#these first few are gonna be easy to consume word count wise

[jubilantwriter]

Of Blood and Static

Chapter 2: We're still stuck in the same rut as always.

(AO3)  (First)  (Previous)  (Next)

Word Count: 2356

////

The Lady is aware of the loops.  She knows how the song and dance goes by now - Mono frees Six, Mono and Six venture together through the Pale City, encountering foes new yet familiar at the same time, Mono frees the Thin Man, Six gets taken and becomes a monster, and Mono must save her by destroying her beloved music box.

And then they run to the exit, only for Mono to trip and lag behind.  The bridge crumbles before them.  Six stops and waits to catch him.  She catches him, holds on tight as he dangles over the darkness below.  And then she lets him go.

Each loop has her releasing him for a different feeling.  Anger.  Fear.  Apprehension.  Regret.  Apathy.  Sadness.  Odd how the same journey seems to result in different feelings near the end.  The song and dance continues, only she does so by herself.  More and more loops continue.  More and more fragments of memories persist.  The Lady finds herself gathering these fragments like collecting broken shards of different mirrors, each reflecting a different her.  A different loop.  A different emotion.  But now, with so many fragments collected, she finds herself piecing together mismatched shards to form a haphazardly cobbled mirror that reflects back a single her.

The one yearning for survival and life.   

With Mono?

Without Mono?

She looks down at her empty hand, flexing it in the open air.

She needs him still.  Needs him to continue these loops.  That's what the her in the mirror reminds her of.  A monster reflected back, so willing to use another if it means she can live forever.  With Mono?  Without Mono?

(What if they could live together in peace?  Is that too hopeful?  Perhaps.  Perhaps survival is all there is.)

Maybe she'll never find an answer for herself.  Instead, she turns from her mirror and faces the television in her quarters.  The last loop ended... differently than most.  There’s a sweetness to it, almost bittersweet.  A feeling that leaves her craving for more.  It had been... nice.  Is she allowed that?  To have nice things?

(Selfishly, she thinks yes, she does.  Because being selfish is the only comfort she can provide for herself.  Because that's all she ever is.  Selfish.)

She places her hand up against the screen, curious to see how this one will end.  It flickers on, screen twisting and turning until it focuses on the silhouette of a familiar man in a familiar hat.  He looks defeated from where he sits, and immediately she knows that she has her work cut out for her.

"Again?"  There is none of the greeting she expects.  Just a simple question that she must answer.  She looks down at her own hand.  Why did she let him go this time?  What emotion reared its ugly head this time around?  She thinks and thinks and thinks and... finds only the feeling of unwillingness.  Unwilling to let him go?  How long have they been doing this?  Maybe she too is getting tired of the cycles.  But they need the cycles to survive.

(...Right?)

"I had to," she simply says.  Because she doesn't have any other particular reason for letting him go.  It's a habit now.  A given.  An expectation.  She catches him and lets him go.  She remembers looking down at his young face, so full of trust and relief.  She just needed to pull him up.  But she didn't.  Why?  

"Of course you had to."  He slumps forward in his seat, leaving her to wonder what inflection he intended for.  "Again and again and again.  Nothing changes.  It always remains the same.  Why do we allow this to continue?"

"Because we must.  To survive."

"Survival?  Is this really survival?"  The television doesn't voice his laughter, but she can see how his shoulders shake.  "We're just living a mockery of life.  A terrible simulation where we make the same mistakes over and over again.  This isn't survival, this is..."  He waves his hand around in the air.  "This is hell."

For a moment, she doesn't answer him.  Survival is survival.  Isn't that why she chose to play along with his actions?  To ensure these loops continue?  So that they could live forever in this way?  She doesn’t want to die for good.

(She doesn’t want him to die for good.)

"It's only hell if we make it to be hell."

"Bold words coming from someone who has an entire ship at her command."  Even without his voice coming through the speakers, she can still hear the bitterness in his words.  Perhaps she should be more careful with her wording given his… circumstances.

"Don't be like that, my life isn't all laughter and happiness."  But she must admit, the Thin Man has a point.  Calling her life anything terrible would be hard to argue when the Thin Man is forced to resign himself to being locked away until the loop begins its new cycle, only allowed to reach through screens to do... whatever it is he's allowed to do.  He never elaborates on what it is that's supposed to make him monstrous, but she supposes she's never told him much about the Maw as well.  

Still, it bothers her to see him so put out.  He was always the more optimistic half of them, the one who was all smiles and laughter and knew how to find the brightest spot to bask in when they lived in a dreary, dark world.  The Lady, then and now, was never good at humor.  But she could try, if it means pulling him back to his feet.  She hums and the man, still slumping in his chair, gives a curious tilt of his head.  "But even if it's hell, at least you still have me."

His shoulders shake again, a mockery of the laughter that used to brighten her days when they were children.  "Sometimes I do.  It still feels strange to hold a civil conversation with you nowadays.  I wonder what changed to make you see me as a friend, and not some... unseemly reminder of your past."

Curious.  Now it's her turn to tilt her head.  "I always found you to be a bright spot in my past."

"So bright," the caption begins, "that you had to let me go?"

"Well, you were simply too blinding to look at."  She smiles behind her mask, watching him jerk his head up.  "I never did get to see you without your paper mask until that day, you know."

"What are you trying to say?  That you let me go because of my blinding good looks?"

"Well, you do make a very close second.  Between the two of us, dear friend, I'd say that I'm the one with the truly blinding good looks."  She presses her hand up against the glass screen, the warmth filling a piece of her up as she imagines a hand just as warm, with a gentleness to it that she'd forgotten she missed.  "Maybe if I could see your face again, I could make a better assessment of your looks."

"Oh, you wouldn't like what you see."  A pause.  "Or perhaps you will.  I heard you have a reputation for keeping ugly things around you."  

She ignores the implications shot at her person (though, it's not as if he's wrong) and instead focuses on the other.  "Are you calling yourself ugly?  After I said that I was blinded by your looks as a child?"

"Time changes a person, my Lady."  He straightens in his seat, as if to make a point.  "I'm not the same boy who used to hold your hand."

(And whose fault was that?)

"Perhaps not," she mumbles, fingers curling on the screen, "but I would wager a bet and say that you haven't aged poorly at all."

"Bold words coming from you."

"One of us has to be bold."  They always did try their best to be what the other lacked.  If only she could take his hand and reassure him that it would all be okay, just like when they were children.  "Besides, I always found you to be the better half of us."

"That's quite the admission.  I always thought that you were too proud and vain to ever say something like that."

"Maybe," she says with a slight hum, "but I think for today, I can put it aside just for now."

"And why's that?"

"Even I crave a little change every once in a while."  She taps at the screen, wondering if he can hear it from his side.  "And for once, I’d like to be a little more honest with myself."

"Oh, so this is honesty?  Not some sweet words to keep me on your side?"

"What if this honesty can be sweet?"

"I've never taken you to be a sweet person."  Still, she can see his shoulders shake a little.  A slight tremble that looks genuinely pleased.  A little happy.  When they were children, his laughs tended to make his entire body quake as he tried to keep it contained.  She wonders if he still tries to keep his laughter quiet even now.  How she wishes she could hear him.  

"I usually am not.  But I can make an exception every once in a while, where I see fit."

The Thin Man stays silent, and she wonders if she said something wrong.  It's so hard to see his face from within the screen.  With his hat casting shadows over his face, she can never tell what expression he holds at any given moment.  Though when she thinks about it, it's not so dissimilar to when they were children and he kept that paper bag over his face.

Still.  At least she had his voice to go off of.

"My Lady," the words begin, appearing slowly, letter by letter, as if he's carefully choosing his words, "can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is."  Despite her coy act, she knows that deep down, she'll agree to whatever the Thin Man says.  "What is it?"

"If you could, in the next loop, would you please try once more to... make an exception?"

"An exception?  To what?"

"An exception to be sweet.  More often."  Even without him speaking, she can see the hesitance in his words.  It tugs at something within her, an old feeling that makes her want to reach in and take his hand.  "I think things would be a little more... tolerable, if something nice were to happen."

"I... don't know."  It's her turn to hesitate when the implications of his plea sink in.  She could be sweet.  She could be nicer and treat him as kindly as he treated her.  But then... the loops.  They still continue.  He knows this.  She can treat him like he deserves and she'll still have to let him go.  The betrayal won't sting then.  It'll tear him apart, crushing him entirely as she lets him go.  Doesn't he realize that?  That she only treats him more sweetly now because she has nothing else to look forward to but her own death?  It'll hurt him more than it'll hurt her, and yet...

"Please."  He slumps forward again, head resting in his hands as he resumes his defeated pose.  "It'll just be for one loop."

"I can't... guarantee it, Thin Man."  She doesn't want to guarantee it.  "Won't it just hurt you more?"

"I'll remember."  He raises his head up, and she imagines the most pained smile on a face she's only seen in nightmares.  "I'll remember that I asked for this, when all is said and done."  

"I don't want to hurt you more than I already have."  Hasn't she already done enough to him?  Why would he want more pain?  

"I want to hope again, Six."  She flinches when he uses her name.  The name she abandoned so long ago when she became the Lady.  "I want to know if it's... possible.  For us to change.  To be different."

"Why?"

"Consider it a personal bet."  His shoulders shake again, but there's a tiredness to them that speaks volumes of the weight on his shoulders.  

(It's for their survival.  It's for their survival.  It's for their survival.  Even if it hurts.  Even if it's too much.  It's for their survival, so that no one but themselves can hurt each other.)  

"I..."

"Please, Six."  The hopelessness in his text makes her want to crumble.  "Just for one loop."

"...Okay."  There's no way she's going to remember this promise.  Not until it's after the fact.  Not until her younger self takes her place as the "new" Lady and she becomes whole again.  It’s always like finishing a puzzle - once the final piece slots in, she sees the bigger picture for what it is.  Until that final piece completes it, all she has are the corners and cobbled together sections that she managed to put together.  But maybe… that’ll be enough.  Maybe the sentiment will remain strong enough for an inkling of feeling to trickle through, enough so that her younger self can see the sections and corners and think, “Ah, maybe I should try this.”  The Lady lets her shoulders sag with the weight of the Thin Man’s hope.  "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you."  He straightens, looking oddly stiff before the screen turns to static.  The Lady sighs, thinking that their little conversation has ended without a single goodbye.  Just as she's about to turn away from the television, a pair of hands press up against the screen.  She sucks a breath in, watching with wide eyes as two hands push out from the screen, arms hanging out limply.  Nothing else seems to push out, much to her dismay. 

Still.  Chances presented must be taken.  She gently takes his hands and sandwiches them between her own.  Her thumb rubs circles into the back of his hand as she softly hums a haunting tune.  They share their warmth together in the quiet of her quarters as she takes everything he offers her.

Eventually, the loop draws to a close with the broken whine of static and the shattering of glass.

[toxicxxmyth]

The Truth Untold; Sebastian Stan -> II

.Previously 

Summary:  Y/n Y/l/n, born and raised in south side Chicago. Now raising her five younger siblings, she’s not even sure if some of them are actually related to her. But she takes care of them nonetheless, as best as she can. While her drunk father continues to make their life harder. And her drug addicted mother comes bursting through the door once every to years. Its a chaotic life for a 23 year old, but she made it work. Until one day, the most notorious mob leaders of the country  shows up to do some business in the south side.

Au: Shameless!Au, Mob!Seb

Warning(s): Cussing, smut(fingering), violence, and tiny mention of domestic abuse.

Word Count: 5.9k

Authors Note: I said i wasn’t going to make a second part but here we are, 1 month later lmao.

@chims-kookies @superdrysuperfry

a doua întâlnire

Sebastian Stan; An enticing enigma.

As people come to learn—he comes and goes whenever he pleases—takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants. And no one says a word, too afraid to face him. God forbid anyone say a word. He’s a walking dynamite ready to explode. A man of his word, and many duties. The devil in sheep’s clothing. If you were to cross his path, you outa be afraid. His gaze was intense, cold, almost. But if you stared just a little longer, you’d see the lost hope and dreams swimming in his ocean blue eyes. It was impossible though, no one would dare look him in the eye, too afraid to stir the beast he contains. Women of the evening which his trusted cohorts would provide for him—they never cared enough to look deep into his eyes to notice. Not that he cares. Hell, he didn’t even know it himself. Too invested in his business—and his business only. If you’d do him wrong, no amount of praying will save you from him. Some would call him a sociopath, owning to the fact that he was completely deadpan when it comes to killing or torturing those who don’t follow his rules. He’s a drug lord. He cannot be contained. He vanishes at the forbidden hour — only returning when the aubade is at its highest peak.

He was toxic. Lethal. Everywhere he walked, a trail of pain and fear followed. One might say he feeds off it, he lives off it. He was a beautiful yet wicked soul nature spit out. A wise man who everyone knows not to mess with. He was astute, fatal and leery. A true nightmare.

So why did meeting you somehow made him feel something? Was it because of your troubled life? Nah, couldn’t be. He has met thousands of people with troubled lives and had no issue and making their situations worse.

Maybe it was because you didn’t throw yourself onto him like most females and males did. He was especially surprised at the fact that didn’t become responsive and enticed when he pulled his money out. Yeah, maybe it was that?

He almost felt like he knew you. What type of person you were. So he knew for a fact, that you wouldn’t keep the money he had sent to help you and your family. He sent some of his men to watch over you just in case something wrong happen, even though he knew you were capable of taking care of yourself. But finding him wasn’t easy. He just wanted to see at what extent you’d go just to tell him off. It was only a matter of time before you went after him.

“Has it been delivered?” Sebastian asked as he rose an eyebrow. Making the tattooed boy avert his eyes elsewhere. Anthony, his best man, couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

“Yes, Sir” The boy nodded, hands behind his back. Eyes everywhere but his.

“Good, now get out.” Sebastian groaned as he got up from his seat and walked over to his mini tray of alcoholic beverages. Watching as the younger male hurriedly left the room.

“You ain’t gotta be so harsh on the boy” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle, accepting the drink Sebastian was offering him.

“I wasn’t being harsh” He scoffed, turning toward the spot where the boy had been.

I just think that you should go a little easy on your men” Anthony muttered while bringing the glass full of scotch to his lips, brows raised.

“That’ll only give em’ a reason to walk all over me. And I can’t have that. I’ll kill em all.” Sebastian defends his posture, his tone all too serious for Anthony’s liking.

Although Anthony was just as dangerous and powerful as Sebastian was, he was, to many peoples surprise, a pacifist. Which is almost impossible to be in a business so parlous. He just didn’t believe in violence, completely opposite from Sebastian himself.

“See now you’re just far fetching” He pointed a finger at the man, brow raised as he got up from his seat.

“So this girl? You paying child support?” He laughs. “I knew one of these days you were gonna knock up one of em hoes” (I am so sorry. Long live hoes. Be proud of your hoeness)

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, shaking his head as he sat on his wooden desk.

“Nah. Just a beautiful girl who needs a little push” He shrugged, eyes trained on his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the whole room. He was just hoping he’d change the subject.

“Her name?” Anthony led on.

“Not important” Sebastian breathed out, eyes meeting his as he raised an eyebrow. Adjusting in his seat as he fixed his tie. Hoping he’d change the subject.

“Whatever” Anthony laughs. “Anyway, I gotta go. Have a meeting in half-hour”

Sebastian nods in understanding, glass pressed against his lips. Watching as his best friend leaves his temporary office.

After a few seconds of sitting there, skimming over the papers scattered over the desk. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the thoughts that consumed him. It was almost unbelievable how his thoughts could change from what his next deal was to how you’d be doing, and if you were safe.

He knew damn well that there were bad men at the club that night, he knew they were watching. And it worried him that they’d take it the wrong way, causing you to be in danger.

“Well it seems like you know everything about me, so why don’t you tell me about yourself. I bet it’s much more interesting than my shitty life” She chuckled, though I could barely hear it due to the irritating music that was being played throughout the club. It was adorable, actually. Before I could come up with a lame ass excuse for a profession, I noticed a couple of men in the vip area whispering to one another each other, their gaze firmly on her.

“It’s really crawdad in here, let’s go outside” I lied, wanting to get her out before something happens.

“No” She simply stated. Causing me to stop my movement, I was shocked. I let out a cough as I recomposed myself at the unexpected answer.

“This is how things work. I walk out with you, you tell me your oh so tragic childhood which causes me to pity you. Soon, once I’m under your spell, you chloroform me and a white van appears out of nowhere and I’ll be part of an illegal sex and drug trafficking ring” She gave me an innocent smile. There was no reasoning with her, so I moved closer as if to protect her.

“I’d actually be much more creative in kidnapping people”

“Y/n, it’s been a week. I can’t believe it’s taken you this fucking long to find one guy” Jeremy hisses as he passes back and forth in the kitchen, where you sat in one of the stools.

“It’s not easy, okay. This guy literally just disappeared in midair. It’s driving me crazy” You groan, elbows resting on the table as you ran your fingers through your hair in frustration.

It’s been exactly a week since you’ve received that money, and you were growing desperate everyday trying to find the mystery man who dropped it on your front door. By the fourth day you kind of gave up. Juggling three jobs and taking care of all your siblings was stressful enough, and playing Where’s Waldo was not how you decided to spend the rest of your days. So your only choose was to tell Camille about the whole situation. You put your faith in her, she was the closest thing to an FBI, and so you were certain she would find him.

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re going to have to use that money eventually” Your head shot up and the sound of your other brother, Cameron.

“What-“

“I told him” Jeremy sighs while leaning against the counter, one arm resting on his hip.

“We are not going to use that money.” You firmly say.

“Why not?” Cameron snickers in disbelief.

“We’re running out of food, there’s no water and I’m pretty sure Ethan is selling drugs. Jeremy’s tuition is up his ass and we just got an eviction notice. We have no other choice, Y/n” He finishes, his eyes sad.

“Give me some time and we’ll find a way to pay off everything.” You sigh sadly. He was right, this money could help with at least some problems you had. Before you could make another promise, your front door opened and shuts with a loud bang.

“I found that motherfucker” Walks in Camille with a piece of paper in her hand. Her brows raised and lips pursed.

“Him? As in, him, him?” I asked hopeful, brows raised as I got up immediately walking over to her.

“Yeah, but, I think we need to talk first about your...plan” She sighs, causing you to shake your head in confusion at her change in mood.

“What about it? I’m going to give it back, just like we talked.” You confirm, looking at her, then back at Jeremy and Cameron, confused.

“Yeah well, it won’t be as easy as we thought.” You could already tell she was hiding something.

“Why not?” You press on. Suddenly confused as to why her chocolate face turned pale, or her tongue pressed against her cheek as she looked down at the piece of paper still her hand.

“Well the guys you hooked up with happens to be Sebastian Stan.” She sassed, hands on her hips and a brow raised—a posture a mother only a mother would give at her disobedient child. Which made you feel slightly uncomfortable—but the confused laugh that ripped from your throat only caused her to stare harder. By the looks of the two males still in the kitchen—they seemed to know exactly who it was.

“So who the hell is he?” You sigh, throwing yourself on the couch, a head starting to form. You rest you elbows on your knees—staring blankly at the black tv.

“Only the most dangerous man in the whole damn country. Goddamn it Y/n, what the hell where you thinking?”

“I-I don’t know” You couldn’t help but stutter. You were disappointed in yourself, and you could tell that he was too. And there was no worse feeling than the feeling of letting your family down. You felt like a child being scolded. Their eyes piercing into your tensed frame. You could feel the disappointment in Jeremy’s eyes, the shock in Cameron’s, and the sympathy in Camille’s. It was overwhelming, you feel like you just committed the worst crime—or maybe you were just overthinking the whole situation —all of you were. All you had to do was give the money back.

“I’ll fix it” You closed your eyes while taking a deep breathe. “I’ll fix all of this” You confirmed, mostly to yourself. “Just tell me everything you know about the guy-“before you could finish your sentence, the phone in your pocket started to ring, startling you in the process.

“It’s a private number” You whispered once you took the phone out and read the ID caller. You looked at Camille—as if asking permission. But all she gave you was a shrug, brows furrowed in confusion. You took a deep breathe before answering in a rush.

“Hello?”

“I hope you put that money in good use” Came a deep raspy voice. Confusion filled your body, but your mind went back to that in the club—his soft lips against the shell of your ear as he whispered profanity’s in the dirty bathroom. You breathe hitches in your throat, eyes wide in shock.

“Who the hell is it!?” Hissed Cameron, clearly worried.

“What the hell do you want?” You spat as you recomposes yourself. Jeremy seemed to know exactly who it was due to his reaction. It’s like his whole body shut down as he ran his fingers through his hair letting out a breathy fuck.

“Whoa there dragă, not need to get so defensive” His calm voice only seemed to fuel you even more. “That’s no way to speak to the man who sent you very generous gift” He finishes, and you could almost see the smirk on his beautiful face.

“Oh so this is a privilege?” You scoffed. “Well guess what, dipshit, I don’t fucking want it, so both you come and get it or stop hiding behind *67 and tell me where you are. We don’t need your goddamn charity” You finished your rant, anger radiating off you at the nerve of this guy. You felt proud of yourself, but your confidence faded into thin air when you looked at the three people still in your living  room who’s faces where drained from color.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You really hate people trying to help, don’t you?”

“I’m not a damsel in distress needing saving, Sebastian”

“Fine, come find me. I’ve been itching to see you again, if I’m being honest.” It was pitiful of you, but you swear you just felt your heart skip a beat at his words.

“How do I do that” You spat, not letting the words affect you the way you knew he wanted them too.

“Looks like your friends got that covered” He says seriously while hanging the phone up.

“He’ll kill you” Jeremy says while shaking his head, walking toward the saris, Cameron following hesitantly behind him.

You sigh I defeat, like your whole body just shut down after the comment.

Here you are, fucking your family over once again.

“This is not a good idea, Y/n. In fact, this is a very, very bad idea.” Camille speaks, eyes focused on the road but you could clearly tell how worried she was by the way her forehead wrinkled as her brows furrowed in worry.

“God, I don’t need this right now. I would’ve brought Jeremy if I wanted a freaking lecture about my shitty choose in decision.” You sigh as run your clammy fingers through your hair.

“And all for what? Because he left you some money? Now that’s some bullshit right there.” She scoffs, obviously ignoring your obvious annoyance at another lecture.

“Yes, Camille. Because he left some money. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is? My knight and shining armor? No, fuck that. Him and his money.” You spat loudly, index finger pointing at the windshield as if he was right there. Noticing your best friend’s eyes softening, you immediately cooled off.

“This is very dangerous. Just, don’t let your temper get the best of you while you’re with him. IF you even get to see him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You smiled softly, reaching out to grab the hand that was firmly gripping onto the steering wheel.

“Plus, he said he told his ‘men’ to escort me in or whatever” You chuckled as you shook your head at the silly thought. Completely missing the flash of worry crossing Camille’s eyes.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” You demanded bravely. The room was dim, you could barely see your surroundings other than the middle, where you were met directly with his back, his very sweaty back. The cries of pain that came from his front caused you to lose your composer, just slightly — enough for you to regain it before he noticed. Sebastian stopped his movement slowly turning around, seemingly confused at the sudden interruption. Blood covered sleeves rolled up to his elbows, knuckles bruised and a half unconscious body lying motionless on a broken chair, face so beaten you could hardly identify the person. Which is what Sebastian was going for.

You were aghast, to say the least. Your eyes winded in shock, gripping your cross body bag (where you kept the money) tightly, your body shaking slightly at what you were witnessing.

A smirked formed on his lips as he watched your frightening state. He was amused at your bravery, hearing you walk in like you owned the place. Cussing at every single man that tried to stop you from walking any further. Of course he knew none of them would hurt you because of his orders. But he liked it. Liked your fierceness. But seeing you shocked with terror made him go somewhat soft on the inside. Wanting to cover your eyes from the brutality that was in front of you as if you were a kid.

“Come, let’s talk outside so you don’t have to see any of this” He coughs out, motioning you to follow. Without question, you did. Not standing the sight of the poor man who laid half dead in a rusty chair, his pleads and cries of terror would surly leave a mark on you.

“Why’d you do that?” You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat roughly, almost sure he heard it. You fought hard against the tears that were threading to spell out, you hated to admit it, but under your tough girl act you were sensitive. And seeing an innocent man (to you at least) lay so helplessly made your head shatter.

“He stole from me” He shrugged. As if it was the most normal think ever. As if he does this once a freaking week, as if he was play miniature golf with his high school friends.

“And who the fuck are you? Pablo Escobar” You replied sarcastically, pulling yourself together, not wanting him to smell your fear. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head while stopping in front of a large door.

Well his laugh made him sound less intimidating. It almost made you forget the sight of him killing a person only seconds ago. Almost.

“Come on in. We’ll talk in here.” He gives an attempt at giving you a small smile, you appreciated it. But then you remembered why you were here in the first place. And whatever you were feeling at the moment was replaced with anger.

“What are you trying to do here, huh? Some charity work? You took pity on me and now you wanna be the good fucking guy and help out? No, fuck that and fuck you. I can handle my own shit and I don’t need a stranger coming to my rescue. I’ve done this my whole life alone and I’ve been fine, we’ve been fine. So you can politely fuck off.” You were out of breathe, you were angry, completely forgetting the fact that he was extremely dangerous. Menacing.

After a long pause, he spoke.

“Did my men treat you right? There wasn’t any hassle?” He furrowed his eyebrows. Clearly changing the subject.

“Don’t you fucking dare” You tilted your head to the side, finger pointing accusingly at him.

“I was just trying to do you a favor.” He sighs, hands up in surrender.

“Well I don’t need your favors. I don’t even know you. Just because you took a lucky guess on how shitty my life is doesn’t mean you know me either.” You went from pointing at the ceiling, to him and then to you. “So here’s your money back. I don’t want it” You spat, hands harshly opening your bag and pulling out the stacks of money. Your hair was all over you face, but you could tell his hands were crossed over his chest. Lips pursed in hilarity.

“Don’t do that.” He sighs as he lays his enormous hands on the stack of money that was placed next to him on his desk, reviewing it. After a few seconds he looks at you, eyes squinting as if he was trying to memorize every detail. He then proceeded to walk toward you slowly, as if taking his time. It made you feel small.

You looked at the ground, once again, swallowing the lump in your throat as you felt his body heat on yours. You were faced to face with his chest, refusing to look up. His breath dancing over your forehead. And it took everything in you not to lean in, even though he wasn’t touching you.

Then you dared speak.

“Where you even telling the truth?” You whispered, the words barely audible. But by the way his breathed hitched in his throat, you knew he heard.

“What do you mean?” He gritted his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes as pulled away from you, making you whine at the loss of heat. But he didn’t notice, lucky for you. He crossed his arms over his chest. You didn’t even think about your next words, or the consequences that would follow—but you didn’t dare hesitate.

“The night in the club. Your mother. Was she really sick? Or was that some bullshit excuse. Did your dad really leave you and your mother to die? Or was that also part of the plan. Fuck, is your name even Sebastian?” You snickered. Even though the situation was far from funny. The disbelief of the situation you had gotten yourself into was so unbelievable that you couldn’t help it when the noise escaped past your lips. And just like that, he was red. You could practically see the smoke coming from his ears as his eyes changed from a light blue mischief to a dark blue hatred.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He yelled, letting his temper got the best of him. You jumped back in surprise, not expecting the outburst at all, but you knew it would happen. “I never lied to you, Y/n. I’d never joke about my mother’s sickness just for a fun story. My father did leave us, he left us for dead. And he paid for it. Just like every single person that was with him.” His breathe was uneven, he clearly had more to say—he was struggling to keep calm and you didn’t know why.

“What did you do, Sebastian? You killed him? Huh, is that was you did? Is that how you solve all your messes?” You raised your voice—edging him on. His outburst caused your own anger to bubble up in you.

“Yes. I fucking killed him, is that what you want to fucking hear, Y/n? I’m a fucking killer, a murderer. I sell drugs and guns. I’m a fucking drug lord. It’s what I fucking do. Don’t you get that?” His face was red due to all the movement he was causing and yelling, the vein on his neck prominent. You finally caught a glimpse of his belt. You froze in fear as you saw the gun that was tucked neatly under his leather belt. All the possibilities of you being killed ran through you mind and the fact that he was confessing to his crimes made it worse. “I kill people, I’ll kill anyone who stands in my fucking way.” His eyes where dark, intimidating. He confessed his dues even though you were already aware. But you didn’t get the answer you quite wanted. You were stepping on dangerous grounds, but you chose to ignore the gun that was tucked away in his belt, in a position where he could swiftly grab it and shoot you dead before you could even scream. But you continued, because you were just like that.

“How’d you kill him?” You spoke softly. His eyes immediately lit up as a sinister smile crept on his lips. And he spoke slowly, as if taking his time in remembering each detail.

“I chopped off each of his limbs off one by one as he watched in horror, not being able to do anything other than scream in agony. Started with his hands, cut off each finger before cutting his whole hand off. He didn't deserve them anyway.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. But it made your skin crawl. “I’d watch him beat my mother countless times, and I was unable to do anything; to defend her. But when I knew the power I had, I did something. Something I dreamt of doing for years. Then, I chopped off his feet. And you know what I did next? I ripped his fucking heart out while he was barely conscious. And I don’t regret a single thing.” He smirks while shaking his head, sinful tongue poking out just slightly out of his now dry mouth. His once perfect hair messed up by all the times his ran his dried bloody hands through it. Face red and sweaty as he calmed down from his outburst. Your brows were furrowed—fist clench tightly as you looked up at him. You somehow knew he was missing details.

Before he could even think of speaking (only adding to you infuriated mood) you jumped on him, legs poorly wrapped around his waist, arms holding onto his broad shoulder and lips smashing into his. Surprisingly, he did not hesitate to kiss you back just as aggressively. You couldn’t help but moan at the taste of his mouth. All you could taste was alcohol, weed and a hint of mint. Normally you’d be repulsed by this, but all you could think about was how amazing his lips felt on yours, how amazing his tasted in your tongue.

You could feel his smirk against your wet lips—and just for a second did you realize what you were doing—how desperate you must look right now. His smirk against your mouth infuriated you, causing you to bite his bottom lip harshly with a moan—causing him to growl animalistic. And god you could come right then and there. Small drops of blood seeping out of the cut your teeth made only made him look even more ravishing. Your tongue darts passed your lips as you took a slow lick over the wound, collecting the little blood that was shown—and wince coming out of him.

The heat in your core intensifying. Your short spell on him quickly vanished as soon as his rough and bloody hands went up to grab your ass giving it a tight squeeze. The moan that slipped out of your mouth only seemed to fuel him. Cautiously, he walked both of you toward his desk, careful not to break the kiss—and careful not make both of you fall. Your lips trailed desperately along his stubbled cheek, sharp jawline and neck, immediately licking a stripe up the vein that was popping out. His eyes closed momentarily, swallowing harshly as he relishes the feeling of your warm, wet mouth worshiping his neck.

Lazily, he cleared the area while dropping you on top. Wasting no time in taking your jeans off—buttons barely off, you were certain he broke them, but his face buried between your breast wouldn’t allow you to think. Once your pants where off, he forcefully opened your legs, causing a loud moan to slip past your lips as you felt your legs stretch deliciously. You could feel him chuckle against your cheek, a hand coming up to squeeze your chin between his finger, while the other didn’t hesitate to harshly slip under your underwear.

Wasting no time in separating your lips with his index and pinky finger to have a better angle to use his middle and ring finger and rubbing your clit harshly. Letting out small whimpers as you desperately bucked your hips into his hand. He moaned as he felt your warm pussy pulsing into his hand. It was heavenly, never had a man been so rough with you, and the fact that this wasn’t just a random man, but a feared mob boss. His dick was hard, fighting against hid dress pants, it was thick, extremely. The mere thought of having it in your mouth made your mouth water and your pussy wetter. This whole situation was dangerous. The hand of killer as buried deep in your underwear and all you could think about was sucking his dick.

“Fuck baby, you’re getting wetter by the second” He groans as dips his middle and ring finger down to your slit, collecting the juices that shameless fell out of you—only to bring his wet fingers back up to your clit, making it easier for him to rub. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“God, i wanna suck your dick so bad” You let the pornographic moan out, causing him to let out a growl—then a snicker. Your face was red in embarrassment at the sudden confession, but you didn’t give a fuck at this point. The hand that was still tightly wrapped around your chin, forcefully pulled you into a kiss. Teeth clashing against each other, tongues exploring each other mouths. It wasn’t even a kiss due to how desperate it was. It was an erotic scene.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be sure to put this sassy mouth to good use” He smirked. And if it weren't for your immense attraction to him, and in the current position you were in. You probably would've slapped him. But his words were nothing but hot and provocative.

And in just minutes, you felt your orgasm approaching, just by his fingers. Pathetic. You knew he could sense it just by the way your clit kept pulsing on his fingers.

“Oh, is my baby gonna cum already. Just by my fingers.” He whispered while licking your parted lips. A cockily look on his sweaty face. All you could do was nod pathetically as your head rolled back, brows knitted together and eyes shut tightly.

“Open your fucking eyes.” He growls as he hands harshly grabs your chin once again. This only caused an even louder moan to come from you. It made you 10 time horny at how rough he was being.

“I’m-i th-im about to cum-“ You whined rather loudly, hands that were once gripping his wooden desk reached up to his clothes shoulders, gripping at them desperately. And you felt it, your climax just around the corner. But before your orgasm could wash over you, a loud, obnoxious knock sounded throughout the whole office. His fingers immediately stilled on your beating clit, causing you to lean forward with a cry.

“No!” You couldn’t help but whine. You could feel how tensed and angry Sebastian was at the sudden interruption.

“Come in!” He shouted—making your eyes go wide in shock, and mouth agape. Especially since his hands was still inside your underwear. You tried to move away from him but he held you still, fingers still roughly placed on your sensitive clit.

“Sir we-“The built man stopped abruptly in his track, eyes wide at the sight. Sebastian only turned lightly to get a good look at his face, his face was unreadable, completely emotionless, making the man squirm under his gaze.

You could only imagine what you looked like. Sweaty, hair stuck to your face with euphoric yet embarrassed features. You wrapped your arms around Sebastian’s neck, burying your head in his neck at an attempt to cover yourself from the man. You could feel his smile as he kissed the top of your head. You would’ve thought it was a sweet gesture if his hand wasn’t buried in your underwear. In front of another dangerous man.

“Yes?” Sebastian asked—clearly irritated by the sudden interruption and the lack of information he was giving.

“Um—the-the crates, they’re here, sir” The man coughs, eye everywhere except Sebastian’s eyes, afraid he’d piss him off. And eyes definitely not on you. Knowing the consequences if ever looked at his girl.

“I’ll be right out.” Sebastian says irritably, making the buff man leave quickly.

With a sigh, he softly took his hands out, making you whimper at the loss of contact. His hands were wrinkled due to your juice, but with the cool air, they began to dry. That didn’t stop him from sucking on them as if it were frosty on a cake. You bit your lips at the sight.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t finish you off properly, dragă.” He says sadly. You couldn’t lie, you were disappointed yourself.

“But if you give me a chance, I’d love to take you out to dinner. Then I can fuck you like you deserve.” He ran his tongue across his bruised lip. You couldn’t help but blush at how explicit he was, even when trying to be romantic.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it” You shrugged—smiling innocently at him as you hop off his desk. The wetness in your core started drying up, making it uncomfortable to even stand. Sebastian smirked as he nodded his head, leaning against the same spot you were sat on as he watched you pull your pants back up.

“I’m not an easy man to contact, how will I know your answer?” He bit his lips.

“You obviously know where I live and have my number” You teased. Walking back up to him and pulling him down boldly for a much more passionate and slow kiss, completely different from the ones you had moments ago. It felt nice—having his warm lips against yours. One hand draped lazily around your waist while your arm was draped lazily around his neck.

“I’ll see you around.” You whispered breathlessly while slowly dragging your hands from his neck, down to his chest as if to pull him away. Your foreheads still touching, lips caught between your lips. He was so intoxicating, it almost made your head throb. None of you finding the strength to pull away from each other. Weirdly enough, you felt safe in his arms, warm and it just felt right.

“I have to go” You whispered; nodding mostly to yourself — reminding yourself.

“Okay, baby” He nods, yet made no effort in pulling away. So you mustered up all the strength you had in your drained body and pulled away, his hands reaching for yours as he gave you one last kiss. Letting it linger around. And cue the butterflies. You felt like little school girl when her crush finally notices her. But you didn’t care at all.

“I’ll be waiting for that response” He hollers, arms crossed over his chest. Yet again, that infamous smudge look took place on his beautiful face.

“You just have to be patient, Stan” You winked as, not sparing him another glance as you walked out, immediately being met by one of his many bodyguards to escort you out. But not before Sebastian have them a murderous look.

Once out, you ran straight toward the abandoned warehouse where you had left Camille parched just in case something happened. Ready to tell her everything that had happened. The thought of him being a mafia leader far from forgotten.

“You just have to be patient, Stan” You winked as, not sparing him another glance as you walked out, immediately being met by one of his many bodyguards to escort you out. But not before Sebastian gave them a murderous look.

Once out, you ran straight toward the abandoned warehouse where you had left Camille parched just in case something happened. Ready to tell her everything that had happened. The thought of him being a mafia leader long forgotten.

“Hey, Vince” Sebastian calls, phone pressed tightly on the phone, one hand crossed under the arm that held the phone.

“I need you to keep an eye out on Y/n Y/l/n, 24/7. Her and her whole entire family. No- I don’t fucking care. Yes, even the fucking cashier at her local supermarket. Just keep an eye on her. Yeah, she knows too much, we can’t risk it.” He sighs, staring at the spot where you once stood.

[caps-lockdown]

Sweater Weather Part Five

Here’s the next installment! Enjoy!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!PottsRelativeReader!

Words: 4,047

WARNING THIS CHAPTER IS PRETTY STEAMY AND IS AS CLOSE TO SMUT AS I’LL BE WRITING FOR THIS FIC. Reader discretion is advised! Warnings/Ratings: R/Possible 18+ For more flirty and sexy! Steve Rogers, mentions of booze, language, a TON of flirting/adult situations. You’ve been warned, the temperature isn’t the only thing hot in this chapter! Reader discretion is advised. 

Also AU in the fact NO ONE DIED during Endgame/Steve didn’t go back. Also as much as I adore Morgan Stark, she isn’t around yet. I didn’t know where this would fit timeline wise, so just ignore the timeline. Kay? Cool.

Summary: You’ve just moved to New York after a long 3 year stint travelling the world and helping with various charities, taking a new job with Stark Industries thanks to your cousin Pepper. A trip out to surprise Tony and The Avengers for the weekend turns from good to terrible when the a/c at the compound breaks. How will you beat the heat for the record breaking weekend? 

In Y/N Y/L/N format, I don’t own any gifs, outfits or characters except for the Reader and her friend Kate. No beta so I DO own all of my mistakes. 

Part Five

The room was cold and the yet the first thing you noticed was the very warm arm that was draped lazily across your waist, and the heat that radiated off of whoever’s broad chest that was behind you. This isn’t right. Your eyes were too heavy with the hangover that was flooding your system to open, but you managed to force your body to turn over. You were pretty sure you were giving molasses on a cold day a run for its money with how slow you shifted your weight, finally facing the sleeping person after what felt like eons. Who the fuck is in my bed?

You swam through your memories from last night, your eyes darting behind your eyelids in panic as you couldn’t remember anything past Thor helping you to your room. Oh shit. Thor is in my bed?! You brought your shaking hands up to his chest. Wait. Hardly any chest hair. Doesn’t Thor have some? You cursed internally, not having seen most of the guys shirtless in well over three years so you couldn’t actually guess. You were going to have to just deal with the budding migraine and open your damn eyes. Sunlight be damned.

You went into cardiac arrest the minute you cracked an eye open to find Steve-Fucking-God-Damn-Captain America-Rogers sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of how his flexing arm was pulling you into him closer. This had to be a dream.

“Um….Steve?” You whispered, poking the sleeping soldier hard with your index finger, a small huff from the man who was violating your space being the only response you were given. “Steve, wake the HELL up!” A sleepy smile graced his features, the blonde snuggling you closer and putting both arms around you.

“I’m having that dream again.” Your body fully awoke at his soft statement, and you almost wanted to let him sleep, thinking it really sweet that you had plagued his sleep as much as he had yours over the time you had spent apart. “You’re so perfect. Y/N.” A beam of a smile swept over your features, allowing your hands to remain on his chest and resting your head against it, taking him in and hearing his heartbeat. This felt amazing. It just felt right.

That ended within five seconds of his large hands dropping from your waist, roughly latching onto your ass. The not polite and none too subtle squeeze of his digits into your soft flesh set you promptly the fuck off.

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You voice was shrill as you let out your loud screech. Your heart threatened to burst from its cavity as you pushed him hard, the good Captain jerking his eyes awake with a groan and staring down into your pissed off facial features.

“OH SHIT!” Steve launched himself off your bed and onto the hard floor with a loud thud, his eyes adjusting to the room and realizing he was in fact, not in his bedroom like he had thought previously the evening before when he drunkenly forced his way into it. “Y/N I can explain…”

“I DON’T WANT AN EXPLANATION, I WANT YOU OUT!” You cried, grabbing your pillows and throwing them in an assault on the equally hungover, but not quite awake blonde man, him scrambling to his feet and running a hand over his face.

“Doll I didn’t mean…”

“Rogers if you are not out of my room in the next FIVE seconds I will start screaming for Tony.” You handed him the ultimatum with clenched teeth, the target of your frustration chuckling nervously as he gave a timid nod.

“I’ll go but I want you to know something.” Your left eye twitched at the nerve of this man. Coming into YOUR room while you were asleep, and CUDDLING with you?! That you could deal with just fine. Quite willingly, actually. But you would NOT stand for being groped in your bed, no matter how much you had craved his hands on you before. It wasn’t right, and you were not an easy piece of ass. Not to mention the initial shock of him even being in your bed, shirtless, was enough to freak you out. What if you two had done something? Your mind was reeling at the thought. There is no way you would have and not remembered. “I’m not sorry.”

Your ears were burning, much like the rest of your face as you sputtered, “W….What?”

He sighed, blonde hair falling in his face. His blue eyes held a sense of insecurity in them as he stared at your figure, his own breath caught as you appeared to look breathless yourself. “Waking up next to you is something I never thought I’d get to do again, so regardless of the how,” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before he forced it away, “I am not going to apologize for finally getting to hold you while we slept in a bed instead of a couch. I won’t apologize for having the best night of sleep I’ve had in years because for a moment it felt right having you in my arms. Not once. Not ever. I’m not sorry.”

You sat, staring at him slack jawed as he turned his back and simply walked out of your room.

Kate’s number was punched into your phone without you looking, you nearly in tears as she happily answered. “Hey beautiful! You finally get some super dick last night?”

“Kate I think I fucked up. Big time.” Your conversation was muted through the door, Steve leaning against it with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had the night on repeat in his brain, trying to gauge if he had done anything unforgivable in his drunken slumber. Not counting this morning of course. He had honest to god thought it was a dream, believing whole heartedly that your frame laying next to his was nothing more than a ghost. A vision he never got to see come true. He never would have reacted that way if he had known the truth. Steve Rogers was NOT that guy. He could sense the panic in your voice an assumed you had no idea what had happened after you had gotten to your room. Rightly so he’d imagine, with all of the drinks you had consumed. He knew you weren’t really mad at him, but all he could do was give you space. He turned his head to the right, seeing Nat’s door open. A very guilty looking James Barnes emerged, his eyes wide as if Steve had grown a third head when he looked to see the man sharing the hallway with him. Steve grinned, arms crossing over his shoulders.

“Good morning pal. Sleep well?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Punk.” The former man shook his head, his face changing into one of sadness as he tried to make out your nervous and upset sentences from between layers of wood. “Damn. Tell me on the way to breakfast?”

The two began their walk of shame towards the kitchen, filling each other in on what exactly had and hadn’t happened the night prior. You hung up with Kate, dragging your body out of bed, figuring out how (with the help from Kate of course) you would let the man who you had kicked out know you would never be doing that again.

~~After Breakfast~~

“Jesus I thought it was hot before.” Sam muttered, Bucky and Steve both nodding dumbly in agreement as they watched from the large window overlooking the expansive patch of green grass outside the compound. Nat, Pepper, and now Carol Danvers, who had brought a very adorable kid by the name of Peter Parker to the compound to ask Tony some very important questions about upgrades to his suit, had taken to sunbathing. In bikinis.

“You gonna be alright when Y/N comes out in a few?” Bucky side eyed his oldest friend, the man glaring at him as he lightly shoved his non flesh arm. “Or are we gonna have to put you back on ice to cool down?”

“I’ll be just…” His voice died in the back of his throat as he saw your figure step out onto the lawn in your very curve fitting blue bikini.

His ragged breath betrayed him to his two friends, his eyes glued to the sway of your hips barely covered in the fabric. He had to advert his gaze, but only for a second when you bent over at the waist, gladly accepting the glass of sweet tea Pepper held out for you from her chair. The curve of your backside, the very same one he had managed to literally snag handfuls of this morning taunted him as you chose to lay down on your stomach on your own lawn chair, unaware of his heated stare. When Tony lightly misted your beautiful frame with tanning oil, your body jerking at the sudden coolness he felt his throat go bone dry. This just wasn’t fair.

“You were saying Rogers?” Sam chuckled at Steve’s sudden silence, the super soldier hearing nothing but his own blood pounding in his ears. “Can’t say I blame ya though, Princess Peach is looking particularly ripe and juicy today. Right Barnes?”

The brunette gave an appreciative whistle, “Very true Wilson, I agree.” His eyes weren’t looking at you though, they were gawking at a certain red head’s tight black bikini clad body. The three men collectively groaned as Tony ruined their perving session, outing them to the four women, who in turn sat up and stared disappointedly. Your scowl turned into a smirk when the two of you locked eyes. Well shit. “I guess we better start working on our apologies fellas.”

“That requires us to feel guilty first.” Sam shot out, none of them paying attention to Peter as he rushed outside with a new pitcher of tea for the ladies. They didn’t miss Pepper barely missing Tony’s face with her palm when he attempted to untie the string holding up her bikini top on her neck. At least he would be in the dog house with them. “Let’s go, Stark is outnumbered and unarmed, time to level the playing field.”

“What are we playing?” Thor asked, sidling up to the trio who began their trek to the large door that lead outside, Sam starting to take off his shirt.

“We’re setting a thirst trap Blondie, beating the women at their own game.” He tossed his shirt carelessly to the side, the other three quickly understanding and stripping themselves of their tops. “Now act like you aren’t sorry for getting caught Rogers. Y/N has already led on she can barely restrain herself around you. She told me she feels awful for kicking you out of her bed this morning. Just turn on the charm and she’ll be on you like a koala bear.”

“Easy for you to say Sam, you didn’t shamelessly grab her ass this morning because you thought you were dreaming.” The door opened and instantly Steve wanted to crawl back into the less sticky air of the compound living room.

“True, but did she once tell you to stop?” Before he could respond to his friends query, you had taken the chance at straddling your chair, your eyes glazing over at the sight of the shirtless men as they walked, no strutted into your field of vision. Sweet Jesus three years had passed and they only managed to look even more delicious. Aged like fine wine. Steve’s abs had beads of sweat clinging to them, and you would kill to have been the reason for them instead of the hot as balls weather. He was beautiful, strong shoulders and those powerful arms you had woken up in almost daring you to wind yourself back into them. You bit your lower lip as he imitated your previous smirk with ease. This just wasn’t fair.

“Good afternoon ladies, fine weather we’re having huh?” Bucky said cheerfully, the four women sending him a mixture of mock glares and middle fingers. “Wow why the hostility?”

“You were gawking at us earlier, sorry if we aren’t happy to see you.” Carol’s voice was plain and flat, the winter soldier’s smile only widening at Nat’s eyes sweeping over him the same way he had done to her just moment before stepping outside.

“That isn’t stopping you from staring at us now, is it?” He retorted.

Carol huffed, turning to stare at the fabric of her chair instead of the four shirtless gods. Peter looked confused but chose to say nothing. Tony just chuckled at the double standard of it all. You crossed your arms under your chest, trying to keep your knowing smile at bay when Steve’s gaze dropped to your assets as they were gently lifted in your bikini top. “My eyes are up here Cap.”

“Wasn’t looking at em Doll.” Steve offered lowly, your body heating up as he brazenly continued his visual appraisal of your figure. It was like all of the blood in your body had turned into liquid fire, and you barely contained a shiver as he moved to place his hands on either side of your chair, giving you flash backs to when he had dropped you on the couch a couple of nights previously.

“Well at least you’re honest.” You whispered, swallowing as he leaned down, face in front of yours, his expression dark and god damn he was going to pay dearly for all of this teasing later. “Something on your mind Rogers?” You cooed.

“I thought I warned you about your shorts getting any shorter Sweetheart.” His voice had come out as a deep growl, the rumble from his chest making your head spin and you went to grip the metal frame of the chair in response to his seductive statement. With every word you were beginning to kick yourself even harder for not jumping his ass this morning. “Might just have to teach you a lesson about what happens when you don’t listen.”

“That a threat? Or a promise?” You whispered back, eyes never leaving his.

Tony’s gagging sounds in the background reminded the two of you that you weren’t alone.

“Seriously you two, go get a fucking room already. I think m’gonna be sick.” You rolled your eyes at your dramatic cousin in law, Peter stifling a laugh at the absurdity of his mentor’s exaggerated heaving motions. Steve leaned up from the chair, shaking his head and sitting his fine ass down on the grass.

“So, how are we going to beat this heat Mister Stark?” Peter’s question stopped the older man’s performance, Tony standing up straight and looking at his nails.

“Any bright ideas Y/N?”

You already had six by the end of breakfast.

~~Later~~

“Y/N, you are an absolute GENIUS!” Nat exclaimed happily on your right, you looking at your masterpiece of the weekend. A couple of tarps, some bungee cords and a garden hose later you had turned the bed of your truck into a redneck pool.

“Yea Short Stack, amazing job. Now move over.” You stared at your cousin as if he was crazy, Tony taking a small step backwards. “I mean…ladies first?”

“Better. You heard the man, ladies.” The four of you hurriedly climbed into the truck bed, happy sighs of contentment leaving your mouths as you sunk into the cooling liquid. The plastic from the tarp was something you’d have to get used to feeling on your skin, but otherwise you were in complete bliss. The men looked upset as they realized there was really only enough room for one more body. “Now who are we gonna let join us?”

“Well it’s my tarp.” Tony started.

“But you’ve been an asshole all weekend, Stark.” Sam cut in.

“I’d like to nominate myself, as I am the best looking male here.” Bucky added, the women laughing and forcing the man to pout.

“I think you need to get your eyes checked Pal.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m not going to suggest any one of us, it’s entirely up to you goddesses to decide.” Thor smiled warmly at you, your heart melting only slightly. “But I might add that Bruce would not be a suitable option if you want your truck to remain intact.”

“Yea where is Banner?” Nat asked, and everyone in the group looked wrecked with guilt, having not seen the giant man since earlier that morning. “Seriously? How did we lose Bruce?”

“I’m sure he’s somewhere,” You waved away the worry, putting your eyes on Peter who stood staring at his feet. “Parker, you’re in.”

The excited teen didn’t need to be told a second time, scrambling up into the back of the truck with all the gusto raging hormones could buy. He smiled brightly, muttering “Thank you” and “You guys are so nice” repeatedly as he sat on the edge, plunging his feet into the soothing water.

“Fine. I see how it is. We’ll just make our own club and you won’t be invited!” Tony huffed, crossing his arms like a toddler and pouting. It fell on deaf ears, the five of you in the truck paying him no mind as you started splashing at each other. “Let’s go guys.”

The time flew by as you enjoyed your friend’s company, and you quickly had taken a major liking to Peter. He was like a younger brother, super sweet and engaging, and quite the amazing listener. You were a bit put off at first hearing just how he knew the team, feeling the need to protect him as he recalled stories of the battles he had been a part of. Especially during the accords situation. You heart pounded with concern as he told you about Thanos, and all of the features on his suit Tony had made him. You’d never tell but you were more than relieved to hear of the “instant kill” function your cousin had put into it.  

“Well we might as well let the guys have a turn now that we’re legit becoming prunes.” Carol conceded, the rest of you agreeing and standing up from the water. It was still stupid hot outside, and truthfully you were feeling a bit bad at not allowing the guys to join you earlier. Or at the very least take turns.

“I’m thirsty, someone come with me to get some drinks from the kitchen?” You inquired, stretching your limbs before beginning your descent out of the back of your vehicle.

“I’ll go with you miss Y/N!” Peter piped up, clamoring after you. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness to accompany you, suspecting that being someone new meant for new conversations. You’d never been happier to have your ear talked off before, but this kid was easily becoming your favorite.

“Huh, that’s weird. They aren’t in here.” Your statement came out confused upon entering the empty living room area, the fans and coolers mostly missing. “Where the hell did they all go?”

“Shh miss Y/N, you hear that?” Your eyes met Peter’s and he motioned towards the kitchen, where you could hear the faint deep laughter of Steve and Thor. Tiptoeing into the large kitchen, you were once again met with an empty room, your expression puzzled when you looked back at the teen who shrugged. “I know we heard…look!”

He moved to look at the small sign that was haphazardly taped to the large door leading to the walk in freezer of the compound, the messy writing no doubt the byproduct of your cousin.

“He-Man-Woman-Hater-Freezer. How original.” You let out an exasperated sigh at the lengths these childish men would go to. “They’ll get over it.”

You threw the door open to see the small group of men sitting among the floor of the freezer, Tony and Sam wearing a few more layers of clothes, the rest of the inhabits still shirtless and looking super pleased with themselves.

“Hey Short Stack can’t you read?!” Tony glared at you, Steve unable to keep his eyes in his head at your figure gracing his presence again. “You aren’t welcome here! Be gone! Before someone drops a house on you!”

“Stop being so damn dramatic Snark, we were just wondering where you went off to. We’ve decided to let you all take a dip in the pool I built, if any of you were still interested.”

“Well thanks but we don’t need your second rate pool…” Tony began, looking betrayed shortly after as Sam and Thor moved to join you. “What the fuck guys?”

“Hey, watch your damn mouth! There’s a teenager here!” You retorted in mock shock, moving to cover Peter’s ears who only laughed lightly. “Did you find Bruce?”

“Obviously not. Do you see him in here?” Sam asked, squeezing past you to take off his clothing in preparation to heading back into the heat wave. “I bet ten bucks he chickened out and ran off to find a/c.”

“You owe me ten bucks then Wilson.” The familiar voice of Bruce Banner boomed through the freezer, and all of your eyes came to rest upon a rather large pile of bagged and frozen vegetables. A large grin broke your face as you noticed an out of place green toe sticking out from under a bag of broccoli. “Also, you guys smell horrible. Make sure you shower before you taint Y/N’s hard work with your nasty man stench.”

“Thank you, but I’m sooooo calling you Jolly Green Giant from now on.” Laughter rose out of you when the man moved the container of carrots off his eyes to narrow them at you, you batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Alright well I don’t know about you suckers but I’m gonna go get in that pool!” Sam brought everyone back to earth, the rest of the guys clearing out and following Parker out to the grounds. Your hand went to grab Steve’s wrist, tugging him in the opposite direction once Tony was out of your sights, dragging the man with you until you were both standing in front of the door that led to your room.

“Somethin on your mind Y/N?” His voice was soft as you tried to steel your nerves, your pulse erratic. You had talked with Kate about what you were going to say when you finally got this beautiful man alone, but now that the moment was here you were back to being the uncertain mess you had been all weekend. “Sweetheart? You’re making me nervous here.”

Seeing the same insecurity in his stunning blue eyes that made your heart hurt when you kicked him out of your room that morning pushed all of your words out the nearest window.

“Oh screw it.” You admonished, quickly putting your arms around his neck and pulling Steve’s lips to yours. He was quick to the jump, arms wrapping around you and walking you backwards until you were against your door, smiling into the kiss and making your knees weak. You pushed all of your emotions into it, the years of longing and passion bruising both of your lips as he deepened the kiss, returning the mutual feelings with a reckless abandon. Kissing him was everything you had been dreaming over the years, his lips pillow soft as they nipped at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to meet yours in a languid dance. It was perfect, he was perfect.

A deep groan fell out from his throat when he detached his mouth from yours, moving along your jaw line and peppering kisses along the column of your neck. “Doll you are going to be the death of me.” You moaned at his hot whisper against your skin, feeling him smirk into your shoulder. You couldn’t agree with him more.

“We don’t have much time before I have to help Pepper with dinner. Maybe an hour, hour and a half tops.” You got out heatedly as he continued his assault on your neck, hands moving across your body and leaving a searing fire in their absence.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.” He growled, pulling on the handle behind you and pushing you through the door, your giggles fading into moans as he kicked it shut behind him.

Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @chrisevansfanfic @yesno18 @zsuzstyina @zombiepotterfour @evanstush

[theworldofotps]

Night At The Club

This is all mainly written by @new-zealand-chic I simply edited it and spruced it up a bit as well as write the last few lines. She’s allowing me to post it on my page for you all!! __________ Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader Word Count:1,653 Description: After saving you from a jerk in the club Finn and you go out and dance where things get a little heated. __________ Tag list: @writtingrose @biforbecky2belts @biforrollynch @sjwrites22 @detectiveramen @sassymox @trent7thirsting @the-beastslayers-queen @thewrestlingwarehouse @new-zealand-chic @reigns420 @sassyspacedust @burnitbalor @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xladyxfatex If you wanna be added to the tag list lemme know! __________ You certainly weren't one of those girls that are seen in hip hop videos but seeing all your girlfriends dancing on the floor you felt a little left out. Should you give in to peer pressure and joined them? After all how hard could it be? Everyone seemed to be having too much fun in their own worlds to notice what others were doing move wise. So if you were going to make a fool of yourself who would see and with all the open bottles and re-filling of glasses who'd remember anyway? You tossed back a shot of liquid courage left on your table psyching yourself up and venturing out. Y/bff/n delighted to see you grabbed your arm and pulled you into a dancing circle. It was basically just jumping up and down laughing while waving your arms around and occasionally swaying your hips. 

You were having so much fun you didn't notice the crowd had swallowed you up and separated you from your friends. It wasn't until a pair of hands grabbed you from behind you turned and noticed how lost you were. The guy standing behind you looked at you up and down undressing you with his eyes and smiled you felt an uneasy sense of danger as he licked his lips. You decided it was time to move on before it was too late. The guy had other ideas as he grabbed your arm harder almost hurting you. He tried to pull you closer but you fought to keep him at arm's length. This was not what you wanted. Panic crept in as you looked for help from your friends or anyone you could find. Screaming wasn't going to help the music was way too loud, this guy wasn't getting your hints and no apparently wasn't an answer he was gonna accept. You thought about attacking him a simple slap to the face or stepping on his foot might distract him enough for you to run away but he was clearly bigger and stronger than you so you worried. Would your tactics even work? It was worth a shot you had to try something anything at this point. You decided it had to be something drastic and fast your heart beating as fast as the bass of music playing. Almost in slow motion you raised your knee and as hard and powerful as you could, you force your knee into his groin area and ran. Not looking back you pushed your way through the crowd not looking where you were going you just had to break out. You felt another arm grab you from out of nowhere pulling you towards them and thought for a brief second you were done for, that your captor had found you. You raised your fits to attack and as you were pulled into someone's chest.

"Easy there love." 

The calm soothing voice spoke softly in your ear that accent you'd know anywhere. You looked up and saw the sharp blue sparkling eyes of your co-worker Finn. Seeing you clearly shaken Finn wraps his arms around you and hugged you tightly to him. His perfectly muscular body pressed close to yours, you couldn't help but breath in his cologne. It was a sharp woodsy scent that calms you it was such a nice change from the brute who held you before. You rested your head against his shoulder the cool feel of his silk shirt began cooling your flushed face. You and Finn walked back to your table of friends which had now grown in size since Finn and some of the boys joined. Your friends were so happy to see you grabbed and hugged you apologizing for losing you. You felt relieved to be back and safe thankful Finn had been there to rescue you when he was.

"Well, that's an experience I'm never doing again."

You announced taking a large drink of anything you could find.

"First time on a dance floor and I'm almost attacked and assaulted." 

You slammed the glass down making a face the drink was strong may be too strong.

"Ahhh they're not all that bad y/n."

 One of the girls sighed giving you a slightly drunk smile.

"You just got unlucky don't let that guy spoil your night..."

"Besides we're here now.”

 Y/bff/n interrupts resting her hand on your shoulder.

"No one will mess with us especially with all the guys here right?"

All the boys nodded in agreement they wouldn't let anyone mess with you, but you weren't going out there again. The girls later in the night disappeared onto the floor once again not wanting to pressure you. Despite the fact you'd had a few drinks more than you probably should have you weren't brave enough to go out, instead you move closer to Finn. Soon it was just you and him sitting at the table, the boy ether dancing or checking out the local lineup of girls available. Finn stretched his arms out more across the back to the leather booth squeezing your shoulder to get your attention.

"Yeah, ya don't need to be out there." 

He smiled over at you with a shrug. 

"The dancin ain't all that fun, to begin with."

You looked back at him sighing as you glanced at the dance floor.

"I was having fun till I got in trouble with that dickhead."

"So go back out there then."

He motioned flicking his eyebrows upwards, you quickly shook your head no grabbing the table for dear life like a child too scared to go on an amusement park ride. Finn just laughed taking a drink shaking his head.

 "Yer right the music's crap anyway."

You listened intently to the sound and soon enough you could make out the sound of a familiar track one of your go-to songs on your playlist. Finn watched you constantly as you slowly shifted in your seat to the sound of the Latin guitar strumming and infectious sound as you tapped your hand on the table in time to the music. You weren't going to admit it but in your room alone you did like to move round in time to the song.

"If I go out with ya will you be happy?" 

Finn questioned finishing off his beer setting the empty bottle on the table.

"Because it's clear yer not gonna sit still till you get the beat out of your head."

"You mean you and me dance?" 

You asked eyes slightly wide he stood up and held his hand out to you.

"I just can't promise I'm any good." 

Finn announced with a chuckle as you slip your hand into his, he leads you to the floor keeping a tight hold of your hand. Once in an area, you could move comfortably he twirled you round to face him you almost laughed out loud. He was right he wasn't good at dancing not in the slightest but at least he was trying. You salsa stepped in time with the beat trying not to step on each other's feet. Holding hands at shoulder height to help you move along. Your head clearly a little fuzzy from all the alcohol in your system you thought of taking a risk, after all, it was Finn he wasn't gonna try anything and you always wanted to move as they did in the movies. You wrapped your arms around Finn's neck and swayed your hips closer to him looking into his eyes smiling. 

He slid his hands down your back resting them just on the top of your ass rocking with you. You began to get a little more adventurous as you turned your back to his front. You could feel him breathing heavily on your neck as he moved closer his head slowly down to rest his chin to your shoulder. He ran his hands up and down your sides causing you to close your eyes and a small moan slip from your lips when the drift back squeezing your ass slightly. You both swayed in time to the music the beat easy to keep in time with. You stepped away and turned to him as he grabs your arm pulling you tightly towards him. Finn's hand on the small of your back to your shock he leaned in slowly as if to kiss you but instead he dips you back swaying you slowly left to right. 

A small smirk leaving his lips catching you off guard you were putty in his hands The tension undeniable and the actions of consuming too much alcohol was taking hold. All your inabusions were clearly gone out of the window as you were relaxed. You snake one of your legs in between his rubbing your knee against his crotch and he almost drops you as you catch him off guard right back. You smile back at him licking your lips with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Clearly, you two were both playing games and sending signals the other was picking upon. 

"Wanna come back to my place?"

He whispers in your ear after pulling you back into his chest nodding you say goodbye to your friends. His hand holding yours tightly when you get outside to wait for your uber, the cool air helps clear your head a little. Finn looks at you gently pressing his lips to yours.

"Are ya sure you wanna do this darlin? I don't want to force ya into anything if you're not a hundred percent sure."

"Finn, I've never been surer of anything in my entire life in case you hadn't noticed I don't let just any guy kiss me." 

You smile softly stroking his cheek Finn grins pressing a kiss to your forehead when the Uber pulls up. 

"I promise ya darlin we'll talk about all of this in the morning but tonight let's just enjoy ourselves."  

[jo2ukes]

Hello! I’m hildahilda from tumblr and I saw you taking prompt requests for 50 ways to love your partner (which has become one of my fave dmileth fics). May I suggest... Dimitri and Byleth debating/arguing over political concerns or having long horse rides together? Just getting these ideas from their paired ending lol. Thank you!

HELLO LOVELY!!! Aaa your comments are always so sweet i always look forward to reading what you have to say slkdfjslkd  thank u for requesting smth ilysm~

I’m SO SORRY this took so long - I’ve been working on it off and on, but I slacked off too much at work last week so things kind of blew up and I’ve been living off of energy drinks. THAT BEING SAID, this is for YOU!!! I’m gonna upload to ao3 later as well, just not rn bc I’m at work lol :-)

spoilers for like. post game and blue lions stuff, though i tried to be pretty vague!

It was never typical for diplomatic meetings to go smoothly. Not that Dimitri is naïve enough to expect them to be easy. Even in times of peace, there are always areas for improvement. Dissatisfactions to be addressed. Relationships to maintain. Something about having his work cut out for him makes these meetings easier – though solving the issues are certainly more time consuming. Uniting Fódlan has been no small undertaking and he is grateful for all the assistance he receives from his friends. He is painfully aware that destruction is his forte – his hands and mind have only recently been converted to the goal of healing and restoration. To lead, you have to be able to both destroy and create, Byleth has told him. She’s right. United Fódlan and the relative peace they have now wouldn’t exist had he not destroyed Edelgarde and her dissenting Imperial forces. While the beast in him once relished in the idea of putting an end to El’s machinations, taking her life was one of the most painful trials he’s had to endure. The perspective motivates him. Encourages him to listen to his people and create a world where no destruction is needed, where no one is unjustly taken.

 He constantly reminds himself of this goal. It makes the sleepless nights worth it.

 The current roundtable has gone on for hours at least – Ferdinand, Lorenz, Byleth, Seteth and a handful of other nobles – mostly from former Faerghus territories – are in attendance. Unofficially, Ferdinand speaks for nobles of former Imperial territories, while Lorenz speaks for former Alliance territories. They’ve been instrumental in the restructuring efforts. While the three of them were not particularly close before, Dimitri counts them among his close friends now.

 “I hate to mention it on top of everything else,” Ferdinand bites his lip, “but there’s one last item I feel needs to be addressed before we adjourn. We’ve had trouble with the Western Church in the Aegir territory. We’ve repelled a few initial attacks. At first we thought it was bandits, but… well, we’ve confirmed the worst. Normally, my pride would never allow asking for assistance, but with our resources and attention spread out as it is, namely correcting my father’s corruption, I’m not sure this is a matter I can handle solely on my own. I don’t want to cause any more chaos in my territory than need be.”

 “You are correct to bring it up,” Dimitri says, furrowing his brow. “Aegir territory is a long way to go to cause trouble.”

 “If the Western Church is mobilizing again, it will certainly affect the trade routes we’ve established,” Lorenz observes. “The few merchants that can afford to travel certainly can’t afford losses to their inventory or company. Our trade routes are the most vulnerable. As former Imperial lands are in the most chaos, what with the complete restructuring needed post-war., it makes sense the Western Church, whatever their goals may be, would seek to cause disruptions there. If we truly seek to provide aid and maintain good relations with the nobles in the south, surely this conflict requires more attention. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looks back at Ferdinand.

 “Respectfully, yes,” Ferdinand nods solemnly. “Though, I understand the Central and Western Churches have their summit planned later this month, which surely makes matters precarious.”

 Eyes turn to Byleth and Seteth.

 “You are correct,” Seteth nods, addressing the nobles. “We are aware certain sects of the Western Church are mobilizing, though we had not heard of any activity in the Aegir territory. You can trust the matter will be dealt with. Her Grace has asked that I lead a fraction of the Knights of Seiros to investigate these disturbances while she attends the summit later this month. Ashe wrote to us several weeks ago, disclosing Western Church movements in the Gaspard territory once again. Since then, we’ve been keeping a watchful eye.”

 “How watchful, if they are mobilizing in areas you are not aware of?” Lorenz asks. “Your Grace, your Highness, I know the Church is quite busy with restructuring efforts, but perhaps it would be wise to focus more resources in this area.” He taps his upper lip thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we sent forces that were not affiliated with the Church it wouldn’t complicate things at the summit. The Western Church can feel safe in trusting the Central Church, and the people can feel safe that something is being done about these attacks.”

 “I agree,” Dimitri hums after a beat. “Very well. Seteth, I want you to take some of Fhirdiad’s knights with you. As things are a little more stable in the capital than anywhere else, it is less of a burden on our resources. Ingrid and her company should be available, I believe. I’ll send word they’re to accompany you back to the monastery. I’ll want to be kept in the loop, of course.”

 “With all due respect, your Majesty,” Byleth says, clearing her throat, and breaking her silence, “this is a Church affair. While I appreciate your offer for assistance, we must decline.”

 “On the contrary,” Dimitri shakes his head, “It stopped being a Church affair when it started threatening to plunge all of United Fódlan into another war, your Grace. These are not random attacks, they seem rather targeted.”

 “The Western Church simply does not have the resources or manpower to launch a full-scale war,” she shakes her head. “I do not believe that is their intention this time. They’re recovering just the same as the rest of Fódlan. If you’ll remember, the last time the Western Church created conflicts, there was a larger power at play. As relations with the Western Church are already delicate at best, I’d ask that you let us investigate internally first, at least until the summit has concluded. A month’s time, that’s all I’m asking.”

 “It is not that I distrust your ability to manage your own, I simply wish to prevent further harm to the already suffering villages.”

 “I understand your concern, your Highness. My wishes are the same,” she straightens her back, looking him square in the eye. She looks truly regal and imposing. For a moment Dimitri thinks it’s a shame the others get to observe her in her authoritative splendor, that it’s not a look only he can witness. But the thought only lasts a moment – he’s more than familiar with that determined glint in her eye. He’s in for a fight.

 “However,” she continues, “I cannot hope to restore faith in the Church if we are constantly shown to be unable to handle our own. Say what you will, but Edelgarde’s war has damaged the Church’s reputation, strengthened seeds of distrust. Whether that distrust was well-placed or not is of no consequence. The reputation of the Church must be restored. Through transparency, through rooting out corruption and self-serving officials, so be it, but it must be handled by the Church. We’ve only just concluded a war built on that same distrust – what message would it send if the King had to step in? How would that offer any reassurance to the people that things are different?”

 “You suggest, then, that the people will be more willing to accept the Church should be allowed to continue to govern its own?” he asks, folding his arms.

 “I’m suggesting we be given a chance to prove ourselves. If the leaders cannot trust the Church, the people cannot hope to hold the same faith.”

 “It is a risk,” Ferdinand interjects, “but I believe Her Grace has a point. Restoring faith in the Church should be a priority, and that task begins with our actions here.”

 Lorenz and Seteth both begin to speak, but whatever they start to say is lost to Dimitri and he focuses on his wife’s voice, rising above the others. When she and Dimitri disagree on topics, the others in the room cease to exist to the two of them. While they do not always agree, he trusts her above all else. He respects and values her opinion, as she has led him down the right path time and time again.

 “Rather than bandaging a severed limb,” Byleth continues, “We should treat the root of the problem. I believe this is not the Western Church, but some unnamed force. Without revealing too much of my own hand, I have reason to believe Edelgarde’s… unsavory allies may have resurfaced.”

 “Is this truly information that should be held by the Church alone?”

 “For the time being, yes,” Byleth nods. “As you said, we do not want to cause further damage to those that are already suffering. Mobilizing too early may do just that. Again, a month is all I ask.”

 “If Ingrid and her company were instead mobilized to the Aegir territory to assist in repelling potential attacks in the meantime, would that be sufficient?” Dimitri asks. It’s more of a thought than a command. He’s willing to let Byleth win this round as he can’t begin to fathom some of the complications that come with running the Church. He takes an interest, supporting her how he can. In private, she tells him of her duties and concerns – an odd topic of conversation for pillow talk, but he likes that she trusts him with some of her burdens and worries, as she’s helped him shoulder his own for so long.

 His main goal is to protect the people. Byleth has always been better at keeping her attention toward the future, while his attention is usually focused on the short term. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons their compromises work so well. Sending troops to assist Ferdinand would fulfill his intention of keeping the villagers safe, at least until the end of the summit. Not to mention, the increase in feelings of unity.

“I have no qualms with that solution,” Byleth says, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

 “We would be grateful for your assistance,” Ferdinand addresses Dimitri, giving a slight bow of his head. “I’m humbled, your Majesty.”

 “It’s settled then. I will pass word along to Ingrid,” he scribbles a note for himself. “In the meantime, perhaps we should adjourn for the evening?”

 A collective sigh of relief seems to spread throughout the hall. The various lords stand, bowing to Dimitri before exiting, ready to rest and enjoy the few hours of downtime they have before meetings resume again the next morning, servants coming to escort them to their various rooms. Ferdinand and Lorenz excuse themselves as well, familiar enough with the castle they feel comfortable roaming the halls without guidance.

 Once the room is empty, Dimitri turns to his wife who stands behind him.

 “I thought that went rather well,” he says, offering his hand. She takes it. “Though the Archbishop seems quite determined to give me a hard time,” he jokes. She squeezes his hand gently.

 “You’ll have to forgive her, your Majesty. I hear she’s rather stubborn,” she smiles up at him before standing on her tiptoes and placing a kiss on his cheek.

 “If that is official guidance from my Queen, I suppose I shall take it under advisement,” he laughs. The two of them walk hand in hand through the corridors. “You’re sure the investigation into the Western Church won’t be difficult for you, beloved? I worry about your safety.”

 “I can’t promise the investigation won’t come without dangers,” she replies truthfully, “but I will exercise caution. I have Seteth watching out for me.” She sighs, her mood immediately lightening, “At any rate, that’s enough talk of politics and official business. I asked Cyril to saddle the horses before sundown. If I haven’t been too stubborn, perhaps you’d like to join me?”

 “I’m quite fond of your stubbornness, you know,” he smiles, letting her lead the way to the stables.

 “I know,” she laughs.

[mercifuldeaths]

Vertigo: Chapter 10: Salt

Vertigo: Chapter 10

Salt

Jim Mason x Reader

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of drug addiction and withdrawal. Drug induced psychosis depicted. 

Summary: Reality finally crashes down on Jim. He can’t cope any longer.

Notes: Sorry for the long break, everyone! I really didn’t think they you had too much of an interest in this story anymore but I’ll put more focus on it if you would like. This is a rough chapter and deals with some pretty heavy subject matter so I would look at the warnings just to make sure that you understand exactly what Jim might be going through-because it is kind of ambiguous, but mental illness is a subject that is touched on. As always, let me know what you think. Thank you so much for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 4.7K

Gif credit: (Unfortunately, I can’t find the source of this beautiful gif. If anyone knows, please tell me and I’ll credit them straight away.)

It had been a few hours since Medina’s call, Y/N used her time wisely before she headed over. She had taken a few hits of a joint--just to take the edge off, but it did nothing to help the anxiety that consumed her from the inside.

Considering how many hours she let pass, it could almost be considered the next day, how many hours she held onto for herself? For him.

The Mason’s house had been illuminated in the breaking sun over the cliffs of Palos Verdes, setting in an orange glow. Jim met her at the front door, he was leaning against the frame--a pitiful attempt to appear casual. He looked sober—but the small shakes in his fingers, his darting eyes gave it away. He looked...sad. That’s how she could tell. Jim always looked sad—he wore a veil of deep melancholy in every moment, but this was different. This resembled a chasm. It made him look ill, but he was still beautiful.

Jim was an exposed nerve, open to everything around him. He could feel the anxiety radiating from Y/N as she approached the house. He saw her tentative steps, careful movements, and he hated himself for having that effect on her. Because that’s all he did to her. Made her shrink, made her small.

He suggested a walk, unsure of how everything was going to go, of how the conversation was going to pan out. They walked in tandem on the beach, each contemplating their plan in mind, but unsure of how to execute--or even if they could.

Jim brushed his bruised knuckles against hers, feeling the smooth texture reminded him of all the damage he had done--all the pain he had created. Y/N took his fingers in hers, threading them together, but unable to meet his eyes. She couldn’t look at him whatever it was from disgust or reluctance...she couldn’t tell

“Can we sit?” she asked, looking to him finally. “I’m just...really tired.” Jim could see that she was, her drawn face being the clue. Along with her downcast eyes and slow movements he could tell that she hadn’t been sleeping well. Too occupied with him no doubt.

“Me too,” he whispered and followed her to one of the driftwood logs that sat on the shore, far enough from the water to still be dry. In silence, she looked out to the water in the bay. There were no surfers. There were no waves.

“I don’t know where to start, but I’m so sorry and I know that’s not enough, but-” Jim rushed his words out unsure of what he was even saying because his mind had been running in circles since saying those things to her the previous night.

“Jim,” she whispered. Not Jimmy. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

He looked at her, head tilted, brows pinched. “What?”

“I’m just-- I’ve just been thinking,” she started, but she hesitated, unsure of where she was going or even what she was doing. “I’m just tired.”

Jim’s stomach dropped and he felt the tightness in his chest restrict his breath. “I know there’s nothing I can do to make up for that, for the things I said. But you have to know that I didn’t mean any of them.” He looked to her, shifting his weight to angle himself toward her. She had to stop herself from turning, too. “They aren’t true. Nothing I said was true. It was the withdrawal, it wasn’t me.”

“You see, Jim?” she said a bit louder, trying to stop herself from lashing out. She didn’t want things to get uglier than they were. “That’s it though. It’s never you. It’s always the pills or the liquor of the withdrawal or something. That was you in there. You said those things,” she spoke with a tight jaw, through gritted teeth. “You said them…”

“But it wasn’t me, Y/N. It wasn’t me.” His head shook and fell into his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

  “And that’s why things have to be like this, now.”

��Like what?” He looked to her, eyes rimmed red from his meltdown earlier but he didn’t have anything left to give, no more tears, no more energy. Drained. His heart thrummed despite the crushing exhaustion weighing on his chest.

“I don’t know. I just...can’t do this...right now,” she breathed out and met his gaze. “I’m so fucking tired, Jimmy.” She winced when she heard the nickname slip out. An indescribable emotion flickered across his face but it was gone as fast as it had appeared.

“I’m...so sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” he said so quietly she wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear. “I’m tired, too. We’re both just...I think we’re both just... done.”

“I love you, Jim,” she said but looked down, suddenly fascinated by the small ocean polished stones at her feet. She tapped her sneakers against them hearing the tap tap tap. Something to take her out of this nightmare she was living. “But I can’t-”

He cut her off, “You’re not good for me.”

“What?” Her voice raised an octave, tone a little sharper than intended.

“I don’t know. You make me different. I was so...happy with you when we met but now when I look at you I’m furious and I don’t know why,” he rambled, knowing he should probably have stopped a while ago.

“It’s because I got out of it. And you can’t,” she said, knowingly. It’s not the first time she had thought about it. She had seen it. The constant change between his genuine love for her but then something would change. He would lash out, grabbing her wrist, speak unspeakable things under the guise of drugs or something, but she saw it. The truth-- his anger, the jealousy. He couldn’t help but compare himself to Y/N. See himself in her, the Jim that he so desperately wanted to be. Sober, mostly, but also making through this disaster of a life.

“‘I can’t get out? How do you know I want to?” he bit out before thinking.

He immediately regretted it, opening himself to her too much. Even with her, the person he loved most and was the most himself around, he kept some things private. She didn’t deserve the burden of his darker thoughts.

“You don’t want to?” she quoted back to him, alarm apparent in her voice. He couldn’t help but notice how the now grey sky cast the softest light on her. He wished he had his polaroid, just to remember how she looked. She was panicked, but beautiful.

“Y/N, I’m just--” he sighed exasperated. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did. You meant that,” she said, taken aback. “Jim, what the hell are you doing?”

“I didn’t mean that,” he repeated a little monotonous, trying to detach himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. “I just, I don’t know what we’re doing. All I do is hurt you and you’re not an inspiration. You’re a reminder.” His fingers slipped into his hair, effectively hiding his face.

“We just need some time,” Y/N said softly. “And then when you get clean, we can--”

“I’m not getting clean.”

There was a pause. Both registered the meaning in his words and she felt nothing but horror while Jim felt a sickening relief at saying them aloud.

Jim continued, “I’m not sure what I’m gonna do. But I’m not getting sober. I’m in too deep and I love it too much.”

“I can’t lose you,” she tried to say but it came out as a cracked whisper.

“You’re already leaving me. It shouldn’t matter.” His face slipped into a scowl. “You’re smart. You’ve always known a lost cause when you see one...” he gave a gentle laugh.

She didn’t know what to say.

Was that what she was doing? In a way, yes. This was her escape route and she was taking it--getting out while she still had the chance. Being the girlfriend was easy, after all. She could get out with a simple breakup whereas Medina was bound to him, blood and soul. She was giving up on him and she knew it. And that was the hardest part.

“I don’t think you’re a-”

“Stop lying. We know how this ends,” he said ominously. His gaze continued up, admiring the burning sky, the stars were finally coming out. She followed his line of sight to Gemini, faintly clear in the darkening sky. She could name almost all the constellations, now.

“It doesn’t have to. You could...you can…” she tried looking for the right words. She never knew what to say anymore. Especially to Jim.

“It’s okay. I’m okay with it.”

She still wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about, but she grabbed his hand anyway and pretended to not feel his flinch at her touch. “I just can’t let you be here for it. I love you too much, and you don’t deserve this on your conscious.” His glossy blue eyes closed in defeat. He was selfish when it came to her, when it came to everything.

Of course, he wanted her. He wanted her for everything that wasn’t going to happen. A white dress and a beach and a house with worn surfboards outside and kids and happiness. He still wanted all that for her even if it wasn’t going to be his.

If she wasn’t going to be his…

He suddenly stood to look down at her still sitting on the driftwood. “The second I think I know what I want, I change my mind. I just don’t know anymore, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” No tears fell, but she saw his back rise and fall, breathing heavy.

He felt the panic rise through his spine, settling in his stomach and chest.

I don’t know what to do I don’t know what to do I don’t know what to do I don’t know what to do.

“What if I did it?” he almost shouted, eyes wild and suddenly manic.

“Did what?” she asked, starting to lose his train of thought.

Get sober….or...really the only other alternative at this point-just speeding along the process, in Jim’s eyes at least.

“I don’t know! Did it? Fucking get clean?” He didn’t sound sure of himself and quite frankly he was still unsure if that’s what he wanted.

“I think you should do it right. Rehab, maybe?” Y/N suggested, starting to stand to meet him as he started walking back towards the house.

“Jim? Jim!” she called after him, struggling to meet his quick pace set with long strides. She was completely lost in the conversation now.

Maybe, he’s lost it. Maybe he’s cracked.

“Come on, come on,” he urged with a smile creeping onto his lips. His eyes remained burning. He held the door for her and she led the way into his house, still confused about what was happening. She had intended to end things but managed to find herself pulled back into Jim’s chaos like a goddamn riptide. Maybe this time it would finally swallow her whole.

Y/N stepped into the house and was met with Sandy staring at her from the sofa, mouth gaping like a fish. “What are you doing here? Jim? What is she doing here?”

Jim ignored his mother, Y/N wasn’t sure if he even noticed her, while he dashed into his room obviously looking for something.

“Sandy, I’m sorry I know you don’t want me here but Jim’s just-”

“What did you do to him?” she growled, standing and stalked her way over towards Y/N, but she was faster and followed Jim into his room, preferring him to Sandy’s wrath any day. “Why is he like this? What did you do?”

“He’s been like this for months, mom,” Medina said, coming out of her room to see what the commotion was about. “You’ve just been to self-absorbed to see anything else.”

Jim continued ignoring the conversation between the three women and tore through his closet, grinning in success when he located the bulk of his stash. He quickly threw it in his jacket pocket before turning to face the small group that had congregated in the doorway of his bedroom.

Nobody moved, nobody said anything for what felt like an eternity.

 “I’m calling the police,” Sandy declared and Medina let out a scoff while Y/N’s heart clenched. “You did this to my son.” She pointed a finger at Y/N so close that she had to back away to avoid her reach. “You did this,” she spat.

Sandy’s heavy footsteps echoed through the house, rattling the china in the cabinets. Medina followed her, leaving Y/N to deal with Jim.

“Hey, hey,” Y/N said and placed both her hands on Jim’s shoulders, trying to calm him. He was practically vibrating with energy despite looking like he was about ready to keel over. He was breathing too quick, eyes glassy and red rimmed. She wasn’t sure if he was high or if this was something else completely.

“I got it and now we’re gonna--! We can go—! We can just leave--” he said, his words a little slurred. “I have to—we-- Medina!” he shouted.

Medina’s voice could be heard in the hallway, where the pair stood. She was trying to stop Sandy who was evidently on the phone with dispatch to the police. “She is a drug dealer. She gave my son drugs. Yep. Good.” Sandy said into the phone that she was holding, desperately trying to keep it away from Medina who was trying to snatch it from her mother.

“Stop it Mom, we all know that’s not true! Just let it go--stop it!” Medina tried one last attempt to grab the phone despite the call already having been made and the police on their way.

Jim wandered into the living room, wide eyes taking in the scene of his family-or what was left of it. “Go ahead and say it,” Sandy lashed out at Y/N.

She hesitated, confused as to what Sandy wanted her to say or what she was getting at. “What?” Y/N asked skeptically.

“It looks like you want to say something, so say it.”

“You can’t keep doing this, Sandy!” Y/N lashed out “You can’t keep controlling him!” Her accusatory voice echoed in the room. Jim could almost feel the vibrations, everything too close but too far away at the same times. Things blurring but in sharp contrast. He knew he wasn’t high.

He thought, at least. He could never be sure anymore.

“You don’t know anything about him, you weren’t there for him-”

“I’m here for him now!” The shouting continued and Jim could feel things getting closer, feeling like the room was closing in and the walls folding in around him.

“Bullshit!” Medina stepped closer to Y/N, causing her to back up and bump into Jim who remained still, looking out the window. He felt her lightly step on his toes, her body lightly tap his, her small flinch. She was afraid of him. Scared.

God, no, this has to end now.

“You were never there for him! You helped until you didn’t. Can’t you see that you’re the same as her-” Medina was crying, something that didn’t happen frequently-Jim should know.

He took in the faces around him. The faces of the people’s lives whose lives he destroyed. His mother’s. Sure, she ruined his life, too. She was the catalyst but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for her decline. Never good enough, couldn’t just listen to her. Couldn’t stay in every night. Couldn’t play any more card games, couldn’t eat any more butter cookies, couldn’t be a perfect student, couldn’t be the man of the house, couldn’t live up to Phil’s expectations, couldn’t be anything that they wanted for him.

Medina, his other half. Born under the twins of the night and were separated by the horizon. Him floating well above the earth, into the dark sky, and her pulled down below crashing waves and sea serpents. She was still shouting but he couldn't hear her over the thrum of his heart locked away by his ribcage.

He was never there for her, like she was for him. He wasn’t good enough for her. Her lips kept moving but he couldn’t hear her, he hadn’t heard her in months.

Why can’t I understand her anymore?

Y/N turned to face him,

When had that happened…...we’re outside now?

Her face was distraught, pretty features twisted into something of panic and disgust. She was his light. His dawn that rose every day and his dusk that settled over him, a blanket of calm, timed with both the heavens and the tides.

Time.

He knew something had happened between them, right? Or did he make that up, too? Like the cliff. Or was that the real one. Did she…? No…? She wouldn’t unless-- She hated...you. She hates you.

“Jim, stop it.” Y/N had her hands around his wrists holding them down in front of him. He had been beating his fists against his head, eventually stopping to rub his fingers into his eyes-completely exhausted. When she let go, his hands went back to rubbing his eyes as if to erase the sight before him. Just tired.

What the fuck is going on? He wasn’t high-he hadn’t taken anything. Y/N slowly backed away from him, unsure of what to do or what he was going to do.

A loud “Jim” snapped him out of all the melting colors and droning in his ears. Sandy was in front of him now, holding him up by the shoulders. I’m just tired. For the first time in a long time, he registered that Sandy knew the gravity of the situation.

“Mom…” he didn’t know what else to say. “Mom--I--”

 “Jimmy, what’s happening? Jimmy?” Her hand went to his cheek to try to stop his head from lolling off to the side, neck unsupported. Somewhere in his mind he thought that maybe he should use his strength to not collapse in the middle of the driveway. He realized he had no strength left to do so.

“Mom,” he choked out, throat starting to close. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do it okay? I can’t do it.” His head shook against her shoulder where he had placed it. Sometimes he forgot how much taller he was, that he was really an adult, that every decision mattered and lately all he was making were the wrong ones.

Sandy threaded her fingers into his hair and tried to hold him close but before he could even get comfortable leaning onto his mother he was pulling back-afraid. “No, no, no you did this to me, You made me like this,” he spit, sounding more terrified than he’d like to admit.

Medina stood off to the side. She used to be the one that could handle him. Always. Since they were children and he threw a temper tantrum over toys, to breakups, to overdosing, to losing absolutely everything. She could always patch him up just enough to keep him going. This time, however, she knew that she wasn’t enough. There was nothing left that could help him.

Medina saw her twin as someone different, completely separating the two; who Jim was and who Jim is. The Jim that stood pacing the front lawn, wringing his hands together, knuckles and cuticles bleeding, eyes hooded by the light that cast an eerie glow over his cheekbones, his jeans much too large on him, slipping off his narrowed hips, his voice scratchy, reminding her of those videos of people who were possessed. She thought for a second that maybe he was.

He turned to face the three women, Sandy and Y/N now screaming at each other but he couldn’t make sense of their words. Everything whirled in the worst way possible.

It was like being dragged out to sea in a riptide--pulled in and sucked under--you can fight but you can’t escape. You have to wait for it to stop and god, he just wanted it to stop.

Salt filled his lungs with every breath but he wasn’t underwater, he was suffocating from the crushing pressure on all sides. Too deep. He felt his eyes roll back into his head and the hard ground meet his knees when he inevitably fell.

Ground?

He didn’t know who took away the board that was comfortably nestled between his legs, keeping him afloat, albeit barley. Medina had explained to him that surfboards weren’t meant to keep you out of the water, completely dry. You were supposed to submerge it just a little. Too much weight and you’d sink it. He felt the ground again. He felt himself sunk to the bottom.

Jim’s eyes still bolted shut, he didn’t want to get salt water in them, it always stung and made it look like he was crying. He hated it. How much he cried.

Something touched his face, on instinct he flinched, muscles tensed, he tipped over but something else caught him. He gasped for breath, unable to hold his breath any longer and found that air was around him rather than water. His eyes snapped open to meet Y/N’s face close to his, her lips still moving. He couldn’t hear- just a steady drone, the sound of crashing waves.

God, she’s pretty.

Her face was illuminated by red and blue lights, police cars flashing them. He didn’t like the shadows they cast on her. They made her look guilty of something that wasn’t her fault because he knew this wasn’t her fault no matter what Medina or Sandy tried to say. No matter that she tried to take responsibility-or at least felt that way. Because she did.

Y/N managed to hold back tears, keep it together for Jim while her reality crashed. His world was already too far gone. He leaned into the palm she placed against his cheek, she felt the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave and for some reason her heart broke at the thought.

She bent down to kneel next to him, half having to keep him upright. His world was still tilting. “Jimmy, hey, hey, hi,” she said, trying to sooth him and distract him from what she knew was occurring behind her.

Sandy was screaming to the police. “She’s the one who's been giving my son so much trouble. It’s abuse! And I should know...My ex husband--”

 “Of course, you manage to make this about yourself, Mom. Why can’t you care about something-anything- that isn’t you for one second!” Medina involved herself despite wanting to keep her distance.

“Medina, you get your ass back in the house this second.”

“No, you know what,” Medina walked closer to the officer and Sandy. “She�� She said, pointing to her mother, “has been the one abusing my brother for years. It’s gone on too long, Mom.” She stepped close to Sandy.

Jim’s focus shifted back onto Y/N, letting his mother and sister blur in the background.

“Jim,” Y/N tried to keep his focus on her. She saw his eyes keep wandering away from hers, down toward the ground almost like he didn’t trust it to hold him up. “I’m going to get you inside, okay?” He felt her small hand hold his chin, trying to keep his head up.

She could still hear the shouts and screams behind her, the police now clearly involved with Medina and Sandy’s argument.

“Jimmy,” she said a little more sharply, still with a fake reassuring smile plastered to her face.

“Hi,” Jim managed to whisper out.

“Hi,” she whispered back, voice still cracking.

Jim hesitated, eyes wandering like he was still trying to take in the reality of what was happening. Y/N had a feeling that he genuinely didn’t know where he was. He didn’t. He also knew he didn’t take anything.

So what the fuck is this?

Jim bit his lip, hands too far away to nip at his cuticle like he really wanted to do. Everything was too far away. He felt a little blood escape down the corner of his mouth and Y/N caught it with a small swipe of her thumb. Jim liked the smile she was wearing, even though he knew it was fake...and for his sake.

“I’m just...I’m cold...and it’s dark.” His face unreadable, but the numbness in his eyes was evident. “I’m just tired, Y/N.”

“I know, so let’s get you to bed, okay?” She tried picking him up from under his

shoulders but he was dead weight. “You’re going to have to help me, Jimmy.” Something finally clicked and he managed to get himself to stand, still leaning heavily on Y/N.

She placed a hand on his chest to keep him from falling forward, but also make sure that there was a steady thrum from his heart.

This is it….he’s not making it out of this…

There is no coming back from this.

Y/N started to walk the pair over to the front door, hoping to get Jim into bed before she called an ambulance. This was uncharted territory. Not an overdose, not a come down.

“Miss?” A gruff voice called from behind her but she struggled to turn while supporting almost all of Jim’s weight. Really focusing on taking one step at a time with Jim, she failed to respond until a hand grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks and forcibly turning her to face him. The police officer was only looking at her, paying to attention to Jim who had somehow managed to catch himself before crumpling to the pavement.

“Mrs. Mason tells me that you’ve been in the possession of and dealing illicit substances. Is this true?”

Y/N couldn’t move. She just stood looking at Jim who was then standing like a cornered animal. Eyes wide, his body practically shook with the effort to breathe. He looked to Medina. A current passed through them.

Sandy was still yelling at Medina- about what, it didn’t matter. What did was the loud snap that was heard and drew the attention away from Y/N and back onto Sandy who had just slapped her daughter. She yelped and the officer managed to make it over to her before she could retaliate through physicality because Medina absolutely was threatening violence in her rage. She was seeing red.

Jim saw an opening through all this. His only shot, his last chance to maybe do something.

To fix it? To make it stop?

He stripped himself of his denim jacket he so often wore. Why, he didn’t know. He removed the bulk of his stash from the inner pocket and slipped it into his jeans.

“You need to take this,” he gasped out and thrust the jacket into Y/N’s hands, grabbing it on instinct alone. “This is it, right? It can all end tonight.” He pulled back, breathing heavy and looked down at his empty palms. A twisted laugh escaped him and he looked up to the sky.

“That one! Okay? I’ll be there.” He pointed up but let his arm fall.

“Jim, what are you talking about-” Y/N’s voice was hysterical, too afraid to actually cry.

“It’s like…half a chance. Who knows what the fuck is gonna happen next.” He nodded expectantly at Y/N, eyes shining, emaciated face somehow still radiant. “But just in case. I’ll meet you there...Cassiopeia, okay?”

Y/N stared, speechless. What was he implying, he couldn’t be-no. No. “Jim, what are you saying?”

“Cassiopea. I’ll meet you there,” he shouted, turning over his shoulder when he turned. Y/N took a step to follow him bt felt a strong grip around her bicep. Then cold steel around her wrists when they were pressed behind her back. The chill of the police car she was pushed against woke her up from the shocked daze she had been in.

She blinked and he was gone.

He was already waiting for her in the stars.

Jim’s Sad Squad: @ccodyfern @starwlkers @langdonsinferno @antichristwrites @i-will-die-for-jim-mason @babypinkstyles94 @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonsdemon @langdonsrapture @coloursunlimited @langdonalien @tarkofetis @katiekitty261 @lovelykhaleesiii @aveiangdon @heelsamizayn @sojournmichael @sojournx @oneday-i-will-fight-luke17 @wroteclassicaly @sammythankyou @1-800-bitchcraft @nana15774 @missantichrist @duncvn @jim-mason2 @mega-combusken @cocosfern @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul 

I know I’m absolutely missing people--if you want to be on an updated list let me know!! <3 

[actual-cryptid-leshy]

The Anticipation Of Spring

Brooke has been told from a young age that she's an old soul. Old soul. Old eyes. Wise smile. They look at her and see the wisdom that comes with time, but she views time with appreciation. She views life with appreciation, because she knows death more intimately than most.

Word count: 8.8k

Part 2 of Awakenings series

Read on AO3

Brooke has heard that she’s an old soul from a young age. They tell her it’s in her eyes, some sort of unfathomable wisdom and weight only gained by time and experience. She’s only six, and it unsettles her every time some distant family member looks at her for an uncomfortable amount of time, before reaching the conclusion that, ‘’Yes, an old soul, it’s in your eyes.’’ with the same pleasant smiles and nice-but-condescending eyes every single time. As she grows it only keeps unsettling her, it follows her like a shadow. No matter what she does or how she acts, it’s the same. Old soul. Old eyes. Wise smile. All except her grandmother. She looks at Brooke and says, ‘’Oh to be young and carefree.’’ with a friendly smile and warm hugs and a glint in her eye that lets Brooke know she has candy in he pocket that’s specifically for ‘before dinner’. She makes Brooke feel young, feel like herself, like she’s supposed to be. Her grandmother is an earth elemental, the soul of a mountain rests in her bones and she moves slowly, but deliberately. She’s stubborn, but kind. ‘’They look at you and see only the wisdom that comes from time, but you have something so much more special. Appreciation.’’ Brooke doesn’t really understand what she means by that, but it sounds so much nicer than what she’s always hearing form other people, that she doesn’t mind not knowing for now. There’s something in her telling her that she’ll know one day, and that’s good enough for her. For now she’ll just enjoy baking cookies with her Grammy, licking the spoon and sneaking chocolate chips when her mom isn’t looking.

Brooke grows up with her mothers concern over her naivety. Her mother keeps fretting over how nice she is, how kind, how forgiving, how pliant and soft. She’s always scared Brooke will be taken advantage of in some way or another, and she tries to teach Brooke how to tread trough life with caution, with strength. Brooke wants to believe the best of people, wants to believe the best of life. Then the game changes. When the boy, Gabe, in 3rd grade tells her he likes her pigtails and could they be friends maybe? Brooke says yes without hesitation. They play together every day, and they talk about pokemon and cartoons and books and just about anything that strikes their fancy. Then the whispers start. Gabe is a boy, Brooke is a girl. That’s how it works, right? She ignores them, because that’s what she’s always done. It’s not worth her time, what other people say behind her back. She tells herself she doesn’t care even when she does, but it’s so much easier to pretend they say nothing at all. Then Gabe kisses her on the cheek one day. She doesn’t understand. And he says that his parents have been asking if she’s his girlfriend, so is she? She says no, because she doesn’t understand what it means, not yet, but she doesn’t want it anyway. He doesn’t talk to her again. Brooke is cute, that’s no secret, Gabe won’t be the last. Brooke just wants a friend, but most of the girls think she’s weird and they boys don’t want a friend. She hangs around a few of the other girls deemed ‘strange’ and doesn’t mind that she’s always picked amongst the last for teams. No one says any mean things, not yet, because Brooke is nice and no one has a reason to be outright mean. Not yet. It comes gradually instead. As Brooke grows up, she is as cute and nice and friendly as ever. She draws attention from the boys and jealousy from the girls, because that’s the way the world tells them all it should be. The girls start ignoring her, and anyone else soon learn that Brooke is a one way ticket to being an outcast. She tries, oh she tries her best, to make friends. It doesn’t work, and she keeps on pretending it doesn’t bother her.

Brooke is 11 and trying to rebel. She doesn’t want to be old. Don’t get her wrong, being old is cool. It means you’ve lived a long life and done a lot of things and seen a lot of stuff. But she hasn’t done any of that yet. Well, 11 feels like a lot of years, but she has so much more ahead of her, and she feels like she’s missing out on something by being old now. She wants to be young. So that's what she is. She holds onto her stuffed animals, keeps wearing clothes in pastels with cartoon characters on them. Keeps watching the movies she’s always enjoyed, keeps acting…childish. Her mother scolds her, her father looks on in bemusement until her behavior is an inconvenience. When her childish ways are out of place at dinner parties or when they have guests over. The way she asks any other kid there, no matter their age, if they want to play games. The way she keeps messing with her old and won’t sit still and generally ignoring most of the more complicated aspects of etiquette. The thing is that it’s so easy to just not do what everyone else her age are starting to do. The girls are all worrying about their looks and which boy is the cutest and no one has time to play games anymore. She thinks it’s weird, because none of them actually care that much, she can tell, but everyone else is doing it so everyone else does it and so that’s how everyone thinks it’s supposed to be. And it’s so easy to just follow the flow of everyone else. Brooke sees the appeal, but sticks to her rebellious ways. As rebellious as wearing the softest trousers she can find instead of jeans, or how she sticks to light up shoes. Of course there are some who think it’s all stupid, and join her in playing in the sandbox or playing wizards in the forest or pretending to be faeries. Because it’s so much more fun. Because they’re in middle school and the game has changed again and more people are fine with being outcasts, because that’s their lot in life, they’ve come to learn, come to accept. There are still boys, who think being friendly is being something else entirely. Her favorite sweater is a light blue one with Stitch on it, and she wears her pink sneakers every day (they light up when she jumps), she plays in puddles and comes back to class dripping wet, she climbs trees even though she’s not supposed to, and her stuffed bunny is always in her backpack. Because Hopps is soft and light brown and always there for her.

Chloe transfers in at the end of middle school, and the game changes all over again. Because Chloe is very pretty, but she scowls at everyone and doesn’t talk to people and emits an aura of ‘don’t talk to me’. Of course Brooke ignores this. ‘’Hi.’’ is a good place to start with any conversation, Brooke has found, it works this time too, getting the attention of the new girl who has been actively avoiding everyone on her first day. It’s late January, and cold, so Brooke is wearing her favorite hat with kitty ears and a bright yellow scarf. ‘’No.’’ Chloe says, and tries to walk away. Brooke doesn’t reach out, because she doesn’t like it when people do that to her, but she speaks up, ‘’I’m gonna build a snowman, wanna help?’’ she asks. This makes Chloe freeze, she huffs into her own dark blue scarf before turning around half way. ‘’I’m pretty sure you can do that on your own.’’ ‘’Yeah, but the boys always knock down everything I make, so I need someone to stand guard.’’ she explains, shrugging as if it doesn’t bother her, but she doesn’t look Chloe in the eyes when she says it. Keeps them on the fluffy pompom on her head instead. It’s a light brown. ‘’…Alright.’’ Chloe agrees. And then there they are, two 13 year olds playing in the snow. No one dares step close when Chloe glares at any unlucky kid who looks at Brookes growing snow creation the wrong way, and for once Brooke is allowed to finish it in peace. She stands back, admiring the two wonky snowmen she’s made, unwinds her scarf to place it on one of them, and takes her hat off to place it on the other. Chloe looks on with an indifferent face and curious eyes. It’s the beginning of…something. Brooke knows she is using Chloe, in a sense. Utilizing the way she keeps people at bay, and then keep using her as she draws people to her instead of Brooke. People stay away from Chloe the rest of their middle school days, and then as she gets older and prettier and even more unattainable, the guys flock to her in high school. Brooke is comfortable in Chloes shadow. Drawing people away from her, drawing boys away from her. That isn’t to say that Brooke doesn’t genuinely like Chloe, she’s a good friend, a great friend, the kind of friend she buys a BFF necklace with. The kind of friend who keeps that necklace well after they’ve grown out of things like that. But she’s still to some extent using Chloe. She follows her like a puppy, because it’s easy. She does everything Chloe does, everything Chloe wants her to do, she is who Chloe wants her to be, because it means she gets to stay with Chloe. Luckily enough, who Chloe wants her to be coincides pretty much entirely with who Brooke is. High school just requires that she has to start pretending that boys and gossip and what she looks like matters more than it really does. But she only talks about that stuff with Chloe, and sometimes Jenna, so it’s not like it consumes her day or anything. So it’s fine. It’s just…difficult. Because she’s never had to actually look at a boy and decide if he looks cute, or dateable, or anything like that. And it’s not easy. There’s this unspoken agreement that some of the boys at their school are just…hot. They’re desirable, and all the girls just look at each other knowingly. Brooke feels like she’s been left out of the loop on this one. She doesn’t have a good answer when they ask her if one of the guys have caught her eye yet. She feels weird. Like she’s 11 again, and she’s an outsider but doesn’t know what for. Besides, who needs guys when you’ve got Chloe Valentine.

Chloe draws guys like moths to a flame. She’s practically perfect in every way, Brooke has to agree, but then again she gets to see sides of her that no one else does. She gets to see Chloe laughing at stupid youtube clips and snorting adorably as she scrolls trough her twitter feed. She gets to see Chloe in the morning, disheveled and sleepy and no prying eyes. Chloe doesn’t put on a facade at school, but she is definitely more closed off. She shows no real interest in the boys who show interest in her, which is why Brooke is so surprised when Chloe gets a boyfriend. His name is Jake Dillinger, he’s the president of the model UN and the quarterback on the football team. He’s…practically perfect in every way. Chloe is the prettiest girl in school, and Jake is the handsomest boy. The world has told them all their lives that this is what it’s supposed to be like, so they follow the script that’s been written for them. Play their parts. Trace the paths that have been laid out for them to follow. Jake is nice, but Brooke can’t find it in herself to like him all that much. It’s not difficult to pretend otherwise. It also helps that it doesn’t last long. She doesn’t know what happens beyond ‘we decided being friends was better’, but she can appreciate how Jake actually knows the definition of ‘friend’. He’s much more likable after that. He also brings along Rich, a small lively boy with scars all over his arms and half his face. One day at lunch Rich calls over to two other boys, who make their slow way over to the table. They look awkward, and out of place, but Brooke smiles her brightest and Rich bullies them into taking a seat. ‘’I-I-I’m Je-eremy.’’ one stutters out, and the other throws a protective arm around him and tells them, ‘’And I’m Michael!’’ with a smile plastered on his face, and a dangerous force burning behind his eyes, daring them to say anything. ‘’I’m Brooke! And this is Chloe, Jenna, and Jake. How do you know Rich?’’ she’d said immediately, as friendly as she could muster, which is pretty damn friendly if you ask just about anyone. She follows the explanation with rapt attention as Rich begins telling them. ‘’I was totally about to freak out, and Michael sort of sensed it? I guess? And he calmed me down before I set anything on fire!’’ he exclaims, smiling. ‘’Uh yeah, I’m sort of in tune with fire, so I could tell Rich was a ticking time bomb, and figured I should help. Accidentally setting shit on fire is the worst.’’ he laments, sympathy born form most likely having the exact same thing happen to him coloring his words. ‘’Oh yeah! You’re like the sun or something.’’ Jenna says, drawing the attention of everyone. ‘’Not even ‘or something’. I’m the sun, end of statement.’’ Michael explains, shrugging. Jeremy stays mostly silent. ‘’Oh cool! I’m like, wind elemental.’’ Jake says, setting off the customary Awakened introduction round. ‘’I’m the ocean.’’ Jenna says, throwing her glossy hair over one shoulder, smiling. It cascades like a wave around her. ‘’We’re Unawakened.’’ Chloe says, gesturing to her and Brooke. Jeremys shoulders sink back down from up around his ears. ‘’Me too.’’ he says in a small voice. Michaels arm is still round him. Brooke can’t look away. There’s this casualness to their touching, that reminds her of herself and Chloe. It only takes a week after that. Jake slings an arm around Chloe at the lunch table one day and Brooke feels a pang of hurt fly trough her chest even though there’s nothing between them. But there used to be, and Brooke had hated it. She loves Jake now, because he’s nice and a good friend, but she had hated him. And it had scared her. But she knows why. She’s in love with her best friend. Fuck.

Brookes Awakening is like a car crash. Sudden, unexpected, and with casualties. The casualty hadn’t been her fault, not really, but it had been central to her Awakening. Such was, is, and forever will be her nature. She’d been walking the hallway, quite calmly, just headed for her locker in between classes to get her books. Then something loud like an explosion had sucked all sound from the world, distantly she heard crows, and the image of the crowded hallway is swallowed by an inky void descending on her. Her feet lift from the floor, find purchase on a different plane only a few centimeters above, and her cardigan is flowing freely around her, her hair billows in an invisible wind, and the pressure of the void feels like water all around her. There is no sound, no light, nothing. And she feels lost, and scared, and all she wishes for is something familiar. Something safe. A voice calls from all around her, before all the small echoes gather into a familiar voice, shaping a familiar word. ‘’Brooke.’’ calls the light, glimmering in the distance, like a beacon. She walks towards it, finds her steps becoming lighter and lighter as she makes her way towards the flickering source. As she moves closer the bright white dims, gives way to mossy green and slate gray. There’s something like a portal, and Brooke falters for a moment. ‘’Brooke.’’ the unknown calls again. She steps trough. It’s nothing like exiting water, and much more like exiting slime. It sticks to her as she leaves, black clinging to her clothes and her hair, obscuring every single color except her light grey eyes. The room she finds herself in is a stark white, containing various machinery and a small frail woman lying in a bed. Hospital. The woman is obscured by pulsating light, the moss green and slate gray moving and twisting around each other. The mass of light turns to face her, and she didn’t know light could have a face, much less make expressions, but it looks happy to see her. Brooke catches a glimpse of the woman on the bed, and her already sluggishly beating heart freezes for a moment. She struggles to find her voice. ‘’Grammy?’’ she finally manages, and her voice sounds like it’s not coming from her, but everywhere around her, a mass of small small voices sounding out the different parts of the word, all coalescing into something coherent. The figure of light looks at her, smiles, and it’s so familiar her chest aches. ‘’Hi Brookie.’’ the light says, and Brooke doesn’t want to understand what has come to make so much sense to her. Souls are such unique things, a reflection of who you are. Her grandmother is a mountain, slate gray and overgrown with moss. Kind and unyielding. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ she says, because she knows what she has to do next, because it’s what she’s always done. she reaches a hand out, black as the night, black as the void she travelled to get here. Her heart thumps a slow and steady rhythm, her breaths are calm and even, but deep down the part of Brooke that is still only 16, still only a child, panics. It doesn’t reach the surface. ‘’Don’t be, it is my time, and I’d much rather it be you than anyone else.’’ her grandmother says as she reaches out her own hand, gray and wispy, a little translucent. The grip is firm, however, much more real than anything else in this otherly world. Her grandmother uses the connection between them to pull her in, giving her one last and final hug. It’s warm, and comforting, and familiar, and…safe. It puts Brooke at ease. Gives her peace with her own nature. She pulls away, smiles, and leads her grandmother by the hand back into the void. ‘’I love you, you’re doing great.’’ Brooke hears from behind her, and she turns, still holding her grandmothers hand, only to find her gone. The grip on her hand vanishes as soon as she looks down, sees her hand is empty. She looks around, does a full body turn but sees nothing but the now familiar far stretching blackness. The weight of her surroundings settle on her form once more, and deep down she knows her grandmother is gone. She’s sad, of course she is, the threat of tears is overwhelming, but she is also at peace. Because she knows her grandmother is at peace. She knows. The sudden thought is deafening, because she knows she knows she knows, and it’s terrifying and an old well known fact, comforting in it’s certainty, scary in it’s finality. It’s part of her, part of life, part of the universe, part of everything beyond infinity. It’s too much all at once and she just needs to breathe, just for a little. Her legs buckle beneath her and she lets them fold. Sits down with her head in her hands and just…breathes. Lifetime upon lifetime retail her with memories. She is only one single iteration of Death amongst many. Only a blip on the timeline of everything. But she is here, and she is living, and she is sad. And that matters. She wants to find Chloe. Chloe is familiar, Chloe is stable, Chloe is a constant, not in the way her the knowledge her Awakening has brought her is constant, but in a way that 16 year old Brooke knows it to be. Chloe is a constant, because Brooke wants her to be, so she sticks close and holds on tight. Brooke takes a final deep breath, and lets out a sigh, her chest unwinds, her soul settles into the previously non-existing nooks and crannies of her being. The void around her settles into a rhythmic flow. She stands up, takes a step forward and finds herself back in the hallway at school. The people around her are staring, but nothing has changed. None has moved between her entering and exiting the other plane. She glances around, sees Jeremy and Michael looking at her, both a little worried. She smiles at them, forcing every single speck of light and happiness into it, just to soothe their frowns. Then she continues onwards. Her legs are a little shaky, a little bit like jello, but as she walks she fishes out her phone.

To Chlo<3: Pinkberry @ lunch?

From Chlo<3: Sure ;*

Brooke smiles to herself, pockets her phone, and stops in front of her locker. Her stomach is tying itself into knots and also filling with butterflies. If she’s honest she feels too queasy to actually eat anything, but she also has a feeling that Chloe will make it better. Because it’s Chloe.

‘’You look…different. I can’t pinpoint it but I know something’s up, so spill.’’ Chloe says as she meets Brooke outside. Chloe doesn’t stop however, just expects Brooke to follow her to her car, and of course Brooke does. ‘’I had my Awakening earlier today.’’ Brooke says, finding no reason to lie. ‘’What? Really!?’’ Chloe exclaims, whirling around to look at Brooke. She grabs her by the shoulders and stares into her eyes. Brooke freezes. Her grandmother might have looked like one would expect, but Chloe looks…anything but what Brooke could expect. She’s enveloped in thorny branches, twisting and curling all around her form, right beneath her skin, like a carefully carved piece of art. Detailed and curling, everyhting with an even rythm, twisting in patterns, her eyes follow them as if enhanced. Like a rose bush. A few green leaves are scattered all over, seemingly nonsensical in their placement but artistic nonetheless, but what really catches Brookes attention is Chloes chest. Inside a cage of thorns and leaves, a small shining bud rests. It’s the size of her fist, and it almost sparkles despite it’s translucent nature. Like a gemstone. It’s beautiful. ‘’What?’’ Chloe asks, and Brooke realizes she’s been staring into Chloes eyes like an idiot this entire time. ‘’Sorry, I’m still getting used to it.’’ Brooke explains, blinking a few time to rid herself of the vision, though it won’t leave her alone still. ‘’It’s fine.’’ Chloe huffs, letting her go and continuing towards the car. Brooke smiles to herself, and follows after.

‘’Okay so like, god of death.’’ Chloe says out loud for probably the 100th time, sounding out the words, trying to wrap her mind around it. Trying to make the equation seem possible in her own head. ‘’Y’know, I think it’ll probably be goddess of death, don’t you?’’ Brooke answers instead, a few paces in front of Chloe in the school parking lot, because she’s found no answer that seems to satisfy Chloes mind yet. ‘’…oh yeah, totally.’’ Chloe says, yanking the door open as the warning bell rings. What catches their eyes immediately is a familiar red hoodie. Michael is standing pressed against a wall, Headphones on and hood up, hands shoved deep in the pockets and shoulders hunched to the high heavens as if he was Jeremy. Speaking of…there’s a noticeable lack of Jeremy. Michael looks up. It’s…chaos. Fire as far as she can see, raging and roaring, out of control. The sound is deafening, the light is blinding, and for a moment she can smell scorched earth. Something jostles her shoulder, and she breaks eye contact. ‘’We need to find Jeremy.’’ Brooke says, and she doesn’t even know if it’ll help but they need to do…something. And Jeremy is their best bet. ‘’I’ll text Jenna.’’ Chloe says immediately. She pulls out her phone, fingers tapping away at lightning speed. The answer is almost instantaneous. ‘’He’s at…play rehearsal?’’ Chloe says, and Brooke can’t look away from Michael. Hunching further and further in on himself, looking like he can’t decide between bolting or collapsing. ‘’Find him.’’ Brooke hears herself say, taking a step closer to Michael, and her voice is echoing slightly, and usually she would never ask Chloe like this. As if she’s telling her what to do. But Michael is in trouble, and she wants to help. She doesn’t see Chloe walk off as much as she feels it, her eyes are trained on Michael, the world melting away around her, becoming fuzzy and distant. The people between her and Michael form a natural path towards him, but pay her no mind. Halfway across the hallway he looks back at her, and she is swallowed by the flames once more. In the midst of the swirling yellows and oranges, a small red figure sits, curled up and shaking. ‘’Michael?’’ she asks it, but it only curls up tighter, the roaring only becomes worse, the heat is almost unbearable. ‘’Michael!’’ a different voice yells, and this one has another effect entirely. The small red figure whips around so fast, the entire vision seems to get dragged away from her, swooping out to the side and leaving her windswept, disoriented. She turns her head. Jeremy is jogging down the hallway, Chloe not too far behind. Michael has turned his head, his eyes are fixed on Jeremy. As soon as he’s within hearing range, Michael breaks. ‘’Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.’’ he whispers, over and over. But Jeremy simply shushes him. ‘’You’re good dude, come on.’’ Jeremy says, putting an arm around Michael. Michael reaches up for the hand draped over his own shoulder, grips it like a lifeline. Brooke eyes are glued to their hands, before Jeremy draws her attention once more. ‘’Thanks for coming to get me.’’ he says, looking first at Chloe, and then at Brooke. It’s the first time he’s looked either of the in the eye properly. Grey. Like the remnants left from a forest fire. Not cold, per se, but like the absence of warmth. He turns back to look at Michael, and the vision is gone, the smell of smoke lingers in her nose until they’re out of sight.

After that it’s not like she actively seeks out eye contact with people, because it seems like something…private. But she doesn’t stop it from happening either. Jake looks across to her at the lunch table, and she feels a gust of wind whip around her. Light blue and lavender swirls twist around each other in miniature tornadoes, rising and falling. When he laughs it sings, whistles, and it’s warm like summer. She wonders what it looks like when he isn’t happy, but lets the thought leave her as quickly as it entered. Rich looks at her in their shared English class, and he’s a lot like Michael, but also not. There is fire, yes, but it’s smaller, more contained, more human shaped. It’s burning away happily, redorangeyellow twists and turns just beneath his skin. There are dark maroon marks echoing his scars all over his arms, his torso, stretching up his neck to his ace and partially down his legs. It makes him distinct, makes him stick out. She learns the feel and shape of their souls quickly. Not as quickly as Chloes, but almost. She can pick them out of crowds, spot them from across the building. It’s an odd mix of nice and creepy. Jenna is a marvel. Her soul swirls in bright cerulean pride, water calm and complacent for now. Brooke has seen how dark and stormy it can be when Jenna gets angry, but mostly she is content. Brooke has to admit, however, that her favorite form of Jennas soul is when she’s happy. Then she is a bright bright seafoam green, rays of light catching on the small disturbances of her surface casting out a magnificent light show. It’s hypnotizing. Their little group is an odd mishmash of people. Friends of circumstance. But they sort of…fit anyway. Their colors and shapes blend together to make a tapestry of familiar sensations, and Brooke happily surrounds herself with them. Brooke doesn’t really feel like they’re missing something. Someone. Until Christine. It started with Jeremy, like things never seem to do. Because Jeremy is quiet and stays out of everyones way, much like Michael does, but just…to a bigger extent. But he had gone to play rehearsal, and he’d met Christine. Christines soul is a lot like Jeremys. Muted, grey, a little more glow-y. Dormant. It gets fuzzy around the edges, as if it continues, but she just can’t see it yet. But sometimes it flares so bright Brooke fears she’ll go blind. Christine slips into their lives at the end of freshman year, and somehow, it’s like she’s always been there. Like it’s always been Michael-and-Jeremy and Christine.

Sometimes Brooke catches herself staring at Chloe. It’s not like it’s unusual, Chloe is very pretty, but now that she’s grasped the whole soul thing, and doesn’t have to focus on the clearest path to the soul, the eyes, she can see them whenever she wants to. Or whenever her mind wanders too far. Her mind is a one track kind however, and it usually only wanders as far as Chloe, and then there she’ll be. Thorns and thorns and thorns and the slightest hint of pink. Chloes perfume is a muted slightly spicy one, but the scent that wafts from her in moments like these, is pure summer sweetness. Wild roses. And in one of these quiet moments it hits her. She’s been enamored by flowers lately. Of course she’s always liked flowers, who doesn’t? They’re pretty, and colorful, and smell nice. They’re a sign of spring, of warmth, of happiness. But recently she’s been actively seeking them out. Taken a specific path to school to pass by the wall purple climbing clematis flowers, or purposefully walked by the flowershop at the mall to let the colors and shapes wash over her. Not too long ago she was craving pomegranates. She realizes how blind she’s been to the inevitable. Chloe is, for a lack of better word, blossoming. Very very slowly. But she is growing into the person she’s meant to be. Persephone. She’s almost there too, almost reached herself. Rich catches her staring trough a wall one day in the middle of sophomore year. ‘’Whatcha lookin at?’’ he asks, staring at the wall. The blank very much empty wall. ‘’Chloe.’’ she answers distractedly. ‘’What?’’ he asks, pure confusion in his voice. ‘’I can see her soul, it’s really pretty.’’ she continues, not even the slightest bit aware of how creepy that sounds. ‘’O…kay?’’ Rich says, leaning back in his seat a little, switching from staring at the wall to staring at her. ‘’Yeah, it’s all flowery and pink and nice.’’ Brooke sighs, almost dreamily, completely gone. ‘’Flowers? Like…Persephone?’’ he asks, hesitantly. She finally looks away from the wall, attention snapping from Chloes gentle distant soul to the burning inferno next to her. ‘’How’d you figure that out so quickly?’’ she exclaims, incredulous. ‘’Greek mythology?’’ is the only answer he gives, and she can only sigh and put her head in her hands. ‘’Don’t tell her.’’ she begs, not looking at him. ‘’She needs to grow into herself like everyone else, you know that.’’ she continues on. She can see the moving twisting fire nodding rapidly in her sideview. ‘’Of course! I’m telling the other though.’’ he says casually, and Brooke can only let her head fall to the desk with a dull thud. ‘’That’s fair.’’ she says. He isn’t kidding.

‘’Brooke can see our souls!’’ is the first thing he says as he sits down at lunch. ‘’What? Really!?’’ Jake turns to her like an exited puppy. ‘’Uhhhhhh…yeah?’’ is the only reasonable answer she can give. ‘’No way! Is that part of the whole death goddess thing?’’ Michael asks her next. She nods. ‘’I guess? I see best trough peoples eyes, but once I get a good grasp I can spot people from across campus.’’ she explains, smiling as the enthusiasm seems to grow around the table. ‘’Do you mind sharing?’’ Jenna asks her, and she appreciates the way it’s framed. The obvious curiosity, but the subtle hint that Jenna will make sure everyone respects it if she doesn’t want to tell them anything. ‘’Not at all! It’s pretty self explanatory? Like, Rich looks like fire. All glory and burning. Michael kinda looks the same but like, with more light? Like he shines instead of glow, and he’s bigger.’’ it’s difficult putting it into words, she finds, because nothing can compare to the way she sees Rich flame flare at the comment. ‘’Hey!’’ he yells, obviously taking it as a slight against his height, but all in good fun. He’s smiling even before he’s finished that one single word. Brooke giggles as she tries to keep going, ‘’You look like an ocean in a human shaped container. Not even just water, more like…. like a piece of the ocean passing trough a human shape?’’ she directs it at Jenna, who smiles and nods knowingly. Her eyes travel to Jake next. ‘’Jake you look like…you know Pocahontas?’’ Jake nods gleefully, ‘’Well you kinda look like the colors of the wind, you know? Like, blue and purple, really light shades, all twirly and nice.’’ Brooke waves her hands around in the best rendition of the intricate dances Jakes soul performs on the daily. ‘’That’s so cool!’’ he exclaims, giving Rich high five. ‘’What about me?’’ Chloe asks, and Brooke feels her heart skip a beat. What should she say? IS lying okay? She shouldn’t tell Chloe what she suspects (what she knows, it has to be the truth, her heart yearns), it might alter the flow of things, Might make Chloe choose a different path, become something (someone) else. Awakenings are tricky things. You travel down a road all your life, and you have to choose which path to follow, each path leads you somewhere, and most of the time you end up where you’re supposed to be, one way or another. You grow into your Awakening. You grow into who you are. Chloe isn’t ready to be Persephone yet, and if Brooke upsets the growth of the bud, it might wither and die before it even blossom. She can’t take that risk. ‘’You’re Unawakened, so I can’t see much? But it has something to do with nature, definitely. I can see vines of some sort, twisting into a human shape. It’s very pretty.’’ she lets that last comment slip out before having thought it trough completely. But Chloe had looked a little disappointed as Brooke and explained. She just wanted to make her feel better. She’s saved from embarrassing herself further by the arrival of Jeremy and Christine. ‘’And them?’’ Michael asks as Jeremy settles down to his right, Christine claiming the seat at the end. ‘’What?’’ Christine asks, looking to Michael and then to Brooke. ‘’I can see peoples souls, and everyone here is a nosy fucker.’’ she says, but her tone is light and playful, her lips upturned. ‘’And you and Jeremy are still Unawakened, so I can’t see you as clerkly as I can the others, but you’re…silvery gray. Glowing and sometimes blindingly so, but mostly fuzzy. Jeremy looks kinda similar, grey and fuzzy. Sometimes you feel really cold though.’’ she finishes, staring at Jeremy who is staring at her eyebrow instead of her eyes. She can only tell because it somewhat obscures the view of his soul. ‘’Cool.’’ he says. And that’s all.

One Wednesday morning in September, she catches Jeremys eye across the hallway. She expects the usual. Grey. Fuzzy. Ash. Smoke. Instead she’s met with a human shape, burning to cinders from the inside. Flaking and smoking, like a campfire. Glowing orange cracks and hollow eyes. She walks towards him without hesitation. People let her pass, and she melts the world away until they can talk in private. She knows who he is. She sees him. She knows who he burns for, and it strikes a chord with something ancient in her being. ‘’I see you.’’ she says, her voice echoing only slightly in this in-between place she calls upon. ‘’I had the dream night to Monday.’’ he says, and she can see the traces of his burning on his soul, like handprints. She feels Brooke slip away, lets the other part take over, the one who’s from the same place as the other part of Jeremy. ‘’You’re burning, like last time. Are you really going to do this to yourself all over again?’’ she pleads. He is her friend, no matter what, and it hurts to see him suffer like this, even for something as pure as love. ‘’Yes. What else can I do?’’ he asks her, and she feels at a loss, she might know many things not many others know, but she still doesn’t have all the answers. She knows this is who he is, but she wishes he could b it differently. ‘’Are you happy with this?’’ she asks instead. Her voice is so much more steady than she feels. ‘’It means I’m by his side, and that’s where I’m meant to be, isn’t it? Destiny…or some shit.’’ she sees the sadness and acceptance in his eyes, and can only give him an equally tight smile in return. She dips her head down once, in acknowledgment. Everything carries so much more weight in this space. ‘’Take care of yourself.’’ she wants to plead, to beg, but it comes out almost monotone, but she sees he understands the gravity behind the words. ‘’Any progress with Chloe?’’ he derails, and she can tell if they were not in her domain, he would have taken this opportunity to finally break eye contact. She’s happy he doesn’t, beaches she wants to keep talking, but the thought of Chloe lets her mind drift anyway. It’s hard not to. When similar longing echoes in him as well. ‘’No, she is still Unawakened, but I sense her growing closer every day. It’s only a matter of time before Persephone returns to me again.’’ her voice carries as if on a breeze, like a dream. It has been a month, and the rest of the gang knows what she is waiting for. Jake had told her Chloe was on the brink of something, but couldn’t tell her what. It feels like she’s holding her breath, waiting. Jeremy has gone from a gentle smile, to a twist of the lips, drawn brows, contemplating. ‘’Will you do me a favor?’’ he asks, finally. ‘’If I’m capable.’’ she answers, truthfully. She is capable of many things, things her friends don’t even know, but then again she will do what she can to help them. ‘’Watch over him? If anything happens?’’ he begs of her, his soul yearning, worrying, twisting and being over itself in glowing orange streaks. Her heart aches for him, aches for lovers in general. She knows the story all too well. She knows human nature oh so well. ‘’If anything happens, you’re the one who should be watched over.’’ she tries to reason, tries to bargain, tries to ask him to please ask her to look out for him as well. She wants to so badly. ‘’Maybe, but please? If only to put my mind at ease?’’ the hand he places on her arm is warm, and she can only find it in herself to nod once again. He smiles, so bright, and the orange glows so strongly she fears she might get singed. The bell rings, and her eyes dart away from him. The bubble shatters. ‘’I’ll see you at lunch?’’ she asks, and he promises. He keeps to that promise, and at lunch she can’t keep her eyes away from him. Every time Michael comes close, the orange glow grows stronger, reaching, yearning. But Michael never gets close enough to make the connection, even as she sees his soul reach back for Jeremys in a strange yet beautiful dance. Only once does Michael brush against Jeremy, and Brooke sees the orange glow, sees it radiate and reach, before it is stopped by something invisible, a barrier of Jeremys own making, as it turns back on itself and sears trough his skin, outwards. Jeremy doesn’t flinch. Icarus cries.

Michael almost dies. And then Jermey almost dies while reviving him. But they both survive, so it’s fine in the end. She visits him, in that in-between place, as he sleeps. ‘’Jeremy.’’ she asks him, but the only response is the glowing orange sphere pulsating slightly. It’s enough of a sign of life that it puts her at ease, but it’s still abad sign. She sighs, equal parts fond and exasperated. ‘’You’re an idiot…but I know how you feel.’’ she confesses. She closes the vast distance between herself and the orb with a few strides, she settles down next to it, feels the warmth radiating from it, like a candle. ‘’We’re all worried about you, about what you did. Michael the most of course.’’ at the mention of his name, a pulse of light shoots out. She giggles. ‘’You sap.’’ her smile falls away slowly, sitting in the nothingness next to a nearly dormant core isn’t exactly her dream Saturday, but right now she finds there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. Well okay, there might be one place, but she knows Chloe is waiting for her for when she returns. She reaches out one hand tentatively, lets it ghost across the orange surface. It looks like molten glass, but feels uneven, feels alive. ‘’We’re waiting for you, wake up soon.’’ she tells him. The orb glows a little brighter, and she smiles. Taking one step forward she finds herself back in the hospital waiting room. Jenna and Chloe are sitting in the chairs in front of her, Michael is pacing off to the side. When she steps back into their plane of reality, his attention snaps to her immediately. ‘’Is he okay?’’ are the first words out of his mouth. She almost feels like smiling, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards. ‘’He’ll be fine.’’ she promises. It’s true, she can’t feel him calling to her yet, not even in the slightest. It’s reassuring.

The blazing reds and oranges of autumn give way to the muted colors and softness of winter. Jeremys Awakening has made it’s mark on their lives, an explosive way to kick off their junior year, but soon enough it’s all just background noise again. Life goes on. Brooke looks at Chloe and sees the bud, still oh so tightly shut in its thorny cage, and figures her best bet is spring. Springtime reawakens the world and the flowers will bloom and the earth once again sprouts green and life. How quickly she forgets why winter exists in the first place. She’s dragged Chloe along to the park, two scarves (one bright yellow, one dark blue) and two hats (one with kitty ears, one with a pompom) stuffed in her bag. Her cheeks are already a rosy red from the chill, but her hands are warm in their gloves, warmer still with one tucked into her pocket and the other with a steady grip on Chloes hand. She's smiling, laughing, talking a mile a minute about why winter is amazing. Why she loves the snow, and the stillness of the land. ‘’Figures you’d like the world at it’s deadest.’’ Chloe remarks, and Brooke laughs. ‘’I’ve always viewed the seasons as a phoenix.’’ she says, and Chloe only lifts an eyebrow. To anyone else it would come off as cold and uninterested, but Brooke knows it means she wants her to explain, she wants to know. ‘’Well spring is re-birth, right? Then summer gets warmer and that’s like, life. Then there’s autumn and all those yellows and reds and oranges and that’s sorta like a fire, and then everything dies. Then there’s winter, which is colorless and quiet, ashes, death. But like, it’s not death? It’s just…’’ she pauses, freezes in her tracks as she tilts her head up, letting her eyes travel the vast expanse of cloudy sky. There’s no trace of blue, just a light fluffy grey stretching endlessly. ‘’Hibernation!’’ she finally exclaims, resuming her pace towards the open field of the park. ‘’Because at the end of winter spring always comes, and that’s re-birth, and so the cycle continues over and over and over into the endless eternity. Like a phoenix.’’ Brooke finally finishes. Chloe says nothing. ‘’So yeah, I guess I don’t like winter in itself, as much as I like the promise of spring that comes with winter. But I like the anticipation of spring more than spring itself? If that makes sense? Then again, winter also has snow, and snow is amazing.’’ Brooke says, finality and conviction in her voice, and Chloe can only smile crookedly, a small shake of her head jostles some of her hair out from where it’s stuck underneath her scarf. ‘’Brooke, never change.’’ she simply says, and Brooke turns to her, smile radiant and eyes shining with that light that Chloe has only ever seen in Brookes eyes. Like a glimmer at the end of everything. Like a beacon at the edge of eternity. It’s something one can easily get lost in. Brooke has finished snowman number one, and plopped a kitty hat on its head, twirled a bright yellow scarf around the connection between the torso and the head. She found two pinecones for eyes and traced a stick in a curving line to form a smiling mouth. She’s finishing the head of snowman number two, cradling it in her hands as she regards it, eyes scanning for unevenness. Finding none, she places a light blue hat with a fluffy pompom on its head, and settles the dark blue scarf lovingly on it’s barely there shoulders. She picks up a few small rocks to form buttons down the front, finds two bottle caps for eyes, traces a smirk onto the snowy face with the tip of her glove. She takes two steps back, admiring her handiwork. Then the gaming flaw hits her and she turns and heads off for the forested edge of the park. ‘’Where you going?’’ Chloe calls from the bench, sitting on a picnic blanket and cradling a thermos of hot chocolate. Brooke twirls around, still moving towards the edge, and calls ‘’Arms!’’ before finishing the twirl and jogging towards the trees. It doesn’t take too long to find a good pair of stick arms, she just needs to dig a little around the bushes. One pair down, one to go, she thinks to herself. She spots a nice looking stick and pulsate it. It’s slightly stuck, but with a hard enough tug it comes loose from underneath the bush. It pulls along another stick with it, and she stands there, holding one and looking at the dangling one that followed, judging it’s size. She smiles to herself, moves to pull the two sticks apart when an even better idea hits her. She rushes back over to the two snowy figures. Correction; three snowy figures. Chloe looks a little frozen and a lot done with the cold. ‘’Almost done!’’ Brooke promises, brandishing the four sticks proudly. As soon as Brookes back is turned, Chloe lets the fondness overtake her expression. She watches brooke attach one arm to the small snow-Brooke, and then one arm to the small snow-Chloe, and she’s about to ask why they both only have one arm when Brooke starts attaching the arms in between them. She’s made the two little versions of them so they’re standing relatively close to each other, it’s a pretty cute tradition they have, not that Chloe will ever admit that out loud. But she knows it’s important to Brooke, so here she is. When Brooke steps back to join her, standing next to the bench and admiring her artistic creation, Chloe blames the flush in her cheeks on the cold. They’re holding hands. The snowmen. The arms in-between them are two sticks tangled together at the ends, and Chloes chest floods with warmth. ‘’It’s perfect!’’ Brooke nearly yells, shattering the delicate silence of their small winter wonderland. ‘’It is.’’ Chloe can’t help but agree, quietly. She looks at Brooke, offers a cup of hot chocolate, watches as she takes it gratefully, closing her eyes in bliss as the drink warms up her insides. It’s Brookes grandmothers recipe, because that’s tradition too. Brooke sits down next to Chloe, leaning into her shoulder and just looking at her creations with a small satisfied smile. Chloe can’t tear her eyes away from the way Brookes golden hair frames her face. Her warm eyes, her cute nose, her soft lips. Chloe has the urge to reach out and touch her cheek, just to check if it’s as smooth as it looks. Something in her chest melts, warmth spreading, blooming, reaching for her fingertips and her all the way out into her toes. Her heart is seized by something squeezing tight tight tight and for a second it’s as if the cold winter air is unbreathable. Brooke turns her head towards her. It’s like the world melts away, all that’s left is Brooke. Brooke and her warm kind knowing eyes and her soft kind knowing smile and her beautiful face and her hand reaching for Chloes own face. Time and space looses it’s meaning, not that it had much to begin with, as Brooke stretches her arm out fully across the few inches between them. There’s a warm breeze caressing her, making her hair billow and she’s dressed in all black but she looks oh so alive, Chloe thinks she might be dying. That’s it. She can’t breathe and she’s dying and Brooke is there because that’s what she does. Chloe catches herself thinking she’s happy Brooke is the last thing she’ll ever know, and then she remembers that breathing might help the whole not dying thing. She gasps, her lungs expanding, there’s the sweet taste of wild roses on her tongue. Chloes hans makes contact with her face. ‘’There you are.’’ she says, her voice echoing endlessly across the vast space between them, but it feels like a whisper against Chloes ear. And she understands. ‘’Here I am.’’ she answers, and it’s like her voice breaks the spell, suddenly they’re back on that park bench, swaddled in winter clothes and their faces so so close. Brookes hand is warm on her cheek. She leans in.

The crazy thing is, it tastes like pomegranates. It tastes like the chilly morning air of early spring, it tastes of the warm summer nights, it tastes of…everything Brooke has come to associate with Chloes soul ever since she could see it. But best of all, it tastes like Chloes chapstick, and the hot chocolate, and it smells like slightly spicy perfume and that one brand of conditioner Chloe really likes because it makes her hair really really soft. It’s brushing against the hand Brooke has on Chloes cheek. It’s one of the few things that still feel real.

Chloe leans back, staring at Brooke, and Brooke can only stare back at Chloe. Then her face breaks into the widest grin, and she giggles. Brooke lifts her hands to try and stifle it, stuffing her face into her scarf muffles it somewhat but she still giggles helplessly. It’s adorable, and it only makes Chloe break out into her own fit of giggles, she tears her eyes away from Brookes beautiful face to try and get it under control, and her eyes catch on something green. She stops laughing. There’s no snow on the bench. There’s no snow on the ground actually. Underneath the bench there’s a perfect green circle surrounding them, and from the green green grass all kinds of wildflowers have sprouted. They’re in full bloom, a sea of color and scents and the breeze is playing with them, swaying them back and forth in an unheard melody. Brooke has gotten her giggling under control, and is looking at their little patch of spring with a smile that’s both fond and extremely proud, overflowing with joy. She glances at Chloe, whose face isn’t as slack and shocked anymore. She's got that signature crooked smile that kinda looks like a smirk but isn’t really one. ‘’I fucking knew I was a queen.’’ she says, and Brooke breaks out into helpless giggles all over again.

[unifiedsocialblog]

How to Get Instagram Likes: 13 Tips that Actually Work

Want to be ‘liked’ by a billion people on their mobile devices (mostly)?

What a self-esteem booster that would be.

Of course, only the greatest ad ever known to man-or-woman-kind could do that.

But, that’s how big Instagram has gotten, with 85.5 million of those 1B users in the U.S. Only Facebook is bigger. Being #2 ain’t so bad, eh? Yet, Instagram is numero uno in growth per quarter, at 5%.

Watch out FB, Instagram is coming.

Instagram is the photo-and-video-sharing network behemoth for consumers and brands. With users sharing 95 million photos and videos per day.

And for your biz?

eMarketer estimates Instagram ad revenues will balloon to $10.87 billion by 2019. A 37.7% increase since 2017. Snapchat is for slightly more mature markets, using broadband and high-end mobile devices, mostly for millennials. Instagram however, is attracting even younger people in mobile-centric, emerging markets. Most users are between 18-29 years old.

With this humongous community, how are you going to get after it?

To get your brand in front of new fans?

Read on… we’ll show you how. Let’s get straight to it.

Oh wait, silly me… forgot one thing first…

What are Instagram likes?

“And why does it matter?”

Good questions.

Like with the other platforms, just click an icon to ‘like’ what you see and hear. Though unlike the others, you don’t have to be a follower.

‘Likes’ matter because they’re often the first contact between your business and a new follower. This makes it easy for anyone to appreciate your post.

On Instagram, the ‘like’ icon takes the form of a heart.

More likes = more cred for your brand.

Think of it as a long-term, stay-top-of-mind, marketing strategy.

Onward to the tips, for reals this time.

Bonus: Download a free checklist that reveals the exact steps an adventure photographer used to grow from 0 to 110,000 followers on Instagram with no budget and no expensive gear.

13 real ways to get more Instagram likes

1. Share high-quality photos and videos

Of course, great content requires thought and planning. That is if you want people to actually click that heart. Three tips to help:

Show your face. Or someone else’s. To increase your odds by 38%.

Know your colors. Primarily blue pictures get 24% more ‘likes’ than red ones. Single versus multi-colored also increases ‘likes’ likelihood by 17%.

Choose your filters. Thoughtfully. Filters that increase contrast, correct exposure, with a warmer tone get the best results. Just ask Yahoo and Georgia Tech. Use Instagram’s editing tools over their pre-programmed filters.

Keep things unique and varied, too. Instagram has tools for this. Here’s just 3 of them:

Boomerang to create video loops, frontwards and backwards

Focus to blur the background while keeping the face in focus

Superzoom to automatically zoom in while playing a dramatic sound

Here are some more tips on how to edit Instagram photos for maximum likeability.

2. Use hashtags wisely

Otherwise, you’ll make users angry. And Instagram, too.

You did your best to create great content, right? Keep up the pace with hashtags. These help others find you, even non-followers.

Finding you is the first step to liking you.

Best practices for appropriate hashtagging include:

Use relevant tags. Otherwise users will select the ‘Don’t show for this hashtag’ option.

Place them just right. Say, 2 or 3 of your most important tags in the photo caption.

Need more than a few? Fine, Instagram allows 30 per post. But post them as a comment, more out of the way than your main hashtags. Find out how to do this in our Instagram Hacks post.

Vary them up. Don’t use the same list for every post.

Which hashtags should you use?

Not the ones everyone else is using. Sure, #like4like is popular. But it’s pretty obvious to your followers that you’re fishing for ‘likes’ rather than connecting with like-minded peeps. Bots love these, too. Your stats will be meaningless, just like those tags.

Lebron James got in on the act with a vintage photo using #tbt (short for #throwbackthursday). That netted him 265,000 likes. Nice one, King James. Swish again.

View this post on Instagram

Wanna be one of the first to Congratulate you on this accomplishment/achievement tonight that you’ll reach! Only a handful has reach/seen it too and while I know it’s never been a goal of yours from the beginning try(please try) to take a moment for yourself on how you’ve done it! The House you’re about to be apart of has only 6 seats in it(as of now) but 1 more will be added and you should be very proud and honored to be invited inside. There’s so many people to thank who has help this even become possible(so thank them all) and when u finally get your moment(alone) to yourself smile, look up to the higher skies and say THANK YOU! So with that said, Congrats again Young King ????????! 1 Love! #striveforgreatness???? #thekidfromakron????

A post shared by LeBron James (@kingjames) on Jan 23, 2018 at 7:29am PST

One could write an entire article, just about hashtags. And we did.

3. Tag relevant users

Why tag someone? To encourage them to engage with your post and share it with their followers.

Or to credit them, if they took the picture/video.

Tag other Instagram users featured in your photos with an @-mention in your caption. Or, use Instagram’s tagging functionality. Either way, they’ll receive a notification.

4. Write darn-good captions

I was gonna say ‘damn-good’, but thought not to.

Anyway…

A nice visual plus text is like peanut-butter and chocolate. Readers will go ‘ahhhh’ (and tap the heart).

Write your captions with some TLC.

Tell your story, using words and pictures. Unlike Twitter, there’s no character limit. Make it long, or not. You get to decide. But make it count.

Some ideas:

Ask a question. It can make the reader lean in, with interest. Sounds less promotional, too.

Let your hair down. A little humor never hurt nobody. That ‘suit and tie’ approach… sucks. Especially for this crowd.

Show some love. Got followers praising you? Cool. Mention them in your caption.

That ‘less is more’ thing. True that. Sometimes a minimalist caption will highlight a striking image. Also, it can be a stylistic way to impress followers. One-liners, quotes, song lyrics… you’ve got options.

Short on caption ideas for your photos or videos? Get inspired.

5. Tag your location

Tagging your location puts your business on the map.

And, makes it dead simple for people to discover your photos and videos.

Plus, users view posts more that are tagged with a location.

Here’s how simple it is:

Tap ‘Add Location’

Search for your location

Select it and post the photo or video

This becomes a clickable field for the user. Clicking on the location shows all photos and videos for that place. Your brand is now associated with this location, like a shop, hotel, or head office. Or, make it more general, for a city or town.

We good? Moving right along…

6. Get on the Explore tab

Also known as the Explore page.

What is it?

Curated topics and personalized content you will adore. At least that’s what Instagram believes, based on your previous actions and engagement patterns. Wired calls it, “the most honest place on the internet.” Ah, how nice. Click on the magnifying glass to see for yourself.

Why use it?

For your brand to become more recognized. Placing high on the Explore tab can get you new followers and a steady flow of traffic.

How to get on it

It’s not completely known, but most likely, Instagram uses these criteria to place content in the Explore tab:

Content similar to what users engaged with

Content with high engagement

Content from accounts similar to accounts the user already follows

How to improve your chances

Know your audience. Like: your target customer, their interests, and who they follow. Create a persona to target your content.

Listen closely. Tailor your content based on how your audience is engaging with theirs.

Use hashtags. We talked about this above. Don’t skip it.

That’s the abbreviated version. Learn more in our post on how to get on the Explore page.

7. Post consistently

Why?

People will know what to expect. This keeps followers engaged with a consistent, versus overwhelming, flow in their feeds.

Establishes authority and credibility. You’ll be considered a thought leader in your industry.

Your brand will be recognized. By consistently sharing content with your target audience. 93% of organizations depend on this.

Engage with your audience. Which makes them come back for more. Loyal customers generate more revenue. Cheaper than acquiring new ones.

Generate leads. Give people useful, interesting content, they’ll knock on your e-door to learn more.

8. Post at the right time, too

Which is 12 p.m. to 1 p.m. Monday to Friday.

That’s what we do. Because our audience scrolls through Instagram during their lunch hour. Since we’re B2B, our strategy is weekday focused.

Instagram moved away from the reverse-chronological feed, but timing still matters. They explain on their blog, posts are ordered based on:

Likelihood of their interest in your content

One’s relationship with your brand

Timeliness of posts (an emphasis for us)

Timing is everything. What’s yours?

Find out by:

Knowing your audience

Testing different times

Measure what works, what doesn’t. Do more of what does.

9. Run a “like-to-win” contest

Say I offered you a free flight to your next holiday destination. You only needed to post a cool photo of yourself on vacation.

Would you do it?

Of course.

That’s the seductive play of an Instagram contest.

There’s a few types of these contests. We like the like-to-win one best.

It’s simple to do. Just ask users to like an Instagram photo of your brand, so they can win a prize. It’s a great way to connect with your audience and get people excited about your brand.

Set goals and metrics to see how it’s working.

For building brand awareness, measure follower count, engagement, and website traffic

For an annual sale, measure purchases, year-over-year engagement, and landing page traffic

You get the idea.

Bonus: Download a free checklist that reveals the exact steps an adventure photographer used to grow from 0 to 110,000 followers on Instagram with no budget and no expensive gear.

Get the free checklist right now!

10. Ask your followers to tag their friends

You can also encourage your followers to tag their friends in the comments. For example: “Tag someone you know who needs a vacation!” This can help expose your Instagram account to a larger network of people.

11. Comment and ‘like’ posts of others

Do this and Instagram will reward you, because they care most about engagement.

When a post receives a bunch of likes and comments, Instagram sees this as quality, engaging content that more people will want to see. So then…

Get on and scroll your feed

Like what you like

Write useful comments (not patronizing ones)

Participate in a social community that actually cares about each other’s posts. Not much more to say than that.

12. Share your Instagram posts on other channels

No need to keep things to yourself.

Increase your reach by sharing your posts on other social sites. But, alter them a bit versus just posting as is. So it works best for that platform and audience. For instance…

Address your Facebook friends differently than your LinkedIn connections

Edit your message to fit Twitter’s 280 character count limit

For Pinterest, post just the picture

Use formats wisely, too.

Multiple hashtags work well for Twitter and Instagram. But on Facebook or LinkedIn, you might not get the same results.

13. Use Instagram ads

Remember that $10.87 billion in revenue by 2019?

You want some of that, right? Just like 2 million other companies.

Here’s some ads to help you get more likes on Instagram:

Photo ads

Use these to tell your story and showcase your products using compelling images.

Parachute Home used these to promote a 60-night trial of their bedding, using a Shop Now call-to-action.

Their beautiful stuff aimed at 18-54 year-olds, for their core customer profile. The result? A 3.7 times return on spend. With a click-through rate 2 times that of ads on other platforms.

Video ads

As we now know, Instagram users are crazeeee about videos.

Videos were posted 4 times more than photos in 2017, compared to 2016.

Seems you should do the same.

OGX, a global hair care brand, created a video campaign around ‘Rock What You’ve Got”. This featured women celebrating their diverse hair textures and styles, targeted to millennial women.

This reached an impressive 61 percent of the target audience in the US. The same in Canada, UK, Germany, and Australia combined.

Video ads can be up to 60 seconds, but OGX shows a solid video doesn’t need to be long, as theirs was only 15 seconds.

Carousel ads

These let users swipe through a series of images or videos, with a call-to-action button connecting them directly to your website. Use more creative freedom to tell a longer story.

That’s what Kayla Itsines, founder of fitness empire Bikini Body Guide did.

She created and published a series of carousel ads for her workout app, Sweat: Kayla Itsines Fitness.

This showcased short fitness sequences demonstrating how users could exercise anywhere, anytime with the app. She targeted women aged 18 to 42, reaching 6.4 million people. With an incredible 21-point increase in brand awareness.

Woohoo! Gonna work on my bod right after completing this post. I’m inspired.

Sight, sound, and motion to inspire people around your brand and products.

Stories ads

These are full-screen ads appearing to users between Stories they’re already viewing from people they follow. 400 million Instagram users view Stories every day.

Choose how often people see your Stories ad. Stories expire after 24 hours, ideal for sharing limited-time offers and promotions.

Stories ads look like a regular post. The call-to-action works like a swipe-up feature, taking users directly to your website.

Good stuff for getting more Instagram likes using ads. Read even more about how to advertise on Instagram.

And that’s the story of how to get more Instagram likes

Now you know how to get more likes, which will get you more followers.

Nice.

But that’s not the only way to get more followers. Here’s 21 more ways.

A marketer’s job is never done.

And we can help…

Save time managing your Instagram presence using Hootsuite. From a single dashboard you can schedule and publish photos directly to Instagram, engage the audience, measure performance, and run all your other social media profiles. Try it free today.

Get Started

The post How to Get Instagram Likes: 13 Tips that Actually Work appeared first on Hootsuite Social Media Management.

How to Get Instagram Likes: 13 Tips that Actually Work published first on https://getfblike.tumblr.com/

[ruthgabyguerrero]

Southern California Veteran DJ’s Keep Hip-Hop Alive

Standing on step stools, the students respond with a hand up, and a "here" to their names being called. Their teacher, however, unlike regular grade school teachers who look up and monotonously nod at students' reply, reiterates with a boosting remark every time.

"Ezekiel in the house ready to cut it off!" Mr. Choc, wearing Dickies cut off at the calves and high-top Vans, tells a student.

"Victor, who goes by 'Lil Vic!'" he tells another.

He then shouts, "who's ready to get scratching!"

The pre-teen students raise one hand and cheer and use their other hand to hold on to their too-big headphones as they leap in excitement. The other teacher, DJ Babu, wearing a black baseball cap and a black tee with the word “junkies” on both, handles the two turntables and mixer and instructs the students in a tender, purposely downtempo tone,

"Make sure you could hear yourself on your headphones," he says,

And "keep one ear open. I see some of you with the headphones covering both ears."

A loud, catchy beat consumes the hipster-looking room with its light wooden floors, festival posters framed on its walls, and a cool coffee table shaped like a compact cassette surrounded by two modern mid-century style sofas. The rhythm is a bass that is signature Hip-Hop. The students then place one ear cup behind their ear, as Mr. Choc says, "somebody say yeahhh!"

"Yeahhh!"

And just like that the aspiring DJs rock the air of professional Hip-Hop DJ's, and are one step closer to mastering the infamous Two Turntables and Mixer right before each of them.

*

The school these youngsters attend is The Beat Junkie Institute of Sound, owned and operated by seven friends and colleagues, located in the city of Glendale. At six pm every Monday and Wednesday and at twelve pm every Saturday the intermediate students are taught by Southern California's most legendary DJ’s.

The classes, which run like a college quarter system with ten weeks of lessons, include more than just an opportunity for pastime, but instead the fundamentals in DJing, reasons Brian Samson Sr. enrolled his 11-year-old at BJIOS.

"[I] wanted to get him into an educational environment about DJing so he has a real structured perspective. [Hip-Hop] is not about hanging out and going to parties," he said regarding the school.

Samson is a DJ himself who's worked in the music industry for twenty five years with labels such as Def Jam and who currently works in marketing and promotion for independent artists. Videos of his past DJ gigs kept young Samson entertained for years and eventually sparked an interest at the age of seven. At the age of nine he made his own instrumentals playlist, and told his parents he wanted to DJ his own birthday pool party--a moment that prompted Samson to finally look into classes for his son. The primary reservation for Samson, however, was whether the courses would distract from his regular school. But after a year of negotiating and after making the Honor Roll at his school, Brian Samson Jr. finally convinced his father to enroll him in the “DJing for Kids” courses.

“It was kind of hard [at first], I kept thinking ‘Oh my God there’s a lot of buttons,’”

young Samson, a miniature version of his father with his all-black attire, husky frame and amiable demeanor, says about class, adding,  “[My friends] are not that into DJing, they’re more into sports. I like DJing better.”

The structured perspective Samson desired for his only son is truly what students are consuming at this after-school activity. Fundamentals include heavy repetition, positioning guidance, musical terminology and even some calisthenics for their adult students, says DJ Babu, whose real name is Melvin Babu.

"It's a combination of music school and martial arts the way we teach our classes. It's literally some Cobra Kai shit."

*

On this Wednesday the kids are taught by two of the seven teachers in the BJIOS, ex-Power 106 DJ, Mr. Choc, and current member of the Hip-Hop group Dilated Peoples, DJ Babu. Babu, who drove all the way from his hometown of Corona, faces the students with his turntables before him on a small elevated stage, demonstrating a scratching pattern that the kids must then repeat. He turns the brim of his hat to the side, licks his index and middle fingers on his left hand, and places them on the vinyl to demonstrate, saying, "Forward, forward, forward, bring it back."

An effortless pattern for him is a tricky one for beginners. Repetition, however, causes the students' unison scratching to sound more and more harmonic each time.

"Switch!" Mr. Choc yells above the "Black Beatles" instrumental for the students to now stand in front of the vinyl on the left side because standing in the middle doesn't allow for full control, he says. And luckily the step stools these pre-teens stand on to reach the top of the tables custom-made for adults are wide enough for the easy switch.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, playback.

He switches the song to Drake’s "Fake Love," another tune the kids readily recognize and jump in excitement to hear. Their task this time is to count it's BPM, or Beats Per Minute, after deciding "Black Beatles" had 72.

Tap, tap, tap,

Mr. Choc counts the tempo of the song with his finger but not with his words. After 60 seconds of the beat, skinny arms shoot up and, chosen one-by-one, all agree on a tempo of 67.

"Great job guys, great job," Mr. Choc says as he steps off the stage to high-five one student, walking further to high-five another, and another, before heading back to his place on the stage.

*

Melo-D, DJ Rhettmatic, J Rocc, D-Styles, Dj Sunil, along with Mr. Choc and DJ Babu make up a DJ crew named Beat Junkies that originally formed in 1992. The crew participated in DJ battles, nightclub performances, mixtapes or "street albums," and music production, but as of four years ago decided to get invested in a more serious venture through their skillful union.

Their first venture was a digital record group, BeatJunkies.com, that allowed subscribers access to the beats curated and provided by the Beat Junkies themselves. With the success of this digital record group the friends wondered what else they can venture on; then the idea of a DJ school came to mind. At the time, however, Babu and Dilated Peoples were at their peak touring worldwide, releasing the most music and collaborating with artists such as Cypress Hill, Kanye West and The Roots among many more other names, adding,

"Mentally and commitment wise we weren't ready. I was in the middle of making my last album with my band, and the other guys' tour schedule meant they were out of town so much...I just wasn't ready to teach yet."

A year and a half ago, however, D-Styles in a Beat Junkie meeting brought up the idea once again, and this time it made more sense. Babu was slowing down with his band and longed for more “normalcy” and the opportunity to be home with his kids, and fondly remembers what D-styles said that fortified this plan,

"What do Boxer's do when they don't wanna box no more? They open gyms."

*

In an era where technology has fundamentally taken over manual tasks, old-school turntablists have seen the integrity of DJing, too, be compromised in the music industry. Today, all that’s needed is a playlist and a few computer programs on a laptop to blend songs together for you, minimizing the tasks of a “DJ” to yelling on a microphone in order to heighten the environment and twisting a few knobs for cool musical effects.

But could it be that Hip-Hop itself has contributed to the vanishing of this organic art? The Hip-Hop culture is rooted on the quality of secrecy; an aura of pride that refuses to share, particularly in the mainstream, for fear of dilution. It is a world thriving with qualified talent that may possibly, like Babu claims he used to, be confusing “selling out” with helping maintain an art alive,

“It took me 25 years to realize it was really selfish. And as an artist I was just killing myself not sharing. What’s the point of making all this shit or getting good at this art form if you’re not gonna share?”

BJIOS teaches without a laptop, without computer programs, and instead with vinyls on the infamous Two Turntables and a Mixer that its student must mix manually. Each of the two turntables has a different song, or artist, or even genre and a DJ’s job is to make a song something else. He/She changes the genre of a song, turning William Bell into Dilated Peoples, Earl Klugh into Wu-Tang Clan, Kool and the Gang into Nas; ultimately a soulful vinyl into a Hip-Hop one, by manually blending the rhythms together, every once in a while “scratching” the vinyl, oh so skillfully, to make a remix of a song that glides.

“That’s what’s different about our school and our approach is that we want to lift the level of DJIng, and the perception of what real DJing is,” Babu says, adding,

“At the most core of it, I want DJ’s hand skills [perfected]. I get really hurt when I see someone DJing publicly and the fundamentals are wrong, the mechanics are wrong. Like, ‘the record rotates this way guys, why are you scratching over here?’”

*

The city of Glendale was primarily chosen because of sound regulations other prospective locations imposed. Babu, however, has developed an admiration for the city’s trendy milieu, stating restaurants like Shake Shack and Eggslut, as well as the Museum of Neon Art and the city’s very-modern Library with its seven conference rooms, big screen projectors and a 3D printing lab, as his favorite parts of the city, adding,

“If I could change my life and live right here on Ivy (the street the school is located in) I’d sell my car and just walk everywhere.”

And, “I want to be part of Glendale, I think we’re a real gem for the city, and I want them to realize what they have, and I want them to get behind us. And include us in the community section of things. I want to be in community centers, I want to work with the YMCA, I want to get into the private schools and junior colleges, let them know what we’re doing.”

The ultimate goal for him and his fellow Beat Junkies, however, is to be able to provide DJ lessons free of charge for all. He is currently working on a scholarship program along with restaurant owner and chef Roy Choi that would allow twelve children from the city of Watts to take free lessons that at the end of the semester would provide them with their very own equipment.

“I dream of...I am open to the idea of becoming a non-profit. If we didn't have that burden of knowing we needed to make X-amount a month, if we could be non-profit, that would be the ultimate.”