to see a thick blanket of trees above her, birds chirping over head... Arthur told her that before their dad made Camelot into a growing Capitol, everything around them was Forests and trees... Morgana sniffled and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her dress. Her surroundings were beautiful... calming and quiet, but not void of sound. Slowly, morgana got herself up and timidly began to walk around the wooded area. She felt... at home here. Like she belonged.

Butterflys, dragonflys, humming birds and cardinals flew all around the forest, giving the young witch a grand welcome party. Morgana couldnt help but grin, wiping her face with her other sleeve and giggling. The wild flowers tickling her ankles, the sound of a nearby stream calling her name...

But her frolicking wasn't spent alone. Up in the trees a girl watched on curiously. Hopping from tree to tree to catch up with Morgana as she explored... until she finally stopped at the river, seeing ducks and fish and on the other side a small family of deer. Morgana gasped at the beautiful sight, slowly and carefully approaching the opposite side of the stream. She watched the beautiful wild creatures drink from the river, eating a bit of grass and idling about... until their ears twitched. The family looked around, startled, trying to find the source of the noise... until they suddenly ran off. Morgana looked confused. She hadn't made a sound, just like Arthur had taught her, but they still ran away? She pouted and gave the water a gentle splash, disappointed in their disappearance... until she felt a warm breeze and a small snapping of twigs behind her.

""What do you think you're doing?" Morgana shrieked and fell over, right into this mystery persons legs. Which only startled Morgana more, scrambling to turn around and back up, completely forgetting about the water, until the girl grabbed Morgana by the front of her dress. Just stopping her short from falling into the river.

"Let me go!" Morgana yelled, immediately struggling against the strange girls grasp. "Okay. Fine." So she did. And Morgana fell into the river. The girl crossed her arms, looking down at Morgana who looked very unhappy. Couple this with the reminder that she was probably lost and the words her brother said... Morgana couldnt help but begin to sniffle. The girl immediately looked alarmed. "Are you crying? Dont do that- you asked me to let you go and I did!" She said defensively. Morgana gave her a dirty look and pushed herself up before walking out of the river. "Yeah. And some help you were!" She fired back. The girl looked a little taken aback by Morganas words. "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?"

"Yes!" Morgana turned around to finally really get a good look at this strange girl, hands on her hips accusingly. "... then I'm sorry." The strange girl finally replied, crossing her arms. It finally occurred to Morgana... that this girl didnt look like anyone shes ever seen. She had antlers and far paler skin... covered in leaves and wild flowers with keen, cat like eyes... morganas eyes went wide. "Wait-" her brother and father had told her all about these people... "a-are you-" the strange girl finally broke out into a grin. "A faerie? One of the Fae?" She finished her sentence, circling morgana. "Are you??" Morgana urged her. "What's it to you?" The strange girl made herself appear taller, standing on her tiptoes to tower over Morgana, who's eyes now only held fascination. "So you are?? Can you fly??" The girl immediately fell back on her feet. Usually this revelation would cause people, young or old to go running for the hills or beg for forgiveness... "wh- no! I cant fly! Who on earth told you that?" She sounded a little offended. "I just figured since you were a fairy..." morgana trailed off, looking at her from head to toe.

The strange girl grimaced. "Yeah?" She circled morgana again, now picking up one of her arms, examining it, and doing the same to the other before flipping morganas hair infront of her eyes and back again. "And you SMELL like a weirdo human. Do you like eating garbage?" She asked her in return, to which Morganas face scrunched up in disgust. "What?? No! Humans dont-... okay. Yeah I get it." She crossed her arms defensively. To which the strange girl laughed. "You do smell weird though..." she got an inch from Morganas face, looking into her eyes, then moving her hair to look at her ears , before backing up to look at her head to toe. "You're a human alright, but ya just smell... like something I know." She seemed puzzled by this. Morgana smiled a little. "My dad said my mom was a witch. Which means I'm probably special too... hey! We're the same!" She told the girl, who backed up a bit. "Just cause your mum was a witch doesnt mean we're the same." She said defiantly, putting a hand to her chin. "... but I think I know a way to test it." She gave Morgana a mischievous grin.

[sweetboybucky]

Dreamers

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2600

Warnings: Infinity War compliant. Aka - a lot of sads. 

Summary: In the time he is gone, one thing remains. 

A/N: My piece for the Marvellous Writing Challenge, hosted by the angel @bucky-at-bedtime, who was so kind as to give me an extension. (Jess - I love you so much, I hope you know.) My prompt was “Saudade”, and what was originally going to be a sequel to my one other angst fic, Golden, turned into this. Please don’t kill me. 

Taking a page out of @evanstarff‘s book for this one and going with a reader adopted into a Wakandan family. There are also a few notes at the end, if you want to read those. 

My Masterlist

*** A war was waged.

The aftermath sits in front of you.

Rests there, in the ocean blue eyes of a soldier you have only just begun to know. The one you’d once only heard stories of.

The man with more burdens to carry than you could ever imagine. With the weight of an ungrateful and unforgiving world on his shoulders. The world he’s worked to save so many times.

A silent apology.

A wish for things to be different.

Tears.

You find them there, in that harrowing expression on a face that should never wear it.

You don’t ask.

You know.

***

There is a space between the world you know and all of the others you’ve come to discover in your time. Those realities that hold the souls of all that have been lost. The souls you still have yet to meet. A mirror image of the life you know.

You find him there, in the night.

His voice calls out to you, where you rest in that hazy middle ground. And it’s strong, like it always was. Strong even when it had no reason to be, even when he wasn’t. It pulls you into the inky night with its soft timbre, your name spreading tendrils of awareness through you.

It wakes something within you. Something raw and real and aching as you search for him. As you reach blindly into that darkness. Hoping and hoping and hoping.

But he’s just beyond your grasp. A breath away, whispering to you. Your name falls into the dark from lips you want to see more than anything. Lips you want to trace with your fingers, kiss until the world has finished turning.

You whisper back to him, voice desperate and pleading through the darkness.

***

Ochre light brings a new day.

It flecks across walls and floor and sheets. Sheets that should hold him beside you, the man who laid his soul out to bare for you on them in memories tinged with a certain fondness.

Memories that don’t flow like fire, the way they once had.

Memories that sting in the aftermath.

That careful ember, the one he’d lit within you, has left the hollow in your chest. Lit the sun, instead. Forced a new morning into your hands. A world he no longer breathes in.

And your heart aches with strangled sobs, body curling around his pillow and pressing into the sheets that still smell like him. Eyes close, shut out the view of the home he made in the quiet.

But reality exists without him, now.  

That fact is carving itself into your bones.

***

Many hours later, once dawn has truly broken and everything has settled heavy into your heart once again, you find your self on a trail he showed to you.

Green folds around you. Leads you to the little hillside he found, sitting just to the side of his farm. Above the lake. Another corner of the world he could almost call his own.

The place he still wanted to share with you.

And it feels wrong, settling into the grass on your own. Tracing trembling fingers through dark dirt instead of threading them through chestnut hair. Resting in that quiet place he first showed to you. Before everything began.

Before the end.

Blue sky and soft clouds roam overhead. Sparkling waters lie still beneath you. Trees brush together in the breeze, echo against the emptiness of the space. In your heart.

It’s a view you’ve seen so many times. A place you’ve spent so many afternoons, with a man far more beautiful than any sunset could ever be. And even before he came to you, the sky was still there.

It feels different now. So unlike the other days you spent underneath it.

Sitting on the grassy hill with the absence of that warm arm around your back. Lips against your skin, a rumbly voice finding its own special place within your heart.

It feels final.

***

Every night is the same.

Dark and cold. Lined with wanting. Frenzied thoughts and soft confessions and an ache so real it nearly eats you alive.

His voice speaks back to you, quiet but strong as ever. Soft in that way it always was, affection bleeding through every word he murmurs to you.

And then morning falls onto you once again. Draws muted light to your eyes and a desperate plea from your lips as fingers search for the body that should lay beside you against cool, threadbare sheets

But morning is an ever present thing.

Light always washes him away.

***

For weeks, Bucky’s voice finds you at night. In the dark.

One day, in the hours the sun claims, a different voice is there.

It’s a soft whisper. A careful, “Hey,” as he settles in the grass next to you. Watches the way the lake shines with the light of midday.

You turn to him for a moment. Notice the dulled expression on his face. See the way his once golden hair falls against his face, unkempt and dark. The set of his jaw, the line of his mouth, not even a hint of a smile tugging at the edges.

He’s worn. More so than you.

He’s lost. Same as you.

Ocean eyes stay trained on the sky. But his lips part enough to murmur, “He talked about you.”

Bucky’s face comes into your mind, easy as anything. And surprise lights through you at Steve’s words, pained and heavy.

Lashes shield irises filled with regret. “He talked about you all the time.” Eyes flick to you, just for a moment. Burn through your mind and body and soul. “I don’t think we had one conversation where he didn’t bring you up.”

His face tips down, gaze falling to callused hands in his lap. There’s a ghost of a smile in his voice as he adds, “I always teased him about it. How crazy he was about you.”

Tears gather around your eyes, warm and wet and burning through the last bit of your resolve.

Steve glances at you, expression just a little softer once its aimed toward you. “I’d never seen him that way. Even before - before everything.” He bumps his shoulder into yours, a fond, cautious gesture. “There were girls, but none of them were you.”

And that hurts more than it should. More than you think he meant it to. Coming from the man your love trusted with anything, defended at every turn. Spoke of like a vision, a dream he was so lucky to live in.

Tears slip down your face in the silence. As Steve turns away, face twisted and creased and pained. You can see the slump of his shoulders. Feel the inhale he takes, steeling himself his next words. For what’s to come.

“It never hurts any less,” he tells you, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard. An echo of the heartache he keeps locked away. Fingers trace over a blade of grass. “But it gets easier to manage. Just takes time.”

A hand reaches for yours, firm and rough and trembling just a little, fingers squeezing against your own. And his voice is so sincere, so real as he breathes out one last sentiment. Something that is both the balm for your soul and everything you don’t want to hear.

“But, wherever he is, now, he loves you just the same.”

***

That hollow spaces fits against you, the same way it has every other night since the end.

For a long while, the stillness of it washes over you. Inky black and completely silent.

But you can feel him. You can always feel him.

Is it true?

It’s a question breathed into the quiet. One torn from your chest, filled with longing.

He doesn’t ask what you’re referring to. He doesn’t need to.

There’s only a soft sigh. The feeling of him as he answers.

Always, he tells you, reverent and final in the way you need. Always.

***

Time is such a cruel thing, now.

It moves against you. Presses into your skin, falls into your mind with a terrible kind of determination. It pushes the world on, pushes you on. Forces you to watch the new reality you live in try to rebuild itself.

It brings you to your apartment.

Months have passed since you’ve seen it, his hut serving as your home and your hell in that time. But you know that you can’t stay there forever. You can’t bear to sleep in a bed of ghosts any longer.

The lock clicks the same as it always did, the door creaking in that familiar way. It gives way to the living room, small kitchen just adjacent to it.

Everything is in its place. Nothing has changed.

And yet - it has.

There’s no soft greeting waiting for you, anymore. No feet to slide along the floor, no arm to curl around you and tuck you against his body. Lips to kiss away the crease in your brows, the ache in your bones.

But his book sits on the table. His favorite blanket is tucked into the corner of the couch. A worn pair of sneakers near the door. The dark green mug he always used in the sink. 

The remnants of him are still here. Scattered around one of the only other places he’d been able to find refuge.

***

Phantom memories find you in the dust of your apartment.

Chestnut hair mussed in the morning. The smell of his favorite tea. Soft socks and all of the sweaters you stole from him. Pressing into this side, holding his hand at the market. Whispering to him when the ice crept back into his heart.

The stories he told you. Stories of the sky, the stars.

The same stars under your tired gaze now.

And even after everything, even in the absence of the man who loved them most, those stars remain the same. Unchanged by the rest of the world’s decisions.

They shine among inky blue. Glisten in the darkness, mapped out along an impossibly big sky. Absolute and so unknown. Arranged in their intricate patterns.

He spent more nights than you could count studying them. Resting near the large bay window of your apartment in a city still so unfamiliar to his weary heart. A city he grew so fond of. A city that grew so fond of him.

And he held you in the night. Brushed his lips against your skin and whispered about a constellation you couldn’t see. A woman given a beautiful crown, written into the stars once she’d passed. A reminder of who she was.

A reminder that, more than anything, she was loved, even after she was lost.

So much longing lies within you. Grief you never imagined you would feel. A fierce kind of sadness that takes over your mind and heart and soul and leaves you aching.

But more than anything, there is love.

You close your eyes against the sky those gray eyes loved to see and wish him into the stars.

***

Seasons pass. Come in with the cold and leave with the warm. Draw in new breezes and heady air and fleeting thoughts. Fleeting images of pale cheeks flushed with cool wind, with summer air.

And with every passing day, that face is a little harder to remember.

The line of his nose. The little wrinkles near his eye, those that only appeared in the face of his smile. Gray eyes sliding open in the morning, sparking with the possibility of a new day.

It grows fuzzy, the image of him, the sound of his laughter, as years that hardly feel like years drone on. As life moves on despite it all.

Anger festers within you. Rivals with the grief that still lives on, even after all this time. Even after the exact shade of his eyes isn’t as easy to conjure in your mind anymore.

But that soft affection you felt for him. That fierce kind of fondness, blinding and overwhelming and so strong. 

That remains. 

Even as years wane. As time spans on and life without him shifts into something close to normal. 

The way he made you feel - the way he always makes you feel - never dies down. Never shrinks in the face of a new sunrise, as dawn falls onto the world and his voice slips away. 

It only grows stronger. 

***

The hollow still finds you in that strange place between your reality and his. Dark and cold and full of him. So close you can almost feel him. So real it hurts.

And his voice is still there, murmuring things you don’t really listen to. Echoing around the empty space he should be, that soft little place you made for him in your heart. 

It’s a blessing, to know he’s there. To know he’s somewhere. 

It’s a curse, to know he’s somewhere you can’t reach him. Not really. 

So you hold onto his voice. Try to grasp the threads of it in your fingers. Close your eyes and let it fall over you, gentle and calm and beautiful as it is. 

***

It’s a rising tension in the air. A shift in the world, so similar to the one you felt years ago. Before the end.

Another war has begun.

***

The night he doesn’t visit you, his favorite stars do.

They gather you up in their impossibly soft embrace. Hold you close, keep you warm. Shelter you from the darkness and the grief, even if only for a few moments.

In the space between the lines, the thin veil of reality you’ve been able to find, where he is close and still so far, they whisper to you.

A story forms through the haze of their voices. One of two lovers set in the sky, separated by a river of stars between them. Close enough to taste each other. Destined to be apart.

But for one night, the heavens open up. And the two are offered the gift of time. Allowed to be together, even if only for a moment.

Bucky’s voice permeates through it all. Parts the dark of the sky, the river of stars lying between you. He calls out your name, fierce and desperate and full of love. So much love.

He’s close. You know he is. You can feel him, drawing toward you with every passing second.

***

You wake to tense air and soft light. Something strong beating within you, like the tap of his pulse has settled into your skin.

He’s so close.

Rumpled sheets gather in your hands, those that have long since lost any trace of his smell. Eyes close against the fabric, breaths shudder through a weary chest.

For the first time since the end, you hope.

***

The world has crumbled once again.

Been marred by the jaws of fate. Splintered in ways no one can ever hope to repair. Developed cracks that you know can never be filled.

But as the dust settles, he is there.

His face is worn but soft in that way it always was. Warm and open and kind, fixed with the bright smile that had grown fuzzy around the edges in your hazy memory. Slate eyes find yours through the distance, across the grassy patch of his home.

An eternity has passed.

And yet, no time has drawn between the two of you at all.

Fondness rings through you, clear as anything. That sting of grief, the ache of longing fades into something achingly familiar. Gives way to the one feeling that never left, even on the darkest days. Even in the moments you were sure it would.

Love.

It sings in the air, fills your heart and mind and soul and pushes you forward a step. Then another. Until he’s right in front of you. Broken and ragged and different.

But still.

He’s beautiful.

Grin grows. Teeth flash. Lines spark up near his eyes, so small and so sweet.

Bucky holds out his hand.

You take it.

***

Notes:

Title taken from ‘Rainbow Connection’ by Sleeping At Last. 

I took another page out of @evanstarff‘s book and made a playlist for this fic, which you can find here. 

The constellations used in this piece are Corona Borealis, or The Northern Crown, and the story of Altair and Vega. (The interpretations I went by are not the only variations of this story, just those I thought fit best.)

A huge thank you to the incredible Star Queen, @fangirlfiction, for lending me her expertise in the space things for this fic. 

One more thank you, to my beautiful love, @marvelous-avengers, who read and cried before posting, who is always there when I need her - I adore you more than you could ever know. Thank you for everything. 

MAIN TAG LIST:

@solarbarnes II @akamaiden II @my-meant-to-find-blog II @marvelous-avengers II @jack4xx II @buckyforbreakfast II @theglowstickofdestiny II @bucky-at-bedtime II @notimetoblog II @deceivedeer II @teawithbucky II @veronicalei II @part-time-patronus II @thunderous-flower II @thelostverse II @delicatecapnerd II @pizzarollpatrol II @laurfangirl424 II @stevieboyharrington II @yknott81 II @bucky-smiles II @buckysb-tch II @a-watson-in-search-of-a-sherlock II @heartssick II @spxder-bxck II @bottled-starr II @buckybarneshairpullingkink II @yenneffersstuff II @fangirlfictionmain II @creideamhgradochas II @queenofstarliqht II @dessinemoiunehistoire

[actor-mark]

Ending and Recap

Hell folks! Marks mun here. Our ARG/Interactive Story is done and I want to thank everyone who came into the server and those of you who followed the blog along. Thank you so much for your interest in this and helping to tell this story. I wanted to put a proper and final close on things and to recap everything that happened for those who may have missed something. We are currently planning a new ARG and taking suggestions in the server, right now our top contender is a film noir eaque Abe based ARG perhaps a murder mystery or hunting Wilford down in one of their stories. Who knows! If youre interested in joinin the next one let us know! It wont be as limited as this one was and will allow folks to play canon characters too! So without further ado heres the recap ------------------ A strange invitation was floating by you, a flashy and eleborate dinner party at some fancy place named Mortem Manor. You thought nothing of it at first until you spotted your name in big golden writing upon it. A little odd but after picking it up you felt a pull to go to this place. Without even looking it up you seemed to know where it is and by the evening you were knocking on the door having traveled all the way there but with no real memory of the journey, all you knew was it took a long time to get there. Upon entering the manor you were greeted by the butler who encouraged you to make yourself at home, and then directed to the greeter named Allistair. An older gentleman that looked like he was two steps away from deaths door, shallow eyes and an eerie stare. He spoke not a word but took your coat and lead you to the current populated room be it the living room or the dining room or even outside. Here you met the other party goers, others who like you received an invitation from seemingly nowhere and all just as confused as you were. If youd been one of the firsts it was a few days before Mark, the owner of the manor, showed his face but shortly after those coming in would meet him right away or even be greeted at the door by him. Immediately Mark gave off bad vibes, too welcoming and easy to explode yet he seemed to do his best to stop that anger from happening. He tried his hardest to make sure each and every guest was comfortable, going out of his way to make comfy sofas and beds to be slept on...yes time was odd in this place... Breakfast was had at 9...though it was uncertain if this was 9am or 9pm it felt like much later. One particular guest seemed to have Marks full attention, so much so that other guests were now being completely ignored and it was clear this whole thing was purely for this one guest. A man going by the name of Light but really named Damien. This of course had Mark convinced that he was THE Damien. Sometime after lunch, the Butler, a suave and handsome man named Benjamin, went missing, with only one guest hearing what had happened and suspected hed been killed in Marks rage. The Maid, a blue haired young man in a skirt named Ethan, took over and was clearly running stressed at the work of two. Strange things were happening in this house, Light even seeing many of the dead in the upper hallway and getting trapped there for a while until Allistair came to silently rescue him. Now most certainly concerned about this place Light wanted nothing to do with the dinner that was sure to soon follow. By now many of the guests had noticed that the exterior of the house frequently changed with no real pattern, but it stopped for a long time in one particular garden with a small shed in the back. Taking the dogs Chica Henry and Spencer out into the yard with everyone Light did his beat to investigate that shed without Marks notice but the creak being too loud he opted out of it. Out of time Mark wuickly hurried everyone back inside but not before Light had discovered the house was in fact spinning on the spot. Having gotten stuck in one place before it changed once more with everyone safely back inside. Shortly after Light discovered that he could in fact slip between worlds, visiting the uoside down as easily as Mark could, but kept this information to himself. He challenged Mark to a game and won information. The exterior moves but why Mark didnt say. Mark in turn won a game through cheating and managed to have Light agree not to leave when the exterior "realigned" fortunately for Mark hed already tricked them into passing that opportunity by going outside with the dogs when it had already done so. At this point a new guest arrived by the name of Mr Sharp, otherwise known as The Phantom. A powerful spirit that had made a deal with Mark to buy this house. A house of the dead. Prior to his arrival at Mortem Manor, Phantom had been dealing with something of a nightmare. A previous ARG named Serverwatch had events leading up to the death of Darkiplier, however soon after its closure, Sharp had been dealing with an odd entity haunting him one that he had trouble seeing which made him curious. Before he could do much to contain it a nightmarish creature slendermanesque was stalking after him, and after finding a small green blood stone he was suddenly sent into the upside down and found himself at the manor. The trip had taken a huge toll on Sharp, going days without food water or sleep. Moving from March 30th to May 13th. He barely made it upstairs to a room when Light encountered him. Sharp gave Light the small green stone to keep safe from Mark. Light could even now hear two odd voices. One from the stone and another seeming to come from Sharp whenever he was close enough. Convinced to come to dinner Light helped Sharp downstairs but as they reached the inner hallway they came across Allistair. His eyes were glowing blue and he didnt seem himself. Surely enough Mark appeared demanding they move aside while Ethan aimed a shotgun. A Hollow is a corpse, reanimated and possesed by a spirit not belonging to that body and then the spirit flees it leaving only an empty shell. This shell still animated acts like a sombie but takes orders from those with a soul spirit. That someone being Mark. However Allistair seemed to have broken his bindings to Mark and before Mark could order Ethan to take the shot, Phantom was able to contain Allistair withing his cane. Annoyed by this mark left and before he too parted Ethan declared that there were many more Hollows. At this point Abe the Detective had arrived after someone supposedly called in about a murder (Ben) and Mark quickly deflated his accusations. Finally arriving at dinner the Chef had put on wuite the spread for them including Bread Rolls that soon became a server meme they were that good. Mark insisted that he had entertainment after dinner such as poker and a performance with himself as the starring role of course. Still confused Abe tucked in and conversations errupted about the past, especially since at some point somewhere Warfstache had also arrived and bestowed milkshakes to everyone at the table. Mark insisted that the old manor happenings had been a joke or a performance, a murder mystery. Clearly no harm had been done if they were all still here alive and well. Abe chose to believe him for now and Wilfords agile mind soaked it up like water to a sponge, just happy that his friends were all here and enjoying themselves over dinner. Once dinner was done, Mark led them to the poker room where they talked. Ever since taking the stone from Sharp it had been burning a hole in Lights pocket going hot then cold then hot again. Annoyed with Marks behavior, Light began picking at him for it. Maybe Celine wouldnt have left if hed been kinder, maybe Amy would like him if he wasnt such a prick. Mark stormed out and one of the guests took after him to make sure things were okay. Shortly after a gunshot rang out but not before Phantom fell asleep only to reveal hed been carrying Celine with him the entire time. Once The Phantom had passed out in his exhaustion Celine took over. Abe managed to help Celine find what Mark was hiding in the room then hurried out after Light. Light and Abe rushed to make sure that the guest was ok and oddly enough they were, Mark declared Abes gun, formly won from him in an upside down dice game Mark had again cheated at, had simply gone off in the drawer, even if there was no evidence. They were interrupted by the ground shaking as Celine broke what Mark had sealed away. Hurrying after Mark Abe Light and Wilford discovered a huge stage in the upside down where the poker room used to be. Its audience made up entirely of Hollows and the guests of the manor. Mark and Celine stared each other down before Celine hurled Sharps cane at him in an attempt to pierce his black dead heart. Mark wasnt falling for it again and caught the cane. A bad thing to happen. Phantoms cane contained the souls of thousands of powerful people. Magicians sorcerers demons anyone willing to make a contract. Now at Marks control. In an attempt to help Light stepped between them however the closer proximity to Celine had the stone in his pocket turn to lava temperatures and he quickly pulled it free. The stone... It was Damien. Light threw the stone to Celine but with the new power Mark caught it and floated it over to his own hand, crushing it with a vile laugh. Blue smoke seeping from the stone quickly made its way towards Light. In an attempt to stop Damien Mark began to draw his soul into the cane but was quickly stopped by a table cracked over his head from Celine. Connected with Light Damien took control and abandonning her current puppet of Phantom, Celine reunited with her brother taking the new form of Darkiplier and stealing the cane from Mark once more Mark grinned commanding his army of Hollows to attack, but Dark knew better. It was a sacrifice he knew, one that would have Phantom suffer for a long time but one that had to be made. He shattered the cane freeing the souls inside and each soul connected to a Hollow, breaking the hold Mark once had. In a fit of rage, Mark demanded his only remaining Hollow, Ethan, to incite a spell at the burial site of his old body, but Ethan too had broken control and instead of protecting him, burnt his body instead. The result caused a backdraft effect, black fire consuming the whole manor. With a final punch to the jaw from Abe, Mark went down. Dark ushered everyone out but Wilford made sure everyone of the guests made it out okay, even going back for the body of the guest who had indeed been shot by Mark. In his final moments Mark declared hed return laughing as his soul scattered into the black flames. Dark fled and Wilford warped Abe to somewhere in the Bahamas, getting a drink for them and then laughing out a "catch me if you can detective" Once the place had burnt to the ground the outside realigned again, the shed from the garden still standing. A dark and mysterious entity peering out before closjng the door again. Seems experiments were going to get interesting from here. ------ Again thank you everyone for joining, and thank you for reading! We hope to see you on our next adventure! - Mort/Mark

[valhallamercury]

bassist | boh rhap!john deacon x female!reader

Summary: Ever since you’ve met John, you’ve happily thrown yourself down the rabbit hole of falling in love with him. And honestly, how could you resist? He was kind, sweet, and not to mention handsome. Now the only problem: getting to go on a date with  A/N: The requested part two of secretary, so make sure you read that before reading this! This was so much fun to write, tell me if you’d guys would like a part three! :) Warnings: none, except that this is unedited.  Tag list: @lizgarxo @josephhmazzello @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl Word count: 1,994

After your first encounter with the dark-haired man, you had practically thrown yourself into a pit labeled “in love with John Richard Deacon.” Could anyone blame you though? Every time John came in with his friends to record their album, he always made sure to stop by and talk to you. He would tell you about the album and the boys, and you would tell him about how work was going and your pride and joy, which was your cat named Fleur. On bad days, he would make you smile. On some days, he brought you flowers, on others he brought you tea with compliments written on the cup. You dreamed of the day John would ask you out, and each day you would be let down when he didn’t. But you wouldn’t give up.

You sat at the front desk, organizing papers for Mr. Foster that needed to be done before noon. You checked the clock again. 10:34. You’ve got this, Y/N, why are you even worrying about it? You know you’ll have these done in 10 minutes, You thought to yourself. You knew the real reason behind your stress, though you wouldn’t admit it. You hadn’t seen John’s sunshine face in three days, making you worry that you had said something to upset him. A tap tap tap against your desk made your thoughts end. 

You looked up, seeing a familiar smiling face. You’re little sunshine was back. 

“John!” You exclaimed happily, his fond smile becoming contagious against your lips. “I haven’t seen you in a while, I was starting to worry something had happened.” You admitted, resting your head against the palm of your hand. Y/N, your papers, a voice in the back of your head nagged. You decided to ignore it. 

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine. Really. We’ve just been so busy with the album, haven’t had much time to chat.” He explained shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Well, I’m glad to see your pretty face again. I’ve missed our little talks.” You smiled fondly at John, seeing his face light up to a bright pink color. It was a fun little game you liked to play: see how many times you could get John to blush. It definitely wasn’t one-sided though, for there were many occasions where Mr. Deacon had made your face go hot. 

“I’ve missed them too.” John returned your smile, leaning his elbows against your desk as he conversed with you. You could tell something was off though; he looked as though he was trying to tell you something, but just couldn’t find the words. Finally, he spoke again. 

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering, what time do you get off?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this finally your moment?

“I’m actually off tomorrow.” You replied, trying to remain ‘nonchalant sounding’ but you could tell that it hadn’t been too convincing. 

“Well, what a coincidence! The boys and I have a day off tomorrow as well from pumping out songs for the album,” His signature dorky smile and pink cheeks returned, “I was wondering... well, I was wondering since we’re both conveniently off, if maybe you’d like to hang out tomorrow. Like, well, a date.” 

It took all the strength in you not to jump up and down in excitement in that very moment. But, you controlled yourself. That didn’t stop the big smile stretching across your face though.

“I would love to go on a date with you tomorrow, Deaky.” You cooed. He grinned, a soft chuckle escaping through his lips. 

“Great! Great.” He coughed, trying to calm his enthusiasm. “There’s this great tea shop I know that we can meet at,” He began, pulling a sticky note from your desk and writing down the address of the shop. He handed it to you, a bright smile across his features. You happily took the sticky note, folding it up and putting it in your jacket pocket. 

“I’ll meet you there around 10-ish?” You asked, practically bubbling over with excitement. He nodded quickly, checking the time on his watch.

“I must be going, but I guess, I guess I’ll see you around?” He guessed giddily, slowly backing up as he walked backwards down the hall. You nodded, giving him a small wave. 

“See you tomorrow, Deaks.” 

He grinned, turning around completely as he ran down the hall. You watched him run, seeing him pump his fist up in delight. You saw his three friends come out from behind some furniture of the main lobby, congratulating him. You giggled behind your hand before looking back down at your paperwork once more. 

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

Tap, tap, tap, tap

You blended your base in with your fingers, making sure everything was smooth and even across your face. Even in the most stressful of times, doing makeup had always calmed your nerves. However, you couldn’t stop the butterflies fluttering across your stomach or the way your face would heat up at the thought of John and the date that was in less than an hour.

You tapped a soft powder across your face, setting the base. You smudged a shimmery eyeshadow across the lids of your eyes, brushed mascara through your top and bottom lashes, and ran a clear mascara through your brows to hold them down. You applied a thick clear gloss across your lips, swiping some off your skin when you went a bit over the lines. 

Now the only problem you were faced with: what to wear. Everything you tried on just seemed to either be too much or not enough. You finally decided on denim overalls that were embroidered with elegant pink flowers, a long-sleeved pink and red striped shirt, and red Chuck Taylor All Stars.

“How do I look?” You turned, looking at your cat Fleur, who laid sprawled out across the bed. She lifted her head up, letting out a soft meow, before laying back down. You took that as a sign of approval. 

You only had fifteen minutes or so to get to the tea shop, so you decided to head out early. 

You made your way through the bustling streets of Britain, before finally stopping in front of the quaint little shop. With five minutes to spare, might you add. 

You looked around before spotting John’s familiar long locks. The man had his head in a book, tapping his finger along to the beat of some song as he read. You smiled a bit to yourself, shaking his head. You walked over, standing in front of his booth. 

“Is this seat taken?” You asked playfully. John looked up at you, a fond look appearing across his face. 

“It’s all yours.” He joked back, making you giggle. You sat down across from him, crossing your ankles out of habit. Your Gran had made sure that you always remembered to cross your ankles, not your legs. That was the proper way to do it, you could practically hear her remark. 

“This place is lovely, the scenery is so quaint and cute.” You remarked, smiling as you looked around. The shop was decorated like some sort of Woodstock-esque design. There were posters of the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and many more artists. It had flowers of all sorts of varieties hanging from pots and vases across the store, giving it a lovely dash of color in all the right places. The room smelled of different variations of tea, all of which smelled exceptional. 

“Well, I remembered you telling me so much about how much you loved tea and flowers, so I thought this might be a good place to go.” He said softly, looking back at you shyly through his lashes. You felt your face heat up. No one you had ever been with had been this considerate. 

“You’re sweet, Johnny.” You smiled, resting your hand on your chin as you looked at the flower vase in front of you. “They really should switch the dandelions with those pink asters. The pink would compliment the goldenrods better.” You said, looking at the flowers in front of you. John raised his brows, but his smile never leaving.

“You really know your stuff, huh?”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, letting out a chuckle. “I guess you could say that. I’ve been wanting to be a florist since I was young because my Gran was a florist. She taught me all about different flowers and the way things would compliment each other and all sorts of things. My parents didn’t really think I should become a florist, they said there was no money in it and that people don’t buy flowers anymore.” You shrugged, looking back up at the dark-haired man who had been listening intently. “Besides, if I had been a florist, I would’ve never met you.” 

He smiled at you warmly, glancing at the vase. “Well, I think you should go for it. There’s no shame in trying.” He appealed, looking at you with his soft brown eyes that made you melt. “You’d be perfect at it. You have a cat named Fleur, for God’s sake.” He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully and gently tapping his foot with your own. 

“Do not make fun of my cat, Deacon.” You scolded jokingly, a laugh escaping from the two of you. Once the laughter settled down, it was your turn to listen intently. “Well, since you know everything about me, why don’t you tell me things about you?” You asked, arching one of your brows. 

He raised a brow in return, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Well, what would you like to know?” 

You tapped your chin, thinking for a moment. “Favorite color? Favorite music artist? Hell, you haven’t even told me what instrument you play in your band.” 

“Well, my favorite color is black. Favorite musical artist? Probably Hendrix or the Beatles. And I play bass.” He spoke softly, looking into your eyes as he spoke. 

“That’s all?” You said as you looked at him, gently tapping his foot with your own. “C’mon, Deaks, there’s gotta be more to you than long hair and a pretty face.” 

His cheeks turned pink, tapping your foot with his in return. “Pretty face, huh?” He blushed, your feet now in an all right war with each other. “I was born August 19th,  1951. I have a band with my best mates, Freddie, Brian, and Roger. I like electronics. I love soul and funk music. I love to tinker. Doesn’t really matter with what, but I’m always fiddling with something around the studio. I also know that I’m on a date with the girl of my dreams and talking to her makes me nervous and giddy at the same time.” 

You felt your face heat up, you knew immediately you were giving the man heart-eyes. “You truly are wonderful, Deaky.” You smiled, reaching over and timidly placing your hand over his. He smiled, interlocking your fingers as he returned your fond gaze. 

You turned to face the window, seeing the rain pour down against the window. You took a deep breath, turning back to John with a sad gaze. “I should be going soon, before the rain gets any worse.” 

John frowned, glancing outside. “I’m not letting you walk home in the storm. It’s too awful.” He began, glancing down at your interlocked hands, before looking at you once more. His cheeks had turned an even deeper shade of pink. “My place isn’t far, if you’d like to stay there for the night. Only if you’d like though. Otherwise I could surely walk you home.” He added quickly, looking down at your hands. 

You smiled a bit at him, reaching over with your free hand and grabbing his other. He looked up at you, and you gave him a loving look. “What are we waiting for, Deaks? Let’s go.” 

[sadprose-auroras]

‘About Time’ - Roger TaylorxFem!Reader (Part 1)

A/N: Hello my darlings! I can’t decide if I hate this or not, and I’m not sure if I’ll continue writing this, depends on the response. Please let me know if you want me to continue it (it would probably require way more parts, like a full on series). Hope you enjoy! - Also, this can apply to Ben Hardy’s portrayal of Roger. Whatever you prefer!

(This was totally inspired by a couple time travel fics I read a few weeks ago, I can’t remember the authors or the names but all credits to them for the time travel idea…. LOVE. IT. I just HAD to write my own, crappier version)

Find my other works here!

 You sunk to the floor, your knees giving out beneath you. You felt ridiculous, curling up in a ball, in your wardrobe, but you had reached your breaking point; everything had suddenly hit you. As you hugged your knees, sobbing, your jeans became tear-soaked. Your mind wandered, as your cheeks flamed in embarrassment and shame about your current state, despite nobody being around. How did you get here? A few months ago, your life was great. You had a great job, a great circle of friends and boyfriend, and you were pursuing your passion; studying fashion design. Then, everything began to crumble around you. All your friends turned on you, you got fired, and your studies began to slip as a result, causing you to fail an exam.  

 If all that wasn’t bad enough, you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you for a year and 11 months. Go figure. It was as if the universe was playing some long, cruel joke on you, just to see how long before you gave up on trying to pursue any kind of happiness. Just as you came to the conclusion that you really had nothing to fight for, leaning your head back on the wall behind you and closing your eyes, the strangest feeling overcame you. Your head began to spin, and pins and needles covered your entire body. You tried to open your eyes, to move your body, but you were frozen. Your heart rate increased rapidly, and you began to think that this was really it. Whatever was happening, you were going to die. Strangely enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.  

 By some miracle, everything stopped. The pins and needles ceased, and, save a throbbing headache, you felt much better. You experimentally wiggled your toes, and you had feeling back again. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, looking around you. It was dark, but you could make out the shapes of the clothes hanging around you. Oddly, you didn’t recognise any of them. The chair that was next to you when you closed your eyes was gone, replaced by a shoe rack.  

You stood up, closed your eyes again and rubbed your temples, trying to rid of the probable hallucinations. You racked your brain, thinking back to when you studied psychosis in high school. You couldn’t remember a thing. Was temporary paralysis a symptom? 

 You decided you needed to call a doctor. You pulled your iPhone out of your pocket, still in the dark, and opened up safari. You had no wifi, and no reception. Frowning, you opened the wardrobe door, the knob feeling unfamiliar, to be greeted by a figure doing the same. The door swung open suddenly, bouncing on its hinges.

 You both screamed loudly, and, without looking at the figure in front of you, you tried to push past to get away, however, a hand gripped you and pulled you back. 

 Your eyes became fixed on the man in front of you. You frowned, unable to tear your eyes off him. The hallucinations were getting worse; you were conjuring up images of people in your home. Hang on. You knew his face all too well; you had spent hours watching him drum and sing at concerts on YouTube. It couldn’t be, could it?

 “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my wardrobe!?” he asked, releasing his grip on you. You winced, rubbing where his fingernails had dug into you. This was all too much.

 “I should be asking you the same thing, why are you in my house? What’s going on?” you looked around the room, expecting to see your familiar bedroom; your posters plastered around the walls, your colourful duvet, and your plush white carpet. Instead, the walls were empty, the duvet was blue, and the carpet was grey.

 “I need to sit down,” you said, overwhelmed, perching on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. You glanced up at the man in front of you, his expression still shocked and wide-eyed, as he looked you up and down, his brows furrowing. 

 “God, you seem so real,” you laughed. “But there’s no way.”“What the fuck do you mean?” he replied. “I know I’m real, but I can’t say the same about you. I’ve never known anyone who can just appear out of thin air,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

 You frowned, rubbing your hands through your hair. “What do you mean, I appeared out of thin air?” your stomach began to sink. For reasons you couldn’t explain, something else was going on. Something much weirder than you initially thought.

 “Well, I don’t see how you could have got into my wardrobe without me seeing. I’ve been in my room for 20 minutes.” You glanced at his legs, frowning. What kind of person wears flared jeans anymore? 

 “I, um,” you began, a laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. This was all too ridiculous. You were actively avoiding eye contact with him. You figured if you acknowledged that it was him, at that age, in front of you, this would all go away. It was impossible. Suddenly, it all came together, as shocking as it was. It wasn’t him that was in the wrong place, it was you. This wasn’t your house. You had no wifi or reception. And, Roger Taylor, looking as he did circa 1972, was right in front of you. Had you time travelled? Your head span at the possibility. What else could explain these strange occurrences? 

 “What year is it?” you asked, this time properly meeting his eyes this time. Photos didn’t do the real thing justice; his baby blue eyes were maintaining steady eye contact with you, his lips were slightly parted, and his hair looked so soft and angelic. He was insanely beautiful. You internally cursed yourself. Now was definitely not the time.  

“1972…” he said, becoming even more confused. Your theory was confirmed. You’d watched all of the Back to the Future movies countless times, but you’d never imagined anything like that could ever really happen. Especially to you; plain, boring, old you. 

 “I know you’re probably not inclined to believe the crazy girl from your wardrobe, but I think,” you bit your lip, concerned at how he would take the news. “I think I’m from the future.” 

----------

 “So, you’re telling me you didn’t do anything for this to actually happen?” Roger asked. After trying to explain to him a million times, that yes, you were in fact just as confused as him, and no, you didn’t climb through his window, you tried to remain patient. He had every right to be confused as hell, you would definitely react the same if you were in his shoes. Despite this though, he was oddly trusting, allowing you to remain in his house and actually giving you the time of day to explain your side of the story. He even offered you a glass of water and something to eat, which you accepted gratefully. You were starving. 

 “Yes, I was literally just in my wardrobe, then the next thing I knew we were screaming in each other’s faces.” 

 “How do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t seem very sane so far. I’m going to need some proof. You could just be a crazy girl who will do anything to sleep with me,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes. So the stories were true, he really was cocky.

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Taylor,” you retorted. “And no,” you said quickly, as he opened his mouth to speak, “I don’t know your surname because I’m a crazy stalker.” Your mind wandered to your extensive Queen record and CD collection. Okay, so maybe you were a little, but he didn’t need to know that. 

 “I know because Queen makes it big. I mean, massive.” You bit your lip nervously. If Back to the Future taught you anything, nobody should know too much about their own future. For the first time in your life, you had to think about what you said before you said it.

“How can I convince you?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “What year do you claim to come from, anyway?”

“2019,” you bit your lip. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Shit,” he mumbled. “Am I….?”

 “Still alive? Yeah.” Suddenly, you had an idea. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, thankful it was still charged. You turned it on, the time and date you had left still displayed on the screen (18th January 2019, 11:00), in front of a picture of Queen from 1975. You turned the screen towards him. 

 “Holy shit, is that me?” he gasped, leaning forward. “2019.” He looked up at you, and you shrugged and nodded. You were thankful he didn’t know the implications of having a picture of somebody as your lockscreen. 

 “There’s something else,” you unlocked your phone, opening music and searching for ‘Doing Alright.’ You pressed play, the song pouring out of the speakers.

Yesterday, my life was in ruin

Now today, I know what I’m doing… 

“Oh my god, that’s our song! We haven’t even released it yet.” He chuckled. You couldn’t help but grin at his excitement, encapsulated by his gorgeous smile. 

 “Wanna hear more?” you smirked. It’s funny, you had never felt so comfortable around somebody so quickly. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him relaxed you. 

----------

 “Have you noticed I haven’t asked about that thing you’re holding, ‘cause I’m too scared to?”

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. You’d spent the last half an hour playing Roger a few more Queen songs. A small nagging voice in the back of your mind was telling you to stop, to not reveal anything about his future, no matter how small. But Roger’s pleading to hear more won.

 “It’s actually a phone,” you said, to answer his question. “Well, that’s its main purpose anyway. You can use it to take and store pictures, play music, and use the internet. Which, well, you’ll find out about in approximately 18 years.”

 “I’m intrigued, what’s the internet?” he asked. You thought of all the unspeakable things you had come across on social media, and shook your head.“You don’t want to know.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you tried to suppress a blush.  

You cleared your throat, averting your eyes from him as you straightened up in your seat. “What’s the time?” you asked. He glanced down at his watch. “3am,” he laughed in disbelief. “We should probably get some sleep. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

 You shook your head rapidly, taken aback by his utter kindness. “Oh my god no, please, I will. It’s your house,” you said, getting up from the chair you were sitting on. He did the same. You both stood awkwardly, basically staring at each other. You couldn’t help but think of the times you watched a Queen documentary on TV, with the Roger of your time’s commentary. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the same person.  

 He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes off you, and going into his bedroom, mumbling something about getting something for you to sleep in.  

 As you awaited his return, you couldn’t help but wonder why you were so focused on how flustered you were around Roger, and not worried about the fact that you were literally stuck in the wrong year, and had no idea how to get back. The funny thing was, you had no desire to. You hadn’t felt so at home in a long time, than when you were laughing and talking with Roger. He made you feel so safe, so quickly. And that feeling would only grow stronger when you both gave up on convincing the other to sleep on the couch, and ended up sharing his bed. 

PART 2: BONUS CONTENT THAT I WROTE THE SAME DAY AS PART ONE. I’M NOT GOING TO CONTINUE IT BUT WHAT���S THE POINT OF HAVING IT IN A WORD DOC N NOT POSTING IT?

When I was writing this, I couldn’t stop imagining rom-com moments. Like, the outfit section? A cute montage with a cute song. Damn I wish I could express the images in my head more clearly, in words. My writing sucks. 

“Y/N, wake up. Y/N!!” A familiar, yet foreign, voice startled you. As you came to your senses, you realised your usual soft, silky sheets were replaced with cotton ones, and an unusual smell wafted around you. You slowly opened your eyes, to be greeted by Roger leaning over you, a slightly annoyed look on his face. Fuck. It was real. He must’ve read your disappointment on your face, and he smiled sympathetically and nodded.

“Yep, you’re still here,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help but sigh; you’d hoped it was a really long, unusual dream.

“I have to go to rehearsal for a gig tonight. Do you wanna come?” Of course you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to meet the rest of the band, and literally see the magic happen, you couldn’t help but feel like you were invading. But then again, who could say they had the chance to sit in on an early Queen rehearsal, especially knowing how successful and impactful they were going to become?

“I don’t – I don’t want to intrude,” you mumbled, sitting up in the bed and clutching the duvet around you, suddenly feeling exposed in Roger’s white shirt.

“Well it’s your choice, I understand that you probably don’t want to sit around with us when you could be finding a way back home or finding your parents or something,” he said.

Although you would never admit it, you wanted nothing more than to go with him. Not only was it literally history in the making, but the absence of your birth parents in your life, leading to a childhood of foster families who couldn’t care less about you, gave you a sense of independence at a young age. You knew how to be alone, seeking solace in music. Music created by the greats like Queen made you feel less alone, as silly as it sounded. It was your escape from the struggles in your real life.

“Wait, no. I want to come. If you don’t mind. But I need something 70s appropriate to wear,” you chuckled, glancing over at your high-waisted skinny jeans and cropped knit jumper folded neatly on a chair.

“I think that can be arranged.” Roger grinned at you, and you were struck with yet another wave of disbelief. Roger Taylor was going to lend you come of his iconic clothes.

After spending a couple of hours going through Roger’s clothes, which was your absolute dream, you finally settled on a pair of pants that were a little too short, and a shirt that was slightly too tight across the chest. You tried to spice up the outfit with a few of Roger’s necklaces, much to his dismay.

“Do I look okay?” you asked when you stepped out, twirling around with your arms out.

Roger, standing with a pile of clothes in his arms that you had rejected, furrowed his brows and looked you up and down. You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight; he was taking his job as your stylist very seriously.

“You’ll almost fit in,” he said, “although, the shirt is too tight,” he finished bluntly, gesturing to your chest. You folded your arms instinctively.

“Don’t worry, I won’t look at your boobs.” You frowned at this. Was that meant to make you feel better? Why did you feel slightly disappointed?

“Um, thanks?” you scoffed. “What should I do with my hair?” you tugged on each of your French braids. Roger walked towards you without warning, and pulled out your hair ties, running his fingers through your hair.

“Just leave it loose.” He said hoarsely, his face dangerously close to yours. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was biting his lip in concentration, his eyes squinting as he adjusted your hair. It took everything in you to not lean into his touch; his fingers were so delicate. As he pushed a strand of hair out of your face, his eyes met yours.

“Perfect,” he almost whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You knew you should pull away. You knew this would get way too complicated. Your rationality was telling you to snap out of it. But as his hands smoothly came to rest around your neck, bringing you closer, something else entirely was driving your actions.  Just as you began to lean in, he pulled away, clearing his throat loudly.

“Let me get you a coat,” he said, quickly rushing away from you. You bit your lip, cheeks flaming. You were humiliated. What were you thinking, trying to kiss him? He obviously wasn’t attracted to you; the weird, pathetic crazy time-traveller. You didn’t even belong here anyway, how could you possibly think he would want you? Your eyes began to well up, you just had to get out of there.

As you quickly began to gather your clothes and phone, furiously wiping the tears from your eyes, Roger returned with a fur coat in his arms.

“Here, this should fit – wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, realising your state.

“I’m just gonna go. I’m so sorry to have invaded your life like this, you shouldn’t have to deal with my weird ass problems. Thank you for everything. It was nice meeting you, I guess. I’ll never forget you,” you rambled, becoming increasingly embarrassed, trying to walk past him. He gently placed his hands on your upper arms, turning you to face him.

“Hey, hey, I don’t have to help you, okay? I want to. If you’ll let me.” he said, a surprisingly vulnerable look on his face.

“But, I’m burdening you too much! You can’t have me holding you back from living your normal life. You don’t want me clinging to your side like some kind of….” You paused, struggling to find the right words in your frazzled state. “Some kind of leech. I mean, I’m just annoying. For God’s sake, we have nothing in common! I’m technically young enough to be your daughter!”

Roger laughed softly. “Okay, first of all, you’re not a leech. And yes, it’s weird that you’re from the future, and I’ll probably never wrap my head around it, but so what? We shouldn’t get along, but we do.” You hoped he couldn’t notice your blush at this.

“And, lastly,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his face, “the thought of you being my daughter is gross, but me being your daddy on the other hand…”

“Oh my god, Roger! No!” you couldn’t help but laugh, as you rapidly shook your head. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not; you secretly hoped he wasn’t.

“So, do you still wanna come to rehearsal?” he asked, all joking aside.

You sighed, hoping you weren’t being a burden. “Okay, give me that then,” you grabbed the coat off him, pulling it on.

“Do I look normal?” you asked.

“No,” he smirked, and you raised your eyebrows at him. “In a good way, though. Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand. You tried to ignore the jolts of electricity you felt from this sweet gesture. You never thought simply holding hands with someone would give you so many butterflies.

[vivilice]

Regret (1)

No warnings

Genre: romance, Otherworldy, fantasy, LGBT+

A wind swept paper petals up towards the sky. A grand castle surrounded by a red sky lay in silence. The servants and stewards of this place all have a fabricated hearts. Only three residents carry a body of flesh and blood. A human with eyes of God and one arm. Who carries a promise with the two others. A dragon who has been around the longest and watches the other two from afar. Who carries his hobbies with vigor. A demon born from resentment which took a paper rose as his vessel. Who keeps the title of Devil and would rather spend time with the two others than those from outside.

The living room was dimly lit. Rosell sat on the windowsill one foot dangling down and with crossed arms. He looked outside at the rain. Hell was soaking with sound of roaring thunder in the distance. It was pleasant to hear. Really making the comforts of home more cozy.

“Wow, it’s thundering like crazy out there. I wonder if it’ll come closer.” A bright young woman sat down beside the Devil. Her peach skin illuminated every time a bolt of lightning lit the sky. Her long unruly blond hair fell nicely on her shoulders. Her smile warmed the Devil who she called brother everytime he looked at it. 

A nice scent came sneaking in on them. It came directly from the kitchen which was placed beside the living room. A young looking man came strolling in. He wore a blue dress with a nice fluffy jacket, an apron and oven mittens while carrying stew. A long blue and white tail closed the kitchen door behind him. His slitted eyes screamed mischievous and his grin was painted a bright red.

 “Food’s served.” He sang. The young woman, who was named Dina Ravenwood, who sat beside the Devil got up and darted to the dinning table. The man with the dragon’s tail, named Ikle Raveice sat down beside her and served her a portion of his cooking. He looked at his younger brother who still sat at the window. “Come eat with us already! I made your fav stew, you know.” Rosell Chartam Ibaraki, the Devil of the Fabricated Hell, stood up and sat down beside Ikle.

The little family sat and ate. Chatting about Dina’s school, about demonic affairs, about fashion and then. Dina,“Oh yeah! Today in religion I got in a heated discussion with two of the boys from the other class.” Ikle sniggered, “Wow, pro’lly ‘cause they had their own version of the Devil and such, huh? Not like anyone know the right answer right?” Ikle said, elbowing the Devil. Dina laughed and stuck her tongue out for her dragon brother. “Why are you booing me I’m right!” Ikle’s use of an old meme earned him another elbow.

“Actually,” Dina began after she had stopped laughing. “We were talking about resentment toward God and how The Devil...is driven by only that, hate.” Hearing Dina say that Rosell could only keep eating. 

A shadow fell over Rosell’s features and he stared out of the window again. Ikle gulped loudly and gestured for Dina to change subject. Dina however, was quite nosy.

“Rosell? I argued against them because I know better, right.” She continued. Without hesitating Rosell answered, “Nah, they’re pretty much right. But you know that too. If it wasn’t for that god-for-nothing, i’d-“ Dina, “You’d what?” Silence feel over the room. “Isn’t that quite dumb?” Rosell turned his head, seething anger started to rise. he clenched his fists.

Dina’s face was stern and Ikle could only sigh. “Dina.” Rosell began, trying to keep his voice calm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You know what he did.”  Dina was relentless, “I know he killed them. But didn’t you kill his forces too?” Rosell became angrier, he almost said something until Dina said, “Didn’t you want to be able to be left unrestrained? Is this your anger? You didn’t know any of them! Neither the circumstances surrounding why God saw it as a necessity to... ok I won’t defend mass murder. But... you hate a guy you never really met. And for what? The resentment your predessecors formed you from?” 

Silence filled the room after Dina spoke. Suddenly, a loud humm broke out. Rosell turned his head and was met with the biggest “I told you bro!” Face from Ikle. 

All the anger which had been built up suddenly dissapeared as if a witch had swung her staff. It dawned on Rosell.

She was right.

Ikle looked at Dina who returned the look. Then back to Rosell who stared at his plate Suddenly, Dina couldnt take her brother’s silence anymore. 

“Uhh, Rosell? Sorry, I just wanted-“ Dina didn’t get the chance to finish. “You’re right.” “Huh?” It blurted from Ikle. Rosell rested his chin in his hand and looked troubled.

Rosell, “You’re absolutely right.”

~

Footsteps rang out throughout the Heavens. A colorful seraph darted around God’s abode to try and find the lord. Finally, after opening the absolute last door in the whole palace the angel found God.

A big white coat, with splotches of dried paint, floated around a being with a dimmed aura. With colorless hair tied loosely by the neck, held by a huge bead. A young man rotated his body to show a patchwork of vitiligo on his skin. Big round glasses surrounded his eyes which were two differen colors, one blue one and one purple. He broke into a smile, “Miza!! What is it?” The seraph stood straight and answered, “Young lord Bell, I-I believe I found Strezia’s daughter!!!!”

Colorful eyes widened and the smile became bigger. The God jumped into his angel’s embrace and celebrated with gusto, jumping up and down. “Are you for real?! Then what are we waiting for? Hurry and let’s go already!!!”

The seraph staggered and tried to readjust themselves, “Bell,uh Bell. Remember. It’s the human realm we are going to. You need to hide your aura!” Baltazar, the God of The World of Allure smiled, “Well, I think I will need your help... you know. My art block and all.” The seraph called Miza didn’t answer. Only giving a knowing nodd and then the two were on their way.

~

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?!” Baltazar almost started crying. The lady behind the counter  couldn’t help but fidget while Baltazar got closer and closer up in her face.

“Bell... calm down. They can’t just give out the information like that.” Baltazar turned to look at Miza, “But, but. Then how will we...” “Excuse me, sirs?” Both turned to the lady, who was in charge of the orphanage register. “Like I said.” She began. “I can’t just give out addresses at random. And since you can’t prove that you’re related to this woman, then it doesn’t look good for your search...”

Baltazar’s face turned gloom. It was like all the color around him died out and became grey. 

“But there might just be a way.”

Instantly, Baltazar’s face brightened up. The woman behind the counter turned in her seat and began pressing keys on her computer and click around with her mouse. 

“You see... five years ago. A woman related to miss Ravenwood came to search for her as well. She left her business card. It’s all I can give you as of now.” She reached for a file and pulled out a small dull business card.

Baltazar took the card and thanked the lady profusely. Then he darted out the door with Miza dangling behind him.

“So... huff, huff what now?” Miza inquired. Baltazar stopped on a sidewalk and turned to Miza, “Hold out your hands. I need some inspiration.” Miza held out her hands and they both closed their eyes. After minute standing like that, earning the two weird looks from pedestrians they knew where to go.

~

Penelope power walked down the lane in centrum. She kept looking at her watch and walked faster and faster. She had done it so many times that even her stilettos gnawing at her heels wasn’t a bother anymore. Just slap on some patches and then she would be fine! Oh well, she also had to call Dina and wish her luck on her test and then there was that new apartment opening and then. Umpf!

Penelope, “watch were you’re going!” Staggering back from the impact Penelope surveyed the person in front of her. Messy, oversized coat, bleached hair, smudged glasses, and ... heterochromia? Without noticing Penelope had begun to sneer at the jaywalker. “Uh... I’m! I’m so sorry.” The man begun to bow up and down. So much that Penelope felt nauseous just looking at the other, she asked him or was it a her? To stop.

After the person stopped Penelope made her way to leave until her wrist was grabbed. 

Big mistake.

Penelope had practiced martial arts since grade school. She was quite proud of her hand palm block and wrestled the attacker’s hand backwards. A pitiful scream was released and people around the two stared in disbelief. This attacker had to be a man. In Penelope’s opinion it was always men who gave the most ear-piercing scream.

While Baltazar’s soul was about to leave his body, a new guy appeared. “Wait, ms Ravenwood!” Penelope looked at the newcomer. With disdain she said, “Who are you and why do you know my name?” The new guy straightened his back and answered with a slight tremble, “Please, we uh, we wish to speak to you. About Dina.” With those words Penelope let Baltazar go.

~

“You’re Dina’s father’s acquaintance?” Penelope asked and sipped her free coffee, the two others had brought for her.

The attacker was named Baltazar and the other one, who Penelope had thought to be man, Miza. Both sat opposite from her inside a coffee shop. 

The two nodded and Baltazar began, “Yeah, we got your business card at the register. We really didn’t want to bother you... or maybe, just bother you about Dina.” He shrugged helplessly.

Penelope sighed, “I see. Next time don’t jolt me like that. I nearly got a heart attack, you know!”

Both bowed their head to apologize. 

“Well, never mind anymore.” She said to make them stop. “I just need to know if you have any proof of your relations. You must know I just can’t send any stranger over to my niece.”

Miza had an aha moment and rummaged around in her purse. “Is the person on the right familiar in any way?” She asked, while pointing to a picture of two people she pulled out of her purse.

Penelope’s face dropped. 

She asked for the photo and studied it close.

  “It really... is her. Marie...” Penelope said, caressing the picture with her free hand. Her eyes got glassy.

“I see. Only two copies exist of this one. That’s what Marie told me... very well then. Tell me what you want with Dina and then I’ll tell you we’re to find her. But i warn you!” She said, pointing with a stern finger. “If i hear you tried anything fishy, i’ll find some means to drag you two through Hell! If not Dina’s brothers does it first!”

Baltazar held up his hands and broke into a big happy but nervous smile, “We! just wanted her to know about her father and maybe get closure to questions she may have...”

Penelopepaused. then she smiled and then wrote down an address. “She lives with her adoptive brothers. Get along with them and then you’ll get along with Dina.”

~

The building in front of God and his seraph were quite foreboding. Vines crawled up the walls and held the building in a tight embrace. The leaves were so dense it was hard to know which color the house originally held. 

Baltazar started to sweat. He strolled nervously up to the entrance and was about to knock when he heard incoming footsteps. 

“I’ll be back later dolls, I just need to...” a young blondie opened the door and was met by Baltazar’s stupefied look. Miza straightened her uniform and looked directly at Dina.

Baltazar, “May you be... miss Dina Ravenwood?”

Dina closed the door somewhat and hid behind it to shield her.                     “That depends on... What business you two may have...”

Baltazar fretted And didn’t know what to say. His divine power revealed her identity, however he couldn’t just reveal his true form to her. She may be the daughter of a seraph but she shouldn’t get scared.

“Ah! I’m so sorry. Let me introduce me and my companion. I’m Baltazar Farver and this is Miza.” Miza bowed slightly to Dina, “How do you do.” She said.

Dina opened the door some more to look better at the two oddballs on front of her.

“We! Uh, we are acquainted with you dad and we wish to tell you about him and maybe get to know...you?” Dina’s eyes lit up, then she became more apprehensive.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth.” Baltazar looked at Miza in defeat. Miza took the hint and coughed slightly, “Miss Ravenwood. We only have this picture of your mother together with your father.” She gave Dina the picture. Dina’s blue eyes shone like small stars and she looked at the two more brightly. 

“Thank you so much!!! Please, come in come in. I’ll be happy to know you! My brothers are not home yet but they’ll be home soon!” Miza and Baltazar breathed out in relief. They began to step into the small house.

An array of demonic aura appeared on the floor inside the hall the moment the two divine beings stepped inside. It forced God and the seraph to reveal their true selves. Baltazar looked at Miza in horror. The array and the sudden change in atmosphere revealed that they were no longer in the second realm. They had entered Hell, the third realm.

Baltazar had a look of horror spread out on his face. Slowly, he looked at Dina who had sprung back after the array had activated. It held Baltazar and Miza in an iron grip making the two unable to move. 

Dina was frozen to the ground. She looked at the God and the angel for a long while. Unable to say anything. 

Meanwhile, piles of questions weighed down on God’s mind. Why was a human child living in Hell? No, why i Strezia’s child living in Hell? Does her aunt know? Is she a prisoner to an evil demon? Will demons gather now that two from the first realm had appeared?

Baltazar’s train of thought stopped abruptly. He was let down along with Miza and the two looked with surprise at Dina. Dina stood still. And then she lifted a finger to her lips. She then gestured to the two to follow her.

~

Dina poured three cups of tea with an apologetic look. The two heavenly beings were astounded. Dina had been adopted by two demons who now acted as her guardians. She was apparently also dating another demon and was quite happy with her life.

“And that’s really it.” She finished, “Look, I don’t want to hurt you and I’ll be more than willing to hear about my father. I’ve always wondered what happened.”

Miza had on a face of grave seriousness, “Miss Dina. Our presence here... It might cause some... people. To find rather... what do you say? Complicated. We don’t wish to engage in any hostility with your brothers.”

Dina smiled with relief, “That’s good to hear. I’ll make sure you’ll get out of here safely. But please, meanwhile. Make yourself comfortable.” Baltazar quickly took her up on her words an munched on a cookie he had been offered. Miza shot him a menacing look and Baltazar realized he probably took it a little too well. being in Hell and all.

He sighed and smiled. He’d better get on with it, “You see your father-“

“WHATSUP SLUTS! BIG BRO’S BAAAA.....aaaack.” A boisterous woman kicked open the door to the living room. Her voice was as dark as a man’s. She stopped immediately when she saw the angel and the other divine who sat with Dina.

Everybody turned to look at the newcomer.

Sweat began to form on the lady’s forehead and she cleared her throat, “Haha, welcome dearies.” she had completely changed her tone to a more fairer one. 

“Oh Dina, I didn’t know we would have guests. I would’ve dressed for the occasion.”

Dina abruptly stood up, “Ah! Sis! Eh, these two know about my dad!” The lady blinked, “Really?” Suddenly her demeanor changed and she slowly got over and sat beside Miza. “Well, if you have something to tell about Dina that I don’t know. Then I would like to hear as well. The names iklea.” She held up her hand for Baltazar to shake. 

“Hello there, the names Baltazar.” Miza quickly shot Baltazar another look. And he retracted his hand. While giving the sister an apologetic look. 

Wait. didn’t Dina only have brothers? Balthazar thought.

Iklea looked like she tried to hide her displeasure. Looking thoughtful she sat with crosses arms. “Well, anyways. Didn’t you want to talk about Dina’s dad?” She asked, quite annoyed.

Baltazar cleared his throat, “Yeah! uh, yeah. Sorry.” He then began to tell about Strezia.

“Your dad’s name was Strezia. She was one of the most creative seraphs in my court. Oh, I have a picture.” Baltazar procured a picture of a beautiful fair-skinned lady. Her body was totally covered in a white uniform, with dried paint on. Her hair was even longer than Dina’s and her eyes were piercing as if she was looking directly at the viewer. Her eyes were the same as Dina’s.

“Uhh. Mr, Baltazar?” Dina asked hesitantly. “Isn’t this a picture of a woman?”

Baltazar blinked, not once but twice before Miza shot him another glare. “Oh yeah, you father was actually a woman.”

Dina looked slightly surprised. She looked at Iklea then back at Baltazar. “My father? Was a woman? And an angel at that?” She was sounding rather sceptical. Balthazar didnt blame her. But the God did wonder. hadn’t she been living with demons!

Baltazar, “Well, its not hard to change gender when you’re an angel. Or a demon for that matter. And I know for a fact that Strezia loved to explore the nuances of existence.”

Iklea smiled and put an arm around Dina, “Reminds me of someone i know.” She winked. “Excluding the shapeshifting part.” The siblings grinned at each other. 

Miza looked at the picture and sighed, “Strezia was like an elder sister to all of us.”

Balthazar looked fondly at thepicture too, “When she told me she had fallen in love with a human woman I tried to warn her.”

Dina, “Warn her? About what?”

Baltazar looked down, “Humans don’t live forever... I was afraid she would get hurt and then... Look, Strezia wasn’t aware that your mother was pregnant. If she knew...” Baltazar could feel tears forming. He quickly wiped them away.

Dina’s face was frozen, “Mr, Baltazar? Sorry I’m asking but... my father, you address him in past tense could it be that...”

Dina didn’t say anymore. Baltazar lip quivered. He tried to pull himself together. Miza put a hand on Baltazar’s back. Dina took Iklea’s hand and Iklea squeezed it back.

~

Shadows swept the halls of the Fabricated Castle. The light from the mosaic windows danced around and found a silhouette which appeared at the end of the stairs leading to the main hall. 

Red eyes surveyed the foyer and the gaze went towards the living room. 

Hearing unfamiliar voices the silhouette took on a more human appearance with a nice blazer and matching pants.

He opened the door and first saw his sister Dina and then Ikle, “I’m back.” He said, then stopped in the doorway. When the guy opposite of Dina turned around something deep inside of Rosell sank.

Voices. Voices which had been hidden away since he met Dina returned. 

Kill. Kill. Revenge. Chance. Take it!

“Ross-!” Dina yelled and got up. Iklea, who really was Ikle, hurried to make  Dina stop before she finished the name. 

Rosell’s eyes were fixated on Baltazar. 

The God he had spent centuries getting to. He now sat in his living room. Free from his court’s protection.

He had never been this close. So close yet...

Balthazar, “Hello, you must be Dina’s brother. I’m Dina’s father’s Uh... acquaintance.” The God got up from his seat, turned to Rosell and smiled.

The dread dissipated.

Rosell, “Dina’s?”  

Rosell looked at Dina and Ikle who were about to burst.

He then took a looked at the seraph, who was also present in the room.

It seems like... there was some explaining to do.

Dina’s elder brother took off his coat. A small smile formed on rosell’s lips.

“Where are my manners. You can call me Ross.” 

“Ross” held out a hand for God to sake. Baltazar returned the smile and shook the other man’s hand, “I’m Baltazar.”

Ross, “I know.”

Baltazar felt dread roll down his body. 

Rosell, “You hurt me, my lord. I may be a common demon. as you might have guessed from the array at the entrance. Currently disguised as a human for Dina’s sake. But I know my way in this world. And the people one has to know about” He looked directly through Baltazar. 

“Surely, you must have been aware that this is Hell when you arrived, right.” 

Baltazar nodded. Unable to say much more. 

Ross let go of Baltazar’s hand, “Now, tell me. What have I been missing?”

~

Ross, “I see, that explains a lot.”

Dina, “It does?”

Ross, “It explains why you got the eyes of God.”

Baltazar almost spilled his tea, “She’s got my eyes???” This statement prompted a  facepalm from Miza.

Rosell shook his head, “Not yours per see. More like, what priestess in the old world prayed to be able to see through you. To see things that normal people wouldn’t.”

Miza took a sip from a teacup. “You mean she can see magic beings?”

Rosell scoffed, “No, not at all. She still believes my tail is some weird furry statement i have going. Dina turned to Ross, “Ross please!” She then turned to the divine pair and confirmed, “I’ve always been able to, since I was small.”

Miza sighed and tried not to show her disdain for the demon, “That must’ve been difficult. Your peers must have found you rather peculiar. We are terribly sorry we did not know of your existence earlier. We should’ve been able to help you.” SHe glanced at “Iklea” and “Ross”, “Much earlier.”

Ross glared at the seraph who gladly returned the gesture. It was so intense that Miza could only try to drink from an empty cup and act like she didn’t notice the cup was empty.

Dina, “Not at all! My childhood was... but then I met Ross and Iklea. Since then.. I’ve been rather content. I even decided when my business in the human world is finished. I’d actually like to stay permanently here with my boyfriend... if he still likes me in the future that is.”

Iklea broke into laughter, “HAH! He better. ‘Else I know of a few heartbreaking words to tell him.”

Nobody in the room liked the obvious wink Iklea sent towards the group.

“But back to my dad....” Dina tried.

Baltazar’s face dropped, “Yeah! Right!”

“As I said, Strezia fell in love with a woman named Marie Ravenwood. She stayed together with Marie for some human years until one day... She came home. Locked herself in her room and didn’t show her face for quite some time... Miza.” Balthazar gestured to the seraph, “Found out that ms. Ravenwood had cut ties to her. And then thirteen years ago... you mother. You probably know know what happened.”

Dina gulped and looked down. Ross sat beside her and watched her every move.

Dina’s mother had died giving birth to her. Her mother had cut all ties to her family because of improper conduct. She would rather give Dina up for adoption than let her parents know of her daughter’s existence. As Dina had been told by her aunt.

“I felt it when you mother died.” Balthazar continued when DIna confirmed she knew. 

“Her connection to Strezia made all of Strezia’s closest feel it too. I knew something would happen so I... I forced myself into Strezia’s room. But she was gone. A few days later. Strezia’s light disappeared from this existence...” Dina felt cold.

“Nobody knew what had happened to her as she had thrown away her halo.”

Dina sat frozen. Her shoulders trembled. Dina got up and went out the door. Ross got up too and followed after her. Balthazar could only stare as he was at a loss at what to do. It had been twentyfive years ago and he still remembered the day as if it was today it had happened.

Iklea sighed, “Don’t worry, she... just have to swallow it. They’ll be back. After she gets it out.”

Baltazar felt her pain. A girl who had never met her parents.. and for both of them to wind up dead. Truly sad. 

Baltazar closed his eyes. His empathy gave birth to an inkling of inspiration. He used it to see where the two had gone. ‘

A gentle hand calmly patted a young weeping maiden while rocking her back and forth. A good man consoling his little sister. Whispering reassuring words to her.

After a while Iklea went too and the three of them soon got back.

Baltazar got up from his seat, “I’m sorry that you and Strezia never got to meet. But I’m happy nonetheless to finally being able to meet you. I-“ “Wait a moment.” Ross said.

Baltazar stopped. 

Ross, “I think I know what happened to Strezia.” 

Miza got up instantly.

“You do??? What happened? What do you mean?”

Baltazar looked hopeful at Ross. However, Strezia’s soul had moved on. She wouldnt turn up alive, even if balthazar wanted it. Still, Baltazar wanted closure so he prompted Ross to tell what he knew.

“Some time back. An angel went on a rampage throughout some shopping districts in Hell’s capital. Many high demons came to stop her but her attacks were relentless. She didn’t even try to protect herself. Charging head on.”

They all listened attentively. Nobody were sitting anymore, holding their breaths.

Ross, “She stirred up such a huge incident that the Devil himself showed up.”

Baltazar felt stiffened. He always got trembling fits every time the Devil was mentioned. he tried to gulp down the unease.

“He tried to subdue her.” Ross continued. “But when he went for the killing strike she suddenly threw her sword and met the attack with open arms. He refused her the kill and stopped immediately. But, something in her eyes drove her to steal away his sword, Redwoo, and then she... ended it herself.”

The atmosphere which surrounded the room lay heavily on the people inside. 

Baltazar felt weak and wanted to scream and cry. He blamed himself. His inefficiency. He was supposed to be God but he couldn’t even help one who had been so close to him. 

The loss of Marie was so big that Strezia didn’t even want to be in a world where Marie wasn’t there. A tragedy befitting of such a beautiful love. If this had been a tragedy. 

Baltazar flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to see Dina with tears in her eyes. “Thank you for coming today.” Her voice was weak and trembling. She fought hard to keep the tears at bay. Baltazar only felt worse when he saw her. He then embraced the girl. And thanked her too. Holding back tears.

She never knew them. But she wished she had. Still, she couldn’t help but feel sad for two people who had loved each other and tried to protect each other. Angels’ life span far surpasses that of a human. With a baby on the way, Miza concluded it must’ve been because Marie wanted to spare Strezia the heartbreak of outliving her child and wife. Nobody knew for sure.

~

“Thanks for having us!” Baltazar beamed. He stood outside of Ross, Iklea and Dina’s house. Miza and him were preparing to go back.

“I’m so happy I came to meet you Dina! And your nice elder siblings of course. Even though I thought that you had two brother to start with... but well, it’s really been fun! Though, maybe a tad bit sad.” Iklea stood and supressed a laugh. Ross only elbowed her.

Baltazar clasped Dina’s hands, “I might be God and have business other places but I would really like it if we kept in contact with each other! You’re really bright and I’m sure Strezia would’ve been so proud of you. So I hope that I can come and visit again. You know, to tell you more and stuff!”

With a returned beaming smile Dina answered, “Yes of course! I really want to know more as well. And you’re really interesting my lord. Even Ross and Ikle- I mean Iklea liked you. And I’m sure they don’t mind.” Dina looked back at her siblings they both nodded in agreement.

“I’m just... I’m just sad that my dad didn’t know about me...” Baltazar patted Dina’s head, “Yeah, it could’ve been different.”

Dina shook her head, “It could’ve. However, I’m happy as is.” She then turned to look at her siblings. Baltazar was truly happy for her.

Miza and Baltazar then said goodbye and disappeared towards the first realm.

“I’m sorry Rosell.” Dina said sheepishly. “I didn’t realize he was God until later...”

“It’s ok. I’m glad you made him stay.”

“You... are?”

“Yeah.”

[reactivebangtan]

REQUEST: Are your requests open? I didn’t see anything saying that they weren’t so I’m sorry if they’re not. But if they are could you possibly do a BTS reaction to when their S/O comes home after a really stressful day at work and something really little and trivial sets them off and makes them cry? I work in a memory care facility and today was literally the worst. REQUESTED BY: anonymous WARNINGS: nothing! NOTES: this is so late but i hope your day got a little better!  ♡ 

he could see it as soon as you walked in the door — your usual smile upon hearing his ‘ welcome home, sweetheart! ’ was dim, your eyes seemed distant ( he’d bet anything that your head wasn’t where your body was ), and even your feet seemed out of place as you moved from the front door. there was no telling what caused it or how bad the damage was, but he didn’t bother second-guessing himself when he asked: ❝ are you okay, babe? ❞ from his place in the kitchen — he’d gotten so used to cooking meals late to accommodate your work schedule that he simply found himself there around this time everyday — he could see the way your whole body tensed, the way you paused, the way his question rolled over you and he could see exactly when it hit you. it seems that was all it took, as even though your mouth never opened, the tears that immediately welled in your eyes and shook your shoulders answered his question all on their own. instantly, you had two strong arms wrapping themselves around your body and supporting your weight, allowing you to lean into him completely as the shell you’d precariously built around yourself came crumbling down. sobs shook your body, your limbs trembled with every inhale and your chest squeezed with every exhale, and even though seokjin held you up it felt as if the floor was coming out from under you. after consistently holding it in all day it felt almost therapeutic to let it go, though, and once he sat you down and your cries calmed into little hiccups and gasps you could feel the weight of the day sliding off you in languid, heavy waves. every once in a while his thumb would pass over your cheek to catch a stray tear, or you’d feel his mouth press to the side of your head, as if he wanted to make sure you knew he was still there, sitting with you — he never asked another question, never bothered to shush you, simply allowing you to get it all out until you couldn’t cry anymore. and, by the time you did finally stop, he smiled at you like your eyes weren’t puffy and your nose wasn’t running and your make-up wasn’t streaked all over the place — he smiled like it was his first time seeing you walk through the door, like he’d been missing you all day, like he didn’t mind all the mess. there’s no ‘ do you feel better, now? ’, no ‘ get it all out? ’, no trying to cheer you up and simply move past this, just the serene calm that washes over you when he brushes your hair back and kisses your forehead one more time. ❝ how does a bath sound? you can soak the day off, and dinner should be finished by the time you get out. come on — i’ll start it for you. ❞

yoongi tried not to take it too personally when your response to him showing up at your place was dismissive and almost tired, brushing it off as you simply being exhausted from working so much lately. he even chalks up the way you grumble to yourself while in the kitchen to mere fatigue, opting to hover in the doorway rather than get in your way as you seemingly argue with the vegetables and scowl at the seasonings. it isn’t until a certain scent hits his nose that he actually makes his way into the warzone, sniffing all the way up to the undeniable source before noting it as blatantly as possible: ❝ you burnt the rice. ❞ when his gaze moves from the mess inside the pot to your face he expects to see that glare fixated on him, but instead is met with you covering your mouth and turning away as soon as you notice he’s looking at you. a strange reaction to say the least, but then you were never exactly normal by any means, and it’s another thing he’s willing to excuse away until he sees the way your shoulder trembles and your breath shudders out of you, choking halfway out. it takes all of five seconds to realize what’s happening, before he’s rushing towards you with all the intent to make it stop and no real idea how. the first words that clumsily tumble out of his mouth are: ❝ it’s not that bad, ❞ but when your immediate response is a choked ❝ it’s not that, ❞ his shoulders are slumping a little further and his brows furrowing even tighter. he doesn’t try to assume what’s got you upset, aware of the fact that you’ll tell him sooner or later and that it takes more than an educated guess to understand. instead, he opts for taking you into his arms and shushing you, holding you as close as he can without completely suffocating you. yoongi has never been the best with affection, but he’s certainly not the worst, either — this shows, now, with the way his hand cradles the back of your head and leans it on his shoulder, and how he says nothing when he feels your tears soaking into the material of his shirt and hitting his skin. it isn’t the first time you’ve cried in front of yoongi, and yet you still feel ashamed through the tears and the sobs and the whimpers — clutching onto the material of his shirt, you try to stand up straight, to get yourself together, but your knees are weak and you’re so tired and all you can do is lean against him and apologize, because what else is there to do? ❝ i’m sorry — ❞ you start, but he doesn’t let you finish, quieting your weak, trembling voice with a strong: ❝ don’t be. just let it out. ❞ and, you swear he holds you a little tighter, pulls you a little closer, before you’re wrapped entirely in him.

❝ hey, babe! ❞ hoseok’s cheery voice on the other side of the phone line is almost enough to lift your spirits right away, and you almost feel as if he knew you weren’t feeling like yourself — he always seems to call when things start to look gloomy, especially when he couldn’t be there — the thought bringing a little smile to your face. ❝ hey, hobi, ❞ comes your exhausted greeting, spoken on a heavy sigh ( he’s always done that to you, dragged the air right out of you somehow, like a simple breath could knock away the weight of the world, like he has the right to steal your breath away ). ❝ what’s up? ❞ you exchange your usual conversation collectively recounting all the little steps of your day, odd chatter in the background of his end filling the silence between words and your solemn breathing, all as you prepare your dinner and buzz about your kitchen. another thing you loved about him; he listened to anything you had to say, soaking it all in like a sponge and relishing in it, all because he couldn’t be there with you to experience it all firsthand — it’s second best to the real thing, but it’s enough. it isn’t until you accidentally swipe your hand over the counter in a grand display to what you were explaining that conversation stops mid-sentence and he’s left questioning you as to why you’ve gone quiet — you say nothing, already feeling your throat closing up at the sight before you begins swimming in a blend of color and shapes as tears fill your eyes. food — the last of the food you have in your house — is now all over the floor and painting the sides of your counters, and you swear you see a crack in the side of the bowl you had put it all in. all hoseok gets is a quiet chanting of ‘ no, no, no, no, ’ and more questions than answers. sure, it was cheap food and the bowl was plastic, but you were looking forward to finally sitting down and enjoying something today, and yet it seems the divines have other plans. ❝ what happened? are you okay? ❞ ❝ no, ❞ you whine, voice now clouded and thick with the frustration and despair that had built a home in your chest and decided to, apparently, live there. his chest aches, too, when he hears the way you whimper helplessly into the phone. ❝ my dinner is all over the floor and i have nothing else to eat and the bowl is broken and it’s everywhere and — ❞ ❝ okay! okay, hey, breathe, ❞ it’s all he can do to cut you off, evening out his own breathing and listening for yours to do the same. ❝ it’s okay. it’s just food, right? you didn’t get hurt? ❞ waiting again to hear your affirmation, the smallest of smiles worms its way onto his face — god, you could be wailing at the top of your lungs, and he’d still think you’re cute. ❝ i’ve got an idea — can you wait to clean it up? ❞ ❝ yeah, i guess... ❞ you sniffle, wiping away the few stray tears that escaped your eyes in the midst of your despair.  ❝ why? ❞ ❝ 'cause i’m coming over to help! ❞ he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you can just hear the door close behind him as he saunters out into the world, on his way to find you.  ❝ and, i’m bringing pizza. unlock your door for me, okay? ❞

a sudden gasp and a yelped ‘ no, please don’t — ! ’ from the other room is enough to get namjoon up and out of the professional stupor he’d been in for the last three hours, finally leaving his pen and paper behind for the sake of whatever you’d gotten yourself into this time. he’s prepared for something spilled or something ripped or perhaps something broken, but what he isn’t prepared for is to see you standing over something spilled, ripped and broken with tears in your eyes. your latest book, one you’d been particularly excited about reading, lay at your feet with the pages soaked through with juice you’d left sitting on the side, words bleeding out into the paper and smearing, one page even half-torn and dangling just past the rest. in an effort to save it, you’d grabbed the closest thing available — which ended up being one of your shirts from the day before — and began desperately pressing it to the pages in order to soak some of the mess up. it did very little, and only caused you to get more frustrated, which ended up in another influx of tears.  ❝ hey, babe, it’s okay, ❞ namjoon’s soothing voice washes over you as he steps farther into the room, causing you to finally look up from the disaster before you.  ❝ i can buy you a new one, alright? please don’t cry over it. ❞ his words drip with honey, sugared in sympathy and a level of care that only he can produce, just as his hands reach out to wipe away the freshest of your tears as they trail hotly down your cheeks. ❝ it’s not just the book, ❞ you start, lip quivering — his heart breaks a little at the sight of it. ❝ everything’s been going wrong today. everything. ❞ 

it’s impossible to imagine how frustrated you must be just by your words alone, but he’s got a pretty good idea — he’s well acquainted with the sentiment, knowing far too well how it feels to have everything seemingly out of your control, crashing down around you and swallowing you up in the aftermath. watching as you spare another glance at the mess that is your destroyed book and seeing the way your shoulders sag in defeat, he spares one last glance himself at the door he’d walked through only moments before and sets his mouth in a hard-line; work can wait, he decides. ❝ well, we can’t go wrong with takeout, right? ❞ a smile alights his face when you shrug in response, nodding shortly after.  ❝ how about we call some food in and just chill out for the night? we can... watch some movies or something. something with a happy ending. how does that sound? ❞ his smile only grows when you notices your own slowly bringing itself to life on the deadened features you’d taken to, just as you reach up to swipe away the last of the evidence of your minor breakdown. you glow, again ( at least, in his eyes ). ❝ yeah... that sounds perfect. ❞

you’ve held it in all day, expertly avoided questions like ‘ hey, are you okay? ’ and smiled every time someone got a little too close to seeing through your facade. it took all the willpower you had to not either leave or breakdown in the bathroom, already beyond frustrated with most everything going on — it didn’t help that nothing seemed to go your way, everything that could go wrong was and absolutely no one seemed to care but you. because of all this, you can’t help the relief that washes over you when you’re standing in front of your front door, knowing that beyond lay not only a bottle of wine and a cozy bed, but also your loving boyfriend.  ❝ jimin? ❞ you call out as you shut it behind you, unable to help yourself from seeking him out almost immediately. getting a soft ‘ back here! ’ in return, you begin trailing to the back of your shared apartment, a little smile beginning to bloom on your lips as the comfortable silence in the house lapses over everything else and peace surrounded you. you’re no longer paying attention to what room you enter or how your body swerves around different corners, only aware of the fact that he’d be waiting there with open arms and that dazzling smile of his at the end. it isn’t until your feet hit the cold tile floor of your bathroom that you stop to notice the walls that encase you and, in turn, the divine scene set before you. candles were precariously placed on all the places they’d fit ( one balanced on the sink, on the back of the toilet, two on the thin rims of the bathtub, even one on the floor ), water was filled to the brim of the tiny tub with petals delicately scattered over the surface and a pleasant aroma filled the air — cinnamon and sugar and sweet almond, a soft blend that hits you just as your eyes settle on the man you’d been waiting hours to see. ❝ what is all of this? ❞ you ask, and he doesn’t seem to notice the tremble in your voice right away, instead smiling sheepishly in return and averting his gaze nervously. ❝ well, you texted me that you weren’t feeling well, and you always do this sort of thing for me when i’m not feeling my best, so... ❞ when all he gets in silence in return he finally forces himself to look at you and gauge your reaction, as, for some reason beyond him, he was utterly terrified to see what it was. did he do too much? too little? did he mess something up? the horror only doubled when he saw you covering your mouth and tears springing to your eyes, threatening to flow freely any moment — the candles flickered against them, alighted them and gived them a glow, and suddenly all he wanted to do was snuff them out. despite the fear and anxiety, he rushes to you within an instant and hovers just outside of touching you for fear of provoking you further:  ❝ ah! did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean to make you cry! ❞ ❝ no, ❞ you manage to choke out, one hand shooting out to balance yourself on his bicep, squeezing and trying to ground yourself; eventually, you have no choice but to shut your eyes and let the tears fall from your lashes.  ❝ it’s nothing you did. this is — this is wonderful, jimin, thank you. ❞ the fear dissolves as your words spill as clumsily from your lips as your tears from your eyes, but the anxiety remains nuzzled into his chest, just as you do a moment later. this time, without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you and supports your weight as you try to calm yourself down, reign yourself in, and when you fail to do even that. ❝ did something happen at work today? ❞ ❝ something like that, ❞ comes your weak response.  ❝ i’m sorry, jimin. you must’ve worked really hard to do all of this, and yet i’m... ❞ ❝ it’s okay, ❞ his voice is so sweet, so soft, whispered right into your ear, warming your skin.  ❝ you know i don’t mind. besides, you can still enjoy it, right? ❞ sinking into his arms and filling your lungs with air ( and, in turn, the scent he’d chosen ), you allow your heart to settle in your chest and the tears to slow, the ache in your head subsiding — how did you ever get to be so lucky?     ❝ can... we enjoy it? ❞ a chuckle is your immediate response, before he’s kissing the top of your head and smoothing his hands down your sides — he takes his time sliding his fingertips beneath the hem of your shirt and lifting it just as slowly, caressing the dip of your hip and the curve of your waist as he does so, and the rest of your clothes are slipped off all in the same way:  ❝ i’d like that. ❞   

water thoroughly soaks through the material of your clothing and the chill that comes with it sinks into your skin and aches in your bones, all of which cause you to tremble and shake. you can see no sign of the rain stopping anytime soon, and all you can think is how this is the perfect ending to the worst sort of day — it can’t get any worse, you mock yourself in your head. now all i can do is look up! right. you couldn’t look up if you wanted to at the moment, unless you wanted to drown, both physically ( which you know isn’t exactly possible, but after considering your luck for the day you decide not to take the risk ) and metaphorically.  the noise of water hitting concrete drowned out your groans and little whimpers, the cold coaxing them out of you over and over, until you weren’t sure you knew how to make any other sound. thankfully, you managed to find an overhanging roof that you could tuck yourself under, but every so often the wind would blow the rain onto you anyway, and it dripped incessantly from above, soaking into your hair. without truly realizing it, you begin to tear up, salt mingling with the fresh water clinging to your form — it isn’t until you feel the warmth racing down your cheek and cooling by the time it drips off your chin that you truly realize.  it made sense, after a day like this — it seemed no matter how hard you worked things wouldn’t go right, and you could see the annoyance in your co-workers eyes every single time you messed up even slightly, until you couldn’t bare to look them in the eye anymore. those you were helping never seemed to be satisfied, and your help seemed to just add to their problems, until you tried to hang back and interact as little as possible. eventually, this all added up to you getting yelled at and reprimanded for things you couldn’t really help, which, although it wasn’t your breaking point, it was pretty damn close. and, if that weren’t enough, you were looking forward to finally going home and being able to relax, maybe grab a glass of that good wine you’ve been waiting to serve and take a hot bath, until even that was taken from you as soon as you stepped up to the exit. you could feel the cold from the other side of the glass, and you tried to prepare yourself, you really did, but the walk back home was far too long for weather like this. still, you had no other choice. it is, afterall, how you got here. the world around you seems bleak, without life and color, and the sheer loneliness of it has you clutching at yourself in order to ground yourself — the feeling brings you back to the real world just enough for you to shove your hand into your bag and rummage around in order to find your phone, finally resorting to your last option. when the line clicks and you hear him shuffling around, you don’t even give him a chance to say ‘ hello? ’: ❝ tae? ❞ ❝ y/n? is everything okay? ❞ ❝ if ‘ okay ’ is being drenched and freezing, then yes, ❞ you try to reply smoothly, but you’re certain he can hear the tremble in your voice. ❝ are you, by any chance, busy? ❞ ❝ too busy to come pick you up? no, ❞ his reply is smooth, though, and it eases you just a little.  ❝ send me your location. ❞ waiting there for him seems to take forever, and the lonely streets only get lonelier and lonelier the longer you’re left standing there, by yourself, anticipating everything and nothing all at once. you find yourself thinking things like ‘ what if he doesn’t come? ’ and ‘ what if he forgets? ’ despite knowing he’d never do such a thing. and, you thought you were crying before, but the relief that washes over you when you finally spot taehyung’s car is enough to bring it all back, your lip trembling and your eyes stinging. it’s damn near overwhelming, how it forces the air out of your lungs and has you clutching ever tighter to yourself. it doesn't get bad, though, until you actually see him stepping out of the car, your eyes immediately meeting through the thick curtain of water dividing you. with an umbrella in hand and his destination seemingly nothing but you, you get all choked up and practically run to him when he’s close enough. the umbrella just barely shields you both from the onslaught of rain, but it’s enough to get you both in the car, his clothes, for the most part, unscathed.  and, in the immense relief comes even more as you feel the hot air coming out of the car, momentarily blinding you to the fact that you’re still crying. it was impossible to stop yourself, to shut it all down, and by the time you’re trying to simply it and the evidence of the torrential downpour off your cheeks, he notices.  ❝ bad day? ❞ he asks, reaching out far enough to lay a hand over your thigh, squeezing. ❝ yeah, ❞ you breathe. ❝ the worst. i’m sorry for taking you away from whatever you were doing, though. ❞ ❝ don’t be — i didn’t even know it was raining until you called, otherwise i would’ve come to pick you up at work. ❞ not once today has someone said ‘ don’t be ’ to you today when you apologized, not once have they showed you sympathy, and not once have they shown you care. that is the final straw. ❝ thank you, ❞ you start, eyes watering and mouth turned up into the softest, shakiest smile. he only looks at you briefly, trying to keep his attention fixated on the road, but whatever he manages to see is enough to make him frown.  ❝ thank you, taehyung. ❞ ❝ thank me when we get back to the dorms, ❞ comes his curt reply, another swift squeeze on your thigh stopping you from saying otherwise or arguing with his decision.  ❝ they’re closer, and i don’t want you getting sick from staying in those clothes. this project shouldn't’ take much longer, anyway, so i should be able to spend some time with you tonight. we can... order take-out, and just sit around or watch a movie or something. how does that sound? ❞ ❝ sounds like the best thing i’ve heard all day. ❞   

among the top of the list of things you love about jungkook is his spirited, competitive mentality that always seemed to push him to do his best in anything and everything — it was one of the things that attracted you to him in the first place, one of those things you find endearing ( most people look at you weird for that, but you don’t mind ), and something you deal well with. sure, you might get a little competitive yourself, but it didn’t seem to matter who really won to you when you were with him. whether you won or lost you got something out of it, whether it be his cute pout or his beautiful smile. this is why, after you got home and he could practically see the stress rolling off you in tangible waves, then proceeded to offer to play you on your favorite video game you couldn’t see it going wrong. a perfect way to unwind after a long day and vent your frustrations, right? wrong. every time you got your score beat and your ass virtually kicked it just seemed like a repeat of the whole day — you couldn’t do anything right, the buttons weren’t working the way they were supposed to and you just kept failing. you couldn’t even win one time! not once! just as quickly as the frustration had melted away when you stepped through the front door, it seemed to return just as fast the longer you stared at that damn screen, the bright colors and lively music taunting you. where his usual little whoops of triumph and victory dance might’ve warmed you on a normal day, today they only set the feeling in stone and weighed down on your shoulders like absolutely everything else. it isn’t until he wins for the tenth time that you really start to feel it, though, that overwhelming and suffocating sort of frustration that makes your chest ache and your head hurt and everything in you tense at the sensation of it. the controller protested with a subtle crackling noise as your hands tightened around it, and it was all you could do to simply look away and clench your jaw. i will not cry over this, you chant in your head. i will not cry over this. no matter of trying to convince yourself would work, though, as even though your eyes are closed you can feel the tears building up behind your lids. the heat of them is overwhelming, burning their way past your lashes and trailing down your cheeks before you can even try to stop them. ❝ babe? ❞ jungkook breaks you from your inner turmoil, just as he’s leaning close to you to get a glimpse of your expression, but can’t quite reach that far. ❝ you’re not really that mad about losing, are you? ❞ it’s all you can offer, a shake of your head instead of words that come out on a shaky breath and crack halfway up your throat, so weak in tone that you just feel that much more worthless. you know he can hear it anyway, that he knows, that you’re not hiding it as well as you would’ve liked to. ❝ babe? ❞ he asks once again, his question now soft and tender and so, so aware.  ❝ are you... are you crying? ❞ there’s no need to look at him to know his mouth is turned down and his brows are pinched together, and there’s no need for him to see your face when he already knows tears are marring it all the way down your cheeks. suddenly, though, he’s moving from his seat to stand in front of you, his controller tumbling from his lap and clattering to the floor — the noise has your eyes popping open, only to see him standing there, looking at you with those big, worry-filled eyes. the sympathy is damn near tangible, rolling off of him in thick, languid waves that wash over you until you’re crying all over again. ❝ i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ it’s not you, ❞ you start, assuring him of your words with a squeeze to his bicep. ❝ today has just been — ❞ the words get caught in your throat just from remembering it all, leading to you momentarily choking on them. ❝ nothing’s been going right, i kept messing up at work, i can’t even do this right, and it’s making me feel so — so worthless. ❞ he never knows what to do in these situations, can never think of the right thing to say, too caught up in the fact that you’re hurting to think of anything else. the best thing he can do is run his hand down the length of your arm until he can lace his fingers together with yours, holding on to you as tight as he can in hopes of grounding you here, with him. ❝ you know i’m not... good at this sort of thing, but is there anything i can do? ❞ it takes you moment to think about it, but the idea comes quickly enough:  ❝ could we maybe just... lay down for a bit? ❞ the idea of being all wrapped up in him is almost as therapeutic as the real thing, and you can feel your heart slowing down at just the thought — even if it’s just being close to him, or the smell of him, or his heat radiating against your side you feel calm instantaneously.  ❝ yeah, of course, but are you sure you want me there? i just made you cry. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t you, ❞ you remind him, squeezing his hand right back. ❝ i couldn’t think of anything else today, other than coming home to you. being near you, it... it helps me. you help me. ❞ a sheepish smile works its way onto his lips, and he’s finally looking like himself again — worry is still evident on his features, but it’s become dim and overwhelmed by the joy now twinkling in his eyes from your words.  ❝ let’s go, then, ❞ he replies, taking to picking you up straight out of your seat and depositing you into his arms, holding you close to him even when your squirming and exclamation of ‘ kookie! ’ says you can walk perfectly fine on your own. ❝ what? we’ll get there faster like this! ❞ ( and, despite your pushing at his chest and adamant wiggling, a smile has bloomed upon your face and your tears have begun to dry, that renewed twinkle reflecting in your eyes as well. )   

[ramblingsofa-crazedauthor]

A World Too Late - Chapter 1

Summary: Goro Akechi never slipped up. They never figured out he could understand Morgana at the TV station, and they never anticipated what he was to do. Akira Kurusu is dead. He died for real, and the whole world believes it was a suicide. Even the Phantom Thieves don't know what happened and are terrified of the possibility that he actually took his own life. But they aren't as weak as they were expected to be. Instead of going into hiding, they make plans on their next move and make a bold retaliation in an effort to show they are not defeated. While they try to find out what actually happened to Akira, more and more of the world they never really understood starts to unravel.

Content Warnings: Assumption of Suicide, Murder, Guns, Betrayal

Relationships: None

Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11895276/chapters/268693

Chapter 1: Today’s Breaking News

Phantom Thieves Group Topic: Last Night

Futaba: we need to talk about this

Ann: God…

Yusuke: I still can't believe what happened.

Haru: He'll be okay, right?

Makoto: The police surely couldn't force him into anything…

Ryuji: How the hell do we know?! They're corrupt, remember?

Makoto: There would be a video camera…

Haru: Could Futaba hack into it?

Futaba: its not that simple, it would take me way too long even if i tried

Yusuke: Could we recover the footage in another way?

Futaba: then youd have to actually get into the police station

Ann: All of this is just guessing, too…

Ryuji: This is effed up.

Makoto: I think my sister will be questioning him…

Haru: Can we plan some sort of escape?

Ann: It'll be fine if he hasn't confessed, right?

Makoto: They already know his name and face… If we free him, he'll have to go into hiding.

Yusuke: This is going nowhere. We should talk in person.

Futaba: i guess youre right…

Makoto: This afternoon at the hideout?

Ann: I’ll have to cancel plans, but okay.

Haru: See you guys there.

(End of chat log.)

Futaba Sakura put down her phone, staring up at the ceiling. Her wide array of computer screens were laid out before her, but she wasn't interested in what any of them were displaying. One of them showed a continuous news broadcast, and she was waiting for a certain person's name or face or even existence to show up on it. She wondered bitterly when they would announce the brave apprehension of the leader of the Phantom Thieves, parading around their 'justice' as worse things went on below the surface. There was something else on one of her monitors - the Phantom Aficionado website. She glanced at the poll, consistently going down. She wondered how it would fare once the news about Akira became public. It didn't even seem possible for it to go lower, but people always surprised her.

Futaba jumped when there was a knock on her door, and she heard the distinct voice of Sojiro, "Futaba, please tell me what happened. Where's Akira? Do I have to call the-" "No! Don't call the police," she replied, knowing she would have to tell him soon. She could just let him find out from the news report, but it felt rather cruel and impersonal just to leave it to that. Though he didn't show it all that often, Sojiro clearly cared about Akira more than he would admit. Futaba had been putting it off because she was scared of his reaction, but he needed to know. She nervously got up, and opened the door. He was looking at her with a stern yet somewhat worried expression.

Futaba sighed, "Last night… We were doing a mission for the Phantom Thieves." The name clearly made him tense up, and when she didn't seem eager to continue, he asked, "Is that it? What happened?" Steeling herself, she said, "Um… We were doing a mission. And we made a mistake, so he distracted the people trying to catch us, and, well… He got caught by the police." "He what?!" Sojiro exclaimed. "We don't know anything except that he's being questioned right now, we just need to wait and see what happens…" she said. After the initial shock, he frowned and sighed, "You've really screwed yourselves over, you know that? ...Do you think he's going to reveal your identities?" She shook her head, "There's no way. He's Akira."

Sojiro understood. He said, "Are the rest of you coming over?" "Yeah. This afternoon," she replied. His expression was troubled, "Be careful, okay? I don't want you getting into the same situation… Is he going to show up on the news? They may keep his identity a secret or even not announce it at all." "I don't know, none of us know. I've been keeping my eye on the news all day, they'll have to say something about it." Futaba looked down and started to close her door again, but not before Sojiro said, "Don't get arrested, kid."

---

Phantom Thieves Group Topic: Boss

Futaba: i told sojiro what happened

Haru: How did he react?

Futaba: ok… he's not angry or anything

Ryuji: That's good, at least.

Ann: I don't think Boss had any chance of reacting badly.

Futaba: well, i wasnt sure. when he found out about us being phantom thieves, he wasnt too impressed

Yusuke: At least this is one victory.

Futaba: nobody asked you, inari

Makoto: Anyway, this topic made me wonder…

Makoto: Is there any chance Akira would reveal our identities?

Futaba: sojiro mentioned this. i dont think so, hes not that kind of person

Haru: Agreed.

Ryuji: There's no chance in hell.

Makoto: They could do something to force it out of him… It's the same with a confession.

Makoto: I know a few of the things they do, and it's not pretty.

Yusuke: I think he has enough willpower to pull through…

Ann: I trust him. He'd never do that.

(End of chat log.)

---

When the afternoon came, the Phantom Thieves began to arrive at Leblanc. Instead of going up into Akira's room as they usually did, they sat in one of the booths. There was something a bit uncomfortable about it, now. Besides, there were no customers at that moment so they didn't have to worry about accidentally revealing their identities. Morgana had gone to Haru's house for the night, though Futaba did offer for him to stay at Sojiro's house. The man had made coffee for his daughter exclusively, remarking that there were too many of them and none were paying. The TV was louder than usual, and they could all hear the everyday news. It still seemed that it wasn't going public, which only made them feel more tense, as if something terrible had happened and the officials didn't want to tell the masses about it.

Ryuji was making short, stiff movements, "Can't they just announce it and get it over with?" Biting her lip, Makoto replied, "We can't rush it. They might announce it now, or announce it in a week. Maybe they want to question him first, or get a signed confession." "They don't have anything without a confession, right?" Morgana jumped onto the table. "Well, they caught him in the act, but the whole story is still a little hard to believe…" Haru noted. Morgana said, "Well, that's been bothering me - the whole catching him in the act thing. How did they know what to do? Is there someone in the police force with access to the Metaverse? Why haven't they used it until now?"

Makoto frowned, "Well, there's another option, isn't there? It's possible, but I don't really want to believe it. ...What if we were betrayed?" The possibility hung in the air, an unwanted, uncomfortable weight. The idea that there could've been a betrayal - that somebody among them weren't who they said they were was disquieting. But despite it being painful to even consider, it was a needed possibility. If they didn't regard it, then they might not be able to discover why Akira Kurusu had been caught by the police. Yusuke said, "How would we find out who did it?"

Morgana was pacing across the table, "Well, I have a bit of an idea of who it could be." When nobody replied, he continued, "I might as well just say it… Where's Akechi?" Everyone had been preoccupied, and completely missed the newest member's absence. It was a fair point, considering he had only just joined and hadn't contacted any of them since last night. "I'll contact him now," Makoto brought out her phone.

To: Goro Akechi

Makoto: Akechi? Where are you? Why aren't you at our meeting?

Makoto: We have reasons to suspect you as a traitor.

Makoto: They're not much, but please reply so they can be eased.

When Morgana pointed out that speculating without evidence wouldn't end well, they sat in tense silence for a few minutes. This was broken by the newcaster announcing that the police had released a statement saying they had apprehended the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Their heads immediately whipped up, needing to take in every detail that the police were willing to make public. The broadcast described what they already knew, how he was caught in the act last night, he was a student, and he currently on probation. As it went on, everyone relaxed a little, the tension of awaiting the announcement gone. "I guess now we'll just have to wait for more information," Yusuke sighed.

Sojiro seemed to be glancing up at the monitor every few seconds while washing dishes. As the news went on, there was more and more misinformation. They were talking about how the Phantom Thieves had been the ones to kill Kunikazu Okumura (they hadn't) and how they had caused all the mental breakdowns (which they definitely hadn't). Though they were used to the rampant assumptions, it still was annoying to see them so widely accepted by everyone despite the little basis they had. Futaba checked her phone, then told everyone, "And yet again, our 'innocent ranking' has gone down." The way she said sounded like it was trying to be humorous, but there was a slightly agitated undertone. That was how most of them felt, wanting to keep the mood up at least somewhat, but really not able to.

At least there was some good news - he hadn't yet revealed the identities of any of them, or any other accomplices like Takemi or Iwai. They hadn't expected him to in the first place, but there was mild relief in the fact that whatever horrible torture methods they were using weren't bad enough to get him to confess their identities. He was staying strong, as they Joker they knew. The man on the TV announced there was 'breaking news' once more, and they all looked up to see whatever he had to say. It was quick, matter-of-fact, and completely emotionless. They went on to another segment to discuss it almost immediately. There were no condolences, explanations, or apologies. After all, wasn't it all so simple?

Akira Kurusu, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, their friend, had committed suicide.

There was terrible silence that first took hold of the café when this was announced. There was no way it was true, they didn't know themselves! It had just been announced on television, and they hadn't actually seen his body hit the ground, or heard his final words, or been told by him that he was to die. This was probably some elaborate trick to fool the public into thinking the 'threat' was gone so they could complete palaces without being watched by the police or the public eye. "T-This can't be true," Ryuji said. Ann muttered, "Of course it isn't. H-He wouldn't do this. There's no way he…" Morgana said, "They're lying! He could never do something like this." The program continued on. It talked about how this probably was because he didn't want any information to get out about how he did it, or who he was working with. They said that he had stole the guard's gun, shot them, then shot himself. Someone from a hastily-constructed interview said that he was a coward and had deserved to die for the terrible things he had done.

Sojiro stared up at the screen, "This has to be a joke." "What if he tricked them?! What if he faked his death, so he could go off the radar, and now…!" Futaba offered hurriedly. She hastily took out her phone and stared at the screen, waiting for a phantom message. Haru was shaking, her eyes were affixed on the television, "He planned this, I know it…" Going almost completely pallid, Yusuke whispered, "Someone like him… Would never do that." Makoto simply held her hand over her mouth, unable to talk.

They all had to believe that this was just another one of his over-the-top ploys. Soon, he would turn up, smiling, safe and sound, and without a hole in his head. They knew him for his unprecedented plans, his unreadable mind, his unexplainable ideas. But there was something brutally simple about what had happened, something that didn't exactly fit into strategies of his calibre. Despite his wild tendencies, there would always be a word to them, assuring them not to worry, that he had it all figured out. Where was it? Even if he hadn't been able to communicate it, he was Akira. He found some way to do things that wouldn't make his teammates stare in shock and horror without any explanation. Maybe they were overestimating him for what he was, maybe there was no genius way to get out of this situation other than a bullet to the head. But there was a single question left. How could he do this? How could he do this to everything they had stood for? How could he do this to himself? How could he do this to them?

---

To: Akira Kurusu

Alibaba: You're alive, right?

[lostinfic]

The Girlfriend Experience | Part 2

Trope: Sharing a bed Author: Lostinfic Word Count: ~4000 Rating: Mature Summary: Hardy asks Hannah to show him the Girlfriend Experience in preparation for a blind date. 

Beta: @fadewithfury <3 Part 1 | Masterpost | AO3 | 12 Tropes AO3 Collection

For the blind date, Hardy’s sister had given him nothing but an instruction to look out for a woman with a yellow carnation, and an address.

He assumed it was the address of a restaurant.

He should have known better than to assume his sister would do the normal thing.

It was a train. Not a normal train either, but a “romantic railway adventure”.

His stomach twisted in a knot at the mere thought of getting stuck in there for hours with a complete stranger. But backing out didn’t sit well with him. Standing up someone was cruel. Anyway, as Hannah had said, his sister wanted what was best for him. Whoever Helen had set him up with would, at the very least, be a decent person.

He sighed thinking of Hannah. Considering how she’d encouraged him to go on this bloody blind date-- even after he all but confessed his feelings for her during their fake date-- it was clear it was never going to happen with her. He had better move on and start looking for someone else.

Easier said than done. 

As much as the memory of their fake date made him cringe because she’d rejected his advances, it also came with a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Her laughter, the teasing hint of bra, standing close in the bookshop as they flipped through novels. Paper and cherry blossoms. And feeling all right.

For years, he hadn’t questioned his friendship with his younger sister’s flatmate. Even when Hannah became an escort and moved out, they stayed in touch. When they hang out, times flies, and that was enough for him. Nothing more.

Not until recently.

With the divorce and her visits, he noticed how much they had in common now after years of all-consuming careers, heartbreaks and successes. She had grown and so had he. And once he began seeing her as the strong woman she had become, he couldn’t go back to thinking of her as just a friend. But he had to.

Enough about Hannah.

Hardy straightened his tie and jacket. From the platform, a sign indicated the Bar & Lounge coach, and he headed there.

The train company had hired Helen as their art director— it’s how she’d obtained a pair of tickets-- and she came up with the idea of a 1930s theme. The staff wore stiff burgundy and gold uniforms. Inside the wagons, varnished wood gleamed in the halo of fake oil lamps. Patrons sat in plush leather seats around art deco furniture.

Hardy made his way through the couples gathered inside. Many had embraced the vintage theme, others had dressed more casually. Thankfully for him, a suit worked for all occasions and eras.

The train stirred and swayed forward. He had yet to find his date. Every time he met a woman’s eyes, the twist in his stomach tightened.

Someone tapped his shoulder.

“Hey you.”

He recognized that voice. His heart skipped a beat. He turned, and his jaw dropped. Hannah stood there, wearing something vintage and silky, like she’d just stepped out of a black and white movie. Ruby red lips framed a beaming smile.

“What are you doing here?” he stammered.

“I have a date.”

“My sister set you up too?”

“No, another one of our friends. Gemma, you met her I think at the garden party.”

“Yeah.”

“So yours is tonight too? They got a group deal on the train tickets or what?” She looked over his shoulder. “So where’s the lucky lady?”

“Haven’t found her yet. I don’t even know her name, Helen didn’t want me looking her up in the police database. Seen anyone with a yellow carnation?”

“Like this one?” She showed him the flower she was holding. “Looks like Gemma and Helen are in cahoots.”

Hardy gaped at the flower. Hannah was his blind date. She laughed, but he didn’t think it was funny. Not at all. What was his sister thinking? He’d never said a word to her about liking Hannah. Was he that obvious?

Regardless, now Hannah was stuck with him when she no doubt expected someone more charming and younger. Basically, not the kind of person who needs a practice date with a prostitute.

For the first time since they’d met, the prospect of spending an evening in her company filled him with dread. What if she thought he was behind all of it, not just his sister?

“Sorry, I didn’t know she would do that,” he groaned.

“Yeah, no, me neither.”

She laughed, and it was too high-pitched for genuine amusement but he reciprocated with his own nervous titter. He tugged at the knot of his tie.

“I don’t know what made her think I’d want to— that we were a match.”

“Right.” She crossed her arms, rubbing her shoulder. “Look at his this way: you won’t  have to worry about small talk.”

They ordered drinks and sat at the bar.  An uneasy silence stretched between them as they pretended to listen to the piano player.

He rang his sister to berate her, but she wouldn’t answer her phone-- on purpose, he was sure. Hannah looked at him with a tight-lipped smile.

“If you’d prefer to, ah, mingle...” He indicated the other passengers, but they were clearly all paired up already.

Hannah shrugged, seemingly coming to the same conclusion as him.

 The maître d’ announced supper, and passengers moved to the restaurant cart.

A waiter assigned them a banquette. Tea candles decorated the table, their flames made the crystalware sparkle.  

“This is nice,” Hannah commented, smoothing the white tablecloth.

He nodded absentmindedly, pretending to peruse the menu when in fact he was observing her. Hard to tell how she felt about being stuck with him for the evening. Granted, she’d enjoyed herself last time but it had been work for her, to help him.  He glanced at her over his menu, their eyes met, and both quickly looked away.

A waiter took their orders, leaving them with nothing to do. Hannah swirled the wine in her glass.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, “I know this escort, a man, he’s real awful, don’t know how he’s still in business.”

Where was this going?

“Anyway, we should set your sister up with him, you know, to get back at her.”

Hannah grinned mischievously and Hardy chuckled. They talked about all the unpleasant people they knew and made up devious plans to deceive Helen. They laughed so much, patrons at nearby tables glared at them for disrupting the quiet romantic atmosphere. Of course, the irony didn’t escape Hardy: they had such fun thinking of revenge plans that it proved Helen had been right to play this trick on them to begin with.

After supper, Hardy reclined in his chair, rubbing his full stomach. He hadn’t had such a good meal in a long time. He was usually prone to motion sickness, but this train moved slowly. It crawled across the rail, allowing passengers to admire the pastoral landscape. He couldn’t tell their location or destination; fields, forests and suburbs looked the same across England as far as he was concerned. Perhaps, if he’d paid closer attention a sign would have given him a clue, but all his attention was diverted towards Hannah.

A waiter filled their cups with tea, and announced the train would stop soon for “entertainment”. They disembarked at a disused train station turned into a theater. An old-fashioned marquee announced the show’s title: “On the road to love.” On stage, two rubbish actors pretended to fall in love to the tune of 1930s jazz songs.  Throughout the first act, Hannah and Hardy exchanged eyerolls and stifled laughter.  When the actors began tap dancing, they barely kept it together.

At last, the intermission came, they were the first out the door. They bypassed the bar and headed straight outside.

The brisk night air was welcome after a heavy meal and a stuffed theater. Hands in pockets, Hardy leaned against the wall and stared at the silhouette of a town beyond the rails and bushes. Hannah imitated his position, close enough that their shoulders touched.

“We could get out,” he said. “Walk over there. Find a ride. End it here.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Do you?”

She shrugged and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Hardy smiled to himself. She didn’t seem to hate being stuck with him tonight after all. And so far neither of them had brought up what happened at the end of their fake date; there was hope their friendship would survive.

“I suppose it’s not so bad,” he said.

“Yeah, not bad. Tell you what though, we can stay at the bar during the second act.”

A few other couples had the same idea. Show tunes could still be heard through the wall. The bar design recreated a prohibition-era speakeasy.

For a moment, Hardy entertained the idea of personifying a character. Someone cool, a la Humphrey Bogart. He wished he had a cigarette. As they stood at the bar to order drinks, he gave Hannah the old once-over from her black heels to her smokey eyes. But as soon as she caught him looking, he lost whatever cool he’d mustered. She bumped him with her shoulder, lips curling in a playful smile. He didn’t stand a chance.

Once sat at a corner table, they sipped a dram of whiskey and reminisced. She ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass, eyes focused on the circular motion. After a moment of silence, she said: “You know, I used to fancy you, when I lived with Helen.”

She said it with a giggle, looking at him through her eyelashes. He remembered a time when she would ceaselessly flirt with him. With her, he could never tell genuine feelings from teasing. Except a few times, lingering hugs and gazing in each other’s eyes. But he’d had to ignore that because back then he’d recently married so he wasn’t interested. Ironic, that the roles were now reversed: he fancied her-- more than fancy-- and she wasn’t interested. Bad timing.

“I knew you did,” he said.

“You did! How?”

“You weren’t subtle. I was scared every time my sister left the room.”

“Scared you’d give in to temptation?” she joked.

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“No, I know. You’re one of the good guys. Too good.”

“Too good for what?”

“For girls who are outrageous flirts.” She winked.

Hannah dropped her shoe and slipped her toes under the hem of his trousers. He’d seen women do that in films, but had never experienced it for himself. Although, he couldn’t explain why, he enjoyed it. His cheeks heated up, and his pulse quickened. He forgot what they were talking about. She’d always loved to make him fluster.

The show ended, and the spectators loudly walked out, disrupting the moment.

Back on board the train, a staff member approached them: “If you would follow me, I will show you to you sleeper car now.”

Hardy and Hannah exchanged a surprised look, neither of them knew this lasted overnight. His only experience with sleeper cars involved bunk beds. But of course, a “romantic railway adventure” didn’t have bunks. The man opened the door on a cozy compartment with a double bed taking up most of the room. Hannah asked if they have another room available, but all compartments were occupied tonight.

At least, the train company had the foresight of selling overnight essentials such as toothbrushes. But no pyjamas, of course.

“Lend me your shirt,” Hannah demanded. “I can’t sleep in this dress.” She tugged at the material over her ribs, wincing in discomfort.

“What about me?”

“You can’t sleep in this dress either.”

“And what am I supposed to sleep in?”

“Your pants. Unless you’re going commando.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m not— ugh. Alright.”

He hooked his tie and jacket behind the door, and removed his shirt with his back to her.

“You’re such a prude. I’ve seen you in a much worse state than this.”

“When?”

“At Helen’s, after your divorce.”

“Yeah, I looked worse, but I’m sure I was fully dressed.”

“Well, you’d better get undressed while you look good.”

Was she joking or flirting?

When he turned to hand her his t-shirt, her eyes lingered on his chest, and she bit her bottom lip.

She put the shirt over her clothes and shimmed the dress down her body to pull it off. More wiggling and she extracted her bra through the top.

“Tadaa!” she said like a magician.

It was his turn to linger. His shirt was just long enough to cover her bum, showing off her legs. He always liked her legs.

She looked expectantly at his trousers. There was no point in putting it off.  As soon as he popped the first button, Hannah wolf-whistled.  Without thinking, Hardy rotated his hips, and she bust out laughing.

“I can be funny too,” he mumbled.

“I know.” She smiled at him then cocked her head. “I thought you’d be skinnier.”

“I am.”

“Yeah, but there’s, you know, meat too.”

What was that supposed to mean? He crossed his arms to cover his chest, but it left his crotch uncovered, so he crossed his leg.

“Oh, just get in the bloody bed.”

Hannah smirked, but charitably held back another quip.

In the silence, he noticed it was raining, its pitter-patter on the metal roof echoed through the compartment. Hannah turned off the main light, leaving just the flame of an electric candle by the bed.

They looked at each other, then at the bed, then at each other again.

He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since Tess. The last few years of celibacy and loneliness caught up to him all at once. He yearned for it, physically ached for it, to lie in bed with Hannah, hold her in his arms until morning.

“Well, I--”

“There’s something…” he began.

“Hm?”

“Something you said I should do at the end of the date.”

He gulped, hoping she understood what he meant.

“Kiss me goodnight?”

“Yeah.”

This time, he wouldn’t chicken out. She stepped forward and his mouth went dry. She caught him by surprise, pecking his lips. It happened too quickly. By the time he opened his eyes, she had slipped in the bed.

Well, there was only one thing to do now. Nothing left to delay the inevitable. He had to get in bed. With Hannah. She patted the space beside her, and he prayed she couldn’t hear his hammering heart.

Lying in bed, neither of them spoke. Every muscle in his body was stiff. The train’s wheels clattered on the tracks and raindrops splashed on the roof. And just when he thought he couldn’t take more of this tension, Hannah giggled.

She turned on her side towards him. Some light filtered through the curtains, just enough to illuminate the outline of her face.

“This is a bit weird,” she whispered.

His whole body relaxed, and he turned to face her too.

“I can think of worse,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Imagine if it’d been a real blind date, with another woman, and I’d be stuck with her.”

“Maybe you would’ve liked her.”

“I don’t think so.”

How could he possibly like another woman when he had such feelings for Hannah? And right now, this moment was everything to him. He scooted closer, just a smidge. She folded her legs and their knees touched.

“So what, you’ll stay single forever? Tess really did a number on you.”

“I’m waiting for the right person.”

She searched his face, and he wondered how obvious he was, surely she must see the affection in his eyes. She blinked and looked down. A strand of hair caught in her eyelashes, and he gently swiped it behind her ear.

“What you said about after my divorce.” He continued to whisper although there was no reason for it. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. For checking up on me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Her toes tickled his ankle and quite naturally, as though they’d been doing it for years, her leg slid between his.

“You know, I wanted to check up on you when you were in Broadchurch too.”

I would have loved that, he thought.

“I worked a lot,” he said.

There must have been more to say, things to explain and confess and profess, but not now, not when the moment was just right.

When he lost Tess, it wasn’ther betrayal that hurt the most, but losing that one person who knew him better than anyone else. It seemed impossible to build this level of intimacy and familiarity with another person in his lifetime. But maybe he didn’t have to start from the ground up, he and Hannah already had a foundation. All he had to do was add bricks and hope it didn’t crumble down.

“Han?”

“Yeah?” she mumbled sleepily.

“I-- I would’ve liked that, you visiting in Broadchurch…” He took a deep breath. Why was this so hard? “I thought about you.”

“Good.”

He chuckled at that. He kissed her forehead, and her eyes drifted shut with a smile.

They slept, a deep slumber despite the noisy train and unfamiliar surroundings.

Hardy woke up with one side of the body decidedly warmer than the other. Not just warmer-- heavier. And as the last fog of sleep cleared from his mind, he realized two things: Hannah had hogged all the blankets and she’d snuggled up to him. An arm around his waist, a leg across his thighs, and her head on his chest. And it appeared he’d reciprocated the snuggling. A hand rested on her ribs. High up on her ribs.  A confused debate of semantics and physiology took place in his mind, and he came to the conclusion that the area his hand rested on was more breast than side; he’d tried to cop a feel in his sleep.

Hardy cracked opened an eye. As far as he could tell, Hannah was still sleeping.  But if he moved his hand now, he risked waking her up and appearing more guilty than he was. He also became aware of another embarrassing situation: she had twisted in her sleep and buttons of the shirt had come undone, revealing the swell of her breasts. Of its own accord, his thumb moved, stroking the curve of her flesh, right along the underside. Before he could make himself stop, her nipple visibly pebbled under the cotton on the shirt-- his shirt.

A small noise, suspiciously close to a moan, escaped Hannah’s lips. She snuggled closer, and the hand on his stomach drifted lower. Hardy drew in a sharp breath. His arousal became more prominent. Embarrassing flashbacks from his teenage days made him cringe. He could put it all down to a physiological response, but he knew damn well it was Hannah’s proximity that caused the blood flow to his groin.

His groan made Hannah giggle.

“You’re awake,” he accused.

“Barely… sorry.”

She tried to roll off him, but he automatically tightened the arm around her. She looked up at him, eyes full of questions.

Stay. Don’t go. But his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“I can’t tell what you want,” she said.

“Can’t you? Don’t you know?”

It was all so serious suddenly, so real and raw in the morning light. No place to hide.

“I asked you to kiss me, and you kissed my cheek,” she said, eyebrows knitted in a frown. “I turn out to be your blind date and you’re unhappy about it. I flirt with you all night and you-- I don’t know.”

Possibly, he hadn’t been as transparent as he thought.

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure. When you flirt, I just assume you’re taking the piss, so...”

“Sometimes it’s easier to joke than, I don’t know, open up.”

She picked at the bed sheet. He rarely got to see her so vulnerable,and it made his heart capsize. He would protect her from the world if she let him.  

“But you’re so-- and I’m…” He sighed. “You can do better.”

“It’s not for you to say.”

“I suppose not.”

He relaxed his arm around her, and she propped herself up on an elbow, keeping her other hand on his chest.

“I like you, Alec.”

“You used to, it’s what you said.”

“I still do. A lot. But I’m…” She let out a shaky breath. “Our friendship is really important to me.”

“Right. So… you only want to be friends?”

“I’m just saying I don’t have the best track record with relationships.”

“Me neither.”

“You were married for almost 20 years.”

“Exactly!”

She chuckled, and that sound made his heart soar. He covered her hand with his.

“As I’ve said: I can wait for the right person.”

“You meant me?”

“Of course.” He caressed her cheek. “Looks like there are a few things I need to clarify. Beginning with this...”

His fingers drifted to her hair and, as he raised his head, he brought her mouth to his. He wasn’t content with a peck this time. He moved his lips against hers, slowly, savouring the kiss.

“That alright?” he asked in a breath.

She nodded and pressed forward. She deepened the kiss as he reclined. They kissed to their heart’s content. Whenever they broke for air, and she smiled at him with heavy-lidded eyes, he had to remind himself it wasn’t a dream. He couldn’t wait to hold her and kiss her again tomorrow and the day after and all the ones after that for as long as she would let him.

Hannah straddled his legs. Her long hair tickled his chest. It took all his willpower not to grab her hips and tug her down on his erection.

“Anything else you want to clarify?” she asked

“I think I’m in love with you, Hannah.”

Judging by her widening eyes, she hadn’t expected such a serious answer. He hadn’t expected to say it either.  Momentarily, he  feared he’d ruined the moment and scared her, but her features softened in a warm smile.

“Me too.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so incredibly happy. So light. And it occurred to him he wasn’t falling in love so much as he was rising in love. He guffawed at his own silly thought.

“A smile looks good on you,” she said.

“You look good on me.”

She shook her head fondly and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, thoroughly snogging her.

He slipped a hand under the shirt, fingers splayed over the dip in her lower back. A groan of surprise escaped his lips when she pressed her hips to his. Even through two layers of underwear, he could feel her heat.

“It’s been a while,” he said in a hoarse voice. “For me too.” He quirked an eyebrow and she added, “I mean for real, with someone I care about.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to wait?”

“No.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Hardy rolled over her and peppered kisses down her throat and collarbone. Fumbling with the shirt, he finally accessed her breasts. He licked a line up her sternum and took each nipple between his lips. Hannah squirmed under him, fingers raking through his hair.

He tentatively touched between her legs, inner thighs first, then grazing over her underwear. Her jerking hips and needy pants encouraged him. He removed her knickers throwing them over his shoulder, much to her amusement. He sat on his his heels, and with his forearms under her knees, he yanked her closer. He dropped butterfly kisses along her calves, making Hannah giggle.

“I need you,” she moaned, reaching into his pants.

Her hand on his cock made him curse. He thrusted into her fist until she guided him to where she needed him. As he pushed in her, he entwined their fingers above her head. And there was that carnal pleasure, but most of all there was closeness. Every nerve ending suffused with the smell and sight and touch of the other. And it was in a tight embrace, all clawing fingers, salty kisses and smacking skin, that they found bliss.

(They missed breakfast.)

[thatgirlwhoworksforwhatshew-blog]

tarak,

lets not beat around the bush, i miss you. like alot.

im not even going to get into what are the things that keep reminding me of th time we had, because thatd be me listing out my every minute of the day. yes, there are times when i remember you not for the good-reasons, but mostly i end up wanting to think of you instead of living in such a denial of ‘im over you’.

i know you must be going through alot, im not trying to compare us here, on who is feeling it more deeply, quality and quantity- how much ever of a utilitarian i claim to be, i want to be stupidly selfish enough to say i feel it hit me very hard. especially when i see people around me claim their relationships to be like the epitome of perfection and love, i just cant help but think of the beautiful masterpiece we could have made together. 

they say ‘chaos brings art’., that, time will tell. until then, ill just sit around and feel things like how its supposed to be.

i hope its not that hard on you.whom am i kidding, how much ever i convince myself that you will get over me, by pouring alot of ‘hate’ like how your friends wanted you to, im still silly enough to hope that you wouldnt be that harsh on me. gosh, this is never going to happen is it? im only going to die in dissapointment of letting things go this far, and getting nothing in return(when i now have the chance) or do i?

i know you, i know the charm, i know how you effect people, and how much ever stupid and goofy you get around me, i know what you are- or atleast i knew. why did we let things go this recklessly? i was immature, but why dint we sort things out then and there. gosh, i just cant look at the word jodhpur without a little guilt., i cannot look at any word starting with a T, and has both R and K. 

do you have any idea how many songs have the word tara, taraka, in them? its like some stupid prank someone is pulling on me. my mom also began to ask me how youre doing, she out of everyone, made an assumption that my mood is practically proportional to my time on my phone and phone calls, which basically is only with you. so she goes like “oh, tarak dint call today” after few days, she began to wonder if things were fine with you, and i burst out angrily, that ‘you should be fine because youre avoiding me’. please be true! anyway, i dont care where this questioning is coming from, but i reasoned out how this equation of my good moods being equated with our calls, was a little irring in the beginning, because i dont think i need some ONE person to keep me happy. it was a troubling thought which i used to hold a grudge on myself for depending on you for what ever greedy reasons. but i began to realise how first, that wasnt the case. i wsnt greedy on this reason, i was just looking for a support and a person to share my happiness with. i was greedy maybe when it came to things like, eventhough i knew it was hard for you, i was still there poking things and making it harder for you. TO THE EXTENT THAT YOU NOW BLOCKED ME. WOW. im not blaming you, maybe you did the right thing. maybe if you dint do that, we could have pulled each others hair out in this menace. but did we really do the right thing if i am feeling this way right now? whats the point tarak?

its 10:10 right now. wow. 

honestly, there are times when i thank myself for this space, because i really enjoy doing things for myself, but by the end of the day, i really hoped that youd call or email, so that i could tell you about all the amazing things i read, watched, discovered and i desperately want to share them with you, but i cant!

i got back to my bubble, my day basically revolves around reading and arranging my library. i still hold heidi close to myself when i sleep every night. i really regret not finishing it for you. but i dont know how much meaning she hold to you anyway. shes my world, she is the first thing i was obsessed with, and i thought she’d bring you similar joy, but now we never know i guess.

ive been doing philosophy for NET, although i havent started in serious mode, illl get there soon. i applied for an internship navdhanya, and have made plans of what to do with life., quite roughly. i even made a bucket list, of things i should try, filled with things that fascinate me. sample, fireflies. i never saw them in real life. and now i feel bad just by that thought. but yeah, i was pretty serious wheni made that list, and i keep adding things into it every now and then. i dont know why i mentioned this now, but i felt like it. ohh, since im updating about life, i should mention how i spoke to dad(basically, a mail) about most of the things i could never say to him, mostly stressing on how now i should be left unbothered. 

since i couldnt give rockstar another chance, sorry boss, the thought of having to go through that actress’ bad acting for three hours was itself torturous., i found the screenplay/script of the movie., and let me tell you how good i felt after reading it. i had better actors in my mind, and i dreamt about it for a couple of nights. it was a rollercoaster. i think screenplays do that to you. its like reading the book instead of watching the movie, but rockstar has to do with the songs, and since i had a clue about them, i can justify now. and i think i understand you better now, but i dont know, my timing of watching the movie is like another satire. not just this one, many more. gosh, i have like an entire saga of things i could use to cry over to. the other day, i cried while reading tagore poetry, although that was a worthy reason, its crazy how i dont know what little thing could be a trigger.

but how much ever i might try to romanticize all of this, tarak, i really think apart from the happy and goofy times we spent, which dont actually matter as much if we look back(except for nostagia purposes) id say we both needed a better versions, and both of us seperately too needed to be honest with what we are.. not just in showing the other person. im talking about myself mostly. and, for what ever we had, id hate to call it, but because of the lack of a better word, lets admit, we were toxic. and i have to say, how much ever you tried to get over your ego and wanted to be a feminist, looking back at minute details of the interactions we had, plus from the ones you talk about to others, i realised how often there were times when you basically preached something and failed to follow. im slightly ashamed to admit this, but i have gone through a phase of man-hating when i realised the things i have seen around,  thats basically when i realised how these could be the things you failed to see, (and prolly reasoned out for good enough reasons) but somewhere deep inside, i know its not so.like i read it in some book, (which bt the way, i should say felt like i was reading line by line about you) because it talks about how men who seem woke, but still choose to do the same thing, although for different reasons(or so they claim) is another result of the system. and i just cringed at this thought. because im sorry, but i felt it multiple times in our stay together. 

tarak, honestly how much ever im loving reading and researching, im afraid im getting very theoretical. now i cannot stop myself from pin pointing mistakes in everything, and am clearly missing out the beauty in things. if i learned one thing, love is for people who want to give up reason. if you are too calculated and stubborn, you can never love. im not saying im getting calculated and all brains-no-heart, but im slanting that way, and im just afraid i might never find redemption because i like this more. id choose this over love. for now. im sure time will prove me different, but let me tell you how much i value reading and art.

i guess we never spoke about this, why did we not? 

you know the whole ‘books are my bestfriends’? this is literally my life summarized. in my entire time at indus, i basically spent most of the time in the library, or in the washroom- where i used to sneak in, to bunk science classes. i had a reading tree also. under which i used to read in the sports period. prajeeth was a science guy, and the labs were right opposite to the library, so he used to keep a check on me, i often got late to catch my evening bus, so he’d make sure i dint. not to forget the music room. that was another room i spent some quality time in. while the library was in the first floor of the new building, the music room was in a circular room, on the terranc. the whole terrace was for music and art. we had a lot of empty open area where we were given assignments in. i love that place. id want to take you there one day, if, you know... 

so as i was saying, i just prefer reading and listening over anything. at this point, it feels like i know nothing apart from these both. i know you wouldnt agree with me being a good listener, but i know me, and i know im good.

well, now about us, i dont know. i really dont. i may say id be happy if you move on, and find yourself a woman, but i dont know if i can say it at this point, when im clearly meaning it. so, i can only hope for you to become a stronger person, collecting yourself from all of the past. and if you’re moving on, good for you., but id like to take my own sweet time with my memories of you,us, and laugh cry cringe all at once slowly. im not sating im attempting to get over you, because somehow that is making me think about you even more, and its actually making me want you for a whole different list of reasons. ill stick to this natural flow, and ill see you when i see you, years from now, or maybe more. somehow in the midst of some really stupid portions, there are some things you set a high limit in, for men to fill in- who might enter my life. so its going to be a big deal if i commit to someone tarak, and id still want to share about it with you, i dont know if that comes out from mere friendship or more, but i dont mind either ways.

i want to say this one last thing, because ive been wanting to say it for a long time, after the phone call.

it might be years later that we meet,and finally talk, when ever it is, how ever long it has been, if you turned out a good man, not just rational and responsible but realist and a romantic., id love for me to fall for you all over again, or maybe fall correctly* this time, until then ill wait.

 i want to wait. 

that’s me. there are surely many more things i want to say, but i will wait, like i said, and its not like youre going to read this, so its fine. ill look forward for what is coming, i hope you are healthy and are fine (at the least). i miss akbar, i hope aunty is not having a hard time seeing you break down anymore, i hope thats not the case, dont cry tarak! did you stop smoking? i was thinking about it on the 26th, i hope youre sticking to your resolution. i miss the smell of it, i sometimes open my specs-case to smell it, and it reminds me alot of you and red rum. its amazing. i miss it all, i miss you guys alot, i miss you babu. take care. 

xo

raaga.

[we-johnnygonzalez-blog]

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Posted by bsmarketer

Content promotion isn’t tweeting or upvoting. Those tiny, one-off tactics are fine for beginners. They might make a dent, but they definitely won’t move the needle. Companies that want to grow big and grow fast need to grow differently.

Here’s how Kissmetrics, Sourcify, Sales Hacker, Kinsta, and BuildFire have used advanced content promotion tips like newsjacking and paid social to elevate their brands above the competition.

1. Use content to fuel social media distribution (and not the other way around)

Prior to selling the brand and blog to Neil Patel, Kissmetrics had no dedicated social media manager at the height of their success. The Kissmetrics blog received nearly 85% of its traffic from organic search. The second biggest traffic-driver was the newsletter.

Social media did drive traffic to their posts. However, former blog editor Zach Buylgo’s research showed that these traffic segments often had the lowest engagement (like time on site) and the least conversions (like trial or demo opt-ins) — so they didn’t prioritize it. The bulk of Zach’s day was instead focused on editing posts, making changes himself, adding comments and suggestions for the author to fix, and checking for regurgitated content. Stellar, long-form content was priority number one. And two. And three.

So Zach wasn’t just looking for technically-correct content. He was optimizing for uniqueness: the exact same area where most cheap content falls short. That’s an issue because many times, a simple SERP analysis would reveal that one submission:

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...Looked exactly like the number-one result from Content Marketing Institute:

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Today’s plagiarism tools can catch the obvious stuff, but these derivatives often slip through the cracks. Recurring paid writers contributed the bulk of the TOFU content, which would free Zach up to focus more on MOFU use cases and case studies to help visitors understand how to get the most out of their product set (from the in-house person who knows it best).

They produced marketing guides and weekly webinars to transform initial attention into new leads:

They also created free marketing tools to give prospects an interactive way to continue engaging with their brand:

In other words, they focused on doing the things that matter most — the 20% that would generate the biggest bang for their buck. They won’t ignore social networks completely, though. They still had hundreds of thousands of followers across each network. Instead, their intern would take the frontlines. That person would watch out for anything critical, like a customer question, which will then be passed off to the Customer Success Manager that will get back to them within a few hours.

New blog posts would get the obligatory push to Twitter and LinkedIn. (Facebook is used primarily for their weekly webinar updates.) Zach used Pablo from Buffer to design and create featured images for the blog posts.

Then he’d use an Open Graph Protocol WordPress plugin to automatically add all appropriate tags for each network. That way, all he had to do was add the file and basic post meta data. The plugin would then customize how it shows up on each network afterward. Instead of using Buffer to promote new posts, though, Zach likes MeetEdgar.

Why? Doesn’t that seem like an extra step at first glance? Like Buffer, MeetEdgar allows you to select when you’d like to schedule content. You can just load up the queue with content, and the tool will manage the rest. The difference is that Buffer constantly requires new content — you need to keep topping it off, whereas MeetEdgar will automatically recycle the old stuff you’ve previously added. This saved a blog like Kissmetrics, with thousands of content pieces, TONS of time.

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He would then use Sleeknote to build forms tailored to each blog category to transform blog readers into top-of-the-funnel leads:

But that’s about it. Zach didn’t do a ton of custom tweets. There weren’t a lot of personal replies. It’s not that they didn’t care. They just preferred to focus on what drives the most results for their particular business. They focused on building a brand that people recognize and trust. That means others would do the social sharing for them.

Respected industry vets like Avinash Kaushik, for example, would often share their blog posts. And Avinash was the perfect fit, because he already has a loyal, data-driven audience following him.

So that single tweet brings in a ton of highly-qualified traffic — traffic that turns into leads and customers, not just fans.

2. Combine original research and newsjacking to go viral

Sourcify has grown almost exclusively through content marketing. Founder Nathan Resnick speaks, attends, and hosts everything from webinars to live events and meetups. Most of their events are brand-building efforts to connect face-to-face with other entrepreneurs. But what’s put them on the map has been leveraging their own experience and platform to fuel viral stories.

Last summer, the record-breaking Mayweather vs. McGregor fight was gaining steam. McGregor was already infamous for his legendary trash-talking and shade-throwing abilities. He also liked to indulge in attention-grabbing sartorial splendor. But the suit he wore to the very first press conference somehow managed to combine the best of both personality quirks:

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This was no off-the-shelf suit. He had it custom made. Nathan recalls seeing this press conference suit fondly: “Literally, the team came in after the press conference, thinking, ‘Man, this is an epic suit.’” So they did what any other rational human being did after seeing it on TV: they tried to buy it online.

“Except, the dude was charging like $10,000 to cover it and taking six weeks to produce.” That gave Nathan an idea. “I think we can produce this way faster.”

They “used their own platform, had samples done in less than a week, and had a site up the same day.”

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“We took photos, sent them to different factories, and took guesstimates on letter sizing, colors, fonts, etc. You can often manufacture products based on images if it’s within certain product categories.” The goal all along was to use the suit as a case study. They partnered with a local marketing firm to help split the promotion, work, and costs.

“The next day we signed a contract with a few marketers based in San Francisco to split the profits 50–50 after we both covered our costs. They cover the ad spend and setup; we cover the inventory and logistics cost,” Nathan wrote in an article for The Hustle. When they were ready to go, the marketing company began running ad campaigns and pushing out stories. They went viral on BroBible quickly after launch and pulled in over $23,000 in sales within the first week.

The only problem is that they used some images of Conor in the process. And apparently, his attorney’s didn’t love the IP infringement. A cease and desist letter wasn’t far behind:

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This result wasn’t completely unexpected. Both Nathan and the marketing partner knew they were skirting a thin line. But either way, Nathan got what he wanted out of it.

3. Drive targeted, bottom-of-the-funnel leads with Quora

Quora packs another punch that often elevates it over the other social channels: higher-quality traffic. Site visitors are asking detailed questions, expecting to comb through in-depth answers to each query. In other words, they’re invested. They’re smart. And if they’re expressing interest in managed WordPress hosting, it means they’ve got dough, too.

Both Sales Hacker and Kinsta take full advantage. Today, Gaetano DiNardi is the Director of Demand Generation at Nextiva. But before that, he lead marketing at Sales Hacker before they were acquired. There, content was central to their stratospheric growth. With Quora, Gaetano would take his latest content pieces and use them to solve customer problems and address pain points in the general sales and marketing space:

By using Quora as a research tool, he would find new topics that he can create content around to drive new traffic and connect with their current audience:

He found questions that they already had content for and used it as a chance to engage users and provide value. He can drive tons of relevant traffic for free by linking back to the Sales Hacker blog:

Kinsta, a managed WordPress hosting company out of Europe, also uses uses relevant threads and Quora ads. CMO Brian Jackson jumps into conversations directly, lending his experience and expertise where appropriate. His technical background makes it easy to talk shop with others looking for a sophisticated conversation about performance (beyond the standard, PR-speak most marketers offer up):

Brian targets different WordPress-related categories, questions, or interests. Technically, the units are “display ads, but they look like text.” The ad copy is short and to the point. Usually something like, “Premium hosting plans starting at $XX/month” to fit within their length requirements.

4. Rank faster with paid (not organic) social promotion

Kinsta co-founder Tom Zsomborgi wrote about their journey in a bootstrapping blog post that went live last November. It instantly hit the top of Hacker News, resulting in their website getting a consistent 400+ concurrent visitors all day:

Within hours their post was also ranking on the first page for the term “bootstrapping,” which receives around 256,000 monthly searches.

How did that happen?

“There’s a direct correlation between social proof and increased search traffic. It’s more than people think,” said Brian. Essentially, you’re paying Facebook to increase organic rankings. You take good content, add paid syndication, and watch keyword rankings go up.

Kinsta’s big goal with content promotion is to build traffic and get as many eyeballs as possible. Then they’ll use AdRoll for display retargeting messages, targeting the people who just visited with lead gen offers to start a free trial. (“But I don’t use AdRoll for Facebook because it tags on their middleman fee.”)

Brian uses the “Click Campaigns” objective on Facebook Ads for both lead gen and content promotion. “It’s the best for getting traffic.”

Facebook's organic reach fell by 52% in 2016 alone. That means your ability to promote content to your own page fans is quickly approaching zero.

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“It’s almost not even worth posting if you’re not paying,” confirms Brian. Kinsta will promote new posts to make sure it comes across their fans’ News Feed. Anecdotally, that reach number with a paid assist might jump up around 30%.

If they don’t see it, Brian will “turn it into an ad and run it separately.” It’s “re-written a second time to target a broader audience.”

In addition to new post promotion, Brian has an evergreen campaign that’s constantly delivering the “best posts ever written” on their site. It’s “never-ending” because it gives Brian a steady-stream of new site visitors — or new potential prospects to target with lead gen ads further down the funnel. That’s why Brian asserts that today’s social managers need to understand PPC and lead gen. “A lot of people hire social media managers and just do organic promotion. But Facebook organic just sucks anyway. It’s becoming “pay to play.’”

“Organic reach is just going to get worse and worse and worse. It’s never going to get better.” Also, advertising gets you “more data for targeting,” which then enables you to create more in-depth A/B tests.

We confirmed this through a series of promoted content tests, where different ad types (custom images vs. videos) would perform better based on the campaign objectives and placements.

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That’s why “best practices” are past practices — or BS practices. You don’t know what’s going to perform best until you actually do it for yourself. And advertising accelerates that feedback loop.

5. Constantly refresh your retargeting ad creative to keep engagement high

Almost every single stat shows that remarketing is one of the most efficient ways to close more customers. The more ad remarketing impressions someone sees, the higher the conversion rate. Remarketing ads are also incredibly cheap compared to your standard AdWords search ad when trying to reach new cold traffic.

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There’s only one problem to watch out for: ad fatigue. The image creative plays a massive role in Facebook ad success. But over time (a few days to a few weeks), the performance of that ad will decline. The image becomes stale. The audience has seen it too many times. The trick is to continually cycle through similar, but different, ad examples.

Here’s how David Zheng does it for BuildFire:

His team will either (a) create the ad creative image directly inside Canva, or (b) have their designers create a background ‘template’ that they can use to manipulate quickly. That way, they can make fast adjustments on the fly, A/B testing small elements like background color to keep ads fresh and conversions as high as possible.

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All retargeting or remarketing campaigns will be sent to a tightly controlled audience. For example, let’s say you have leads who’ve downloaded an eBook and ones who’ve participated in a consultation call. You can just lump those two types into the same campaign, right? I mean, they’re both technically ‘leads.’

But that’s a mistake. Sure, they’re both leads. However, they’re at different levels of interest. Your goal with the first group is to get them on a free consultation call, while your goal with the second is to get them to sign up for a free trial. That means two campaigns, which means two audiences.

Facebook’s custom audiences makes this easy, as does LinkedIn’s new-ish Matched Audiences feature. Like with Facebook, you can pick people who’ve visited certain pages on your site, belong to specific lists in your CRM, or whose email address is on a custom .CSV file:

If both of these leads fall off after a few weeks and fail to follow up, you can go back to the beginning to re-engage them. You can use content-based ads all over again to hit back at the primary pain points behind the product or service that you sell.

This seems like a lot of detailed work — largely because it is. But it’s worth it because of scale. You can set these campaigns up, once, and then simply monitor or tweak performance as you go. That means technology is largely running each individual campaign. You don’t need as many people internally to manage each hands-on.

And best of all, it forces you to create a logical system. You’re taking people through a step-by-step process, one tiny commitment at a time, until they seamlessly move from stranger into customer.

Conclusion

Sending out a few tweets won’t make an impact at the end of the day. There’s more competition (read: noise) than ever before, while organic reach has never been lower. The trick isn’t to follow some faux influencer who talks the loudest, but rather the practitioners who are doing it day-in, day-out, with the KPIs to prove it.

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