#Flooding Your Dash with Black Girl Magic

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Lidya Jewett: January 19, 2007

She is almost an adult! 😭

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

[static-fanatic-1]

Chrollo + Phantom Troupe Teaser

Word Count: 5.2k

(Teaser my ass, holy shit this is going to be a long one)

Name: (y/n) Kurta

Nen Type: Conjurer

Nen Ability: Terracotta gauntlets with a lion head on top of the hand. The lion head can detach from the clawed gauntlets and act as physics-defying grappling hooks.

Example of Ability: You can use the grappling hooks to grab and throw whatever is caught, this can include people or other large objects. It will feel fairly weightless.

| Part 2 |

~~~

You remember the day perfectly, it was humid and moist, yet just cool enough to stop you from sweating. You had on your usual Kurta garb, purple and yellow with symbols and designs in honor of your heritage. You stayed home that day, being two months pregnant with your future child made your father worry too much.

You were barely showing at this point, but he still kept you home despite your line of work. You were a protector of sorts, a guard to your clan, keeping everyone protected as well as leaving to explore the world and bring back new things. You enjoyed your job, but your sweet old man didn't want you to over exert yourself.

"When you leave again you'll have to bring your secret lover." Your father would constantly start. "I bet he's a gentleman considering what your mother taught you." A fatherly smile gleaming over his wrinkling features. "If he runs off I'll hunt him down and strap him to our dinner table." He would joke.

You would lightly scold your father, knowing he would surely follow his words. "Stop. Keep acting like that and you'll chase him away."

You sighed at the fond memories, glancing out the window of the kitchen to watch the bright sun set below the horizon line. Deep purples and rich oranges decorated the clouds in a comforting glow. Another color, rich and warm, too warm, littered the skies. Coal black smoke rose above the tree tops and covered the beautiful sky in a suffocating cloak.

A lump got caught in your throat at the sight, you knew the colors and smoke anywhere, the burning trash of Meteor City making it a familiar sight. The smell too, burning your nostrils and making you cringe further confirmed what was happening.

Fire. Burning, raging fire was engulfing the village and eating it whole. Screams and cries for help filled the air as buildings crumpled into the ground. That was your call to action, you jumped out of your window and summoned up your nen, claws outstretched and prepared to slice any unknown mother fucker you could find.

You found one, a dark silhouette in the night with a slim build and intense pink aura coming from their hands. It felt familiar, the aura, but you didn't pay it any mind before shooting out the lion head on your gauntlets.

With chattering teeth they by harshly into the figure's forearms, dragging them across the floor and above your head into a burning building behind you. You cried and quickly jumped on the figure, slicing at their chest. Large, long gashes oozed out buckets of blood, and you quickly silenced the figure's cries with a even deeper gash to the throat... their head now hanging by a thin thread of flesh.

The blood that coated your nen gauntlets were nothing compared to the crimson that flooded your eyes. You would slaughter anyone that was not a clan member, you swore on that. Looking around your red tinted gaze fell upon the horrors caused by the raiders.

Bodies, bloodied and broken beyond recognition littered the ground. You wobbled over to one of them, barely making out who it was, an elderly woman you could almost call a grandmother. Her wrinkled features were slack and littered with blood, but the empty, oozing sockets where her eyes should be haunted your nightmares. You wailed louder than the dying screams, fat tears streaming down your cheeks and landing in the empty holes.

"Papa!" You shrieked, stumbling up off the ground and rushing further into the carnage. Your legs barely kept up as you rushed past the fire ridden village. "PAPA!" You screeched into the crackling night.

You paused, breath caught in your throat making you choke on the smoke. There was a silhouette shrouded by ash and darkness and flames, a distinguishable fur coat lining its figure. You gagged at the smoke, hiding behind a broken building to listen to the mumbling figure.

"Has anyone found her?" A smooth, honey like voice echoed past the dying screams.

Chrollo? Wha-? What's going on?! You stumbled on a piece of debris, tripling and falling onto a warm, bloodied corpse. You gave out a strained whimper, almost a shriek, as you tried to collect yourself and run away.

You could hear him behind you, you could almost feel him behind you. His nen spilled from his pores and surrounded you in a suffocating hold. You quietly gagged, hand over your mouth as you held back the bile rising in your throat. Tears pricked the edges of your eyes, blurring your vision with smoke and tears.

~~~

You bit your bottom lip, whipping your hair over your shoulder and staring at the man across from you. He was large, muscles bulging through the thin black shirt he wore, yet he was no where near strong enough to take you down. Theoretically, the only person out of this year's batch of hunters that could possibly stand against you was yourself and that clown whom got his ass kicked out for attacking one of the wardens. This guy was no where near your level, you couldn't even sense any nen.

"What's wrong little girl?" He spat, crouching down and preparing to bulldoze you. "Shaking in your boots?"

You narrowed your eyes with a scowl, scoffing and looking at the chairman across the plaza. "Hardly."

The large man growled and dashed with his arms out stretched. Typical. You jumped high into the air and twisted around, your leg coming back down on his thick skull. Your foot clashed against the crown of his head and shoved his face into the ground, bringing him to a dead stop. Jumping back to the ground you inspected the damage, the floor was cracked and you could barely see his head past the new hole in the ground. The man wasn't moving, you knocked him out.

There was some clapping from the end of the plaza, shoes clacking against tile as he wondered closer. His steel grey eyes trailed down to your chest as he neared, old perv. "I'm a little disappointed." He mused, looking back up to meet your stern gaze. "I thought he would have a better chance against you. Though, it's always a treat to see a first timer beat the Hunter Exam."

You lightly smiled at the praise, a small memory of your father coming into mind. "I appreciate it."

Netero grinned at your words, but it slightly faltered when he glanced back at the designs of your clothes. "So, what hunter are you aiming to be?" He started as he shuffled through his clothes.

"Bounty Hunter, there are a few people I want to find."

"The Phantom Troupe, hm? I can't blame you, they have done some pretty horrible things."

You glanced over at the old man, your gaze being met with a knowing expression and a Hunter License. "Thanks...." You warily replied, taking hold of your new license. It should serve you well, you hoped.

A few hours later you wondered into the fancy hotel you were staying at. A few strangers glanced at you with a disgusted look, you couldn't blame them as you were still covered in dirt, leaves and a few splotches of blood. A tired sigh escaped your lips once you finally got to your room, taking the card and swiping it you entered with a delicate smile. "Kurapika! (S/n)! Where are you guys?"

A tuft of blond hair wizzes past the corner of the small living room. Dark grey eyes quickly following and staring back at you with a disgruntled expression. "Your son is a handful." Spat Kurapika.

Behind him a small, pale skinned figure peeked behind the corner, a cheeky grin plastered on his chubby face. "Momma!" He screeched, rushing over and running into your waiting arms.

You gave him a kiss on his forehead, using your hand to push away his fluffy raven hair. "Pretty sure you were the handful Kurapika, no way this little angel was was trouble."

Kurapika slightly smiled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Only when you are around, anyway, how did it go?"

You sighed and sat on the marble flooring. "It was really easy, but I've had the training for it to be easy. You will probably have a hard time, especially if that clown shows up again." You mumbled the last part, moving to the kitchen to grab you a snack, you were starving.

"Then teach me the "magic" you claim to know."

"I wanna see magic! Momma can you teach me too?" You took a big bite out of your snack, giving a glare to both of the kids.

"Sorry squirt, when you get older I'll teach you."

Kurapika furrowed his brows. "You keep telling me that if I pass the hunter exam you'll teach me."

"Change of plans-"

"Change of plans?! What do you mean change of plans? I still don't understand why you won't teach me this "magic" you keep talking about! I would be strong enough to fight the Phantom-"

"Kurapika." You sternly glared in his direction, the look in your eyes forcing everyone to quite down. "You know I don't want you to even get involved with this. Besides the change of plans isn't that bad, I want you to figure out this "magic" thing yourself and return when you are ready. I still want to teach you, but I don't want you to get killed in the process.

"I have a plan to find and hunt down the Troupe, but it will take time. If you aren't ready by the time I am, you will not be permitted to help. Instead you will stay somewhere safe and take care of (s/n) for me."

Kurpaika's dark grey eyes stared into the back of your head and burned holes into your skull. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, yes I am. Even if you learn this "magic" there is no telling how powerful you will become. Even with years and years of rigorous training like myself, I won't stand a chance against more than two of them at a time." You kept your stance, standing tall above the blond you called a little brother. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Kurapika. I can't see you get hurt."

Your son waddled over to your tense form and wrapped his shirt arms around your thighs. "He won't get hurt momma, I'll make sure of it!" A beaming smile did it's best to comfort you.

"I know you will, (s/n)." You turned your attention back to the blond, giving him a stern stare that told him you meant what you said. "I want to protect him too."

Kurapika growled, you knew how important finding and slaughtering the Troupe was to him, so why make it so difficult? Wouldn't it be easier to teach him and make him stronger so the both of you can fight?

You looked away from the blond as he stormed into one of the off rooms, you knew what he was thinking, but that wouldn't change your mind. You blamed yourself for your clan's slaughter and you wouldn't be able to live if he was to die too. You didn't want him to get involved in our own affairs, especially when they were so dangerous.

"Momma," You glanced down at the head of fluffy black hair still clinging to your legs. "Why do you and Uncle Kurapika argue so much? Who is this Phantom Troupe?" His chuffs cheeks puffed out, his brows furrowing in thought.

"(S/n)... it's a long story. One you aren't old enough to hear I'm afraid." You leaned down, picked him up, and rubbed your nose to his own rosy one. "Till then I'll keep you safe."

"From the Troupe?"

You glanced away form his coal black eyes, the painful memories a bit too much to handle at the moment. "From monsters that want to hurt you." You planted a kiss on his forehead, wiping away some of the scars burned into your mind.

~~~

You were going to strangle that boy when you find him. With gritted teeth and blazing eyes, you haven't been this pissed off in years. You stomped over to the glass window of the hotel room your all too kind employer provided.

You gave him simple instructions, go off and figure out the basics of "magic", and then return for more training. It was supposed to be a test for the rebellious teen.

That's what it was supposed to be. Instead, he decided he had enough of you and left to find the Troupe on his own, leaving your precious son to be alone in a secure hotel room while you worked. You might just kill Kurapika next time you see him.

You fanned down the small wrinkles on your slim dress, straightening out the slit that trailed to your thigh. It was black and long enough to trail behind your tall heels. Around your neck was a pearl necklace and a fur scarf hanging on your shoulders. Your hair was curled and allowed to flow freely behind you. You also had some pearl earrings and a pearl bracelet.

Swiping the last of your lipstick on, pursing your lips and giving them a little smack before turning to the small child on the couch. His eyes were glued to a puzzle he decided was more interesting than the television. "(S/n), I'm going to have to go in a minute. You'll be fine right?"

Doe eyes glanced back at you, a puzzle piece tightly held in his hands. "I'll be fine!"

"You remember the rules right?"

"No leaving without you or Kurapika, don't answer the door unless it is you or Kurapika, make sure I call you if something is wrong or when I go to bed,-"

"I get it." You waved a hand in his face, a gentle smile etched onto your painted lips. "My smart little boy remembers everything."

He nodded, leaning into the backside of the couch to wrangle you into a hug. "Come back soon!"

"I will, don't worry. Love you."

"Love you too."

You were off, leaving and meeting with your employer at his hotel before making your way to a dinner with a few high end Mafia men. You quickly met up with the man, he was a son to one of the ten dons and hired you as both a body guard and a rental girlfriend. A little demeaning in your eyes but anything to get close to your targets.

"You look stunning." Mentioned the man, his arm linking with your own. He was a handsome man, that was obvious, a real charmer too. With chocolate brown hair slicked back and bright green eyes you could stare at for an eternity. He was broad shouldered and muscular underneath his crisp dark grey suit, a pale yellow under shirt and a maroon tie adding to his attractiveness. The poor flirt would be dead if you outwardly admitted that though.

"Likewise." Your hand placed itself on top his forearm, letting him guide you to the fancy limousine he had for the two of you.

You decided conversation would be the best thing at the moment, as getting to know a man you are supposed to temporarily date would be best for the illusion. "Where are we going to meet your father?"

"Ah, a nice restaurant just a few blocks uptown from the auction site." He directed his head to take your facial features in. "They have the best steak I've ever had, amazing garlic butter."

You were beyond tense, but a relaxed smile crept onto your lips. "I just might have to try that. Who else is coming?"

"My father's friends, one is another don, and my two other brothers. I wouldn't worry though, they might ask you a few questions but I would just let me do the talking." He gave you a kind smile, turning back to the driver and telling him the name of the restaurant.

"I don't mean to be rude, but if anything happens I'll have to leave and take care of it."

"Oh! I know, they know. My family actually told me to, uh, rent a girlfriend for the auction days." He ran a hand through his chocolate locks, a sigh escaping his lips and he relaxed in his chair. "Rumor has it that something bad might happen during this auction. Something about sleeping? Like death."

"If that's the case, then I might have to take an early leave."

He gave you a cocky grin. "Just tell me what's happening outside the restaurant, I'm curious about what kind of stuff a hunter gets into."

You returned his gaze, finally relaxing just a bit more. "I'll make sure to keep you posted."

"Sir," alerted the driver. "We're here."

"Good! Let's get something to eat, shall we?"

You nodded, sliding your dress to the side to exit the vehicle. "Oh! Please, don't make me look bad." He jested, quickly shuffling to your side to open the door. "I'll embarrass myself in front of my dad."

"About that, I never introduced myself did I? My name is (y/n)."

He gave a dopey grin. "Right, I'm Jason, it probably would be a good idea to know each other's names, huh? Well, let's go before my dad thinks we are doing something suggestive." He winked and held out his arm for you to take, in which you did with a small scoff.

The two of you walked into the restaurant, a grand archway with a fancy chandelier lighting up the entire entrance with a warm glow. Black marble coated the floor with a glossy reflection, and your heels clicked against them with an elegant sway of your dress.

A man stood at the enterence, another shorter version of Jason. "Ah, Jason! How've you been?" He glanced over at you and gave a devilish grin. "Wow, what a catch. Maybe she'll decide to stay?"

The new stranger sauntered over, a shoulder being wrapped around your shoulders. "If he isn't your type I'm always available. Jackson, by the way." He whispered in your ear with a raspy tone.

"Ignore him," Jason mumbled to you, his cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment, "He's always like this with any human of the female gender."

Humor yourself, or let the poor man walk away with some of his dignity intact? Nah, if you were going to give some of your dignity with these men you might as well have some fun. "You poor thing," You began, turning with a gentle smile to the brother. "Can't keep it in his pants, hmm?" You softly patted the fluffy hair on his head and pouted, shuffling out of his grip and wrapping your arm back with Jason. "Better luck next time." You retorted with a little wave.

With his breath caught in his throat, he coughed and turned to the direction of where their table was. "The tables this way, dad's already there." His mumbling quieted down as he led the way.

Jason turned to you, kept in a laugh, and shrugged. The restaurant was warm along with the cozy glow of the chandeliers hanging from the tall roof. There were many tables, black with cushioned chairs and blazing candles.

Your eyes zeroed on the candles, the beautifully dangerous flame causing you to start sweating. You gulped down the lump in your throat and forced yourself to relax your tensing limbs. 'It's just a small flame, nothing to be afraid of.' You scolded yourself.

The two of you wondered into a private room in the back. There was a large, round, black table in the center of the room, a few couches on the walls with side tables. There were a few candles in the center along with a crystal vase filled with blood red roses. As much as you loved the roses, they reminded you of him.

To distract yourself you glanced around the room, the father and Jackson were conversing, the other son sitting and listening. Jackson pointed in your direction, a sly smirk on his face.

Jason leaned in. "That's my dad," he pointed over to one of the other walls near the couch. A man was leaning on the side, his crisp suit wrinkling with his crossed legs. He had a beard, small but neat, with deep blue eyes and tan flesh. "That is Manchile, he's the Don I was talking about."

There were a few other notable people, but when Jason and you entered the entire room lightened up. The father stood and sauntered over, a sleazy smile gracing his gruff features. "I hope Jason didn't make a move on you?" He extended his hand, slightly calloused from use, but large and warm.

You took it with a gentle smile, time to suck up your pride and be a darling. "I wouldn't worry about him, he's quite the gentleman." Your hand was in worse shape than his, more rough, and must have noticed. The father's face changed into one of surprise and respect. "I'd watch out for that one though." You pointed to Jackson, the man lightly scoffing with a grin.

"Will do." He said with a chuckle.

Manchile joined the table, a few of his men sitting down too. "I'm starved, let's eat."

"Sure thing." The father returned his attention to Jason and you. "Ladies first."

The table was filled, and you ended up being sandwiched between Jason and Manchile. Your eyes would periodically go back to the candles in front of you, and all you could do was twist a small bit of your dress skirt to calm your nerves. You all ordered, and you took your date's advice with the steak.

As you were waiting, the unknown brother, leaned in and gave you a curious smile. "So, a hunter huh? I've never met one, what's it like?"

All eyes were on you now, and you relaxed with the distraction. "It's dangerous work... but if you were trained correctly then it is worth it. Plenty of benefits as long as you hunt something."

"Who trained you?" His green eyes gleamed begins his thin glasses. "Sorry if I'm prying, just curious."

"I don't mind. I trained myself. I've always wanted to become a hunter."

"Really? Ooh, what about the test? I've heard it's impossible!"

You slightly smiled, Manchile leaning in and joining the conversation. "Some of my men are hunters, they talked about fighting each other and impossible puzzles. My best man had to find the damned test four times before he made it."

You cocked an eyebrow. "Well he's not wrong. All the tests are different but we did have to fight each other. There were some puzzles but I didn't think they were that difficult...." You locked your lipstick and took a sip of your water, keeping your posture and chin held high. "Four times huh? I got my license on my first try."

Manchile cackled in his water cup. "Really? You make my best look like babies." The waiter returned with a large bottle of red wine and began to pour it to everyone who wanted some. You declined, drinking on the job wouldn't bid well if something happened. "Next your going to say you could win against one of the beasts."

You stayed silent, doing your best to keep your smile hidden behind your glass of water. Jason peeked over and noticed your curled lips. "No way, seriously?"

"Not sure, never tried." You commented, giving him a cocky side eye. "But probably."

It was the father's turn to laugh, Jackson joining in with some bread in his hands. "Come on, no one's stronger than the beasts. You've got to be crazy."

The father butted in with a joke. "You're a bounty hunter right? You didn't come here to take us out, hmm?"

"No, no, that'd be bad for business. I'm actually after the Phantom Troupe." The table quieted down, so you continued. "Rumor has it some people will 'sleep' tonight, take that as you will, I'm just here for security purposes. More or less."

Manchile waved over a waiter and asked for another bottle before asking some more questions. "You think they will attack? What makes you think they are crazy enough to challenge the mafia?"

"Well, I will admit I don't have proof, but it would be a missed opportunity. I mean if people are going to 'sleep' then the only criminals crazy enough to try anything would be the Troupe. They are also strong enough to do so. I guess you could say it's a hunch."

A few new waiters entered with the food. They set it on the table, asked if we needed anything else, and left.

"Well, son, you found one interesting woman, huh?"

Jason gave a breathy laugh, as if he was trying to keep his nerves together. "Yeah, I guess I did."

The current conversation died out and turned into useless banter. What they wanted to get from the auctions, who they would be fighting it for, money, fame, glory, all of it. Jason leaned over and asked if you wanted something, but you declined the generous offer. You knew there would be Kurt's eyes, but buying them seemed a bit off. Almost like cheating.

You wanted to collect them through force, just like they did, only then will you be satisfied. Still, you appreciated the offer and made sure he knew you did.

Everything was calm, the food was hot and the candles became a later memory from the conversations you were listening in on. That was until a sudden ding echoed in the private room. Then another, and another, and quickly everyone's phones rang of emergency alerts and messages.

You didn't have to glance over Jason's shoulder to see the message, you already knew what happened. Still, a part of you checked to make sure you didn't have to leave the welcoming lot of individuals.

You didn't know wether to be disappointed or excited, but either way you faced your date. "I'll head over to the auction house to investigate—"

"We all will." Commanded the father. "The merchandise is missing, as well as everyone else."

"Everyone else?"

Manchile pulled himself from his seat. "Owl grabbed the stuff before shit went down. But everyone in the auction house is gone, poof, missing." There was another synchronized ding. "There's a hot air balloon heading south."

"In the direction of Meteor City?" You commented, already heading towards the door. "I'll head over there. Keep me informed, I need a list of the people missing and a list of people chasing down the balloon. Anything else of importance will help." You pointed to Jason, but he held out his hand.

"Do you think it's the Troupe?"

You turned and stared into his chocolate eyes, his brows furrowed with worry. So you smiled kindly. "I know it's the Troupe."

"Get the Shadow Beasts." The father's voice trailed off behind the door.

You were calm as you walked through the restaurant, the hectic banter of the trailing mafia men closely behind. They passed you and exited, you quickly following suit. The outside air was crisp and humid from an old rain and the clouds coated the sky like a blanket.

"Are you calling them Jared?"

"Hurry and get worm on the phone Jackson!"

"You already have the merchandise? Good, good, keep it safe and get the others. Worm, Rabid Dog, Porcupine, and Leech are already on their way."

"(Y/n)! If it's the Troupe you should wait for the other beasts and go with them. Just to be safe." Jason held your hand, finally noticing the toughness of your overworked hands. His were soft, raised with little trouble unlike yourself.

"I'll be fine, I'm strong enough to last against one, maybe two of the members if I'm lucky." You slipped your hand from his grip and tore off your expensive heels, no need for them to get ruined like your dress. "Can you hold these for me? I'd hate for them to get dirty." You handed him your pearls, leaving the earrings because they wouldn't get caught on anything. "I'll have to come back and get them."

You smiled at him again and summoned your gauntlets, dashing off to catch a hot air balloon. He stared at your disappearing form, a clear as day blush spread across his cheeks.

~~~

You made it after a while of running, but the battle had already begun. You stationed yourself on top of the plateau surrounding the battlefield, and already you scolded yourself for not trying to keep the beasts as back-up.

Their bodies littered the floors and blood soaked the dry earth. Biting your lip, you assessed the playing field. Uvogin sat alone, a hairy man you could only assume was the Porcupine character stuck to his fist. The rest of the Troupe members, not all of them, sat along the sides with cards in their hands. Machi, Nobunaga, Feitan, Franklin, Shizuku and Shalnark. You wondered if that was everyone or if someone was hiding.

Next was a few mafia men smart enough to not engage in battle, but why haven't they run off yet? You would have taken more care in who they might be, but you were quickly cut off with an ear piercing scream. You covered your ears and crouched down further, wincing at your late reaction.

Uvogin smiled and waited. Blood spurt from Porcupine's ears and not a moment later he fell to the floor with a dead eyed thud. The mafia men began to make their move, so you wondered closer to where they were stationed.

Then it happened, chains tightly wound themselves around Uvogin and tugged him into oblivion. Chains... chains! Kurapika! With your new revelation you ran towards the car everyone was piling into. But in no time Uvogin was packed in and they began their drive away.

With a low growl you sprinted faster and jumped off the cliff side and towards the first car. You tumbled onto the roof, denting it underneath the impact, and attached yourself with your gauntlets.

Your burning rage dismissed the passenger's window, and you smashed into it without care for who was on the other side. Gripping their shirt and almost pulling them out, the frightened girl screeching. "Kurapika!"

Two pairs of red eyes stared into each other's souls. He knew he was in deep shit. "(Y/n)-"

"Don't you fucking dare." You snapped, pointing your finger to the man tied up in the backseat., but your eyes stayed glued on the blond. "I swear to god if I hear any bullshit I'm going to tear a tongue out!"

"Someone's in a pissy mood." A deep voice reverberated through the small confines of the black car. Finally, you glared at the man in the back seat, his entire body tied under nen chains.

"Eat lead Uvo."

"Already checked off the bucket list (y/n/n)."

God, you hated that nickname.

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found

Summary: Admittedly, taking in a strange stray cat is not the brightest idea one might have when one lives in a world of faeries and magic and mythical creatures straight out of old wives’ tales. But no one told this to Jude Duarte, and so taking in that cat is exactly what she does... || From this prompt by @newblood-freya

Genre: Soft, Feel Good Fic

Words: 1862

Rating: sfw

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

Admittedly, taking in a strange stray cat was not the brightest idea one might have had when one lived in a world of faeries and magic and mythical creatures straight out of old wives’ tales. 

But it had been cold and rain had been pouring down in sheets, and the poor scrap of a cat had been huddled in a pathetic little ball among the trees of the Milkwoods, its pelt growing soggy in the onslaught. 

And if that weren’t pitiful enough, dawn had been creeping ever closer, and—while darkness was dangerous in the human world—nighttime in Faerie was quiet and as generally peaceful as it could get in a land where a wrong turn might spell death-by-endless-dancing. Yes, in Faerie, the darkness meant safety, whilst daylight brought dangers from stories untold. 

Consequently, when Jude had stumbled across the sopping black cat—literally, tripped over the thing, as it had lain in the dimming shadows—she had made the somewhat-horrible decision to have mercy on it. She was, regrettably, only human, after all.

“You look as lost as I feel,” she had admitted, crouched before the little creature, hand outstretched. It was staring at her with dark amber eyes, crouched low amongst the wet grass.

“Come now,” she coaxed. “I won’t harm you, little one.”

The animal had sidled up to her, somehow managing to seem hesitant and haughty all at once, and she had scooped it up and held it to her chest, wrapping her coat around its shivering body. 

She ran the rest of the way home.

~ ~ ~

Jude wasn’t entirely sure how Madoc would react to her bringing a cat into his house—she had a vague fear that he might view it as a meal, and a brief image of the lizardlike guard who had taken the tip of her finger for a snack flashed through her mind. 

She couldn’t leave the poor thing in the stables, lest the stablehands find it and kick it out, or one of the larger, carnivorous mounts decide to gobble it up, and so she slipped in through a servant’s door, pausing for a moment beneath the light of a torch set into the wall to peek into the folds of her jacket at the warm, wet cat huddled against her chest. 

“Alright in there?” she asked it, and smiled as the glowing amber eyes blinked back. 

Carrying her boots so as not to track mud through the halls, Jude tiptoed up the stairs to her room. She ducked into a guest room once, when she heard voices down the hall, but most of the manor was asleep by this time. 

As she snuck through the corridors, she felt, for a moment, like a normal human girl in a normal human world, perhaps creeping in late from a party.

“Sometimes,” Jude breathed, turning in to her room and closing her door behind her, “it’s nice to just pretend, don’t you agree?” 

The cat mewed, its little voice creaky.

“Exactly. You get it.” She plunked the creature on her bed as she stripped her coat off and slung it over a chair. The cat jumped down. It had left a little wet patch on her blankets.

“You poor thing,” she exclaimed, “you're soaking!” 

Grabbing a towel from the bottom of her wardrobe, Jude sat on the floor and pulled the cat into her lap. It sat patiently as she rubbed at its ears and shoulders, running the towel over its long, thin body. It closed its eyes as she patted at its soft cheeks.

“Cats are funny, you know,” she remarked to it. It opened its amber eyes at the sound of her voice, looking up to meet her gaze. 

“So delicate,” she scratched the animal on it's fine jaw bone with a single finger, “and yet, if you were to fall out my window, you could walk away perfectly fine.” 

The cat gave what Jude could only interpret as an indignant squawk and dug its claws into the damp fabric of her leggings. 

“I'm not going to throw you out my window,” she laughed, stroking its soft head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little kitty mind.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, the only sounds Jude’s breathing and the cat’s rumbling purr as she stroked its drying pelt, until Jude began to shiver in her damp tunic.

The cat meowed, climbing off her lap and kneading its paws on her leg until she went to grab a dry nightgown, and then turning its back to her as she peeled her wet tunic over her head. 

What a strange cat, she thought as she shimmied out of her leggings. She smiled. They were already covered in cat hair. 

~ ~ ~

Being a human among faeries, Jude had to fight for each moment she spent on the Isles of Elfhame. She had long ago learned that knowledge, while dangerous, was also powerful, and she had made it a priority to know what she could about the goings on of the Faerie court. 

So, naturally, when the palace messenger had arrived with urgent news, Jude had taken it upon herself to learn what he knew. He’d refused to divulge anything to anyone except the General himself, and so Jude found herself crouching outside Madoc’s office, her ear pressed to the door as the messenger began to speak.

“What do you mean the prince is missing?” Madoc rumbled. His voice carried a level of concern that Jude could not believe was entirely sincere. 

“His Highness Prince Cardan has not been seen nor heard from in three days,” the messenger boy repeated. “High King Eldred wishes you to conduct a search.” 

Despite herself, Jude found she held a modicum of respect for the boy; she would have snapped something smart at Madoc’s senseless question, and probably would have received a threat in return.

She held her breath, listening for the Redcap’s next words.

“Where was he last seen?” Madoc sighed. “Or who spoke with him last? Do you have any useful information for me?”

“Only that he was last seen with a pixie girl during the Full Moon Revel four nights prior to this. The girl has been detained but she hasn’t spoken.”

Jude’s chest tightened at the thought of the insolent prince wandering off with some pixie. The girl had probably been tortured for information, although if it were up to her, Jude would have provided ample compensation to the girl for having spent any time alone with Cardan. 

Against all conscious efforts, the thought of the prince’s long, slender fingers sliding up her skin crept into her mind, accompanied by a picture of his face—his cruel mouth and his dark eyes—jeering down at her. Her stomach lurched and she wrestled the nauseating images from her mind.

Madoc’s armour clinked as he marched toward his door. 

Jude spun on her heel and ran. 

~ ~ ~

“Kitty, I’m back,” Jude called into the empty darkness of her room. She tried to pitch her voice softly, but her nerves were still frayed from the messenger’s news.

The cat slunk out from under her bed, a living shadow with bright eyes, and watched intently as she set two small bowls down for him against the wall. 

After dashing away from her foster father’s office, Jude had stopped by the kitchen to find some water and scraps of meat for her furry visitor. 

By the time she’d made it back to the relative safety of her room, the faerie boy had already left, as had Madoc. If he had caught any sign of her presence outside his door, he had either deemed it irrelevant or had decided he would deal with her later.

The cat mewed, stretching up to hook his claws into her leggings. He had devoured the meal. 

“Someone was hungry.” Jude gave a small laugh and scooped the feline up. During the few days he’d been with her, she’d discovered that she quite enjoyed his company. He was a friend she could confide in without worrying her secrets would get out, and more than that, he was a presence she could stand to be around.

Jude pulled off her boots and plopped cross legged onto her bed, cuddling the cat in her lap, stroking his silken fur. 

“Enjoyed dinner?” she asked him.

He said, “Mrrow,” and yawned in her face, showing off long, sharp fangs. 

“Oh, really? And how was your day?” she hummed, to which he grumbled in response. She liked to make idle conversation with the animal, as though she understood him.

“Well, my day was lovely, thank you for asking.” She thought for a moment. “But it was a bad kind of lovely. You know when you get a bruise and it hurts but you keep pressing on it because you like the pain? Like that, but opposite. Like the sun is making the clouds shimmer, and it’s beautiful, but those clouds are going to cause a flood. The sky is still lovely, but it’s the kind of lovely that hurts.”

The cat’s eyes were fixed on her, shining that bright amber as he stared in the way only cats could. It made her uncomfortable.

“No, I suppose I’m not making any sense, am I?” She pulled the cat onto her chest as she lay back, staring up into nothingness, and stroked his back. She pretended the deep rumble of his purr was the thunder of a summer storm, shaking the earth before bathing it in a warm rainfall.

“I’m worried,” she admitted at last, shattering the spell. “It’s been three nights since he’s been in class, and I wonder where he could have gotten to. Why he’s not coming—not that I care about him, specifically. I just like to keep an eye on what he does and the specific messes he decides to make.” 

The cat looked at her sidelong, his gleaming amber eyes pinning her with a look that she couldn’t quite place, although it was decidedly human. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolded, although the cat, being a cat, did not heed her request.

She sighed. Outside her window, the sky began to lighten as dawn crept closer, the daytime sky stretching up to meet the stars through fog and wispy clouds. Her kitty snuggled into her, tucking his head beneath her chin.

“I wonder if maybe he’ll never come back,” she mused, watching as the first drops of rain tapped at the glass, sparkling in the lamplight. 

The cat purred, sounding as though he agreed, which Jude found unfathomably funny.

“I think you and I get along rather well,” she told him.

“Mrrmm,” the cat grumbled, patting at her face with soft paws. He turned his amber gaze on her and she smiled, scratching the cat behind his ear with one gentle finger. She felt warm and content, listening to his purr, feeling his small weight atop her chest as she breathed.

“Maybe,” she hummed, letting her eyes drift back to the rain outside, “we were meant to find each other.”

The cat’s rumbling purr echoed in the space of her room, and Jude felt like she was home.

***

A/N: Alternatively titled Catboy Cardan 2021 but I somehow I felt like that didn't fit the vibes... Anywhomst—thank you, lovely human, for reading my self-indulgent Jude Gets A Cat fic! It had no plot and I did not proofread it, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!! If you have the time, I'd love if you reblogged and left a comment to let me know what you thought. Thank you again for reading, lovely, and I send my best wishes your way!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

Tagging:  @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @newblood-freya

[truly-madly-slytherin]

The Dark Princess

*gif not mine//credit to the owner

A/N: Hello loveliessss! 🌸 so I’m hoping that my writing in this chapter has improved somewhat from the last and that it is as magical for you to read as it was for me to write ☺️ I appreciate every like, reblog and follow so thank you all so much 🥰🥰 there’s a bit of a jump between the prologue and the main story so this is more of a filler chapter and in case anyone is confused she has the diary because Tom makes sure (Y/N) intercepts it in between Ginny getting rid of it and Harry finding it. Alsooo I suck at introductions so bear with me 😅 Happy reading peoples! 🥳🥳 Italics = flashback/dream, (E/C) = your eye colour, (H/C) = hair colour

Summary: It is the beginning of the summer after your fourth year and you are moving into Riddle House with your father, at his insistence, making you think back to when you first met him during your second year at Hogwarts. You won’t be there for long though... 

Pairing: AU Lord Voldemort x daughter!reader, Tom Riddle x OC!

*I don’t own any of these characters except the OC, all rights belong to J.K. Rowling and the filmmakers

 PROLOGUE

Chapter One

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Riddle House once stood as the most prestigous mansion in Little Hangleton. Now whimpering on top of the hill, a ghostly shell of itself; it’s derelict and decrepit condition reflected the sinister history encased within the walls. Each room explored was more somber than the last, and emptiness clouded the air so thick it was almost suffocating.

*gif not mine//credit to the owner

The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you traipse down the hallway, your father a few steps ahead.

“And now... we have the kitchen” he announces with a flourish of his arm. Dimly lit by a grubby window, the room, like the rest of the house, left a lot to be desired. Tiles hung from the walls whilst every surface was caked in decades worth of dust. Cobwebs strewn here and there, the sink was more rust than steel and there was a large cavity where the cooker once stood.

“It’s.... interesting” you force out, the weak taste of iron flooding your tastebuds as you bring your teeth down on the flesh of your bottom lip. Taking out his wand Voldemort flicks his wrist and the dingy room quickly transforms itself into a modern kitchen.

“Wow!” you whisper running your fingers along the cool marble.

Turning to face you, his nonexistent lips contort into a terrifyingly sweet crescent. “Luckily I had the foresight to prepare your bedroom before you arrived.”

Trudging back through the hallway, you take time to notice the portraits hanging along the wall, a series of black smudges where the faces once were. Wandering upstairs you spot a door with a wooden rose-embossed sign reading ‘Y/N’s Fortress’.

“Here goes nothing” you sigh.

Entering, a gasp escapes your lips. In the middle of the large room stood a king sized four-poster bed, adorned with a rose quilted headboard and white chiffon curtains. To your left was a beautiful vintage french dressing table complete with matching bedside tables decorated in tiny hand-painted black, red and pink roses. The grand wardrobe standing beside it, decorated in the same tiny roses, could surely house more garments than you even owned. To your right hung a wicker swing seat, pink rose buds woven throughout, appearing as though it was made entirely from the delicate plants, positioned perfectly in view of the large Edwardian window. Hanging above the headboard were pictures of you, your mother and father, clipped evenly along a piece of string intertwined with fairy lights, glistening as each scene plays out before you.

“I mustn’t take any credit, Bellatrix was in charge of the preparations.” Your father states watching you from the doorway.

“It’s beautiful” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes.

Voldemort set about fixing the rest of the house giving you time to settle and take it all in. Lying on the soft mattress, you think back to the first time you met your father, a stark constrast to the man you know today.

Sitting at your desk the blank pages stare back at you and your fingers rake through your messy (H/C) curls for the hundredth time. Front to back the diary was barer than the day it was made.

You had been in the girls bathroom during lunch when you noticed something on the floor. Finding a small black book with leather as soft as feathers and gold lettering along the bottom, you pick it up to inspect it further.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

Your eyebrows crease as the name rolls off your tongue, a frown etching it’s way onto your forehead. What would a boys diary be doing in the girls bathroom? Nevertheless you keep the book, and make your way to class, letting it burn a hole through your satchel until the end of the day. Your last class was Potions and with any luck it would go quickly. Settling into your seat, you spin around to the cute blonde haired boy behind you.

“Is there any one at Hogwarts named Tom Riddle?” You ask him, red hot flames licking at your cheeks as his crystal blue eyes meet yours.

“Not that I know of. And I know everyone who is anyone around here” he snorted. Choosing to ignore the radiating arrogance you turn back to the front, mind racing. The diary didn’t belong to a Hogwarts student at all, so how on earth did it end up in our bathroom?

Your leg jerks up and down repeatedly below the desk and your eyes wander back to the clock. 3:43pm. Exactly one minute had passed from the last time you checked. Ahead of you Professor Snape is droning on about a potion you hadn’t yet caught the name of. 

“And the 5th step in the brewing of the Wiggenweld Potion is...?” Snape drawls out, his beady eyes searching out his next victim. Chewing on your lip you try to concentrate, to no avail.

“Miss Rosier?” His expectant eyes land on you, lips curling into a signature smirk.

“A-add more salamander blood until the potion turns t-turquoise” you splutter.

“Very good. Someone who has obviously been making notes, wouldn’t you agree Mr Weasley?” The air escapes your lungs with a whoosh as he narrows his eyes at Ron across the room. Ron gulps, ducking his head in an attempt to hide the crimson blush now creeping up his cheeks.

Finally the clock stikes 4 and you make sure you’re the first one out, darting between the students and managing to make it halfway through the dungeons before the bell rings out. “Pureblood” you mutter, the portrait swinging open. “Ooh someone’s in a hurry!” Paying no mind to the painting you dash up the stairs.

“Tracey?”

“Daphne?”

With no answer you plonk down at your desk and begin writing.

“My name is Y/N Rosier, and this is my diary.” 

Your (E/C) eyes go round, lids refusing to blink as you watch the words slowly sink into the page. Your small hands vigorously rub at them and yet the page remains just as blank as it had been originally. Your brain scrambles to make some sense of what is happening, but not giving your thoughts a chance to untangle themselves, words begin to materialise across the page.

“Hello Y/N.”

Curiosity trumping any thought of sense, the tip of your quill connects with the aged paper once more. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.

And I am your father.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The fluttering birds that previously occupied your ribcage die out as your heart threatens to beat right out of your chest, pumping ice throughout your veins at an ungodly speed. The pounding in your ears nears defeaning as the middle of the book suddenly throws out streaks of blinding light.

Regaining your vision you’re surrounded by stone walls and green glowing lamps. The click-clack of shoes echo through the dungeon as hushed whispers become audible.

“No Tom! I told you- I warned you- I told you something bad would happen- that something so evil would surely have consequences, and you ignored me. And now look! A girl has died Tom!” The young woman vigorously shakes her head, her wild ginger curls bouncing about her face while she scolds the boy. 

“Lower your voice before somebody hears you.” He hisses, the pair coming to a halt in front of you. His lips curl into a sneer as his large hand wraps around her dainty wrist. “I am Lord Voldemort after all.” 

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” she seethes. Snatching her wrist from his grasp, her perfectly manicured finger points at his face. “Your name is Thomas Marvolo Riddle and I am not one of your little followers bowing down at your feet and kissing your arse! And most importantly Tom, I am not scared of you!” She storms off and Tom continues hot on her heels as you scurry behind. 

“For Merlins sake! Fleur wait-” Blocking her path, Tom’s hands come to rest on the girl’s arms, this time gently caressing her skin. “I’m sorry I should never have spoken to you like that, I don’t want you to be scared of me... I forget myself sometimes. Forgive me?” His hands move to cup her cheeks, and her slender arms wrap loosely around his torso as her anger seemingly dissolves.

“Well don’t forget yourself too much around me otherwise one day you may turn around and I won’t be here Tom.” At least a foot shorter than him, his chin rested comfortably atop her head. 

“Don’t worry, Princess, it won’t be long now before I am crowned the greatest sorcerer the world has ever seen.” Her head buried into his chest ignoring the icy tones lacing the boys words.

Your hand shoots to the base of your skull as a dull ache begins to resonate. ‘He needs to work on his landings.’

“Y/N there you are! Where were you? We missed you at supper. And what on earth are you doing on the floor?” Daphne gives you a quizzical look before extending her hand and helping you up.

As you dust off your robes you try to think of a convincing lie. “I wasn’t feeling very well after Potions. I had to run straight to the loo and then came to lie down - I suppose I must have fainted.” With a shrug of your shoulders you begin to change out of your robes, Daphne following suit.

“Lumos.”

With everyone else now asleep you decide to take your chance to figure out just what on earth is going on. The faint glow illuminates the makeshift tent you had created with your bedcovers, an inkpot balanced expertly between your knees and quill secured between your teeth. Opening the diary with your free hand you reposition the wand. 

“Are you there?”

Just as before the ink disappears, so sucking in a breath you stare at the page. After a few moments nothing had changed. ‘Of course it’s blank you bloody idiot. I must be going bloody barmy!’ 

Before you could finish scolding yourself, the words appear across the page.

“Hello again Y/N.”

“What happened earlier?” Not having much time you wanted to get straight to the point. 

“No beating around the bush, I like it. Just like your mother.”

“My mother Fleur?”

“Yes, Fleur. She truly was a wonderful witch. Say, do you think you could do me a favour Y/N?” 

You weigh up your options before replying. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” 

“I will answer all of your questions, but it must be in person.”

“But how would I? You couldn’t even see me earlier.”

“I will show you how, just go to the girls bathroom on the first floor.”

Under the mask of the invisibility spell you sneak out of the common room, diary clasped tightly under your arm. Moving through the dungeons it doesn’t take you long to reach the first floor bathroom. As you await your instructions you begin to feel a strong magnetic pull towards one of the sinks. Unable to resist you move to stand opposite. Lightly tracing the stone serpent beneath your fingertips, your mouth opens and words of a language unknown to you flow out. Suddenly the marble sink shifts to reveal a vertical tunnel.

“Jump Y/N. Jump!”

Without giving it a second thought you launch yourself down the hole. Your face scrunches up like a ball of paper as you brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Landing on something soft and scaly, you open your eyes.

Below you was the largest snake you had ever laid eyes on, with skin the colour of green ivy and piercing red orbs easily the size of your skull, if not bigger. Bowing down, it repositions your body on its spiky head, and begins speeding through the tunnels. Coming to a stop in front of a large stone monument, the creature bends down and gently slides your slim frame off, and onto the wet floor.

As you stand upright, a silhouette steps out from the cover of the shadows.

"My darling Y/N..."

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

Bolting upright, your confused eyes dart around the room. The sky was now jet black and above you the fairy lights were glowing softly in the darkness. Rolling your legs off of the bed you answer the door to find your father standing on the other side, arms tucked neatly behind his back. 

“My apologies love, did I wake you?” he asks with a level of affection you hadn’t been expecting.

“Yes but no matter, I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the first place” you reassure him, shrugging off the last remnents of sleep. 

“Very well. I have some unexpected business to attend to, and as you are still new to this house I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone, so I have arranged for you to stay with a dear friend of mine for the remainder of the summer” he states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for compromise. 

“Oh. I hoped I would be staying here for the summer.” 

With your (E/C) doe-eyes and lips pouting just enough to be noticeable, you were the image of your mother when she was sulking, and Voldemort found a dull warmth spreading throughout him at the reminder of the distant memory. 

“I know Princess I do apologise. I hoped we would have the opportunity to bond during your time away from Hogwarts. However the situation is simply unavoidable.” 

“Fine” you sigh in defeat. “So who will I be staying with? Anyone I know?”

“You’ll be staying with the Malfoy’s.”  

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 29

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is back on Earth, summoned by a strange child.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

It was cold.

Bucky was frozen, the air like a flash freeze over his skin. The warmth he’d been used to vanished as the portal closed behind him. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. There were so many scents, overwhelming after the dry, dead air of the demon realm.

The noises pressed on his sensitive hearing: air conditions, cars driving in the distance, electric appliances and fixtures. He bent his head and covered his ears, whining, but it didn’t help.

He was accustomed to bright, endless daylight. That wasn’t the reason he squeezed his eyes shut. There’d only been one color in the world he’d escaped.

Now he was surrounded in greens and tans and blues and whites. He couldn’t see the sky; he was indoors, in a house. He couldn’t breathe. He scrambled for safety, the first spot of darkness he could find, under a twin bed. Bucky laid still, curled into a ball with his tail and wings shielding him as he trembled.

In contrast to the assault on his other senses, his sense of touch was cushioned by the carpet, so much softer than the stone floor of his cave. There wasn’t much left to his tac pants and vest, so he experienced the full effect against his skin.

Bucky nearly stretched out on it, marveling at the soft texture, but he went still. There was a second presence in the room. A pair of eyes staring at him hiding under the bed.

A human child. A girl. Couldn’t be more than ten years old.

Bucky curled himself inwards further, terrified, of what he didn’t know. Just that everything was too much and he couldn’t stop fucking shaking.

“Don’t be scared,” the little voice said. “I won’t hurt you.”

Bucky would have laughed if his abdominal muscles weren’t clenched like a vice. It was funny. Horrifying. Why wasn’t she running? Bucky hadn’t used his guise in a long time and he couldn’t summon it now, too overwhelmed to control his tenuous-grasp of magic. His wings and horns and claws were partially obscured by the shadows, but if anything, that should have made him appear more fearsome, not less.

“What’s your name?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Bucky tried to speak but all that emerged was a choked whimper. He couldn’t even look at her he was trembling so badly. It was like a horrible withdrawal, or an adrenaline rush that wouldn’t stop. He half-wondered if he was dying, or maybe, this is what it felt like to come back to life.

“Here.”

He uncurled enough to look upwards. The girl was holding something out to him from where she knelt, peeking under the bed.

“Mr. Squiggles helps me when I’m scared,” she said with the bright confidence only a child could have. “Go on. Take him.”

Bucky stared at the stuffed animal. Its grey fur was worn, its dark eyes dull. Clearly well-loved and treasured.

He’d had a toy like that, once. A teddy bear with button eyes. He’d loved it so much, but then he and Becca had gotten sick. His parents had burned the toy, along with most of their clothing.

Even now, he could remember how upset he’d been, and how much a child’s toy meant. And this child, who’d just had a demon dropped into her bedroom, was offering it to him because he was scared.

Something surged in his chest. Gratefulness. Sorrow. A fierce protectiveness for this stupidly brave kid.

Bucky reached out to take the toy, claws shaking as he carefully wrapped his fingers around the tabby cat’s leg.

A strange sensation jolted up his arm, following by intense warmth at his shoulder, directly over his mark. And then it was gone.

“You must be hungry,” the girl whispered conspiratorially as Bucky tucked the toy against his chest. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed a thing. “I’ll get you something to eat! Stay here!”

She dashed from the room without waiting for an answer. Bucky planned to stay put, to come up with what he should do next, but at the words you must be hungry, a vast, devastating hunger hit him directly in the gut.

It wasn’t for food.

I need… I need to get out of here. His movements were panicked, clumsy as he crawled out from under the bed. I need to…

Before he could look for an escape the kid returned to the room, nearly smacking right into Bucky. He recoiled backwards away from her, putting space between them, but she only looked up in him in confusion. Then she smiled and held out the plate she carried, a sandwich perched on top. Peanut butter and blueberry jelly.

Saliva flooded his mouth as his stomach rumbled, but he dared not move any closer to her. The demon side of him had no interest in the kid, thank Christ for that, but he was still terrified of hurting her. He was designed to be a living weapon, after all. Not exactly child-friendly.

He just wished the kid would get the memo.

“Go on,” she said, smiling brightly. “Take it. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Hysterical laughter threatened to burst out of him. It was like a baby kitten trying to soothe and comfort a lion. Bucky towered over her, his wings and horns still on full display, but she just stared up at him with wonder and awe. No sense of self-preservation at all.

Figuring he would at least address one of his hungers, he took the plate from her as if it was a live grenade. Satisfied, she beamed up at him and then went to close her bedroom door.

“I don’t think my friends are coming back, they all ran away when that blue portal appeared. That’s what that was, right? And you’re a demon?”

Bucky choked on the first bite of sandwich he took.

“That’s what I thought.” She nodded sagely, the ribbons of her ridiculous pigtails flapping with the movement. “I told them I could do magic, but they didn’t believe me. Bet they will now!”

Her face fell a little as she looked past Bucky, and she mumbled, “Mom is definitely going to ground me.”

Bucky followed her gaze to the open closet doors. Extinguished black candles were scattered on the carpet surrounding what appeared to be a charred spirit board. But what really drew Bucky’s eye was the state of the closet door and the back of the closet itself: charred as if there had recently been a fire. He could still smell the stench of sulfur, and he shivered. He would not miss that place, that was for sure.

Quickly scarfing down the food—when had Bucky last had a good, ol’ fashioned PB&J?—he eyed the kid warily. She kept talking about magic and how her mother always blamed her for things catching on fire around the house, but it wasn’t her fault. On and on she went, as if she was talking to another human being and not a six-foot tall demon. She was way too damn calm for being face-to-face with the occult, but then again, she seemed like a weird kid to begin with.

He kept waiting for the voice to chime in with its opinion, but it had been silent since Bucky came through the portal. He frowned. It had promised it would be here, so where was it?

Bucky sighed and turned his attention back to the small chatterbox.

“What’s your name, kid?”

She told him, proudly and without hesitation. Definitely too trustworthy. What would have happened if it was one of those other demons that had gotten through?

He frowned further, troubled as he looked around her room. He couldn’t see anything suspicious, but the stink of other demons was still pungent to Bucky’s sensitive nose.

“Did you see anything else come through besides me?” he asked.

The kid finally lost some of her spunk as she looked down at the carpet, gripping her denim overalls tightly in her hands.

“Hey,” Bucky said, voice softer. “You’re not in trouble.”

It was strange, the more he talked to her the less anxious he was. Already he had stopped trembling and shaking, though his senses were still reeling from the influx of earthy smells and loudness of civilization.

She nodded slowly and looked past Bucky. He turned to see what she was looking at now, and this time it was her open window. They were on the second story, and it was dark outside.

“Lot of things, but they ran away. They weren’t like you.” She swallowed and gripped her clothes tighter. “They were scary.”

So, she wasn’t as unaffected as Bucky thought. Her voice was unsteady, and the smell of fear was unmistakable. Kids weren’t supposed to see things like this. Like Bucky.  She seemed fine now, but what about when she tried to sleep tonight? What about years from now when people told her she was crazy and she couldn’t trust her own memories?

Didn’t seem right. Not for a kid, and especially not one that had saved his life. Bucky didn’t know how she’d done it, but he was proof positive that magic, or something like it, was real.

Bucky turned back to look at her, sadness weighing heavily on him like a physical thing. He didn’t want her to be afraid, or worse, harmed by what had happened. Would the demons come back to this place or would they prey on other unsuspecting targets? Either way, he swore he would hunt them down. It was a small price to pay to come back to life.

But first, there was the matter of the girl. He couldn’t leave her like this, with such dangerous knowledge in her head.

As Bucky moved to give her back the plate, something deep and instinctual within him rose to the surface. The girl extended her hand and he dropped the plate, grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open, but Bucky’s other hand cradled her cheek as he pressed his thumb directly between her brows.

A jolt went up his arm and through his hand, straight down his thumb and into her thoughts, her memories. Surprise mixed with horror when he sensed the memories she had just created, of him and the demons and the portal, were obliterated from her mind. Just as the Chair had done to him.

Bucky released her, shocked by what he’d just done, and then was forced to rush forward as the girl started to collapse. Fearing the worst, Bucky felt along her head and neck, but she was breathing, slowly and deeply as if she’d just fallen asleep. Her face was smooth and untroubled, too innocent for what she’d experienced.

Holding her carefully, Bucky carried her and laid her down on the bed. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled the covers over her, hoping if her family came in and found her they would think she was simply asleep. She was asleep, Bucky was coming to realize. Whatever power he’d wielded had done this, and perhaps it was a small mercy she wasn’t conscious for it, but it still made him sick down to his bones.

When she woke up, she wouldn’t remember any of it, including Bucky. Perhaps… that was for the best.

With one last lingering look, Bucky strode across the room to the open window. Under the cover of darkness, he leapt from the ledge and opened his wings, catching the air and flapping as hard as he could to gain altitude.

It wasn’t until he was high in the air with the lights glittering below him that he realized his claws were still wrapped around the stuffed cat. He’d have to return it at some point, but for now, he had other, more pressing problems.

One, Bucky was starving. He was so hungry he could barely think, as if all his years of being dormant were catching up to him. The pain of it was consuming, racking his body and making him shudder midair.

And two… he had yet to hear the voice again. It filled him with emptiness, his pleas going unanswered, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Maybe he’d gone crazy in that place. Most men would have. He was just disappointed to have been proven right, and the voice hadn’t been real after all.

He couldn’t think about any of that right how. First things first: Bucky had to feed.

Next Chapter

[hitbythunder]

Among the Gods of Asgard -6

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder. –> Read also on AO3

Summary: The gods are being loved and feared in equal parts by their subjects, more the latter by the thousands of slaves working for them. Ten feet tall, powerful and immortal are the rulers of all beings within the Nine Realms. You, the daughter of an Asgardian merchant, fancy the three handsome princes of Odin - like any woman does - and dream of actually meeting them instead of watching them at public events. That is until, as a consequence of Loki’s tricks, you are being forced into slavery at the royal court. Amidst this harsh new reality, you catch the attention of the god of Thunder who then seeks to make you his alone. You are nothing but a toy, a puppet, in the god’s eyes and he will use you as he pleases.

Do not hope for mercy.

**** WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

"...And that is why the Lady Sif and I are not on good terms. Though the black hair suits her much better in my view!" the raven-haired god mused as he leaned back in his comfortable chair, the black queen being caught and turned in his slender pale fingers. A soft chuckle filled the air, its origin hidden behind the too large high back of the chair on the opposite of the chess field. "Could you turn it blonde again if the lady so demanded?" The lovely voice asked as Loki put the queen onto the field again, gently but determinedly as to win, before he looked up at the mortal girl snuggling up against the plush bolstering. "Back then, no, but I have learned a few more tricks over the past centuries!" the Trickster's eyes glinted mischievously but the girl held his gaze. She wasn't afraid of him, not like so many others, not like she should be. In fact, during the past two weeks she had become something far closer than a simple maid and Loki wondered how that had happened. Not that he would admit his growing fondness but he wasn't oblivious either.

At first, they met in the library a few times but soon their chess battles became a delightful daily routine for the both of them. The mortal proved to be a worthy opponent who could challenge the god anew every day - at least as long as Balder was away. Engulfed by the thrill of the game, both maid and master would stare for hours at the black and white chess field and choose their next move wisely. According to some research, it had been Harald Leifson who had discovered this joyous game on Midgard and his daughter had been the first one to learn its rules. Since then she had had a lot of practice and her skills were close to the Trickster's. Many times she almost beat the god - more often than he was willing to acknowledge – but she had enough wits not to boast with it. Loosing didn't go well with Loki's temper.

Instead the mortal remained polite and calm whenever the god relished in another triumphant victory because even that was better than having to (actually) work. At the beginning, the girl had been terribly nervous and her focus lay solely on the game itself, her gaze would rarely wander beyond the chess field. Also the god was quite reserved because usually he wouldn't seek the company of mortals, let alone spend his free-time with them. But as the hours of playing turned into days, the invisible ice-wall between them melted away and both couldn't remain silent for much longer. After some verbal incrementalism they began to chat rather vividly about various topics and Loki found himself sharing some anecdotes of past centuries. In turn, he learned some details of the mortal's background - but mainly he did the talking.

    xxx

Word spread, however, and once certain ears were reached, Loki and _________ had to move to his quarters. The library wasn't an appropriate place to display such unconventional manners - the queen had remarked once in private and, as a good son, Loki obliged. Actually, Frigga didn't mind at all that her youngest was socializing with a mortal slave - not the kind of friend she had hoped for but better than none - however many other gods, including the king, would be offended if this sessions were to continue. Thus the queen saw to it that no such unconventional behavior was to be seen outside of the prince's chambers. She didn't guarantee for what happened inside though.

The salon of the prince's chambers was better for playing anyways: no prying eyes and unwanted attention from other gods or slaves. Their envious gazes had felt like daggers piercing into _________'s flesh, thus she was thankful for the change of setting. In fact, she regarded the whole affair as a privilege. Although she felt rather out of place at first between all the gold, ebony and priceless luxuries decorating the room, the maid became rather comfortable being there - and around Loki too. He wasn't the most affable person but somehow he warmed up to her, treated her friendly and seemed to value her for her chess skills. After all the god himself chose to spend every afternoon with her, a maid.

Don't be smug about it! You're just a substitution while his brothers are away! _______ told herself many times so that the disappointment wouldn't be too great once Loki chose to drop her again. Which he surely would one day. Gods only use mortals for their benefit, remember?

So for now, the girl enjoyed the inexplicable honor she was granted. Maybe Loki's large wolf-dog Fenrir was to thank for this strange change in his spirits, because the beast who resided within the prince's chambers had immediately taken a liking into the girl. Upon entering, the cow-sized anthracite dog had suspiciously approached from the adjacent bedroom and had sniffed at the little mortal, who had been stiff as a column that very moment. Seconds later Fenrir had licked at her slender hand to show his trust and appreciation of the new visitor, much to his master's surprise.

Fenrir usually hates unfamiliar faces, he barely behaves around Thor or Balder...Loki had thought suspiciously, not recognizing his own pet.

xxx

Then came the fever. In the middle of the night, the prince was stricken in such a violent fashion that he wasn't able to call for help. Only Fenrir noted his master's indisposition, pressing a moist snout against the god's palm for comfort, and in his delirium Loki had managed to send one simple order to his beloved pet: Get help!

The magical creature and the god had spent so much time together that they literally shared thoughts - a quite useful fact that night – and so the dog dashed away to fulfill meet the order.

However, Fenrir didn't provide the kind of aid the prince had expected. Not Frigga, nor Eir the healer but a maid rode on the beast's back as it returned - as if the wolf knew what the god secretly needed right now. ________ tended to Loki as best as she could, with cataplasms and much kindness to ease the prince's illness. But there were clear limits as the fever wouldn't vanish. When she intended to leave in order to get a healer, Loki asked her, no begged her, not to leave him alone. In the dim-lit bedroom, she couldn't see the puppy eyes he shot at her, however the tight, beseeching grasp he had on her arm gave it all away. How could she have refused?

So she sat down at his side and watched over the god while the fever raged within him, occasionally holding his hand for comfort. _________ did so two other nights too.

xxx

During the day, Loki chose to avoid even brushing the topic and instead directed the conversation towards trivial matters, for example gossip, which he normally wouldn't discuss. Luckily, _______ played along and so neither of them spoke about those hours of disgusting misery, a terrible (shameful) state the prince would never show to anyone, not even to his brothers whom he shared most of his secrets with. Yet ________ had seen it all, the weak sickly side of the glorious god as he lay there bathed in his own sweat, the wet nightwear clinging to his lean pale flesh. A mess of all sorts, just like his mind due to the delirium during which he hadn't been able to formulate a whole consistent sentence.

How pathetic, how human...The god felt deeply abashed as he recalled it, yet then the train of his thoughts also carried him to a much sweeter memory: of a maid's soft small hands tenderly enclasping his; the comfort from sensing her presence on the mattress; her lovely scent flooding his nose whenever she leaned over closely to replace the cataplasm on his forehead. A strange warmth pooled inside the god which began to surface on his cheeks the longer he beheld the mortal across the chess field. “It's your turn, your highness!” The piece of ebony between his fingers had completely slipped his mind apparently. Then he noted how transfixed, almost mesmerized he was staring at her. Suddenly snapping out of trance Loki cleared his voice and quickly averted his gaze, suppressing the shade of pink on his high cheekbones.

“... Oh, oh yes... I just happened to be distracted by a spell...anyways...” Loki declared somewhat clumsily and put the bishop on a random position on the field.

[impala-dreamer]

Yes, Professor

~ When Mr. Collins asks you to hang back after lecture one day, you know you're in big trouble...~

Misha x Reader

1,730 Words

Warnings: Teacher/Student Play, Masturbation, Oral, Intercourse. Smluff.

A/N: This was a commissioned piece for @letsdisneythings​. Hope you all enjoy!

My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

“Ms. Y/L/N, hang back please.”

You dropped your bag as he spoke, startled by the deep voice booming from the front of the classroom.

The gallery was already empty as it had taken a few minutes for you to collect your things. Pencils rolled far when you weren’t paying attention and as always in his lectures, your mind was stuck in places other than writing implement locations.

Your hands were shaking as you zipped your bag and slung it over your shoulder. You had done OK on the last paper, not great, but why was he singling you out? Had you done something to catch his eye? Were you flunking out? The questions churned in your stomach as you descended the short but steep carpeted stairs to the front of the room, leaving a sea of empty desks behind.

He didn’t look up as you approached his desk, eyes down and racing over his notebook. A silver pen was balanced between his fingers, dancing as the long digits moved slowly back and forth. The glinting metal caught your eye and you watched it magically wave through space.  

You cleared your throat.

He didn’t look up.

It was getting late.

“Mr. Collins?”

He licked his lips slowly and finally lifted his chin. “Thank you for staying,” he said with a gentle smile that did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it made them worse. His lips were huge and pink, outlined by a heavy scruff over his lip and around; his blue eyes shone like sapphires in the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. Even his stupid bowtie was sexy in some strange way, and you held your breath, waiting for him to explain your staying late.  

Slowly, he sat back in his seat, pushing away from the desk a bit as he set his pen down in the crease of his notebook. His eyes narrowed as they took you in, staring at you just as he had his notes.

“How do you think you’re doing in my class, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked out of nowhere, once again jarring you back to reality.

“Uh…” You stumbled to answer, wanting to impress him, to sound smart, but tripping over your own tongue. “Good?”

Mr. Collins nodded patiently, his lips pushing out into a pout.

“You don’t seem to agree,” you cringed, watching his shoulders tense as he looked you over.

“Honestly?” He sighed and sat forward, folding his hands on the desk. “Good isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Great?” you suggested with a little laugh.

He shook his head. “You’re failing, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said firmly. “You’ve been missing assignments and you were late for more than one lecture. I really don’t feel as if you want to be in this class.”

None of it came as a shock to you; you’d been playing it rather loose with your academics this semester, but failing? There was no way you could fail his class and keep your scholarship. Regret and fear churned in your stomach.

“Please, Mr. Collins,” you said quickly, trying not to sound too pathetic, but still garner some mercy. “Things have been a little crazy at work and my roommate moved out, is there anything I can do to make up some points? I cannot fail this course.”

His jaw twitched as he thought over your plea and after a beat, pink lips curled into a slick smile. “We might be able to work something out. Some...extra credit.”

Your hope soared. “Yes, Professor. Thank you. Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything is a dangerous promise, Ms. Y/L/N.” There was a hint of a smirk on his lips and a dash of danger in his eyes.

“I don’t mind dangerous,” you shot back, matching his suggestive tone and running your hand down the strap of your bag slowly.

He turned his face towards the door, then his eyes back up at you. “I bet you don’t.” He waited, unblinking, watching the color rush to your face, the black of your eyes grow.

“Never have, really,” you told him, letting your bag slide off your side and onto the floor. “Danger makes things...exciting, don’t you agree?” Biting your lip, you ran your index fingers across your neckline and downwards, tracing the line of your breasts over your tank top.

“I do.” He sat back again, turning his entire body to you, giving you his undivided attention. “The door is unlocked...there are security cameras...my next class is in twenty minutes.” He paused to watch as your fingers plucked at the hem of your shirt. “Just how excited does that make you?”

The button on your jeans popped easily and you slipped a hand inside them, rubbing it gently across your panties. “Very.”

His eyes were wide as you continued rubbing, shivering as you pulled your panties aside to slide a finger into your wetness.

“It would appear so,” he observed, biting his lip as your face twisted with lust. “Very much.”

You nodded absently and tossed your head back as your body started to tense. “V-very.”

“Ten points towards your final if you can cum in the next thirty seconds.”

Your eyes popped open at his offer, staring down at him as if he were insane. There was no way you could… you could…

He licked his lips slowly, drawing your eyes down to his beautiful mouth. Your hand kept pumping as his tongue swirled around the tips of his teeth, and without realizing it, you reached that sweet spot, your legs lifting up onto your toes, your bottom lip tugged tight between your teeth.

You held your breath.

He whispered your name.

Your cunt clenched down around your fingers and the damn broke.

It was quick and sweet; a little surge of pleasure that flowed through every vein, lifting your mood and clouding your brain. Your clit was throbbing hard as you pulled your hand from your jeans and sucked two fingers between your lips, cleaning them off.

“That was lovely,” Mr. Collins praised. He picked up his pen and jotted something down quickly, paying no attention as you rushed around the side of his desk to his side. “Still need to make up at least thirty points to pass…”

You dropped to your knees and placed your hands on his thighs, spinning his chair towards you. “Perhaps, I can find a few more points...here?” His pants were tight and his zipper gave a little trouble, but you managed.

“I think you might,” he agreed, lifting his hips as you tugged his slacks down. “But, let’s see how you perform first before we promise anything.”

“Oral exams are my specialty,” you smirked, running your palms firmly up his inner thighs.

His cock twitched and your mouth watered. He was big; thick and long laying on his left leg.

He sank back in the chair, stretching out, the tails of his pale pink shirt bright against his hips and ass. “You may begin.”

The taste of him was sublime. Salty and tangy, but fresh. You swallowed around his dick again and again, taking him deeper than you’d ever taken anyone else. The floor crushed into your knees and your jaw began to ache, but you persisted, unwilling to give up the grade or his delicious cock.

The noises he made were incredible. Tiny moans that lingered in the back of his throat, growing louder the harder you sucked. When you cradled his balls, he whimpered as his stomach tensed and you smiled around him, loving the complete abandon of this powerful professor.

His fingers dug into the leather of chair’s arms and he hissed as your teeth scraped at his sensitive flesh.

“That’s…enough, Ms. Y/L/N…”

He sat up as you did, letting his cock drop from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up innocently, wiping a line of drool from your chin, wondering what you’d done wrong.

“Was that...OK?” You batted your lashes and he laughed.

“Oh, that was more than OK,” he said, standing up before you and reaching for your hand. “I just don’t want to ruin that pretty face.”

You stood, hand in his, and he spun you around, pushing you face-down onto the desk. Your breasts smashed against his notebook, palms flat, ass high as he yanked your jeans down.

“I’d rather paint this sweet, young pussy.”

You gasped as his hand slid between your legs, caressing you, clit to ass. He rubbed until your shoulders relaxed, watching as your eyes fell closed as desire flooded your system.

“There’s a good girl,” he teased, moving to stand behind you. “I think this might put you over the failing mark…”

Rough fingers gripped your hips, pulling you back as his cock nudged at your cunt.

“Yes, Mr. Collins, please…”

He rocked forward, warming his erection against your pussy. “Please, what, my dear?”

Your clit throbbed as his head crashed against it. “Please fuck me, Mr. Collins. Please!”

He hummed happily as he pushed inside. “Very well.”

It was strange, the echo of your voices in the big room. The empty gallery gave witness as he fucked you hard and fast against his desk; papers scattering, pencils rolling.

He collapsed over you when it was done, pressing his firm chest into your back and kissing your neck again and again. His breath was hot and staggered as he suckled on your ear.

“I think you pass,” he said with a laugh, finally lifting up.

Pushing up on your arms, your lower back screamed as you shot back. “Oh, ya think?”

“Hey, don’t get snippy with me, Missy.”

You spun and glared. “You got your professor fantasy, Misha...now let’s go before someone actually comes in here.”

He laughed fully, head knocking backward as you pulled your jeans up. “No one’s coming in,” he assured you, moving forward to wrap you in his arms. “They’re not filming in here until Thursday.”

“Baby?” you cooed, sliding your hands upwards to cup his stubbled cheeks. “It is Thursday.”

His smile faded quickly and his eyes flashed, wide and worried. “Shit. Let’s get out of here.”

A quick kiss and then he was gone, backing up to pull up his slacks and grab his stuff.

You sighed happily as he scurried, shaking your head at the goof. “Yes, Professor…”

2020 FOREVER TAGS:

@67-chevy-baby @akshi8278 @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @blondemarvelchick @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @defenderrosetyler  @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @fandom-princess-forevermore @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @i-love-superhero @imjustadrummer @impala-1979 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear​  @onethirstyunicorn​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @starboycas​ @stephaniecanfield96us​ @stoneyggirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @thebookisbtr @thehardcoveraddict​ @thevelvetseries​ @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird​ @winecatsandpizza​ @winterpoohbear​

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Sanai Victoria: January 15, 2007

[robbyrobinson]

GODS AWAKEN: CHAPTER 27

The mad emperor dashed at Camila at lightning speed faster than her eyes could perceive. Huge gashes were torn into Camila’s clothes from the razor-sharp teeth of Belos’s suckers. Camila desperately tugged at her attire to withdraw more parchment paper.

“You have gotten heinously slow throughout the years haven’t you, daughter?” Belos snickered.

Ignoring him, the middle-aged mother successfully discards a glyph from her shirt and slams it on Belos’ hideous face. He was propelled further away. Camila, with the parchment still in her hand, held it out defiantly. On the paper was a sketch of waves representing wind.

“Wind spell,” she stated in a matter-of-fact way.

Belos chuckled. “But your mind is as sharp as ever.”

Belos lifted himself off the ground with his abdominal tentacles and reclaimed his staff. He raised it skyward summoning a rumbling quake underneath the ground of the coliseum. The force underneath shifted its motion and erupted out of the ground sending dust and rocks in the air. The beast possessed a huge gaping maw fixated into a permanent scream and beady yellow eyes. It lunged towards the mother in relentless speed.

Camila grabbed another parchment from the spot between her chest and slammed it on the ground to activate it. She hadn’t foreseen any possible method of getting out of the way of the rampaging worm and even if she did, its frame was too colossal. The worm dipped down claiming the mother with its mouth and taking out a large chunk of the ground.

“How unfortunate,” Belos noted.

As he looked at the worm again, he was taken aback. Red flames flickered out of the sides of the worm’s body and burned it from the inside out. Belos flicked his finger uprooting roots from the ground to restrain his daughter. Brown, hickory roots wrapped around her waist and limbs slamming her with savage force. Belos waltzed towards her holding his hands out again. This time, the illusion of an axe was levitating above his head.

With swift motion, Belos clutched the axe and brought it down.

Camila breaks the root wrapped around her waist and rolled over. A swishing sound droned out and before Camila knew it, a small segment of her front hair was sliced away falling to the ground before her. Camila sighed in relief.

The brown-haired girl grimaced and pulled her wrists together breaking the roots between her hands. She ducked again when Belos brought the axe back down.

“Hold still, miscreant, it will only last a second.”

Camila rolled over thrashing her leg out. Her foot hit the handle of the axe and sent it sky high. The axe materialized before the two.

Another parchment paper rolled out this time Camila hit it with her foot. A wall of ice grew from the ground slicing off Belos’s tentacles.

“Gah!”

The Emperor’s weird alien blood dripped from the stumps of the tentacles and corroded the soil. “Not bad; a minor scrape nonetheless.”

New fleshy tentacles sprung from the stumps hissing and writhing towards the human woman. They opened their blood red maws showing off their razor teeth gnashing and clicking like needles. They shot at Camila again this time managing to make a hit on her.

Camila was knocked to the ground again. The papers were scattered all over. The middle-aged mother reached out her hand to grab one, but Belos’s staff stamped down on her exposed palm.

“Ugh!”

Belos laughed to himself again. Like before, his ribs scraped against each other as he laughed and wheezed. Gunk fell out of his mouth as his hold over his staff began to falter. “End of the line.”

Back at the laboratory, Luz and the gang finished up on their stockpiling of glyphs. Luz made a dash down the stairs to marvel at her work. “Do you think that should be enough?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s blow this joint,” Eda noted.

Luz looked around the laboratory again seeing all the boxes containing the enchanted armor. She grimaced still sensing the screaming emanating from the armors’ metal shells.

“Are you okay, kid?” Eda asked.

“Belos had created those suits out of the broken souls of witches; if we’re really doing this, I feel we should give some peace to the poor things.”

Eda scratched her chin. She sighed deeply. “Eh, fine.”

Eda entered her house casually throwing aside any of the unconscious bodies of the guards. There was a crashing sound and a few mini explosions, but the Owl Lady returned holding a few flasks.

“Edalyn, what are those?” Lilith asked concerned “and what is that purple substance inside of it?”

“The seeds of some poppy plant that I got from the swamp; just grind em up and light a match and voila...a magic bomb.”

She passed the flasks – about six in total – and also gave them a stick to grind the seeds into a powdery substance.

“Make sure to completely grind them otherwise the explosion fails.”

They pressed down hard on the seeds and scraped the smaller pieces counterclockwise until they were soft as feathers. “Typically takes about ten seconds to completely pulverize them.”

After the task was over, they poured the powder in a long trail leading towards the entrance. “Oh, so this is like gunpowder,” Luz said.

“Yes, Luz, it’s like ‘gunpowder’.”

Luz took one last look at the laboratory to soak in the knowledge of what she was about to do.

“You still want to do this, Luz?” King asked.

Luz nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Luz took a parchment paper containing the fire glyph placing it on top of the trail of powder. Gently pressing it, a small flame started and completely consumed the paper. As the flame grew larger it quickened its pace eating away at the powder. The trail of powder would ultimately come to an end once it connected with the crates containing the statues. Another trail led towards the portal machine and quickly ignited a large fire.

“We should leave now.”

Luz and the team met up with Amity and her siblings and dashed further down the halls. Large walls of fire licked at the powder seeking more to consume and destroy. The flames rose higher and higher now reaching the stairs.

Belos now had his hand wrapped tightly on Camila’s hair. Tugging it, he lifted his fist. Lightning flickered from his fingers. “It is a shame that you have driven me to this point.”

Camila scowled at him. “Enough with this talk. Do your worst.”

“With pleasure.”

Before he could strike Camila with the full brunt of his electricity, he was caught off guard by a sudden tremor.

“What in the-?”

A cloud of smoke spewed from his palace blasting chunks of debris skyward. The ground shook again at the further destruction. The explosion sent a wavelength leveling half of the palace and bringing the final nail in the coffin towards his laboratory.

Belos dropped to his knees. “This can’t be...how?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Camila beginning to collect herself. He made a grab for his staff, but Camila batted it away.

“This cannot be how this all ends.”

Belos stood up and growled showing his large, inhuman teeth that were sharpened and crooked. His tentacles flailed around in disbelief. “My plan has failed.”

“What plan?” Camila asked “you already failed to execute me like you wanted.”

Belos turned and grit his teeth together. “That was only a small sample of my revenge.”

Camila raised an eyebrow.

“I had served the Isles for fifty years all for one purpose: when my master escaped from his prison, I asked him to destroy your world. But I saw that if I were to have summoned the Outer Gods to the Isles...”

“What that you’d become one?” Camila interrupted.

This elicited a shrill chuckle from the Emperor. “Close, but no cigar: when the gods would arrive from the portal, I would steal their powers and become all-powerful.”

“But what of your master’s plans?”

“I don’t care one lick about Nyarlathotep’s whole goal of destroying the Isles and recreating it in his image. It should be ME and me alone who could bend and mold the Isles to my liking. Once I became a god of my own design, I would turn on my master and kill him.”

“Oh, you mean with this?”

An irregular, bizarrely angled instrument sliced into Emperor Belos’s chest and ripped through his wicked heart. Belos coughed up purple pus which dripped down his chest. Belos wheezed in agony and turned around with bulging eyes. He saw the Black Pharaoh standing behind him holding the other half of the instrument in his hands.

“L-Lord...” Belos coughed again. His lungs were filling with his own blood.

“If you really wanted to kill me, you shouldn’t have shouted your plan out loud.”

“B-But...how...?”

“Don’t act like I did not know your true allegiances. You planned this for a long time ever since I noted that you had your own agency.”

Belos wabbled to his knees. His life was painfully draining out and flooding the ground.

“After all, I switched out the Shining Trapezohedron with a decoy after all.”

Nyarlathotep crossed his arms and looked down at his servant. Belos slipped off the instrument and laid sprawled on the ground. He covered his chest with his hand to placate the internal bleeding. “Please, master, give me another chance.”

“Oh, so now you’re being a loyal servant?” Nyarlathotep said rolling his eyes.

A dark mass descended from the Crawling Chaos’ body and became two dimensional as it slithered on the ground. Belos’s shadow grew larger from the waning sun and seemingly was trying to flee from the mass of Nyarlathotep’s shadow.

The shadow produced long, spindly fingers and grabbed onto Belos’s leg. Emperor Belos’s physical body was tossed on the ground and dragged alongside his shadow’s leg. Belos was pulled closer towards Nyarlathotep’s body.

“No, master please! If you do this, I will lose my personality. The very fabric of my being will cease to be.”

Belos clutched his tentacle appendages on the opposite sides of his body and jammed them tightly in the ground. “I’m sorry...please, please have mercy!”

Nyarlathotep’s shadow was that of a fisherman’s rod. It nudged the shadow’s leg a few times and loosened its grip. About two seconds later, enough time for Belos to relax, Nyarlathotep’s shadow tugged again, tighter this time and pulled Belos further.

“Have mercy!!”

Belos disappeared underneath Nyarlathotep’s garment. And it was then that the Emperor’s rule over the Boiling Isles came to an end for whatever made Belos himself was stripped away from him making him become nothing more but a memory. Camila shivered unsure of what to do or say.

Nyarlathotep smiled wickedly. “Let the game begin.”

[graciep8ocsblog]

Starlight Constellation Chapter 2: I wish to be a Pleiades Sister! Celestial Amore is born!

“Can anyone explain what’s going on?! What happened to me?! Why are you staring at me like that?!” Ilena finally spoke up, bewildered at her newfound powers.

“You just… you became a Pleiades Guardian!” Kirara squealed, with wonder and excitement in her eyes.

“Me? I… I think you have the wrong girl,” she twirled a strand of her own hair, unsure on whether or not this was a dream. Magic doesn’t exist! But then again…

“No way! After you managed to do all that? You’re the real deal!” the princess continued with awe.

“I’ll explain everything about the Pleiades Guardians on the way,” Mica began, shaking his head. But there was a smile on his face…

“Alright but… I’m not sure how to explain the both of you to my grandmother on the way home,” Ilena shrugged as she began to head home…

~~~~~~

“I’m home!” Ilena called out as she gingerly opened the door “And I’ve got company.”

“Well, come in!” Yuu smiled as she began to prepare her apron “You’re welcome to-”

“Lady Starlight!” Mica gasped before bowing down as Kirara followed suit. Ilena tilted her head in sudden confusion on their formalities.

“Who now?”

“You didn’t tell us your grandmother was the legendary Celestial Starlight?”

“Because she never told me.” Ilena threw a look at her grandmother “What are they even talking about?!”

Yuu let out a small chuckle “It’s a long story but I’ll tell you after lunch. Make yourself at home, your highness!”

“Yay! Thank you so much! I promise you won’t regret it!”

~~~~~~

Later on that evening, before bed, Yuu and Ilena were left to discuss the events of the day alone over a cup of tea…

“So… what’s the deal with all the Pleiades Guardians stuff? And what about the Wish Crystal?” Ilena began as she picked up her teacup, staring into her own reflection.

“Well, let me tell you a story from long ago…” Yuu put down her teacup “Etoilina was a large and mighty kingdom. It was protected by the goddess of miracles and dreams Celestina since the beginning of time. The Wish Crystal helped to bring balance and held a great power that could only be unlocked by a few. However, great power comes with danger to it… An evil force tried to steal the Wish Crystal but Celestina managed to overcome it. At the cost of her own energy and magic… She used her remaining magic and life force to assign seven guardians to protect the Wish Crystal when the time came…”

“And one of them was you?”

“Yes, we managed to seal the great evil away once it rose up again but…”

“But what?”

“The seal was temporary as not all of us survived and… that power must have revived somehow. Your mission is to help save the kingdom and put that great evil to rest for good. You, my dear sweet rose… are the chosen one.”

“Me?”

“Chosen to lead the Pleiades Guardians and find them…”

“I-I think they made a huge mistake… I’m not exactly leader material…”

“You will understand in time why they chose you, I promise…”

Ilena finished her tea and put her cup down “I’ll give the benefit of the doubt. Good night gran.”

“Good night, Len…” Yuu answered with a smile on her face, thinking to herself “You’ll see soon. After all, I was also there on that same path once…”

~~~~~~

To say that Kirara was having a fruitful sleep would be a complete and utter lie. She tossed and turned as she remembered the night of the attack…

~~~~~~

One year ago…

A royal guard burst through the doors, panting as he caught his breath “Princesses! The queen has ordered you to evacuate!”

The guards shoved the princess away as a Kurosu roared in the distance “Hurry now!”

She looked to see palace ruins crumble down before running quickly…

~~~~~~

“Hurry now… hurry now...” the words echoed in the princess’s mind as she jolted awake from the bed.

Kirara sat up and gulped for air, trying to calm down her racing heart. She looked around, trying to remember where she was as she absorbed her surroundings. The memories of the previous day came back to her slowly and hazily as she remembered those events…

“Princess, are you alright?”

She sighed “Yeah, I just… had a bad dream,” The princess soon noticed that the other side of the bed was empty “Huh? Where’s Ilena?”

“She said something about leaving for a run,”

Kirara tossed the blanket aside hurriedly as she leaped out of bed “Oh! I must thank her for everything! Saving me and giving me a place to stay!”

“Ahem!” Mica gestured to the carelessly discarded blanket, a stern glare in his eyes.

“Oh, oops… sorry!” she laughed sheepishly, scooping the blankets in her hands.

~~~~~~

Meanwhile, back at Nightmare Corp, trouble was beginning to brew…

“So you’re telling me that the Pleiades Guardians woke up again and you lost the Wish Crystal?!”

“Tsk, that girl is a menace to our mission!” Noire reported, feeling annoyance bubble in his chest “We have to put an end to them!”

“I agree. We must stop the rest from awakening!” the boss began.

“Oh! May I do it? Can I kill her?” A high female voice asked.

“Alright, Monami… you can have this mission!”

“What?!” Noire angrily cried out “But what about me?!”

“After the previous mission, I’m not sure if you can be trusted…”

“Hmph! But you’ll regret it!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you the Wish Crystal!” and with that, she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

~~~~~~

“ILENA!”

The girl stopped dead in her tracks as she heard a familiar voice call out to her. She swiveled around to face a familiar pink-haired girl trailing after her.

“Wait up!” Kirara panted for breath as she caught up to her.

“Princess Kirara?”

“Please… just… call me Kirara!”

“I thought you were at home sleeping!”

“I… just wanted to… talk to you about yesterday-”

A loud rumble interrupted the conversation and Ilena raised an eyebrow.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“Hehe. I was in a rush so-”

“Let me go get something and we can discuss this.”

~~~~~~

“Hmm! This is actually good!” Kirara exclaimed in surprise as she bit into her sandwich before looking at Ilena with a somber expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, you see…” she began “It’s just that… you’re amazing,”

“Me? Amazing I… I’m not that amazing…”

“I mean, you just became a legendary guardian AND are hunting down pieces of an artifact, meanwhile… I just run away all the time… You seem so calm and unsurprised by all this…”

“Honestly, I’m rather shocked too…”

“You are?”

Ilena nodded “Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I was so amazed and shocked by what happened. I met a princess, a talking cat, and became a magical girl! So here I am, on a walk to clear my head and convince myself it isn’t a dream...”

“A what now?”

“It’s an anime thing but the point is…” she couldn’t help but let out a little laugh “With that power, I kind of… feel special for the first time, and I can protect the people I love too…”

Kirara looked down at the path, a little pang of jealousy in her stomach. She wanted to be a Pleiades Guardian but… the chance didn’t come.

“Don’t be selfish!” she scolded herself guiltily “She’s just trying to help!”

“C’mon, let’s go home! Gran’ll think we’ve been attacked again,” Ilena’s voice cut through her thoughts like scissors cutting through a grand opening ribbon.

~~~~~~

Kirara looked out of the terrace, staring at the starry sky as she recalled Ilena’s words earlier. She wondered if Ilena truly meant every word and was still panicking over the newfound realization.

“I wish I had become a Pleiades Guardian,” the princess looked up at the sky “Instead, I’m just useless…”

A dark pink puff of smoke appeared before her eyes and a girl appeared.

“Well, well, well… this became easy~” she let out a little laugh before spinning her parasol, causing the jewel on top to glow “Come forth! Kurosu!”

~~~~~~

A loud roar caused Ilena and Mica to wake up. They dashed out to the terrace to investigate the source of the noise. The two stumbled upon a large Kurosu but this time, instead of Noire, they were facing a girl with long, curly pale pink hair and looked rather reminiscent of a French maid in terms of her black, white, and pink ensemble.

“Hehe~. Looks like my opponents are here!” And as the crystal on her necklace glowed, time froze save for Ilena, Kirara, the strange girl, and Mica.

“Transform now!”

“Aurora Dream Reflection!”

She was surrounded by a glowing light and once it faded, Celestial Rose appeared “The shining wish of my heart, Celestial Rose!"

~~~~~~

“Grr~! That pesky brat!” Monami growled, pointing at the trio “Kurosu! Attack!”

The Kurosu spat out a ball of toffee from its mouth. In a desperate attempt to shield the two, Celestial Rose called out “Rose Reflector!” and summoned a shield. Swiftly, she reflected the blobs, slightly cringing at the oozing substance.

However, as she ran and dodged the attacks, the Kurosu released a large ball of the sticky confection and it sailed towards Celestial Rose, trapping her against the wall.

“Urgh! Why toffee of all things?!” she desperately wriggled randomly, trying to get rid of the sticky candy “I hate that stuff!”

“Now! Tell me where the Wish Crystal is or your precious princess gets it!”

The guardian strained her head to look at the strange girl, attempting to free herself from the toffee “I don’t even know okay! And even if I did, I will never reveal it to you!”

“Why you-” Monami growled angrily before letting out an angry cry, summoning a large sphere of magic and was ready to aim it at Celestial Rose. Kirara gasped in fear and shock before crying out “Wait!”

Everyone turned to look at her and Monami lowered the sphere as the princess stepped forward in surrender “Take me. Just… please, don’t hurt her!”

“What? Princess! Have you lost your mind?!”

“I’m done running and hiding!” she walked in front of Monami and gave a determined look “And now, I’ll protect the people I love no matter what!”

A bright light surrounded her and as the light faded, a pink heart-shaped jewel rested in her hands.

“Could this be…”

~~~~~~

Mica gasped in shock before calling out “Kirara! Transform now!”

“Aurora Dream Reflection!” Kirara drew a heart, causing it to glow and surround her in a cocoon of light…

A flood of hearts surrounded her legs and disappeared, forming red Mary Janes with ribbons laced around the feet and ankles.

As she placed both of her hands over her heart, a pink and white minidress materialized along with matching armbands.

With a smile, she blew a kiss, her hair growing longer and lighter as small buns appeared on each side. Two white bands held it up.

Her hands began to form a heart, causing her Dream Crystal to form a brooch.

Landing on the ground, she posed to reveal her new form “The shining love of my heart! Celestial Amore!”

Celestial Amore gasped, inspecting her new form “Is… this really me? This dress is… SO CUTE!” she squealed as she looked at her shoes “Oh! And those shoes! They’re so pretty! And surprisingly comfortable!”

“Erm… We have something to do here?” Celestial Rose raised her eyebrow and let out a small cough, bringing her to attention.

“Oh… right,” She laughed awkwardly before shrugging “Leave it to me!”

Celestial Amore’s brooch began to shine, summoning a tube of lipstick. She grabbed it before applying it to her lips.

“Love me tender…” she kissed the palm of her hand, forming a pink heart “Wink!”

Thrusting the heart forward, it circled her, multiplying into several hearts before transforming into a giant one. The heart sailed to the Kurosu and Monami. The monster roared out in agony before disappearing into thin air.

The toffee suddenly disappeared and Celestial Rose let out a sigh of relief. The transformation dissipated in a burst of light. Monami howled out in frustration before releasing a cry of pain “Next time, I’ll get you!”

Before they could respond, she disappeared into thin air. Mica gaped before glaring at the princess.

~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you!” he ranted “How careless were you?! Don’t do that again! Understood?”

“Yes…” she pouted.

Suddenly, the two heard footsteps come closer as Yuu opened the door “Girls! Are you alright? When I checked, I felt like I was fro-”

She saw the two girls, smiling at each other. Kirara began cryptically “And so our search has begun…”

[leeholtwrites]

Magical Girl Reunion Tour - C6

Sarah 

Sometimes there seemed to never be enough space in her bag. Sarah hiked her bag back up on her shoulder as she climbed the steps to her small apartment. She wished she lived in a building with an elevator, but it was one of the many prices she paid for chasing her academic aspirations. At least her studio was large, if a bit strangely shaped. It had been remodeled before she moved in, and she quite enjoyed having her own small washer and dryer stacked by the fridge in its own alcove.

She unlocked her door. Once inside, she heaved her bag onto her bed and sighed in relief. Sarah had some time before office hours, so she'd thought she'd come home and eat while going over some of her dissertation work which was code for hunkering over left over take out while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the fifth time with a notebook and a scowl. Sarah was beginning to think that doing a deep dive into the representation of women in late nineties and early two thousands genre television wasn't so good. What hadn't been talked about already? She tried to convince herself that her own magical experiences hadn't influenced her decision, but all she as doing was lying to herself.

The glass top of her stove clicked when she set a skillet on one of the burners. She turned it on and added some oil before opening the fridge to retrieve the box of left over sweet potato fries from the day before. She placed the box on the small square of counter and stared off to the other side of the room as she waited for the pan to heat. Looking over her possessions on the shelves framing the window on the other side of the room allowed her brain some time to focus as she catalogued her collection of books, shows, movies, and things. Academic tomes on feminism and film, sometimes both. The occasional fiction book. Seasons and seasons of shows, because she was one of those hardcopy people, most of them bent in a fantasy or science fiction direction. The worn copies of Veronica Mars always stood out.  Movies were a different story. She only had so much space, so many of her films crowded hard drives instead of her precious shelf space, but she did have a few precious ones. Amongst her media - usually shoved in front of it - were a couple of photo frames and the occasional Funko Pop, gifts from friends. The photos were of her family, and one was of her high school friends in between the magic crime fighting.

Next to that photo lay her wand. She had long ago wondered if hiding it would have been smarter. The truth, she discovered, is that everyone thought it was some prop from some obscure genre show, maybe an anime. It's bright blue diamond textured handle, and pale blue orb patterned in little gold arrow heads could only be found in blurry twenty year old newspaper photos, but no one really questioned it. If they did, she said she made it up.

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Now that she had time to think, things had felt a little off lately. For one, her friend and down the hall neighbor Michelle hadn't sent her one cat gif in the last two days, and that was unlike her. Normally, her program coder friend would bounce down the hall at random or throw open her door to wave at Sarah as she headed off to class. Michelle was also a graduate student, albeit way more perky and put together that Sarah herself felt. Michelle was life and loved her work. And that is why she was worried.

She knew she was home, Sarah could hear Michelle's taste in obscure bands blaring through her door, no doubt upsetting the rest of her neighbors. She looked down at the sad box of sweet potato fries. No, today she would see if Michelle wanted something to eat. Maybe get her out of her apartment.

In the bathroom, she brushed out her wavy dark hair - resisting the temptation to tie it back up in a messy bun - and cleaned her glasses. She arranged her bag for her afternoon schedule. Now a lot lighter, tossed it over her shoulder. With her hand on her door knob, she paused and turned back to her shelves. Something was telling her to grab her wand. It was probably her intuition. It had always been pretty solid. Slipping her wand into her bag, she marched down the hall to Michelle's apartment.

"Michelle?" she called as she knocked. "It's Sarah. Want to go for lunch?"

No answer.

"Michelle?"

"Go away!"

Her hand hovered over the door. What? That was so unlike Michelle. Normally it was her  yelling at Michelle to go away when she was struggling with some particularly hairy bit of theory. She hesitated, then knocked again. "Come on Michelle. Come eat. Then you can get back to whatever your doing."

The door flew open. Sarah recoiled from what she saw. Michelle stood framed by the door frame, gaunt and grey with dark circles around feral eyes. Her red hair was dirty and unkempt, and she still wore the clothes Sarah had last seen her in. Behind her, her massive computer set up glowed with an eerie light. Sarah narrowed her eyes. She knew what Michelle's computer set up looked like when she was working, and that wasn't it.

"Fuck off, Sarah," Michelle snarled. "All you do is get between me and my work with your… friendship."

Michelle tried to slam the door in Sarah's face, but she caught it. From Michelle's appearance, Sarah imagined she would be much weaker, but there was something supernaturally strong about her. A thought began to itch at the back of Sarah's brain. A thought she didn't like.

With a all her body weight, she shoved Michelle's door open. Michelle stumbled back into her studio apartment. It was the same size as Sarah's, so she practically stumbled into her desk chair, catching herself at the last moment on the edge of her desk.

"You're going to regret that," Michelle sneered.

"Look, you're sick," Sarah said placating, her hands up. "Did you find some strange magical device, uh, thing. It can look like anything. Maybe it was something that gave you a bad feeling, but you touched it anyway. It told you it would make you great. It would give you the skills you needed to achieve your dream. It knew your insecurities. It knew just what to say."

By Michelle’s hand, her mouse unfurled. It grew legs, six from by Sarah's guess and skittered up Michelle's arm. Michelle cried out in shock. Sarah rushed forward to pull it off her before it could reach the back of Michelle's neck. She grabbed her friend by the left shoulder and began to reach over her. With her unnatural strength, Michelle shoved her away. She tripped over the edge of a rug, smashing into the door frame, and spun around to land face down in the hall. Her bag had fallen off in the tumble, spilling its contents next to her. In the hall's dim lights, her wand glowed softly.

Michelle screamed. Sarah looked over her shoulder. The place where she had hit the door frame protested. She grit her teeth, ignoring it. She had to see.

The mouse had latched onto the back of Michelle’s neck and grown. Chitinous growths sprung from her neck and along her shoulders, slowly expanding down her arms and over her chest. It was the shiny black of the tech it had impersonated. Worry and dread ran through Sarah. Hitting someone covered in the stuff was like punching steel, and trying to hang onto her would be nearly impossible. The device would turn Michelle almost superhuman. There was only one answer.

She reached her hand out towards her wand, scooting forward, her hand outstretched. It flared the moment her fingers brushed it. Warmth flooded through her and a strange wash of joy. Sarah had long suspected that the wands might have their own feelings, but now was not the time to dwell on it. With the wand now firmly in her hand, she jumped to her feet, her wand in the air, and shouted, “Dress me in patience!”

Time slowed. Her arms stretched, one before her and one behind, as glittery golden light ran along them. In its wake soft, shiny gloves covered her once chipped nail polish. The light spread to her torso. She spun on her toes. The light revealed a vibrant blue short sleeved tunic, an enormous voluminous bow of soft blue at her throat. She kicked a leg up, drawn by the golden light. Bright blue, knee high boots and soft white leggings. Her arms over her head, she spun again, her loose hair drawn into an elegant braid, a gold band across her forehead. With a flash, she struck a pose. “I will not stop till this fight is through!”

Sarah tried to ignore how silly she felt. At least she had pants this time.

Michelle roared, if Sarah could even call her Michelle anymore. Her eyes were pure black and her skin had grown even whiter. The black growths had spread, giving her a tech-like armored look, all shiny black plates. “A Defender. How predictable.” She said, her voice layered with whatever magi-tech parasite the mouse had been.

Sarah held her wand out in her left hand. “Reveal your true form!” Another flash of glittery gold and she held a bow, soft blue with gold filigree. She grabbed the string with her right hand and drew it back, a streak of iridescent light appearing in place of an arrow. “Let Michelle go.”

The creature laughed, a twisted smile on its lips. “Did you really think I would make it that easy?” It spun around and dove out the window.

A scream wanted jump from Sarah’s lips. She tamped it down, dropping her right hand and running for the broken window. Fighting the urge to stop, she threw herself out into the air, spinning to face the sky. She grabbed her string, pulled, and shouted “Rainbow braid!” She let go. A streak of rainbow light shot towards the top of her building, embedding in the brick. She grabbed the line as it solidified and slid along it to the ground, moving much faster than she wanted to. Swallowing another scream, she hit the ground in a roll. Sarah jumped to her feet just in time to see the black armor of the creature, now having entirely swallowed Michelle, charging down the street still laughing.

Sarah dashed after her, arms pumping, the pain in her back forgotten. With her magically enhanced abilities, she caught up to the creature quickly. The creature hadn’t just been running from her. It had been busy. A cloud of technical components surrounded her. Broken bits of cell phone screens, computer boards, SD cards, and other bits stolen from the screaming crowd orbited the creature as she whipped around to face Sarah.

The pieces began combine, turning into four orbiting satellites. There was the gleam of camera lenses, the glitter of metal, the shine of the black material that covered Michelle. The creature had used a piece of itself to create whatever circled it now. Sarah wasn’t going to find out. She raised her bow, the streak of light appearing when she drew the string, and fired. The magical arrow bounced off an invisible force before the creature, leaving a blue ripple in its wake. She fired a couple more times. Same effect.

The creature laughed in its strange voice. And then it multiplied. Four of the armor-plated creatures stood before her. Sarah struggled not to look dumb-struck. The parasites drew on their host’s passions, their work. What had Michelle been working on again? Some kind of encrypted security software that automatically made back-ups of whatever the user was working on. And protected it.

She swallowed a curse. Defenders didn’t curse, openly. That explained the copies, the armor, and the force field. It had been a long time since she longed to be surrounded by her team, but now the feeling threatened to swallow her. Sure, she kept in touch with them, still played virtual Dungeons and Dragons with Shonda, but as friends. The barely even talked about their magical girl soldier days, and actively avoided speaking about Maggie.

God-damned Maggie, who she would need to defeat this parasite properly.

Her hand brushed her hip, feeling for her phone. She could at least call Shonda or Chloe or Kelsey for backup. Unfortunately, it was still on the floor in her building’s hallway outside Michelle’s room.

“Well, of fucking course,” she muttered.

[sixaustralia]

Six Dancing Queens - Chapter 2

Guess who found her motivation again boisss!!! Quick note, I used the Aussie Cast characterisations, that’s why the LiW are described the way they are

Also on Ao3

Word Count: 1201

Chapter 2: You Wanna Replace Me?

Catalina didn’t know how long she had been crying. She had run out of tears long ago, but she had yet to compose herself. Every time she stood up and took a breath, readying herself to face the outside world, a flood of insecurity washed over her and she crashed back to the floor.

She was terrified someone would find her like this, that they would mock her for being so emotional about something so trivial. They would tell her to get over it, and that she had so many partners to choose from, and she hated Henry anyway. But this wasn’t about having a partner. 

Catalina hated change. She clung to the things in her life that stayed constant, but she knew that nothing ever was. So she tried to force it. Even the slightest change to her daily routine made her uncomfortable. But an upset like this? Catalina didn’t know what to do. Her future was uncertain, and that scared her.

She was worried people would make fun of her for having such childish fears, and she would be humiliated in front of all her colleagues and classmates, that they would hate her, that they would…

There was a knock at the door. 

“Go away,” Catalina choked out, frantically trying to compose herself. It was probably Anne, trying to make a fool of her. She feebly tried to stand up and block the door, but it had already swung open, revealing…

“Maria!” cried Catalina in relief. Maria wasted no time in closing the door and kneeling by Catalina’s side. 

“I came as soon as I heard,” Maria panted. “Are the rumours really true? Did Henry really replace you with Anne?”

Catalina choked out a reply, that Maria took as a yes. She wrapped her arm around Catalina’s shoulders and stroked her soft, blonde-tipped hair. As Maria whispered soft encouragements in her ear, Catalina felt herself calm down ever so slightly.

Her breaths became longer and calmer, her body stopped shaking and her eyes slowly dried. 

“Thank you, Maria,”`she sighed. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Not here, that’s for sure,” Maria joked, trying to lighten the mood. Catalina smiled softly, remembering when she’d first met Maria.

***

On her first day of dancing at Tudor Academy, Catalina had been given a tour of the school. She was shown the studios, the dressing rooms and the stage, and she had been astounded by how smoothly and perfectly it all worked. But there was one experience on that tour that she could never forget. 

Seeing the orchestra practice for the first time was magical for Catalina. The talent of the musicians had blown her away. They were so in sync, and the music was so beautiful that Catalina couldn’t keep herself from smiling the whole way through. Sure, she had heard the same song on the radio, performed by much more professional musicians, but hearing it live? She was astounded.

Catalina knew how vital the orchestra was to a beautiful performance, so she wasn’t surprised when she found herself involuntarily taking the twisting path to the rehearsal room. What she was surprised by, however, is what she found there. 

Instead of the perfect performance she had seen previously, the room was absolute chaos. The Woodwind and Brass sections were having some sort of war, aggressively tooting tunes at each other. The String section hadn’t even opened their instrument cases, they were trying to have a conversation. Surprisingly, they looked comfortable talking to each other, even with the deafening mass of noise in the room.

An older woman with short red hair was taking a nap at the piano. Catalina wondered why she hadn’t woken up, but she must be used to this chaos now. A short girl with long black hair tied back in a ponytail had hijacked an electric guitar and was recklessly playing a song Catalina had never heard before, accompanied by a tall young woman with short, curly hair strumming a well-loved bass.

But Catalina’s eyes were drawn to someone else, someone who was unceremoniously crashing out a rhythm onto the drumset like there would be no tomorrow. Her chocolate coloured hair was flying in every direction, and she had gathered quite an audience. Catalina curiously but tentatively joined the growing crowd around the drumming woman.

It wasn’t very long before Drumming Girl finished her piece with a flourish. She stood up to applause and whoops from the crowd, and took a dramatic bow, a satisfied smile on her face.

The crowd eventually dispersed, and Catalina took the opportunity to approach Drumming Girl.

“That was a wonderful performance,” Catalina complimented her. Drumming Girl grinned again, her smile lighting up her whole face.

“Thank you!” she paused. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. What’s your name?”

“My name is Catalina, I’m new here.”

“I’m Maria.”

“It’s lovely to meet you Maria…”

***

Their friendship had only blossomed since then. Catalina smiled at the memory, wishing she could turn back the clock to relive those simpler times.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jerking Catalina out of her head. She didn’t even have time to react before it swung open again. Catalina feebly hoped it would be another one of her friends, but alas, she was out of luck.

Anne Boleyn stood in the doorway, a triumphant smug on her face.

“Oh hey Catherine,” 

“What are you doing in my dressing room?” Catalina growled.

“Your dressing room?” Anne giggled forcibly. “It’s mine now babes!”

Catalina’s murderous thoughts from earlier that day returned. Why was Anne like this? Did she try to make other people plot her murder? Because if so, she was succeeding.

“I’m sorry Anne, but this is Catalina’s dressing room,” Maria piped up, sounding surprisingly calm. “It always has been.”

“It’s the dressing room for Henry’s partner, who just so happens to be me,” Anne shot back.

“Anne, just leave me alone,” Catalina said, panic setting in again.

“Why?” she pestered. “Are you still sad about not being Henry’s ‘special girl’ anymore? Because let me tell you something-” 

“Shut up!” cried Maria. “We don’t care!” 

Anne chose to ignore Maria’s outburst, stepping uncomfortably close to Catalina.

“Don’t be bitter because I’m fitter,” Catalina shrunk away, and Anne laughed. “He doesn’t want to bang you, somebody hang you!” she screeched at top volume, before dashing out of the dressing room, giggling gleefully again.

“But I don’t-” Catalina began, red with embarrassment. She cut herself off when she realised that Anne was long gone. She slammed the door with full force and curled up on the floor again. Maria rushed to her side, ready to comfort her.

But for some reason, Catalina didn’t feel scared. She didn’t worry about what was to become, and as she slowly made up her mind, she became more and more confident. She knew what she had to do.

She stood up and opened the door. Maria called out to her, wondering what she was doing, but Catalina didn’t respond. She strode down the halls with pride, purpose, finally free. When she reached her destination, she wasted no time choosing a track. She simply pressed play.

And she danced.

[nerd2614]

April’s Fall - Part 4

Doors, Vials & Names

@write-it-motherfuckers​ original prompt

Part 1 // Part 3 // Part 5

You did not sleep well that night. There was tension in the air so thick you could almost taste it. The lump that the pouch of tools made in your already uncomfortable mattress didn’t help either. Grandmother’s rattling around in the kitchen jolted you out of your restless slumber when the sun had barely risen. She only woke up this early when she needed to fetch things from the woods. It would be the perfect opportunity to investigate without being caught. The dull thud of the door announced her departure. When you were sure she wouldn’t return, you made your way carefully downstairs to the door.

Hopeful, you twisted the handle to the door, but was unsurprised when it didn’t budge. The door itself was made of sturdy wood; it would be too difficult to just break it down. The door lock was not dissimilar to the front door. You tried your key and was only slightly disappointed when it didn’t work either.

You fished out the tools given to you and laid them on the ground. They were of much better quality than the ones you had purchased from the blacksmith. Hazy was the only way you could describe them. It almost looked like you could reach through the tools, but they were solid. Magic. You picked up a long tool with ridges along the edge and another that had a slight hook. With a deep breath, you jiggled them around in the lock and hoped for the best.

The door shimmered as the pins fell into place and the lock clicked open. You slipped the tools back into the pouch carefully. Taking a deep breath, you nudged the door open. A chill rushed out of the room. You felt ill. An eerie green light coming from deeper in was the only source combating the foreboding darkness of the room. The darkness seemed to ooze out the door to settle heavily in your bones.

“Definitely not a cloak closet.” You mumbled. As you flicked on the dim light the darkness slowly retreated to reveal shelves lined with an assortment of books and jars. A cold feeling washed over you as you stepped over the threshold. The soft green light glowed from symbols both painted and carved into the room. They covered the roof and large wooden shelves. You walked further into the icy room and it seemed to stretch on forever. The stone was icy cold beneath your feet. You took a closer look at one of the jars and gagged. Inside was a shriveled, severed hand with the fingernails torn off.

The room radiated death and evil. You started to back out of the room when a table through the bookshelves caught your eyes. Sitting on the table was the small vial of swirling clouds. You were certain it was the same one that the kindly old man had given you. With a strengthened resolve you strode towards the table. The tools you purchased from the blacksmith were sitting on the pouch they came in. Various other items were scattered on the bench. You could only guess at their purpose.

What could only be described as a cauldron was sitting on a bed of emerald flames to the right of the table. Inside was a simmering clear liquid. You lent down to take a closer look when the notes behind it caught your attention. The board was littered with diagrams, scribbled notes and photographs.

“Getting suspicious… measures to be introduced ...up the dosage… what?” You stepped closer to the board. The notes were about you! The liquid in the cauldron must be what your grandmother had been giving you. You skimmed over the rest of the notes quickly to discover exactly what it was. Memories were mentioned a few times but the exact purpose of the clear liquid wasn’t explicitly written.

A deep feeling of dread filled you as you continued to read the messy scrawl. ‘Inject while sleeping’ followed by a number of question marks made you thankful that you hadn’t been sleeping well.

Shouts from outside broke you from your thoughts.

You turned and bumped against a shelf that looked like it had ingredients stacked in it. The stench radiating from the shelf made you want to pull away but morbid curiosity pulled you closer. Eyeballs, pointed ears and various small animals were floating in jars. There was a vial of powder labelled fairy wings. On the bottom shelf was a beating heart the size of an adult wombat. The slow thumping of the heart was sending shivers through you.

Your eyes darted to the door as the shouting from outside abruptly stopped. Heavy footsteps made the floor creak as someone barged into the house. You could hear the front door slam against the wall. Whoever had barged in was breathing loudly and raggedly. As the footsteps came closer, you dove behind one of the shelves and attempted to control your breathing.

The brief hope that the intruder was your stranger was dashed as the person let out a dark chuckle from the doorway. You curled in on yourself, forcing your body to become as small as possible. Your breaths were coming in shallow bursts. You could feel your blood thrumming through your fingertips as you clenched them tighter. The person stepped inside the room and closed the door.

“Tsk, tsk. Now you’re trapped.” The person, a young man, spoke mockingly. “You know that curiosity killed the cat… but don’t worry. I’ll do my best to convince the old bat to let you live.”

He stepped forward slowly, in time with the thumping of the detached heart in your line of sight. Thump. Thump. Thump. He was walking towards the table. You debated making a run for it but your body was too tense to move.

Through the shelf you saw the young man pick up the vial from the table. He scoffed as he slipped it into his pocket. “I’m surprised you didn’t take it already, April. I would have if I was in your position.”

He turned and smirked at you through the shelves. Cold tendrils of fear mingled with the recognition that flooded through you at the sight of his face. It was the new librarian. Your wrists ached in remembrance while your mind raced with questions. His smirk turned sadistic as he rose from his crouched position.

You scrambled against the stone to dart away as he calmly walked around the bookcase. You almost made it to the door when he caught you. He spun you into the wall, winding you. The shelves and the pouch pressed uncomfortably into your back.

“Get off me! Let me go!” Shuddering breaths rocked through you as you tried in vain to squirm away.

“No.” His rancid breath paralised you as much as his response. You continued to struggle, albeit weakly, against his painful hold. “You’re just too stubborn, aren’t ya? Always were.” He added with an almost fond tone. It made you gag.

You heard a female voice outside along with the voice that was shouting earlier. Now he was almost screaming, though you couldn’t make out any words. The librarian pinning you down chuckled sinisterly, “Looks like the old bat is home.”

He looked down at you with cruelty in his blue eyes. “Alas, fair April, I must go tend to a stray.” He tried to kiss you, but you dodged out of the way. His lips burned against your cheek, leaving you feeling dirty. He tutted and threw you to the ground. “Stay here. That’s a good girl.”

The slamming of the door jolted you out of your daze. Escape was the only thought racing through your mind. You creaked open the door to see what was happening.

Just outside the front door, your grandmother and the librarian were conversing. Your elven stranger was hanging limp in the air. Ruby red blood made its way in rivulets down his face and through his hair, dripping onto the ground. Your grandmother looked strangely calm covered in blood. She almost looked bored. You froze as your grandmother made eye contact with you. The elven man crashed into the ground, a deadweight, as your grandmother stalked towards the house. You saw him twitch as the librarian kicked and taunted him.

The only way to put distance between you and the evil being that was your grandmother was to escape upstairs. So escape you did. You scrambled up the stairs like hounds were after you and rushed into your room. The rose was lying where you had left it last night. It was slightly rumpled and the black was quite obvious now but holding it slightly eased the fear building inside you. You clutched it to your chest as your grandmother strode into the room.

“G-get away.” You stumbled backwards. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Oh, pumpkin. What’s the matter?” She smiled sweetly.

“I found the room. What was it for? What were you doing to me?” The questions tumbled out before you could stop them.

Your grandmother kept her smile as she walked deliberately towards you. “Everything I did was to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You repeated, gobsmacked. “I don’t believe that at all! You and - and your weird rules.” You eyed the woman who claimed to be your grandmother as you backed towards the window. You made a quick calculation in your head. The room wasn’t that high, you could survive the jump. It would hurt, but if you just get away -

“Don’t do it, April.” She took a step towards you. Something crackled between her fingers and you made your decision. You turned and dove out the window.

The fall was quick and so was the memory that flashed behind your eyes.

“Come on, April! Don’t worry! I’ll catch you!” I saw the stranger with pointed ears standing in front of me. His hair was shorter than I was used to. The king made him cut it while the other courts were visiting.

I hesitated as I stood on the window sill. I looked back to see someone at the door. Adrenaline pumped through me as I jumped, dress billowing. I landed in his safe arms, though he pretended to drop me. I punched his shoulder without malice and he shook me with his laughter.

The scene dissipated as you were jolted by a surface softer than the ground. The arms that caught you did not belong to your stranger but were familiar for a different reason. You clawed at his face and he dropped you with a curse. With muted satisfaction you noted the blood welling under his right eye before darting away.

The blond man’s grip crushed both your wrist and hopes of escape. A gasp of pain escaped you as tears formed in your eyes. He pulled you in close by the neck so you couldn’t attack him.

“I can’t let you escape me again.” He crooned into your ear. You shivered as his blood dripped down your neck. “You should have just run the first time but now I’ll torture you both.”

He shifted your struggling form into one arm. You stilled as he pulled out the vial from his pocket. He shook it lightly in front of your face. “Aw, you want to know what this is for?”

“Don’t.” Came the commanding voice of your stranger, gruff and hardened. He was on the ground, covered in mud and using his sword to prop himself up. Blood made his ascent difficult but he struggled to a standing position.

You tried to call out to him but the man’s hold on your neck tightened, making spots appear in the peripherals. He ignored the struggling elven man in favour of taunting you further.

“It’s easier for you if you don’t remember… but it’s more fun for me this way.” He tore out the cork with his teeth and tipped the swirling cloud down your throat. You weren’t sure whether it was the potion or lack of oxygen as your sight started to fade.

A name was on the tip of your tongue as you called out to the stranger trying helplessly to reach you. “R-”

Next

@scuzmunkie @wordsaremylife @luarinne @inuhuffclaw @wayward-demigod

[raeynbowboi]

How to Play as Tokoyami Fumikage in DnD 5e

anyone who knows me knows Raven from Teen Titans is my favroite super hero of all time. She’s a big component of why I really love “Dark is Not Evil” as a trope. As such, Tokoyami is a huge personal favorite minor character because he has a similar vibe to my main home girl. So, I want to see how best to play as him in DnD 5e.

The Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi

I’ve been dying to build a Kenku, and Tokoyami  is the perfect candidate. Kenku are a raven-looking avian race that are completely flightless and can mimic human speech. Crows in real life are actually able to learn to talk, and are intelligent enough to problem solve, recognize faces, and hold grudges. So, this is a great fit for the strategic dark bird boi of Cass 1-A. Kenku get +2 DEX and +1 WIS, the ability to masterfully mimic handwriting and people’s voices, and get 2 bonus proficiencies in Acrobatics, Deception, Stealth, or Sleight of Hand. Kenku however have a bad trait that they can only mimic things they’ve heard, which I’d ditch personally to allow him to speak freely.

Tokoyami is very noble, humble, and honorable. He has no aspirations of fame or glory, and does good just for the sake of doing good. When Bakugou is taken by the League of Villains, Tokoyami is among the ones to agree it should be left to the pro heroes.

For background, we’ll be going with the same as the gay disaster boyfriends as City Watch to be a patrolling super hero that stops crime and catches bad guys.

Seat 14 in Class 1-A

PALADIN     Oathbreaker You get access to Inflict Wounds which you can cast with CHA which makes your Sentinel Raven extremely good at dealing a ton of touch-range damage at longer range, and by level 7, fiends within 10 feet of you become stronger. Your Raven Queen Spirit isn’t technically recognized as a fiend, but Dark Shadow is called a shadow demon, so you could talk to your DM about treating it as a fiend. Sorcerers and Warlocks also get quite a few demon summoning spells to empower Dark Shadow in multiple forms. You can also add your CHA stat to your melee damage, which reflects Tokoyami’s Black Ankh fighting style. It’s also worth mentioning that Tokoyami’s official fighting style is listed as being melee.

Paladin Fighting Style:     Interception While the range may need to be extended because 5 feet is pretty small for Dark Shadow’s amazing range, you can intercept an attack meant for an ally. As Tokoyami’s best trait in battle is his ability to block and defend his allies, this is a great fighting style, reducing damage by 7-16 at level 20. Talk to your DM about possibly extending the range to turn Tokoyami into the ranged guardian of his team.

SORCERER     Shadow This subclass gives you built-in Darvision and lets you summon a hell-hound which you could talk to your DM as reskinning as Dark Shadow flanking you in combat. Later on, this subclass can teleport between shadows and become an intangible shadow.

WARLOCK     Raven Queen the obvious choice for Tokoyami’s main focus, Dark Shadow is an extension of him. Spells like Vampire Touch with a Touch range can be cast through Dark Shadow, allowing Dark Shadow to be the one dealing damage. Dark Shadow can also coat Tokoyami like a layer of armor such as with Armor of Shadows, and Tokoyami can reskin weapons as being Dark Shadow’s umbral claws.

Stats and Proficiencies

Charisma will be number one. Because Raven Queen Warlock is the obvious choice, and both Sorcerers and Paladins cast with Charisma. Dark Shadow makes Tokoyami’s AC very high, so a high Dexterity is important to block damage with your spooky friend. The rest of your stats can be relatively even between Strength, Constitution, and Wisdom to make Tokoyami a formidable hero-in-training.

Arcana Insight Perception

Name: Tokoyami Fumikage (Tsukuyomi) Race: Kenku Background: City Watch Alignment: Lawful Good Class: Raven Queen Warlock (12)             Oathbreaker Paladin (8) Base Stats: Strength: 10 (0) Dexterity: 20 (+5) Constitution: 12 (+1) Intelligence: 10 (0) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 20 (+5) Saving Throws: Strength: +5 Dexterity: +10 Constitution: +6 Intelligence: +5 Wisdom: +13 Charisma: +16 Combat Stats: HP: 131 AC: 18 Speed: 30 Initiative: +5 Number of Attacks: 2 Hit Dice: 12d8, 8d10 Proficiency Bonus: +6 Passive Perception: 17 Dark Vision: 120 feet Proficiencies:    Acrobatics (Kenku)    Arcana (Warlock)    Athletics (City Watch)    Insight (City Watch)    Investigation (Warlock)    Stealth (Kenku) Skills: Acrobatics: +11                  Medicine: +2 Animal Handling: +2          Nature: 0 Arcana: +6                         Perception: +7 Athletics: +6                       Performance: +5 Deception: +5                    Persuasion: +5 History: 0                           Religion: 0 Insight: +8                         Sleight of Hand: +5 Intimidation: +5                 Stealth: +11 Investigation:+6                Survival: +2

Equipment    Leather Armor    Shield    Short Sword x 2

Damage Resistances:    Necrotic

Condition Immunities:    Disease, Fear

Paladin Feature: Fighting Style    Interception: When an ally creature within 5* feet is attacked, use your shield to intercept 1d10+ Proficiency Bonus amount of damage.

Warlock Feature: Pact Bond    Pact of the Blade: You forge a bond with a weapon, and gain the ability to summon and dismiss it at will. The weapon counts as magical.

Warlock Feature: Eldritch Invocations    Agonizing Blast: Eldritch Blast deals +5 damage on hit.    Armor of Shadows: Cast Mage Armor at will    Devil’s Sight: 120 feet of normal and magical darkvision    Lance of Lethargy: Eldritch Blast casts the effects of Slow on hit.    Superior Pact Weapon: Your pact weapon deals an added +2 damage.    Lifedrinker: When you hit with your pact weapon, deal +5 Necrotic damage.

Warlock Feature: Mystic Arcanum    Eyebite

Spell Slots 1st (4) 2nd (3) 5th (3)

Tokoyami’s Spellbook

Cantrips                          2nd Level                         4th Level     Blade Ward                     Aid                                    Summon Greater Demon     Eldritch Blast                  Crown of Madness       5th Level     Mage Hand                     Darkness                          Infernal Calling      True Strike                      Locate Object                   Negative Energy Flood 1st Level                             Magic Weapon             6th Level     Arms of Hadar                Shadow Blade                   Eyebite     Detect Evil & Good         Spiritual Weapon     Detect Magic              3rd Level     Hellish Rebuke               Fear     Heroism                          Fly     Inflict Wounds                 Hunger of Hadar     Mage Armor                   Summon Lesser Demons     Shield of Faith                Vampiric Touch

Actions:

Divine Sense Detect Celestial, Fiend, or Undead. Detect Holy or Unholy energy. Lay on Hands Pool of 40 HP to distribute or 5 points to cure poison or disease.

Features:

Aura of Hate You, Fiends, and Undead within 10 ft add +5 to weapon damage Aura of Protection You and allies within 10 ft. get +5 on saving throws Channel Divinity: Control Undead An undead within 30 feet of you must pass a WIS throw or obey you for 24 hours. Channel Divinity: Dreadful Aspect Choose any creature in 30 feet to become afraid of you for 1 minute on a failed WIS throw. Channel Divinity: Harness Divine Power Use Channel Divinity to restore a used 1st Level spell slot. Divine Smite Sacrifice a spell slot, deal (x+1)d8 radiant damage, +1d8 on fiends and undead. Expert Forgery: You have advantage on making forgeries. Interception Fighting Style: Reduce 1d10+PB damage on nearby ally. Mimicry: You can mimic voices, contested by Insight vs your Deception skill. Mystic Arcanum Cast Eyebite once per long rest without spell slots Raven’s Shield Advantage on death throws, immune to fear, resist necrotic. Sentinel Raven Darkvision of 30 feet, Add CHA to perception, the raven gets its own initiative rolls can can wake you as a bonus action. Soul of the Raven You merge with the raven and become small and able to fly. You can only dash, disengage, dodge, help, hide, and search in this form. Watcher’s Eye You can find and recognize guard stations and criminal hideouts.

While the build isn’t perfect, I thought that this was a rather strong build for Tokoyami as Dark Shadow is easy enough to incorporate into his combat with enough flavoring. How do you think I did? Do you have a character you’d like to see me build? Let me know, and I’ll add them to my list.

[chwrpg]

I told you not to buy those Garanimal clothes, girl. -- Soren Hawkins

A NOTE FROM ADMIN B:  It’s always wonderful seeing people return to us, especially when they’ve been with us for as long as you have, Kate! We’ve missed the icon that is Soren on the dash, and can’t wait to see her getting back amongst it!

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE: kate thee stallion. also known as it was me for him. still the girl drake is pining after.

DESIRED CHARACTER: soren hawkins. i don’t know a better person. 

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE? living here rent free since 2014.

SECONDARY CHOICE: it’s not realistic. but imani. 

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER: 

To put it simply: Soren is THAT girl. Headstrong, opinionated, outspoken. She’s the first person to speak up and the last person to turn on you. She’s loyal and fun and everything you’d want in a friend. No one has anything bad to say about her. If she ever cussed you out, you deserved it. Got read? You needed that reality check and it was better from her. Her confidence can be overwhelming but she’s just trying to fake it until she makes it. Like any soon to be 20something she’s struggling with herself. What does she want out of life? love? her friendships? Her transition into adulthood has been quite the ride and with the help of her friends and family it’s only getting crazier. 

SAMPLE WRITING: 

Everyone knew that Soren was the life of the party. With her ability to get different crowds off their feet; it was her calling. Her skills had reached a fever pitch tonight though. Half of Rosewood was stuck up and the other half was rhythmless but the dance-floor was overflowing with bodies. She didn’t have to do much either; her energy was infectious. The crowd had only died down to get wrapped up in a dance battle between her and the boys. It had ended in a tie. And, like always, she protested, “Fake news!” But the real proof of her magic was Bra sweating her for a dance. He’d tell a different story in the morning but so would she.

She was drunk. He tripped. It was dark. Etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah.  Their relationship was a tricky one because they both avoided the truth like the plague. Maybe there was something more between them than jocularity and stolen kisses they never talked about but they’d have to admit it first. Instead Bra made fun of her age and first world problems and Soren’s slick mouth never stopped running. In other words: they were frontin’.  

Which was appropriate since Jay Z’s verse on the song of the same name picked up right after Pharrell’s crooning. “Every time your name was brought up I would act all nonchalant in front of an audience,” he rapped as Soren pressed her backside firmly into Bra’s front. Stevie Wonder could see how good of a time they were having together. Luckily Siobhan was too busy with Kid and Dylan and Play were arguing over something stupid so they were in the clear.

They were five songs deep before blue and red lights flashed, flooding through the front window and painting their brown skin a lazy purple; As much as it seemed like tonight was going to be the night they admitted something to themselves and each other — fate had far more sinister plans. Fate…or racism. “Where’s everybody at? My sister? Kid?” She panicked, looking around the otherwise dark room. Growing up with a silver spoon didn’t hide the dangers of the police and a bunch of black kids and she was in meltdown mode. Soren went outside on impulse only to be met with a sight that made her heart sink.

The rest of the story goes as follows: Privileged black kid tries to calm officer down, racist cop ignores, kid’s best friend defends, racist cop brandishes his gun, black kid and co. hit the sidewalk, cop arrests innocent black boys, wash, rinse, repeat. 

Soren could hear her heartbeat in her ears and her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since she watched her friends get carted off in a squad car. She practically vibrated with anger and frustration. Tonight they were only arrested, but it could’ve been much worse, she couldn’t help but imagine their faces on the poster at some march, their families mourning. She hated how defenseless she felt. She wanted her power back.

“So much for having a good ass night,” she spoke up from the backseat breaking the somber silence as they drove to the police station (careful to follow every rule of the road). Humor was her only defense. There was a pause followed by a short laugh.

Everything was going to be okay.

ANYTHING ELSE? 1985. gang gang.